Chapter Text
Great Tree Moon, IY 1180
It all started with Claude.
Or, actually, Claude's big mouth, as a lot of things would in the future Golden Deer classroom. But I'd only stepped foot on the Garreg Mach grounds the day before and certainly didn't know much about my classmates or our house leader.
He was seated on a desk at the front of our freshly assigned classroom, a group of students around him. He was telling a seemingly dramatic story full of hand motions and wiggling eyebrows. His voice became clear as I edged closer:
"...and he galloped in on this huge warhorse, knocking bandits aside like it was nothing. If I had doubted that he was actually the Blade Breaker, watching him in battle was almost proof enough..."
"You saw Captain Jeralt?" I blurted without thought.
More than a dozen pairs of eyes turned to me, Claude's included. His smile became lopsided.
"Sure did. In fact, he's here now talking to Lady Rhea. And—oh, hey! Leonie, it could be hours before..."
I didn't hear what else he had to say. And at the time, I didn't really think about his amused chuckle after I rushed out, but now that I remember, it kind of pisses me off.
Anyway, I ran, and my heartbeat began to gallop in earnest as I dashed over the long bridge that connected the academy to the towering cathedral. My brain tried to catch up with my legs as the cold shadow of the monastery washed over me.
Captain Jeralt was here, at Garreg Mach.
And it's okay if I have to wait to see him, I'll just wait. I've already waited a few years anyway. What's another hour or two?
I made it to the double doors of the audience chamber in record time, puffing for air while the guard gave me a scowl.
"State your business," the knight barked.
"I'm… here to see… Captain Jeralt."
"Yeah? And who're you to him?"
My chin seemed to rise on its own. "I'm his apprentice."
The knight snorted. "Ahh, right," he said. "You'll have to wait. Move down the hall a bit."
I met him scowl for scowl but did as he requested. As my breathing evened out, a tight feeling clenched my stomach into a knot.
To me, it was the best summer of my life, but, I mean, it had been so many years already. Would he even remember me? What if he didn't?
The heavy wooden door finally groaned open, and my thoughts just scattered. As soft voices and light drifted from the doorway, I met a pair of ink-dark eyes. A slight wrinkle formed between them that was just as much a gasp of surprise as anything. I'm unsure why I was at all taken aback, words stuck and mouth open. Of course he would be here with his dad.
"Leonie?" Byleth asked, voice ever toneless and deeper than I remembered.
I didn't get a chance to answer as Captain Jeralt stepped into the hallway.
"Well, I'll be. It is Leonie!" He greeted me with that shit-eating grin, stepping straight out of my memory as if he hadn't aged a single day. I know it probably wasn't professional or whatever, but I was hugging him before I knew it. He squeezed me hard enough to make the breath whoosh from my lungs. I pulled back and matched his smile, silly with joy.
"Captain Jeralt... it's… It's been way too long!"
Jeralt chuckled, nodding his head. "That it has. What brings you to the monastery?"
I tried to stifle my grin for an attempt at maturity. "I'm a student at the officer's academy," I said with no small amount of pride.
"Well! What a surprise! Looks like we'll be seeing more of each other, then."
A warmth welled up in my chest.
"Really? Are you becoming a knight again?"
"Eh," Jeralt frowned, crossing his arms. "Something like that. The kid's taken up a teaching position."
Byleth, who had been standing stock still and occasionally blinking to let the world know he was still alive, gave one quick nod.
"I… see," I replied, wrinkling my nose. "That's interesting. You're like, my age."
He shrugged. "I'm older than you."
I rolled my eyes. "Barely."
Captain Jeralt took that moment to slap us both on the back. The wind gusted from our lungs as he strode past us, bootsteps echoing on the stone pavers.
"Hey kids, let's continue this reunion in the mess. I haven't had a decent meal in weeks!"
The walk to the dining hall was me running my mouth non-stop. Dinner was Captain Jeralt telling tales over thick stew and hard-crusted bread. His kid sat there politely but never joined in, even when the story was about him. To be honest, I almost forgot he was there at all.
