Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

1176, Horsebow Moon. 

 Summer’s end came with little warning as it often did. One day the sun had beamed down so brightly that soldiers would strip themselves of their armor, the next cold winds were biding the people to put on their fur laden cloaks and rush to gather the last of the harvest. This year everything had gone wonderfully. The crops had grown well, unusually so. It was cause for celebration! The first three days of this moon had been filled with dancing in the streets of Fhirdiad and a bountiful feast to close it all out on the noon of the third. He and Dimitri had enjoyed themselves in the festivities during the first two days. The deliciously baked treats were a delicacy they’d been all too happy to devour. It had been a wonderful break into the often uneventful routine he’d gotten into these past years. It was a shame he could only make the opening part of this day due to the backup in his work load. That feast had sounded so tempting but he had work to attend to. He knew he should be grateful that often his biggest concern was how many things Dimitri broke within the palace. It wasn’t too often, but his son seemed to miss out on the dexterity the goddess had blessed him with. 

 What had come with this moon was a development he’d been hoping to have a breakthrough on for as long as he could remember ruling. There were many concerns he’d dealt with and hoped to resolve over his reign. Much like the plates of his people this harvest, his own had been positively overflowing with business he had to attend to. Lambert had already gone over the bulk of the harvest reports he needed to, he was now simply idling over the ones concerning the reserves that had been personally harvested from the royal family’s plots on the Itha Plains. The harvest was no longer his primary concern as it had once been for the Kings of old. 

 Yet still, this year’s harvest proved to be more than a simple gathering as it might have seemed for the common people of Faerghus. The king’s generosity in making sure his people were fed was something they had gotten accustomed to over the years Lambert had ruled. The spoils of this year were a show of Faerghus’s preeminence. 

 Adrestia had been bleeding citizens whether it be those who ran from the Emperor’s negligence or those exiled for reasons he knew not. The influx of people uncommon with the struggles of Faerghus had given him far more mouths to feed and should it not be done, the full weight of that failure would fall upon him. He did his best to not give those against him any more ways to critique his rule and he did not fail now as he had not before. He was far from perfect but he knew how to meet what his people expected of him, dissident nobles be damned.

 The Adrestian civilians who’d been running into his lands were now becoming one of the main topics of the Faerghus court. There were lords who had wished the king would send them back to Adrestia because they didn’t take kindly to the extra food that they had used to fatten themselves being given to foreign citizens. Luckily, they were in the minority. Many of the lower lords who managed the land had seized the opportunity. There were now more hands that would do work for cheap and while that wasn’t particularly a good thing, it was better than leaving the people who had come to his lands for aid on their own without anywhere to go. Leicester was once an option but after a change in governance in the Hrym region, it had seemingly all but disappeared leaving Faerghus as the only refuge.
King Lambert of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus had no say in what the Adrestian Empire or Emperor Ionious IX did but there were times like these when he felt as though he had every right to have a voice in their court. Their people were running to him , away from the heavy taxes and abhorrent governance that had been imposed on them by their lords. For such incompetence to lead worried him about the competence of the upcoming heir. Of course this was not a unique part of his rule, but The Insurrection of the Seven in 1171 had caused an influx that had nearly forced them to ask for food aid from Leicester. The number of people that dared make the trip from the southern warmth of Adrestia to the harsh northern cold of Faerghus continued to increase and it bewildered him how the Adrestian Empire even maintained the facade of being prideful. He had once joked that even Leicester, the youngest of the three Fodlan nations, had more reason to be proud of themselves than the current Empire. He hadn’t expected the Emperor or the empire’s nobes to take it so seriously that they’d ruin their nation.

 Despite all the worries surrounding that particular problem, his main dish this moon would be Duscur.

 Brought up far too many times with far too much support from far too many nobles— it wasn’t a majority but too many for his liking— it seemed his Kingdom wished that he’d try to invade and take the lands.

 The soil of Duscur was precious. The region was fertile despite its location. Were it to be taken by the kingdom, it would spell a golden age. No more would the people have to struggle to get by each winter. No longer would poor lands restrain the wealths of the people. The people and nobles would no longer have to worry about simply living and could bring their talents and focus elsewhere. Just as Fhirdiad itself had been rebuilt, the rest of the kingdom could undergo such developments. Faerghus’s long history of loyalty and chivalry could be built upon and a new age could bloom forth!

 As good an idea it had sounded on paper, Lambert had refused every suggestion outright. 

 The issue was not if he could win a war. Lambert knew well his own strength and the strength of the forces that swore fealty to him. Had he wished for it, all of Fodlan could easily come under his rule. His arrogance was well founded, yet the thought of such a conquest saddened him.

He was a man with a large heart and he held a deep appreciation for ways of life different from his own. He had recalled a time when he was young and carefree, when he’d snuck out of his lectures. He’d pulled Rodrigue along with him and they’d simply stroll through town or immerse themselves in the beauty of the greenhouse. His time at the Officer’s Academy had given him an appreciation for many things he never would have loved had he stayed in Fhirdiad his whole childhood. Rufus had been kind to him at the academy. There was not a day that would pass where he wouldn’t reminisce on the words his usually distant older brother had told him.

  “This is the one time you’ll have to act like anything other than royalty around people. I can be the noble brother for this year. Enjoy yourself before Father forces you to become a slave to the people’s needs.”

 He had done just that. He childishly bothered both Leicester and Adrestian nobles alike about how things were where they were from or the particular traditions they held dear while sharing his own stories and experiences. The monks and bishops of the church were also more than happy to oblige him. They regarded his interest as if he was nothing more than a common boy and at the time, it gave him an odd sense of satisfaction. It still did but now he knew of the arrogance he had inadvertently encouraged from such behavior.

After his coronation, he vividly remembered Judith Daphnel and Tiana von Riegan saying he’d turned into a completely different person. He had never gotten the chance to clear his name to Tiana as she'd disappeared on them but at a brief class reunion organized by Judith, Duke Aegir, and him, he managed to at least show her he was still the same free and curious boy when once more he begged her for details about the tales of her as the Hero of Daphnel. He knew second hand but it was always better hearing stories from a drunken friend’s mouth.

 The lifestyles of others would always be something he held a respect for, within reason of course. To take over entirely and enforce his own ideals onto others just because he had the power to was irrational and a thought process unfit for any respectable leader. It was only when diplomatic measures failed that fighting was even to be considered. Even as such, it was appalling to think of forcing his own beliefs and culture onto a land that had beliefs and culture all it’s own.

Just as in his own Kingdom, there were citizens and leaders of Duscur who wished to fight against him. Whether that was to simply show they were unwelcome or because they truly believed they could win was obvious to anyone who knew the history of Faerghus. The knights of Faerghus were known for their quick and ruthless nature when it came to matters of conflict. However, just like in his territory, they were outnumbered by those who wished for a peaceful resolution to the dilemmas they faced.

