Chapter Text
"Hello, I'm calling to speak with Ms. Byleth Eisner!"
She sits up in bed lazily, quietly yawning and proceeding to twist this way and that to stretch out her muscles. With sleep still present in her unfocused gaze, she murmurs, "Yes, this is her."
The voice on the other end is much too chirpy for someone awake at - she glances at the clock - 11am.
...Well, maybe it's an issue with Byleth, then.
Defeated, she lets her body lay back down as the woman on the other end begins greeting her.
"Oh, lovely! I've got some good news for you! I'm sure you want some kind of expla-" The voice is muffled for a bit, but Byleth can make out a conversation continuing in the background.
"Shoot, shoot." Her voice returns, "I'm sorry, Ms. Eisner. I should really start from the beginning, scratch what I said about the good news." Byleth, eyes still shut, furrows her brows at this and begins slowly untangling the knots in her hair with her other hand. "My name is Annette Dominic, I'm an attorney currently dealing with the inheritance of Mr. Aelfric Dahlman. I'm very sorry that this was how you found out, but Mr. Dahlman unfortunately passed away last week."
Byleth sits upright at this. "Aelfric Dahlman?" she asks Annette.
"Yes, I'm so sorry, Ms. Eisner."
Byleth pauses. Then scratches her head, "No...I'm sorry, because I have no idea who that is."
"You...huh?"
A nervous laugh comes out from her. "Yeah, sorry. You must have the wrong person."
"No, no wait! Ugh, Mercie, please help!"
There's more talking in the background, and then a different woman's voice cuts in. "Ms. Eisner?"
"Yes, still here."
"Great, my name is Mercedes." This woman sounds much less...frantic. "Annette and I are quite certain you're the person referenced in Aelfric's will. Are you certain you don't recall him?"
"Nope," she replies simply. "Neither of my parents had siblings, nor any friends of that name."
"But you're the daughter of the late Sitri Eisner, correct?"
"...Yes," she affirms slowly.
"Well, then, it's certain." Mercedes replies. "We'd really like to meet up with you in person, Ms. Eisner, to go over what the inheritance has granted you. I understand you may be confused, especially since your relation to Aelfric seems unclear, but this truly only benefits you."
She freezes. An inheritance?
The shameful, opportunistic side of her wants to indulge in the possibility, though it can't possibly be so. The guilt of considering it quickly follows. She'd clearly be taking an inheritance from someone who actually deserved it - someone who actually meant something to the man.
Curiosity edges its way into Byleth's mind despite that. She already inherited her father's small fishing and boat supply company, yet larger competitors cut into her profits year by year until she was struggling to pay rent. Last year she had to pick up waitressing on the side. A year before that, tutoring.
But to have some sort of inheritance, whatever it was, would surely help her out, even a little...
But she reels in the thoughts. Selfish, right. Very selfish, very immoral.
Yet...who else was named Byleth, and had a mother named Sitri? Though her father was a native Faerghan, Sitri was not, and thus both their names were very foreign.
Surely it wouldn't hurt to meet with them, right? It's likely not a scam, and if Byleth doesn't give them any personal information until she's certain of their authenticity, there shouldn't be a problem. She's been through the process once before, so she should be able to see if the women she meets with are legitimate attorneys.
Perhaps against her better judgement, she finds herself agreeing.
"...Alright, then. When's a good time for you?"
"And you're certain?" Byleth repeats.
"Very much so," Mercedes nods, and Annette nods too, only quicker and accompanied with a grin.
"His whole house?"
"Yes, and all the land on the property as well."
Byleth sets down her coffee cup, thoughts racing as her eyes stare blankly at the passing traffic. The three women sit outside a coffee shop when Mercedes began to give her a quick rundown of what Byleth apparently inherited from some unknown man she couldn't even recall.
"...But why?" she blinks at Mercedes. "I don't even know who this man is - why would he choose me to give a house to? Doesn't he have a family, or friends that remember him?"
Mercedes sighs as Annette shakes her head, "He never married, never had or adopted children. No siblings, either. He was a well-off man that came from wealthy parents that have also obviously passed. He was a cardinal at the local church until a few years ago, when his health began to decline and he was more or less bedridden until his passing."
"Church..." Byleth murmurs, bringing her fist up to gently bite into her skin. "Did it happen to be at the Church of Seiros, in Fhirdiad?"
"Indeed," Mercedes smiles at that, clearly pleased at the development. "That city is where the house is, as well, although on the outskirts."
"And he mentioned my mother in the will?"
"Yup!" Annette nods.
That was probably it, then. Her mother was, indeed, a nun for the Church of Seiros until she decided to marry her father. It still didn't answer why Aelfric decided to give her his inheritance, though.
Standing up, Byleth pulls out her phone and asks, "Could you give me a minute?"
"Of course." They reply simultaneously.
There was only one person she could call to ask about this Aelfric man, then. The story seemed almost believable to her, but she couldn't be too sure.
He answers on the third ring. "Byleth, to what do I owe this call?" His voice is as even and formal as ever. She finds comfort in that he never seems to change.
"Hello, Uncle Seteth." Technically great uncle, but whatever. "I just wanted to ask about my mother during her time in the church."
"The church? Ah, it's been...so many years since then, Byleth. It's already felt like an eternity since she left us, I..." he recomposes himself, "Sorry, yes. I can do my best to recall. What would you like to know?"
"Do you remember who her close friends were, at the church? Was she friends with any cardinals, specifically?"