° ° ° °
I had to admit to myself that life had been pretty good lately. I had the opportunity to attend Garreg Mach, thanks to my village. I had a class full of people I could see myself getting along with (mostly). Byleth wasn't heading up my house (he picked Black Eagles, at random, I'm sure). And most importantly, Captain Jeralt was here. Days not focused on classes and off-campus duties were spent on training and studying. And I wasn't at all surprised that the new professor was a topic of discussion over open books and lunch plates.
For one, he was close to us in age. And he had an alright face and body, so naturally, he had a few silly, blushing admirers. But it was more than just that. Professor Byleth was called "poised." Mature. He was highly knowledgeable in the tactics of battle. He could wield most weapons with a degree of confidence. And he never minded staying late to coach someone on their form or help find a book in the library. He was quickly becoming popular, and rumors often tumbled from the gossip mill.
Word around was that he also had an eccentric streak. For example, he seemed to be making his students spend an hour or so after mock battles "cooling down" by digging through the brush to find discarded weaponry. Currently, Professor Byleth had quite the budding collection of rusty swords and bug-bitten Eagles.
The thought of the von Aegir kid wrestling with overgrown weeds to yank some old ax free made me snort in delight behind my hand. Hilda did not look amused at my reaction to the tale, however. She stared at me stone-faced across the table we shared for tea. One perfect pink eyebrow raised in concern.
"Leonie, it's not funny. Aren't you glad Professor Manuela doesn't make us do that?"
"I, I mean." I took a sip from my cup to push the mirth back into my guts. "It's a bit strange. But maybe there's a reason he's doing it...?"
"Who knows? Did you ever notice him like, picking legs off of bugs or anything like that when he was a kid?"
"Goddess, Hilda, NO! He's weird but not in that way."
Hilda stared at me. The eyebrow raised higher. Something twinkled in her eyes.
"What?" I asked, annoyed. I grabbed a cookie off the plate in the middle of the table and shoved it in my mouth.
"So. You have met him before!"
"Yeah. He's Captain Jeralt's son. Of course I have."
Crumbs sprayed as I spoke. Hilda tutted.
"Why don't you ever talk about him then?"
I chewed for a minute, then swallowed.
"Well. There's nothing to talk about."
° ° ° °
"Leonie."
I looked away from the horse I was brushing to see Byleth standing at the entrance to the stables. Or at least the shape of him, as the sun was in an incredibly annoying spot that blinded me. I lifted a hand to shield my eyes.
"Professor," I responded levelly, moving closer to him until his head blocked the sun. I had to look up to meet his eyes and remembered the last time I had been this close, we were of the same height. There'd also been fists and feet flying.
Maybe he remembered that too. He backed up a couple of steps, that little furrow forming on his brow before the light blasted my eyes again.
"Geez. In or out!" I grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him into the shadows of the stable. He followed without a word.
I turned around and waited. A horse knickered from somewhere in the back. Byleth stared. Looked down. Looked back up again.
I felt my jaw tense.
"Yes…?" I said through my teeth.
"I… heard through your classmates that you're knowledgeable on restoring ill-used weapons."
I tried not to snort. Was this about his weird collection? I was intrigued. I couldn't lie.
"Yeah, I suppose. I hate waste when a little elbow grease is the solution."
"The blacksmith will buy them in bulk if they are cleaned up a bit."
He needed money then. Intriguing.
"Are you just volunteering your time for the church or something?" I joked.
"No. But my pay isn't much due to my… lack of experience." He didn't continue.
"Why do you need money?" I prodded, smirking and crossing my arms.
"The other professors advised that I could get closer to my students by occasionally treating them to tea or procuring small trinkets for them."
My arms slowly dropped along with my smirk. Shit.
"Okay," I responded, barreling past the uncomfortable feeling altogether. "Well, let's start by finding a vendor that sells goods from Ailell. We're looking for a type of rock called pumice. It's not expensive and great for sanding noble lady's feet and rusty metal!"