 Many people of Duscur had heard of Lambert’s exploits in Sreng. Sreng hadn't just been a problem for the Kingdom. As he recalled they would sail and attack any who they suspected had valuables. For the Kingdom that had usually translated to the armor or weapons that were forged with techniques that had developed faster and better than those of the other surrounding regions. As much as Lambert had hated to take the southern Sreng territory, it was the only way to get them to stop attacking the merchants who transported such things and the unfortunate travellers who were mistaken for them. Even after all of that they still continued to push at the newly redefined border, only held off by Magrave Gautier and his relic.

 That unfortunate campaign had given him an upperhand in the letters he penned at the very least. While the Kingdom wasn’t known for its naval fleet or anything to particularly do with protection of a port, it had seemed that the strength possessed by the army alone was enough. The idea had lingered in Lambert's mind however and he logged it to later discuss with Rodrigue. It didn't hurt to increase their military prowess if it was already giving them an advantage when it came to peace discussions like this. As well as it serving as a good way to secure trade routes with nations that were seas apart.

The decision wasn't cut and dry however. Trading soldiers for plots of land that were still the property of Duscur and managed by those who knew the land was the initial mock up of their agreement. He had further proposed farmers of Faerghus willing to learn were to live alongside them and learn how they tended to their land. Once it came time for harvest, Faerghus would receive a large portion of the produce from those lands. There were people from both regions involved but he still felt a bit ill at ease considering his men and women would be in a much more dangerous position than the farmers he'd be lent out. 

 There were still things to be worked out regarding how many soldiers and farmers per nation and how much land and where would be given out to Faerghus. When he received a response that stated there was no better way to discuss it than in person over a meal that would solidify their peace, Lambert couldn’t have agreed more.

He had, of course, met with those that governed Duscur before though he wasn’t quite sure how to describe their system of nobility. It was a small affair— only as small as those kinds of meetings could get— at a border town. His first time walking through he noted that the culture was far different from what he had been used to, even with the different ways Fodlan as a whole was led and the different doctrines of the church branches. It had been an honor to take it in as it was, unfiltered through some lens that made it more appealing to him as he’d once seen on a trip with his father. When he met with their leader, it was someone who felt more to him like Lady Rhea in position to the people. A religious leader who guided the lords of the land through the words of their gods. The rigidity of the nobles, he wasn’t sure that was the right word, was different. The different altars to their gods and the different types of offerings upon them were something he’d learned about firsthand during the walk through. Each god had a few particular offerings they accepted, sometimes overlapping with one another. The priest-like leader would receive revelations from each and relay to the people which to offer that season in hopes that the blessings of that god or goddess would be upon them. It surprised him to see that his own goddess was one of those that they worshiped though her role in their scripture had been simplified to the bringer of good fortune. An offering at the beginning of the year was given to her and she would see to it that they were given the best future she could offer. It was an interesting interpretation to be sure. The priest had surprised him when he handed Lambert a small golden idol. 

  “Offer it and pray as you would.”

 It would have been rude to refuse. Even more so knowing this was most likely not how they went about their prayers. He had placed the idol on the altar and clasped his hands together. His prayer was a simple one of peace and good relations in the days to come. When he received a smile from the priest in return he couldn’t help but already feel the goddess’s work.

 He couldn’t express his gratitude enough for the experience and the trust he’d been given when he sent his invitation to meet. Now it came time for him to fully give them his trust in front of the people. Maybe this good showing would be what his people needed to welcome their Duscurian neighbors into Faerghus. More than anything he had hoped to see the people live among each other and celebrate their differences together. What the Western Church thought of that could matter no less to him.

 It would be the second week of the moon when they departed. The trip wasn’t a secret in that it was occurring but there were far too many people who would jump at the chance to make something go wrong for it to be a tour through the regions before Duscur like he had wanted initially. Lambert trusted those who knew their route and he knew that trust went a long way as far as his royal guard and lords were concerned. He had taken great caution in how they were to move but…he knew he was counting on his own strength in certain areas. It was especially difficult to plan when the entire royal family, Anselma included, were going to partake in the trip. To say he was overjoyed at their willingness to go was an understatement. He’d nearly thrown Dimitri ten feet in the air after hearing his son praise the opportunity as one to learn how he should lead. There was his pride as a king, to protect and guide his people. As large and palatable as it was, it could never compare to the pride he felt as a father having such a wonderful child as Dimitri. A boy who’s compassion was second to none and who was eager to behold his duty as prince to his people. Lambert had never looked like that in his princely days. He had always looked for a way around those duties. Even if he knew how to perform them perfectly, his enthusiasm for the tasks back then had been lacking as was his patience. It had been Rufus who led him back on track though no one would believe that if he confessed it now.

 There was a day he remembered vividly where he had thrown a tantrum. He remembered all too well how horrified his own father looked at him when he’d screamed and thrown down the training lance, nearly shattering the poor thing.

It was a fond memory of a boy who wanted nothing more than to enjoy what life had to offer. It was a sad story of a king who didn’t know how to be a better father. It was a tale of a big brother who, despite his attitude, still hugged his little brother tightly with so much love despite it being that same younger brother who’d stolen his throne.

 It was now that same fairytale brother who’d thrown the door to his study open in a stupor and slammed it with the same furious vigor, even going so far as to lock it. It was clear Lambert had done something terribly wrong. To warrant such behavior from Rufus of all people he must have started a war in his sleep. Books on the shelves rattled for a moment before stilling themselves; Lambert was stunned speechless. Even Rufus must have known how utterly deranged it was to barge into the king’s study unannounced. 

  “Your explanation had better convince me that you have not lost your mind, little brother. There is taking a risk and there is being completely reckless! Have you any sense at all?”

 Rufus's eyes betrayed the words on his lips. The concern was not lost on Lambert as he regained his composure and put down the reports he’d been idly glancing over. So it was the Duscur endeavor then.

  "If you know of the trip then you already know what you need to. There's no need for me to give you another lecture on it." Lambert spoke calmly, leaning forward on his desk and his eyes couldn't quite meet his brother's. It seemed Rufus wasn't the only one not being honest with himself today. "I'll tell you as I told Rodrigue, my mind will not be changed and my presence is already expected."

 A deep sigh resounded through the room and Rufus let his full weight drop into one of the blue cushioned chairs across from his brother’s desk. Rufus wasn’t one for meddling with his brother’s affairs, the king’s affairs, for it had always been more trouble than it was worth. Something about this situation however did not sit right with him. Lambert could easily read that much from his face.

  "You've truly gone mad. Relations between you and those that lead Duscur are fine but the people of both regions will not let this proceed so easily." An ungloved hand ran through well kept blonde hair and tired deep blue eyes stared up at the roof of the room. His brother wasn’t stupid but the path and travel plan that was detailed in the letter he received was riskier than anything even a Count would travel on, let alone a king. The path was too out of the way and made any chance of quick reinforcements should they be ambushed nearly impossible, even for the finest and fastest of Gautier’s horses, let alone a battalion large enough to support the King! "Do you at the very least have a plan should something go awry?"