"Oh, goddess. You must be asking about Aelfric." He huffs, his formality dropping with his tone. "How did he become a topic of interest to you, Byleth?"
She isn't very pleased with his reaction. "Was he...er...on good terms with her?"
Maybe the house was built with traps. Traps to murder her in cold, cold blood!
"Perhaps a little too good," she could very vividly imagine Seteth rolling his eyes. "He was in love with Sitri for who knows how long. Even when Jeralt began courting her, before she officially left the church, he was like a little puppy, following her just about everywhere."
"Ah," Byleth shakes her head a bit, the information certainly not what she was expecting. "So, then...if hypothetically, he passed away last week and stated in his will that he wanted to leave me with all of his property, what would you say to that?"
"H-he...!?! Good heavens, Byleth, he what?"
"I'm in disbelief as well." Seteth's snort told her that her voice clearly did not display much disbelief.
"That man..." her uncle mutters to himself lowly, before sighing. "Well, it's likely legitimate. I'm very sorry to hear of his passing, perhaps I shouldn't be speaking too ill of him at the moment. He was excellent at his job, and a very polite and charming man. But he never could let go of Sitri. I was aware of his declining health when he finally retired a few years ago, but only visited him maybe...a bit over a year ago?" Another sigh.
"Nonetheless, I certainly see him doing such an eccentric thing. He never did find someone else worthy enough to persuade him to leave the church. He had no siblings, no family, so I suppose that in some...odd way, he thought of Sitri when writing his will, and therefore...thought of you."
"So...I should accept the cool free house?"
A third sigh. "If you can stomach that someone passed in that house, then yes, Byleth. It is yours."
She shrugs, "People die everywhere."
"Morbid child." He mutters. "Right then. Is that all, Byleth? It's good to hear you call for something quite... interesting, rather than something dire."
"Yes, that's all." A ghost of a smile on her lips. Her last family, Seteth and Flayn. Though their talks are few and far between, she cherishes them nonetheless. "It was nice speaking with you, Seteth. Thank you for your help."
"Of course, Byleth. Stay safe now. And let me know how it goes."
The house had certainly seen better days.
The structural integrity seemed fine, yet it was clearly the home of a man who could no longer afford the luxury of maintenance.
It was certainly the type of house that Byleth could see dating back to a few centuries ago, even. The architecture seemed archaic, but to be fair, trends came and went. Archaic to some, vintage to others, after all. Like most of the older buildings in historical Fhirdiad, it was made of solid brick and had two stories. The windows were all large and arched, but the glass in all of them seemed heavily dusty on the inside, and streaked and smudged from the elements on the outside.
There were two portions of the house that curved, almost like two towers one would see on a castle. Archaic, certainly, not vintage, but Byleth wasn't picky. Dark roof, dark window lining, dark porch. Byleth could see herself living here, definitely.
There was a large lawn that accompanied the equally large driveway, with a single, massive tree off to the side of the lawn. Leaves of muddied colors lay atop the grass that was equally cold, dry, and dying. Faerghus winters were cruel, after all, and even moreso to lawns that had no able owner.
And beyond the lawn...ah, bliss. Even more lawn.
As the house was located on the outskirts of Fhirdiad, the property included nearly 20 acres of land, yet even beyond her property it was simply wilderness for perhaps another half mile until the next house.
Perfect, lovely, and hers.
She supposed she should feel more remorse for being so excited about taking such a good opportunity from a dead man, but it was difficult enough for her to sympathize with non-family. She'd pay her respects by fixing up his house and treating it with care.
"What do you think?" Annette turns to ask as they walk up the few steps to the front door. She looks equally nervous and equally excited, likely because Mercedes isn't here this time to guide the younger, greener attorney.
"It's like a dream," a faint smile crosses her lips as her eyes trace the window frames, already considering new paint. "I don't know Aelfric, yet I am immensely grateful for his kindness. He had no idea how much it would mean to me to have a home, yet he gave it to me anyways."
"Oh, yes, he was very kind!" Annette agrees as she keys the door to unlock it, yet drops the keys in the process. "Oh, shoot. It's definitely, uhm," she picks them back up and tries again, "A lot of space for one person, even, wouldn't you say?"
"Hm, yes." Byleth murmurs, crossing her arms in thought. "You're quite right. Maybe after I fix it up, I could rent out a few rooms? This place has at least ten of them, it's...it's utterly massive."
"Oh, I am so glad to hear you consider that!" Annette turns and grabs Byleth's hands in her own, "It's always such a good idea to be open minded about living with others, especially with such a big house, and-"
The front door creaks opens an inch. Then another.
And then a man appears in the doorway, eyebrows furrowed, single eye darting between Annette and Byleth. Annette's keys are still in the lock, jingling as the door was thrust open.
A large man with an eyepatch, with access to her large house.
"Annette," he greets quietly, before turning his attention to Byleth, silently staring.
Or, in Byleth's vocabulary, glaring. He's unwelcoming at best, really. Neutral towards the attorney, maybe, but if looks could kill...
"O-oh, Dimitri! What a coincidence, I-"
"Annette," Byleth begins, breaking eye contact with the cold man, "What is this man doing here?"
His eyes narrow, clearly bothered by her questioning his presence as if he wasn't there. "I should be asking the same of you." He's stiff, his body language hostile and his voice both monotone and aggressive. The rusty door handle squeaks under the tension of his grip. "After all, this is my house."