Byleth's face relaxed, and he nodded once, seemingly in agreement at the suggestion.
° ° ° °
Before dinner, we ambled around the stalls of the small marketplace, Byleth a silent shadow in my steps. Once we found what we were looking for, he moved in front of me, holding the pocked stone in a gloved hand and speaking to the merchant with a kind of gentle and unflustered confidence. It was odd and unexpected. But I was impressed to discover that he was pretty damn good at haggling.
"You know, Professor," The title felt smoother on my tongue as we walked up stone steps still warm from the sun, "You say you're treating your students, but aren't they working for it? What kind of a treat is that?"
He didn't answer at first, looking down at the package of pumice. I heard the brown paper crinkle slightly as he adjusted his grip.
"Without work, how can a break be enjoyed?" he decided.
His answer made me smile. "True enough."
° ° ° °
Feet apart, hips loose and pivoting. Like an arrow from a bow, I thrust, hands gripping my unwavering spear, aiming for the exposed shoulder that jerked out of range at the last second. I cursed under my breath. Then: a thought.
"So, what are you going to do after you graduate, Felix?" I asked.
"Focus on the match," Felix answered breathily. He was right, of course – the idle question had dropped my guard enough where he was within range, and a spear was all but useless. I dodged two jabs and a slash, kicking up a cloud of dust when I danced backward. He was quicker and scored a resounding thwack on my thigh. This was the third hit in the past half-hour, and I was feeling it.
"I need a break," I leaned against the blunt-tipped spear with a groan, rubbing my abused leg.
Felix frowned. "Isn't that strange? You need a break when you're losing," he said yet walked almost immediately to the barrel of water in the corner to ladle a mouthful.
I ignored the remark and followed him. "You didn't answer me."
He took a long drink. "I'm the heir to Fraldarius," he said, leveling a look over his arm as he wiped his mouth with a sleeve. "What do you think I'll be doing after I graduate?"
"I dunno," I took the wooden ladle from him, reaching into the barrel, "Mountains of paperwork from the sounds of it?"
Felix snorted at that. I wasn't sure if it was amusement or frustration – it was hard to tell with him. "Quit trying to chat while we're sparring. It's hard enough to concentrate as is."
Was that almost a compliment?
"Well, well!" I felt a grin splitting my face. "Perhaps this is just another sneaky tactic of mine!"
"Right. Why do you care what I'll be doing, anyway?"
"I was hoping to recruit you! But, I didn't know you were actually an heir, so I guess that's out."
His eyes widened slightly. "Recruit me? Is that so?"
"Yeah! Imagine roaming Fódlan as a mercenary. Raising your sword against scum," I raised the ladle against imaginary scum, "and testing your mettle in battle!" I swished it around for emphasis. "That's what I'm going to do after I finish my time at Garreg Mach."
Felix snatched the ladle from my hand and hooked it on the side of the barrel with a mild expression.
"To be honest, I've never considered being a sellsword. It's not as if I need the money."
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, yes, milord. But what about the other stuff? Epic battles! Breathtaking scenery! Beautiful fans doe-eyed at your might!"
He swiped strands of ink-black hair stuck to his forehead, flicking his head backward. "Your guest over there is getting impatient."
I sighed at the evasion and the unwelcome reminder. As if on cue, I caught the yellow of Claude's capelet out of the corner of my eye. The book he'd been reading while he waited was tucked under one arm.
"You done?" he asked.
"Yeah," I replied
"Then, do you have a minute?"
"I have the few minutes it takes to get to the ladies' bathhouse."
I looked in Felix's direction. "Later, then."
He nodded in return. "Later."
I placed the practice spear in the rack and grabbed my bag. Claude followed me silently out of the training grounds, our footsteps light on the stone path.
"Claude," I said before he managed to open his mouth. "I've told you all I know about the Professor and Captain Jeralt. If you're hounding me about them again, I don't have anything else to tell you!"
"Maybe I just wanted to say hello."
"Liar. You have a habit of seeking me out when some new gossip about the professor is floating around."