 Seeing the look on Rufus's face beckoned a small chuckle out of Lambert. The man turned in his chair and stood, carefully reaching down and removing a panel under the newly restored window seating.

  "You know better than anyone else here —well, aside from Gustav— that we have formations and arrangements we follow should we be ambushed. There's no reason to be so overly cautious." 

From the small cavity under the sun lit area, he pulled two glasses and a bottle of wine that was near its end. Just enough to ease the nerves for the moment. Rufus knew how to raise the tension between Lambert’s shoulders. "I knew you were here for the festival but, it's unlike you to come here personally and scold me like this. Have I really worried you so much that my big brother must come here and chastise me in the flesh?"

 Lambert stood over his desk and poured the wine with an innate grace. His family's natural strength had blessed him but unlike many before him, tasks like this didn't require him to control his hand as much as one would think having known the Blaiddyd family. Rufus watched as the air in the glass had been halved, the wine pushing it further out. A hand raised to his face and fingers gently massaged the bridge of his nose.

  "It's been eleven years now Lambert and you still seem like you're caught between letting your grief consume your heart and forcing yourself to move forward before you've made your peace." Rufus had told him back then that he shouldn't force himself to keep moving but his pleas fell on deaf ears. “I am reminded of how you’ve differed these years from the rule you held before. The periods of stillness from you where it seems as though you’ve relegated all of your tasks to those under you and then this. These periods of acting terrify me, like Sreng. I believed you would recover from this stupor afterwards but you seem to have fallen further, waited even longer. From Sreng you returned with new scars, from Duscur I’m unsure if you’ll return at all. Your grief for her continues and you wish to do the things you would have done with her but can not bring yourself to do it with another who can't fill those shoes, who cannot support you the same way. I am not one for admitting my woes outloud for fear of the goddess catching wind and making my worries true but, my brother, you must know you cannot live disregarding yourself so cruelly. If not for yourself, think about your son.”

 As a king, he could not wallow in his own grief. His ears had long since learned to tune out the voices that worried over him. He couldn't listen when there were so many others who's worries were more pressing to listen to.

As a father…there were far more issues he had regarding his performance at the task.

 Lambert placed the bottle down and held a glass to Rufus who quietly took it. Instead of finding his place behind his desk once more, he let himself rest in the chair next to his brother's. A silence permeated every inch of the room before Lambert's long sip indicated he'd finally had something to say.

  "It has felt so much longer than that. I cannot deny my lack of anything on a large scale may have been related to that but I am finally attempting to do something about it and I have, in fact, thought it through." Lambert wasn't one to buzz easily, none of the Blaiddyds had ever been, yet he seemed to want that excuse for the lips he’d finally let loose. 

  "I'm glad that after these many years, there is finally someone Dimitri can call mother, even if it is only in private quarters. To raise a child and keep a kingdom...I knew it'd be a daunting task, our father had assured me as much and Gustav was eager to lend his own assistance but I still feel as though it is too little. He did not have a mother nor does he have any siblings. His time with his friends is often shorter than it should be due to his duties as the prince. And yet…”

  "He takes all of it in with no worries. I am proud yet I feel as though there is something I haven’t given him, something I cannot give him that he will never have now. He’s grown up too fast." Lambert leaned back and mimicked Rufus's stare at the roof. Like many things in the palace, it had the Blaiddyd insignia as it's main motif. The steady repetition of the pattern could be unnerving at times. A constant reminder of his duty and the importance of his blood. "He's stronger than I ever was at that age. I was still getting scolded by Gustav and even Father had been dragged away from his work because I was being a little nuisance. I was a young boy and I acted like it. I acted out against many things for reasons I couldn’t tell you today. It’s worrying to me that he doesn’t act in such a way."

 How Lambert had still managed to dance around his concern would have been impressive if it wasn't so troubling. If he wished not to talk about that then Rufus would soothe his other worries instead.

  "It's simple why, it’s impossible to force someone to love something. Dimitri enjoys the prospect of being king. You never did before we had run off. Father and Gustav loved what they did, they wanted to extend that to you but they went about it the wrong way. Take Dimitri’s eagerness as a sign you are doing right by him. That day, when you ran off after yelling at him, Father hunted me down and I'd never seen our old man look like that." Rufus hadn't yet taken a drink and instead swirled the alcohol around in his hand. His eyes had softened remembering back.

  "The old man had cried in front of me. Back then something like that was just annoying...it had infuriated me at the time because I knew he was only crying because it was you who had run and I'm positive what I said after had only forced him to rethink having me as a legitimate son. The two of them had simply wanted you, the lively kid you were, to put that energy into what they loved. I understood that but they never took note of anything you wanted so I wasn’t going to give them any help with you."

 The king's attention was caught and his mouth held agape.

  "You never told me that first part! I knew he’d gotten upset but I didn’t think he had cried over me. That speech you gave me,” A soft sigh escaped his lips and he felt small again. Curled up in his brother’s arms, he had let his emotions take him over for the first time. He simply listened and let the weight of the world on his twelve year old shoulders fall off. “It meant a lot hearing it from you of all people but then, then you broke my neck by offering to run away and hide me with you! You must have known how much that would have confused me at the time."

  Rufus's laugh boomed throughout the study lit only by the afternoon sun and his free hand was held to his chest. True, his first intention was to sooth his brother but Rufus himself had already been planning to leave. He was sure that with all he knew he would be just fine, accounting for Lambert wouldn’t change much.  "Oh? I thought I had.” He knew well he hadn’t mentioned it because as much as he disliked his father, he understood the man’s pride at the very least. “When I was leaving my room I said that I'd give you the chance to run away forever and whatever your answer was, I'd respect it and help you. If he didn't have his crest I'm sure he would have died from shock. The look on his face was priceless."

  "And I, the confused boy I was at the time, took that offer like my life depended on it. For the next three moons you led me around Faerghus and we lived together as if we were simply commoners. It was exciting to say the least.” The entire event had caused turmoil in the palace. Both potential heirs going missing was hard to keep a secret, especially when the heirs were boys as well known by the noble court as Rufus and Lambert. He’d forever ask for forgiveness for tarnishing his Father’s rule like that but it would serve as a reminder to future kings, it was impossible to cage a lion before you showed it proper care.
  “More than any scolding those two did, it inspired me." A coy smile had graced Lambert's lips. Of course Rufus had come prepared with enough gold to get them by and spare sets of clothes that would let them blend into the crowds of Fhirdiad long enough to get out of the capital without being caught. It was unlike any of the harsh training in the mountains where it was just him, the animals, and the elements. The people they'd helped, the places they'd stayed, and the food they'd eaten. It had all made him feel obligated .

 These were the people who trusted him to protect them. These were the places he would defend with Areadbhar. This was the food he’d share with his people when the harvest came. Remembering it all made the furs on Lambert's shoulders feel lighter. It wasn’t a burden when he recalled all the faces of those he served. It was an honor.  "Of course though, we were still chased down by the army for it. I never knew you to be so talented with the sword or at running away."

  "That's because in the training grounds I was always faced with monsters as opponents, including you little Lamby. If Father had found a reason, he would have had my head for those little escapades. Those knights must have been furious when I was let off after ‘disgracing the Blaiddyd name’ like they often said." Of course, that was just hyperbole. The man had been happy so see them both back. Lambert more so of course, but for once he'd shown some semblance of pride in Rufus. He had no choice but to recognize his crestless son's skills when knight upon knight of his spoke the tales of the young man's lack of hesitation to take up the sword for his brother. Luckily for the soldiers, Rufus wasn't so stupid as to kill his own father's men. Years of practice had taught him how to disarm a more skilled opponent and make a retreat, even if Lambert hadn’t witnessed it until then. It usually wouldn’t have been seen as a disgrace to the Blaiddyd name since such a retreat was a mercy on the enemy and not an act of defeat. When it came to him, unfortunately it still had been. No rest for the crestless despite still being a Blaiddyd. He was by no means weak, that much was obvious to anyone. No Blaiddyd could ever be called as such, even those unblessed by the goddess. Rufus had been of the many that had given up the life of the lance and preferred to live on the land granted to them. He wouldn’t be useful to Lambert dead on the battlefield but as Grand Duke he could at the very least send him a letter detailing everything he'd done wrong and right that year.

  “How quickly those days have passed. It seems like only yesterday you were covering for me in the Officer’s Academy as well.” Lambert closed his eyes and let his mind wander for a second. For the heir apparent, he really did get himself into a lot of trouble back then. It would have been an insult to the other house leaders to have Rufus lead but more often than not he'd performed those duties for Lambert anyways.

  “I have come here today to cover you once again.”

 Lambert had relaxed his shoulders and let his guard drop. It was hard to look into his mind these past few days, the past few years in truth. Rodrigue had long since told him of the change in Lambert’s smile. It had shone so much brighter in the days before but now it had become dulled and clouded as if always holding a rain at bay. Glancing at the man, one would think nothing of it. Even those closest to him had started falling for the facade. It perturbed him to think of his brother becoming so different. Loneliness that should have been alleviated by the people he kept closest still rested deep within his eyes and the wrinkles of his face. Rufus did have to sing praise, for all of the troubles he let stew within him, the Kingdom hadn’t ever been in better shape than it was under Lambert, but at what cost did it come?

“Going to Duscur like you are is reckless and a decision made by a steadily maddening king. If I cannot stop you from going, then at least listen to the alternative to that humorless travelling layout you have planned. As of now, every bandit in the kingdom would sing with joy at the chances it provides them for ambush."

  Lambert’s head rose sharply at those words and he met his brother’s eyes with a fierce glare. He had been challenged on his decisions many times in the past years, some times had been justified while others were the result of greed and corruption attempting to seize an opportunity into his court. He’d have none of it. His eyes searched his brother’s, looking for malice he knew he would not find. As the seconds stretched on, Lambert’s glass found the small table between them and he sat up, crossing his legs. He closed his eyes and gestured towards Rufus in the manner a liege would give his vassal permission to speak.

“I will listen but,” Lambert’s hand was held up between them. “Don’t take this as a promise that I will change my mind on anything.” Both of his hands rested on his knees. Contrary to what he’d said, Lambert’s eyes all too curiously waited for the scheme Rufus would tell him.

 Rufus nodded his head ever so slightly and set his untouched glass down next to Lambert’s nearly empty one. He stood up and crossed the room to one of the bookshelves, pulling out a book that was practically falling apart at its seams. It was a collection of maps, many of which had been traced, updated, and placed in the book as if to log the changings of the land and how people occupied them. Rufus pulled out the most recent one and very carefully set it on the desk. Lambert leaned up curiously and his interest which had been passing turned into something that became impossible to hide in his eyes.

“I doubt your troops would be happy about a route change, especially with how many are already securing the route now ahead of time. It’d be a fool’s errand to change it on such short notice.” Rufus went to the chessboard by the window and observed the game. On first glance the match had seemed even. Though upon closer review, Rufus could tell Lambert had baited Dimitri into compromising far too many of his pieces to get a good check on the King through offering piece after piece of his own. All the while his King sat well protected behind an unmoving defensive line. Dimitri had clearly taken the bait and the game was left unfinished though with a clear victor. He could already hear in his mind the lecture Dimitri had received about both Lambert’s gamble and the response that was given to it.

 Getting back to the task at hand, he’d taken the King, Queen, a bishop, and a knight from the black pieces and had curiously swiped the King from the white pieces as well. 

  “I’m not one for council so I’ll explain this the best I can.” 

 It wasn't a lie but Lambert rolled his eyes at the comment. Rufus had been one of the first to understand his strategy at Gronder during their Blue Lion days but now he 'wasn't one for council.' His brother was an enigma and a half.

  “You’re most vulnerable going through the Sacred Gwenhwyfar. If someone were to attack you, it’d be there, just before you arrived in Duscur.” Rufus placed the King, Queen, and Knight pieces over the area. He let his fingers run over the stubble on his chin. “Truthfully that entire region is dangerous. Kleiman has stopped as of late, but from what reaches me I recall him being the loudest of the clergy that wishes to conquer Duscur. Perhaps even giving you till the Sacred Gwenhwyfar is too much considering the attitude he’s had.” All at once, Rufus moved the pieces he’d set over the area under the mountain range marked with Kleiman’s name.

 By now Lambert had stood next to his brother, his own more grown out beard nestled between his fingers. “I understand he opposes many of my reforms, but enough to earnestly attempt regicide? This isn’t even accounting for the fact that his forces simply wouldn’t even have the might to ever succeed with such a plan.” It was impossible for any lord of the Kingdom to be so dense as to betray the very values instilled in them from the moment they could listen to words at all. Loyalty had been the moniker of the Kingdom for over a few centuries now, to betray that simply because you disagreed with the king was more than a death wish. Betrayal of such a kind would never leave your family's name and there would be no pity spared from any of the other lords let alone the people.

 Rufus let out a wry chuckle. 

  “Even if they had the assistance of those from Duscur?”

 It was absurd to think that a lord like Kleiman would ever ally himself with the people of Duscur. His hate was always on such display that anytime Rufus heard of the Kingdom’s court antics and the man’s name came up, he knew he’d be hearing about Duscur again and again despite the peace that had been made on the border between them. “It’s humorous to think that a man so intent on hating those from Duscur wouldn’t hesitate to use them to kill his own king over a disagreement. I surmise tha-”

  “Even with the forces he’d stoke from those of Duscur who seek to sabotage these talks, compared to the royal guard that is still hardly a threat. As I told you and Rodrigue before, you’re overthinking this.” His words ring hollow as his usually easygoing face turns sour. No, he wasn’t the one being rash about this. Thinking logically it made no sense that a force of the size he estimated could take him out, even at his most vulnerable. Goddess willing, he could quell a force of that size single handedly if he had Areadbhar by his side, even his personal Moon Gradivus would be enough. A traitor to his own mind, his heart felt uneasy. It had felt that way for a time now but it was far easier to ignore something he couldn’t place and instead focus on what he could do instead. “The route we are taking is not even a common one, the amount of people we run into at all is kept to a minimum. Bandits wouldn't lurk it. As well it’s treacherous lands to cross, especially with the weather in its fray as it is now. Our scouts would spot anyone before we even could be ambushed.” The pout on his lips had firmly set in. He could no longer choose to ignore what stared him right in the face. 