"What? Leonie. I thought you knew me better than that. I don't bother you with baseless gossip. I am merely checking on some known facts."
I rolled my eyes. "Right. Like the sudden appearance of a Relic weapon?"
Claude grinned and nodded his head of dark, mussed curls with some enthusiasm.
"Exactly that kind of thing!" He said, "And I'm wondering how you could be friends with someone, spend the whole summer with them, and not even realize they have a crest. Are you holding out on me?"
"Listen. As I've said before, we weren't friends. And I had no clue he had a crest."
"It's not that I don't believe you."
"Okay. So we're done."
"… It's just that I'd like to hear any observation, even something you might consider unimportant."
"Ugh. I don't know, okay? Why are you bothering me again?"
"It's fun. Are you protecting him from something?"
"Please. He doesn't need my protection. And from what would I be protecting him from, exactly? Claude von Riegan's piecemeal narrative?"
He laughed, the sound echoing merrily around the vibrant courtyard between stoic buildings and causing a few heads to turn our way.
"I love that! Okay! I'll let you in on my 'piecemeal narrative' as you call it, and you can tell me if I've missed anything."
Claude was preparing to shift into full story mode from his tone, which undoubtedly meant some hand (and book) motions plus various dramatic expressions and that damn weaponized smile. It was unfortunately charming how his eyes twinkled in anticipation. I huffed a sigh.
"Yeah, alright."
"Jeralt, his son, and the mercenary company arrive at Sauin village, late spring, eight years ago, to work a job convincing some poachers to take up a new line of work. Right?"
"Yup."
"The job is an absolute mess, and the mercenaries stay several weeks into the summer. You, a resident of said village, follow Jeralt around like a puppy until he accepts you as an apprentice…."
"Hey! That's not…."
"Meanwhile, Jeralt's son sometimes goes out with his dad to clean up the riff-raff, sometimes hangs around Sauin village instead. While being the equivalent of a martial prodigy, he somehow doesn't make an impression on the Blade Breaker's number one apprentice except that 'he's a weird kid who can hold a sword better than a conversation'."
"Claude…"
He pointed the book at me, and I caught its title briefly: The Sins of Nemesis.
"And that very apprentice even started a physical altercation with the weird kid..."
I stopped in my tracks. "Who the hell told you that?"
Satisfaction lit Claude's face. "Jeralt. He said you were like a 'pair of tomcats in the dirt'. It was quite the mental picture."
I ground my teeth and continued to walk. "You said earlier that you believed me. So why do I have the feeling I'm being grilled?"
"I do believe your version of events! But, let's go back to that fistfight…."
"It wasn't a fistfight! He didn't even fight back."
"Do you remember any flashes of light? Or, maybe he got a boost of strength from somewhere? Did he look strangely uninjured?"
"No, nothing like that. And to be honest, I was so riled up at the time everything is kind of a blur."
"How come? Did he make you mad for some reason?"
I shrugged as we turned a corner. "Not really. I guess, if anything, I made myself mad and took it out on him." Ugh. That sounded so stupid.
Claude didn't comment on that part, though, only sighed as he looked forlornly at the bathhouse sign and came to a stop. "I'm not a lady, so I guess I can't go any further."
"And thank the Goddess for that."
He gave me a searching look. Instead of bidding me farewell, he said, "I'm also rather curious why Teach's new hobby is collecting weaponry."
I blinked in confusion at the pivot. "What? Oh. To sell them."
"Really? What does our professor need money for?"
I stared back at him for a moment, a familiar heat sparking in my guts that foretold of nothing but trouble.
"Like that's any of your business!" I answered instead, turning my back and entering the bathhouse.
° ° ° °
"Leonie."
This time Byleth found me in the greenhouse as I worked to clear a bed of wilted vegetables. Instead of waffling around at the entrance, he strode directly over to me and stopped, back straight, and held out his hand.
He gave me one solemn nod. "For you," he said. His dark eyes bored into mine like he was using all of his willpower to not look away.