 He looked over the map and held his hand out for the bishop. Rufus placed it between his fingers and Lambert firmly put it in the position of where he’d planned to keep an additional rear guard. They were to be quite a few paces back, resting at the western edge of the Tailtean Plains while the main guard was in Kleiman’s territory. It simply for convenience of both reinforcements and potential messenger’s should he need them as a contingency. Under his breath he lightly whispered thoughts to himself. Should anywhere on their voyage they end up targeted, that rear guard would prove to be vital but if they as well became trapped at a choke point between rogue Duscur forces and Kleiman’s forces, it would be potentially hours before they could receive assistance if any messenger at all would be sent.

  “We could ask a multitude of lords.We could put Rodrigue on standby with a few soldiers of his own to bolster confidence in the rear guard, we could ask Count Galatea to lend us a company of his pegasus knights if you’d rather prioritize the speed of a messenger ,or we could ask Magrave Gautier for a battalion of his cavalry and split the force down the middle to have quicker reinforcements and messengers at the expense of their size. Of course they would need a quick thinking leader who could best use their strength,“ Rufus’s lips tugged into a small smile as he set the white King down in place of the Queen and moved the black Queen back to the Bishop’s position, “ and that would be none other than you, Grand Duke of Itha.”

 Lambert balked and nearly jumped back at the suggestion. His brother had gone on about him being mad and then had the nerve to suggest such a ludicrous plan? It was true that if the two of them decided to switch places, only a few would be wise to the change and those few could be filled in on the matter with confidence. It was still an insane plan regardless.

  “Grand Duke of Itha, Rufus Xavier Blaiddyd, you have lost your mind. If the main force is attacked with a plan like this then-” He’d spoken too soon. If the main guard was attacked while Rufus acted in his place, they’d fare as well as they always had. Rufus knew how to command a royal guard even if he never got to put such knowledge to use. He knew what to do with the royal guard if given command of them, he was a proper prince after all. Then, with Lambert in the rear, it would be far easier to reliably cut a path for a small group of messengers to go retrieve Sir Gustav or Rodrigue and then back up the main forces . Lambert, once done reading the situation, could personally guide and instruct the reinforcements and take out the stragglers left behind. Even should the forces that ambush be larger than they expect, the extra time Lambert would have to give proper commands would immediately change the tides as opposed to being caught off guard and trying to order a guard that had been scrambled. It was just…

  “Dimitri and Anselma. They’d still be caught in the fray Rufus, I don’t know if I can agree to not being by them in the event of a potential ambush. Dimitri especially. Anselma can fight well enough, but my son has yet to see bloodshed at all and I don’t believe he’s anywhere near ready to hold a blade against an actual opponent yet.”

 Dimitri was a capable combatant in training . He had yet to let his son wield a proper weapon because there was no reason a thirteen year old like him should be taking up such arms. Fifteen was the youngest he'd ever allow. Glenn had fought him on that and he'd relented seeing the boy's strength but he was still just that, a boy.

 Rufus put a hand on Lambert’s back and rubbed it gently. It was never easy coming to terms with threats on their lives, even with the knowledge of combat that they had. It became especially difficult when it was directed at their less skilled family members. The light from the sun had now died down and the beginnings of moonlight illuminated his brother’s pained face. 

  “I didn’t spend all those years watching over you to suddenly fail when it came to your son. I promise you- know I do not do this lightly- that should it come to it I would lay my life down for my nephew." Rufus had never taken well to the teachings of knighthood. Its importance was something he valued but he had always denied any personal vassals because the idea of the spare ruler being protected in that way seemed pointless when it came to their family. No one was killing a Blaiddyd, not without dying themselves in the process. 

 Yet now he stood here, unceremoniously swearing his life to his nephew. The feeling was odd in his chest but he held to it tightly. His hand that had been comforting Lambert moved over his heart and he looked his brother in the eyes before directing his attention back to the map.

  "I don’t expect it to get to that point however. And of Anselma...there is no need for her to know of this change in plans." He had his suspicions and kept them sealed behind his lips. He was all for his brother finding someone to mend his broken heart but that woman left him wishing he had chosen someone personally as odd as it sounded. She was too calculated. Most Adrestian noble women were that way but the fierceness in her eyes was that of a woman whose intentions could easily spell disaster. She would have made for a good queen in a different time. "Her carriage will be further back if my memory of what was written serves right. She would be the first to be aided should the worst come. Glenn will take good care of myself and Dimitri until you rendezvous with us.”

  “I did not expect to have a miniature council with my brother over plans I had set into motion moons in advance, yet here we are. Just as you have warned me, do not forget you are just as susceptible to fate. Be careful is all I ask.” A soft sigh escaped Lambert’s throat and he looked up from the map and to the new moon. Despite it’s pitch black visage in the sky, light still shone down upon them. “If even she does not need to know, then who does?"

 He had been acutely aware of the shared concern Rodrigue, Gustav, and Rufus had given him when he wed 'Patricia' but to the look in Rufus's eyes now seemed far more distrustful when speaking of her than they ever did back then. He despised it yet could not find it in himself to defend her honor in lieu of the situation they found themselves in now.

  “Only those you know I would trust to not relay the information elsewhere. As far as the rear guard will be concerned, the one commanding them will be me. Thus I need to know now, who should I send 'my' letter to.” The most crucial part of their decision lay here. If the person they called upon even so much as slipped and let the letter be seen by a servant or passing knight, it could prove fatal. Rufus was not one to trust easily despite, or perhaps because of, the loyalty granted to him by his blood. “Duke Fraldarius, Magrave Gautier, and Count Galatea are all lords I can place a fair amount of trust in but it must be taken into account the situations they will be putting themselves in. Their soldiers’ lives will be put on the line and once we return home, the news will surely have flooded the court by then. They could very well become the next targets of attacks like these.”

Of course, Lambert’s first instinct was Rodrigue. He trusted that man with more than his life, he had been more than a trustworthy ally on the battlefield, and his son had been sworn to protect him in much the same way he had sworn himself to Lambert. There was not a doubt in the world of where his loyalties were. As well as, he had no doubts that Rodrigue could protect himself and his sons. Words had nearly passed through his lips before his mind caught up to his mouth. Rodrigue was his most trusted companion but it seemed as though the goddess had struck him where he stood when he thought about suddenly bringing the worries he had finally quelled back to the surface. There was also the issue of the practicality of it. Rodrigue’s forces were strong, but many of them were infantry or armored. It would serve as a strong force of reinforcements but it would leave the messengers unprotected from forces in the Kingdom that would have allied themselves with Kleiman and the rogue’s from Duscur. It would be unfortunate should they defeat the main ambush only to be surrounded and forced to fight another gruelling battle with their back pressed further towards Duscur where they too would gain reinforcements.
As much as he wished to choose his closest friend, his conscience couldn’t in good faith justify such a decision.