Geez. I dusted my hands off on my uniform then took the item with a smile that I hoped reassured him.
"For me? Really?"
Turning it over in my hands, I could see it was a fishing float made of reed, carefully painted white and red, and undoubtedly water-tight.
"Wow," I said, "This is… I dunno what to say."
"A small thanks for helping me the other day. Jeralt taught me how to make these long ago."
"You made this?" Huh. He was just full of surprises. "That's… Professor, thank you. I actually need a new float!"
I guess my enthusiasm was more than he could handle.
Byleth dropped his head, the corner of his eyes crinkling, his lips twitched, and... was that?
I grabbed his chin and forced his face up into the light. My fingernails looked extra grimy against his skin. And I suddenly realized I had grabbed a faculty member's face.
"Oh. Damn," I said in jest, trying to play it cool, "I just thought for a second you actually smiled."
Byleth's expression became wide-eyed, two lines of color pooling below his cheekbones. He wrenched away from me, backing up a couple of steps before turning on his heel and hurrying out of the greenhouse in much the same fashion he came in.
"Professor! Wait, I didn't…mean…to." I trailed off. Embarrassment settled heavily over me, and my own face bloomed with heat. I opened my fingers to look at the fishing float.
"Nothing a couple of fish won't fix," I muttered to myself.
° ° ° °
I've always been a heavy sleeper - you have to be in a household of nine. And after days of near restless searching, sleep seemed to be a given. But that image of Flayn, carried through the halls by Edelgard, the princess' sharp voice cracking across any who loitered in her path, haunted me. The sudden gasps and whispering of the students who saw them. The perfect jade curls that now hung limp and dirty over Edelgard's steady arm. And Ignatz, startled out of whatever conversation we'd been having, moving to follow them with a horrified expression. I put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He glanced back at me, looking nearly sick to his stomach. "It'll be okay," I told him, with no way to know if I was even right.
And now I laid in bed on my back with these images as clear as ever against the darkness. The knowledge that, yes, Flayn was okay should soothe me. But the fact that she was kidnapped by a trusted instructor for an unknown purpose caused my fingers to curl in on themselves. I felt every lump in the mattress, and each creak or footstep brought me straight up. So, I got dressed and slipped out into the mild night air. Maybe if I moved instead of laying here jumping at shadows, I could fill my head with something else.
Garreg Mach was a straight edge mass against the dark meandering line of mountains. The forlorn breeze wailed through the stones, muffling the distant sound of a barking dog. I tried my best to quiet my steps and avoid the roaming monks that kept a sharp eye for giggling students sneaking wine or kisses or both in the shadows. Truth be told, there wasn't much of that going on these days. The mood was far too heavy.
I smelled the pond before I reached it, heavy and dank. Some rude person had left a filleted fish to rot on the planks of the dock. The skeletal, slimy thing stared into the cloudless night sky with one sunken eye, mouth agape.
A soft cough startled me from my inspection of the fish. I squinted into the night and reached for my hunting knife. I recognized the hunched figure on the end of the dock: "Captain Jeralt?"
He flinched, made a move to stash something that gleamed in the wan light. Then he paused with a self-deprecating chuckle.
"I'm caught," he grumbled, more to himself than anything. He was sitting alone, a fishing pole lying forgotten on the planks behind him.
"What are you doing?" He asked over a shoulder. "Isn't it past curfew?"
"Yeah, but. I just couldn't sleep. Not with all the excitement recently… hey, why are you up? Not that you have a curfew."
"Oh, just wanted to pop off somewhere to have a quick drink and count the stars."
"Haha, never thought I'd hear you say something like that!"
My voice died slowly in the autumn air. The expression on the captain's lined face as he looked into the night seemed almost... sad. A thrum of anxiety pulsed through me. But before I could think of anything to say, he spoke.
"Leonie, why do you want to be a mercenary, anyway?"
I settled down beside him, then watched my feet kick above the water's surface for a moment while I thought about his sudden question.
"Well, I want to be like you," I said.
Jeralt grunted.