 Between Margrave Gautier and Count Galatea, it was a difficult choice. Galatea pegasus knights could fly much faster than Gautier horses could run thus they would be the quicker force in terms of both reinforcements and as messengers. The problem with them arose when it came to numbers. He’d be splitting an already small force into two. They’d be better as messengers who would fly, guide the reinforcements, and signal that the right forces were coming to their aid. Unfortunately, his faith in Galatea's defenses were lacking. Despite the renowned pegasus knights, Count Galatea's personal guard was scarce and his position was isolated. Gautier horses had larger numbers, and in general were more sturdy than the Galatea Knights. The horses also had the advantage of having a much easier time moving the wounded. Gautier’s lands were between Fhirdiad and Fraldarius, meaning it would be nearly impossible to sneak troops through. The relic that had a proper user gave him renewed confidence. His mind had finally decided which he’d prefer.

  “Simply tell Margrave Gautier to have his cavalier in Fhirdiad by the ninth. Tonight is the third so write that letter posthaste.”
Once the order was issued, he leaned back down into his chair and sipped at his tepid wine. A long held breath he did not know he had been keeping escaped him.

  “I pray that the goddess let this be nothing more than you becoming a worrier in your older years. You must be honest with me. Did you see something?”

 Rufus had put the map back into the book and placed it on it’s proper shelf. It would suit him just fine if he was entirely wrong about the situation. Many times he found he enjoyed being wrong about things but when it came to battles, there were far too few times he saw his worries unfounded. “I’d hope so as well.”

 Rufus stood still in front of the bookshelf and held his head down. It had been far worse than simply seeing something but he couldn't let his lips loose. He had to play his hand safely.

  “It’s none of your concern. We’ve done what we needed to do about it and I’m sure once this is over, clarity will wash over us all.” He turned and plastered on a smile. It was fooling no one but the attempt at all told Lambert to leave it alone.

  “If finally there is peace with Duscur then it spells hope for Sreng and even the possibility of sailing to Almyra, Albenia, and even more surrounding lands. Normally I wouldn’t care but the prospects entice me.”

 It was now Lambert’s turn to chuckle at the suggestion of his brother. It wasn’t a bad idea at all. Having so many to do business with would surely improve the Kingdom and grow Faerghus and tales of its splendor abroad. Now hearing it from Rufus? That invoked a different feeling altogether. Those “prospects'' they imagined were likely something different entirely between the two of them.

  “I didn’t know you’d still clung to such ambitions.”

 The room had settled into a comfortable darkness. Due to the gripping nature of their talk, neither man had taken the time to light one of the many candles mounted in the room. Instead the moonlight gently streamed across the study from the window behind the king’s desk. Rufus had taken to setting the chess pieces back onto the board where they were and a curious question invaded his mind.

  “Was there a reason you employed that particular gambit? It’s unlike you to ever sacrifice your pieces like that to assure your own victory.”

 The dim light of the moon caught on Lambert’s smile and Rufus knew he shouldn’t have expected an answer any different.

  “Perhaps that strategy was more representative of my mind's true self or maybe I was teaching him how to recognize a bad play.”

 The quizzical look in his eyes disappeared as soon as Rufus had looked to search them. Replacing them was a look far more suited to the soft features of his once little brother. “I tried to explain it to Dimitri but,” he shrugged his shoulders and let out a sheepish chuckle. “He was more stunned by how easily he fell for it. He’s so eager to learn but he still has far to go. I still need to talk to him about it.”

 Rufus rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the board. 

  “He should have realized how stupid his father was for thinking anyone would ever play, let alone think, like that.”

 Lambert’s lips pulled into a sad smile. Sreng had been a learning experience for him with much higher stakes than the simple game he played with his son.

  “You would be surprised, my brother.”

 A knock on the door had roused them both from the calm silence they had let envelop them for the moment after. Rufus looked to Lambert as if expecting him to say something. Then he remembered, not all people had the privilege of just bursting into his study without express permission. Maybe he was starting to feel this wine just a tad bit.

  “You may enter.”

 On the invitation Rufus moved to unlock the door and stepped out of the way. As the handle turned a small frame, barely up to his waist, entered the dim room and squinted. The light from the outer hall seeped in and compared to the cool blue of the moon, the orange glow of candles had much better paired with Lambert’s expression as he set the glass down and calmly stood up. Rufus had to hold back a laugh. It was so obvious the man was forcing himself to not trip over his own feet as he made his way to hold up his son. 

 Dimitri’s wide eyes had yet to harden into that of a man or even take on the slight agitation one might have found in a teen. They were innocent and trusting as he looked down to his father who held him in the air by his under arms. The boy was glistening and from the way he just barely concealed his gasps for air, he could tell he’d just returned from some exercise of Gustav’s.

  “Hello, Uncle Rufus!” Despite the fatigue that seemed soon to set in, he cheerfully greeted the guest who had rooted himself just barely viewable from behind the door.

  “It’s been quite a while Dimitri, I take it Sir Gustav’s training hasn’t been too tough on you.” He walked over and ruffled the boy’s golden mane. He whined, likely having just fixed his hair before opening the door so he looked presentable.

 Behind the whine, a light pout formed on the boy’s face. “He told me that before the trip to Duscur I’d have to train extra hard because I ate too much during the festivities. I told him I had only eaten just as much as father and he said that meant I had to train even more than he thought!”

 It wasn’t hard to imagine that old face laced with shock as this boy, only thirteen in age, had deemed it proper to put away as much food as his thirty-eight year old father. When Rufus looked at Lambert with a question on the tip of his lips, Lambert turned his full attention to Dimitri and picked him up again, this time holding him at his side as if he was still a toddler. For what it was worth, if Dimitri minded he didn’t seem to show it at all. Lambert looked curiously at his son and raised an eyebrow.
  “What has brought my young king to the study at this hour?”

 Dimitri took a large breath and his cheeks flushed as if he’d suddenly remembered he had a purpose in coming.

  “Ah, it was time for dinner a bit ago but since you were occupied, mother began eating without you. I came to get you so we could eat together.”

  “Do you think she is still there?”

 Lambert looked forward down the ornate hall and began walking. Rufus trailed just behind by two steps. 

  “I don’t think so. I had waited for a bit to see if you’d come and she had barely touched the meal before excusing herself. I think she wasn’t feeling well.” Dimitri leaned his head onto Lambert’s shoulder, visibly thankful that he could rest his legs from what was no doubt a taxing training session.

  “I do hope the food hasn’t gone cold, usually I’d be able to warn the servants if I was going to be late but,” the pointed glare to his side was not lost on Rufus. Lambert knew damn well Rufus often made himself scarce. Particularly for reasons such as needlessly being teased by his younger annoying brother. “Plans can change without warning sometimes. You’ll have to be able to adapt to that when the time comes, my son.”