"But I'm not a person to look up to," he said.
I shook my head. "That isn't true."
"I can assure you, kid, it is."
I couldn't guess why Captain Jeralt was feeling down, but all I could do was be honest with him.
"Listen. My mom and pop are great people. And good parents. But it doesn't really matter to them what I do with my life." Thinking of them made me sigh, and mixed feelings I felt no need to sort squirmed around in my chest.
"Chasing dust with a broom as a housewife or chasing a buck with an arrow," I shrugged. "They're happy if I'm happy, and with so many of my siblings to worry about, I completely understand. I'm not bitter or anything." A warmth crept up unawares, and I smiled in the dark.
"But it was you who gave me my... I guess this sounds silly, but not only did you show me the path, but you also gave me a way to cut away at it myself. And that... that is such a gift, Captain Jeralt."
He made a noise that seemed almost pleased, but not quite. "I see," he mumbled.
A quiet moment passed before he spoke again. "But why a merc? Why not a knight?"
"Because I want to go where I'm needed when I think I need to be there! A knight has to pay heed to some lord and may be ordered to do something they don't want to do. There's more honor in picking your battles, don't you think?"
Jeralt leaned over, arms folded across his legs. He chuckled mirthlessly, staring into the water, taking a sip from the bottle he no longer tried to hide with a sigh of contentment.
"A few years before we came here," he started, drawing in a long breath, "we were traveling through Faerghus, this time of year, in fact. The rain just wouldn't stop, so we stayed at an inn, one of those shitholes with a leaking roof and watered-down booze. A young man comes up to us in the common area, wrists like a pair of knobs, and begs me to 'take care' of the lords up on the hill. By his telling, they worked the villagers to the bone in the fields and left little enough for them to survive on. He didn't care what happened, just as long as the boot lifted off of everyone's backs. So the next day, we went to see 'em."
Jeralt stopped, and for the first time, glanced my way. He took a second swig in as many minutes. His face was red-cheeked, eyes glassy and half-lidded. He seemed to be waiting for some reaction, and I had no idea why.
"This is what I'm talking about," I said, feeling a watery smile quivering on my lips, "You got to choose to help those villagers, and..."
"Wrong," Jeralt said gruffly, shooting me a look that I'd never seen before.
I flinched, taken aback. He immediately reached out a fumbling hand and patted my shoulder. Whatever flint that hardened his gaze was now gone.
"Sorry," he muttered, "I'm sorry. I wasn't done." He drew in another breath.
"Anyway, the next day, we headed on up the hill. If I could talk some sense into them, I would choose to do that instead. A woman answered the door, wearing a plain worn-out dress, hair unbound, and her eyes were like pits in her face. 'Damn,' I said to myself, 'Seems they even treat the help like garbage around here.' Come to find out, this was the lady of the house. Answering the door herself like a… commoner or something, I dunno."
Jeralt took another swig then drew a hand across his mouth. His voice became a barely discernible rumble.
"The household had sold all they could to pay for the heavy taxes levied against them by the Faerghus regency. Furniture, heirlooms. The husband had ridden to Fhirdiad over three moons past to beg for leniency but never returned."
He paused yet again, lost in the past. I waited impatiently for him to continue.
"She was desperate," he murmured, "....so desperate. She countered the village's offer with a job to quell any rebellion as she thought things would get far worse if they caught the eye of the Kingdom by not paying their dues."
Now it was me staring into the pond water, watching my undulating reflection. The expectation of filling the silence with something caused my hands to ball up, my jaw to clench. But I didn't dare to speak again.
Jeralt stood to leave. He laid a hand on my head.
"Sometimes, it'll be a decision that won't make you feel 'honorable'. You'll have to go through the motions thoughtlessly, or you'll lose your nerve cuz you gotta take care of yourself. Your own people. Maybe your child. Can you weigh other's lives on how heavy a bag of coin is? Better learn quick."
He ruffled my hair and then walked down the dock with heavy footsteps. The gesture felt more like a scolding than anything else.