  "As such it seems I have things to get to." Rufus stopped in his tracks and lent a low bow to the king. "I'll personally get back to you by this Sunday but expect something before then as well. We should all attend a service if you can find the time, it's been much too long." Rufus's words held an unspoken meaning. He'd have to make sure he wasn't scrambling too much himself that day.

  "Of course! Nothing could make me happier than to attend church with my whole family once more." The words came out loud enough that anyone within earshot would have simply thought it a casual conversation. As the Royal Family it was expected that they be pious, even Rufus managed to follow that to a T. It wouldn't be off for him to straighten himself up before the eyes of the goddess.

  "Lambert, Dimitri, sleep well."

 Rufus turned to leave but Lambert quickly seized his hand. It wasn't as startling as it should have been to him. 

  "Which room will you be taking tonight? Surely you could not ride back at this hour. Please, occupy the room you're used to this night." He saw the glint just barely under the shadow of Lambert and the key that had just barely poked out of his cuff had found its way into Rufus's sleeve. "What kind of brother would I be to have you make that trek? The summer's heat still permeates the night inviting beasts uncommon within the area. The afternoon downpour has made the mugginess unbearable to ride in."

 A curt nod was Rufus's response as he turned on his heel and excused himself. It was always special to have Rufus around. After his ascension to the throne, the man seemed more like a fairytale specter than an older brother but the times he showed himself were always times Lambert could find himself smiling. It was unfortunate that the two had such limited contact be that so because of busy schedules or simply not thinking much of it. 

 Dimitri on his shoulder wouldn't be eating for now if the deep slumber the boy had slipped into held any indication. Training under Gustav was taxing as it was, but to be under him after Lambert's reign of terror was a different beast. He'd have to ask him to have mercy on Dimitri for the next few days. Duscur was a trip he was looking forward to so much. It would be sad, if not unsightly, for him to be weary from training when they arrived.

 The entrance to the royal dining room grew closer and guards' faces ladened with sleep and mouths with stifling yawns opened the doors to the well lit area. He let a sheepish smile run his face. He and Rufus had gotten carried away and, while for good reason, he hoped Rufus's hubris wouldn't be the downfall of the plan they'd spent so much time on. To come so suddenly and take so much time would already cause whispers. As he approached the fully set table his eyes went slightly ajar.

  "I thought you'd have returned to your quarters for the night? Dimitri thought you looked unwell." His gait picked up ever so slightly as he made his way beside her chair and placed a small peck on her cheek. There were times when he wondered if the warm feeling in his chest would ever cease at such little actions of affection. The small smile and soft chuckle in response had only made it burn brighter.

  "There aren't many chances to be alone as a family in the palace. Everyone is so busy that I didn't want to miss the chance to enjoy it before we set off." Her words rang true as often, Lambert would be dragged left and right the moment he'd left his office. Dimitri's own princely endeavors meant that he'd often be too tired to hold up any end of a conversation, something Lambert would have to teach him the art of, and would turn in earlier than he would in days passed. It couldn't have been good for her to be alone, missing the family she left and hardly seeing the one he had hoped she came to feel welcome within.

 He’d taken his seat, Dimitri still clinging tightly to his side, at the head of the table.

 Lambert knew somewhat of the pains of being separated from his child. During the Sreng campaign Rodrigue, on multiple occasions, had to stop him from getting too antsy. It was unbearable, even with his most trusted retainers and knights by the boy's side. His heart had ached and in the end, Lambert had stayed strong. He was rewarded with the smile he missed so dearly greeting him back home. 

 Anselma's situation was far worse than a parent on a campaign missing their child. Edelgard von Hresvelg was her only daughter but the girl was not an only child, though worrying rumors had spread of that soon becoming the case. Edelgard was in line to inherit the Empire’s throne, ninth if he recalled. After he'd been told of the situation, though at the time it had been yelled at him in a rage that had lasted well over two months, he was both amused and mortified. 

 It had amused him to think he'd somehow managed to pick and fall for a woman who was once of Ionious's ilk. The implications and difficulty of what was asked of him was what had terrified him. 

 He was no stranger to slightly risky tactics or delicate political situations that required him to play by ear perfectly. However, what Anselma had asked of him was entirely impossible. He regretted not knowing sooner of who the girl was while she was in Fhirdiad. He had seen her, Dimitri had become friends with her even. Anselma hadn't even known of her presence until after she had left to return to Enbarr. 

 But that only begged the question, what would he have done if he did know? All he could have achieved was letting Anselma see her daughter but what past that? He could assume it would be enough for the moment but Lord Arundel would still have his own devices to attend to. 

Both situations would have ended with the same fight. 

 Lambert had his suspicions about Arundel when he'd seen him. From the few times he'd been through Enbarr, he knew the features they shared to be uncommon there as well. He could have sworn he had told her of a man, possibly a relative of hers, having arrived in Fhirdiad as well. He wouldn't have passed on the opportunity to talk about it simply because Arundel's land, if the man's ambitions had been as he said, would have further bolstered what the Kingdom could procure. He spoke of potentially breaking off from the Empire but had said the Insurrection had forced him to tend to the needs of his people and the citizens of Adrestia. The only reason he'd come to Fhirdiad had been to protect his niece from getting involved in the all too frequent marriages meant only to produce crests. 

 In Faerghus, the practice slowly turned to stop once a child with a crest was born, that was at least how the royal family led and how many families began to follow. In Adrestia however, they had kept with the older tradition of continuing to have children, crest or otherwise, to get as many with crests born as they could. The example set by the Emperor and his multiple concubines couldn’t have helped ease the situation. Some nobles saw the harm and stopped but that did not prevent the abuse of crests for more power, be it money or status, from occuring because of the practice.

 Lambert could understand any parental figure not wishing a life like that on their child, especially after the rumors of House Bartels and the tragedy that followed.

 People would be people and as people often did, they had misused the blessings the goddess had given them for the purpose of protecting their people and lands in favor of using it as a way to climb the social ladder and gain favors. Lambert wanted nothing more than to find a way to root out such evils that had gotten far too comfortable within their civilized society but he had to prioritize his most common people’s needs.

 He hadn't even realized he'd let his mind wander until the sound of shattering glass startled him from his daze. Anselma had jumped back as well, rushing over to tend to his hand that had crushed the glass, a few smaller shards protruding out. Somehow, the young boy resting his head over his shoulder had not stirred. Had he really gotten so worked up?

  "Thank you, I'm not sure what came over me."

  "You'll be making history next week. I think, even for a king, it's alright to be a little nervous sometimes." As she spoke, strands of her hair had fallen into her face and blocked her profile. Her hands were delicate as they worked to pull out the small embedded shards. Lambert was glad the glass had been empty lest he make more of a fool of himself.

  "I'm sorry.” It had been unprompted, for so long he’d been unable to catch her alone and say it. “Of all the things I can do, what you want most from me is not one of them." Even if Edelgard, in front of the entire Adrestian Empire, had chosen to come to Faerghus as his step-daughter, it would still start a conflict. The peace they sat on now was constantly being poked and prodded at. Any point of contention would be grasped and overstressed simply to satisfy those who wished for nothing more than chaos. His marriage— he wouldn't ever let himself regret it— had been one such point. Of course he hadn't known at the time but simply not seeing a leak in a ship's hull did not mean it was no issue. It still had to be repaired lest the ship sink and the crew be none the wiser.

 Curiously, he watched her expression. Her hand stilled for a moment and she shook her head before turning to look up at him.

  "It's me who should be apologizing." The pause in her words was awkward to him. Suddenly the haze around his head cleared all at once. It was natural, honest. There was no reason for him to be overthinking like this. "My worries are trivial compared to yours, Lambert. That you'd apologize to me at a time like this, truly shows the kind and wonderful man you are."

  “You have been separated from your child.” His eyes focused on the sleeping smile Dimitri wore. His hopes, his dreams, his life; all of them weren’t concerns for him. He had his father to depend on and his stepmother to support him. For Edelgard, things couldn’t have been so simple, so peaceful. “There is nothing trivial about it, Anselma.”

 Shock took over her face and she put a hand up to his mouth. The dining hall was empty but that did not mean curious ears weren’t lurking. Lambert took her hand in his own, fingers intertwining, and shook his head.

  “If such a thing had happened between myself and Dimitri, there is no path I wouldn’t take to find myself by his side again.”

 His mind chided him for using such hyperbole but his heart held strong in the belief that it was no exaggeration. He would do anything for his son. It was the case for any parent he’d known. 

  “Surely you jest…even for your son, you’re too kind to hurt others for him. If only because you know it’d sadden him.” The soft tone of her voice coupled with the way her fingers ever so slightly brushed across the back of his hand had him rooted to the spot. There was a timid sound that came out as a small laugh so as to not wake Dimitri. “Even us parents have our limits. Besides,” She stood up and placed a small kiss on her son’s head. “Dimitri is my son as well, it would be wrong of me to abandon him. Edelgard…I miss her dearly and every day I wish I could see her beautiful smile, but I know if she is with my brother then he along with her siblings will care for her well.” 

 She leaned in and placed a small peck across his lips. He enjoyed the fleeting warmth that seemed to disappear faster and faster these days.

  “I must finish sorting through my things. It wouldn’t do to set off having forgotten something. Make sure Dimitri is due for a large breakfast in the morning. To grow into a man like you he must make sure he takes care of himself well.”

 Her parting words hung in the air as she walked out of the room. 

 Lambert looked down to his plate, having only just realized he’d barely touched a thing on it. Trying to remember the last time his nerves had gotten to him so badly was like trying to recall the face of the goddess before he’d been born. He’d have time tonight to eat as he ran over what to do with Rufus. They had just barely a week to make sure they were prepared for everything. 

 However before he ran off into his study to fulfill his duty as king, he had to fulfill his fatherly ones of tucking Dimitri in and saying a prayer to the goddess to watch over him.

 As he left, he told a maid to have what was left of his meal brought to his study. He had planned to get in a little training before he slept but something told him he wouldn’t be able to even get to the sleeping part, let alone the training, tonight. He was glad for the comfortable cushions of the window seat in his study, otherwise he wouldn’t have any idea how to get by.
As much as he wanted to let Dimitri stay by his side, it would only serve to raise suspicions and so towards Dimitri’s quarter’s his feet carried him. 

 There was no need for him to be so unnerved, if he let it show then it would rub off on everyone, but he couldn’t help how his heart sank thinking of the possible outcomes.
He had never been the pessimistic type, to think of the worse only soured the mind. It was far better for both heart and mind to focus on the better aspects. Such optimism was good for him as a man. As a king he often found himself berated for not looking at the worst case in all situations.

 The door to Dimitri’s room opened with little ceremony and Lambert lifted up the bed curtain, setting Dimitri down. Calling a servant would have been natural, after all he had food and a full night of planning that called his name loudly. Despite it he found himself going through the drawers of the dresser and finding Dimitri a clean nightgown. He had barely realized it himself, but they were still quite dolled up. The tailors had a field day planning out their attire for the final day, even if Lambert had only appeared for all of an hour. The light fabrics were different to anything they usually wore and the garments were comfortable enough to move around in. To sleep in? Not so much. He still had yet to take off the uncomfortable arm pieces that served to show off the Blaiddyd crest.

 Laying the gown out on the bed, Lambert gently poked at Dimitri’s cheek. He was getting older but his cheeks still held the baby fat that would forbid Gustav from calling him a young man rather than a child.

  “Mitya, wake up for a little bit, once you change you can go back to sleep.”

 He had already stirred a bit in his sleep. The nickname had pried his eyes open and bid him to sit up. If he had to sit up for a bit longer, there was no harm in speaking to his father. Today had been very eventful, the last celebration of the festival had given him so much to enjoy. He hummed in agreement before beginning to try and undo the lion brooch that rested at his neck.

  “I got to see Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid today! We ate so much together, even Glenn joined us. I wish you could have been there too.”

 Lambert’s focus had been on the knee brace that, functionally, served no purpose. Dimitri had liked the look of it though it was a bit...odd only seeing one. Looking back to the early eve, he remembered there being a commotion and how Dimitri had almost been late despite the early hour he’d been woken. 

  “I wish I could have too. It sounds like you enjoyed yourself. Was Rodrigue there as well?”

As difficult as it must have been for the nursemaid to figure out, Lambert was well acquainted with the way the buckles were meant to be done and undone. The piece quickly slipped off.

  “He was there for a bit but he and Margrave Gautier rode off after leaving Felix with Gustav. I was surprised when he still had me train after we left, even while wearing this.” Usually there would be time to change into something more appropriate but somewhere in this incident there was a lesson about time management. “He says my sword skills are imp-”

 An audible tink was made followed by a louder one a moment after. Dimitri closed his eyes and laid back on the bed in utter defeat. Lambert looked down by his knee to see the main face of the lion brooch sitting with its pin torn off the back. Carefully he picked it up and reached over to lay it on the edge of the nightstand.

  “Don’t worry, the brooch itself is fine, we can have it refitted if you ever want to wear it again.” It had been a while since Dimitri wore something as delicate as the roaring lion that added a nice touch of silver to his otherwise blue outfit. Lambert was not a jeweler but whoever made it must have been unaffiliated with the usual ones to give it such a small, easily bent, and fragile clasp.

  “It’s only the beginning of the moon and I’ve already broken something else. There was the cup earlier too!”

 During the chess match he had barely squeezed in before lunch, Dimitri had made far too many mistakes starting with going pawn for pawn and rook for rook without assessing the situation he was leaving his king in. They hadn’t the time to finish, but Dimitri’s loss had confused him to the point of forgetting the cup in his hand. Glass from the handle had broken out first and the chamomile would have spilled were it not for Lambert realizing what had happened and holding the cup firm between his hands. The handle could be fixed just as the silver brooch.

  “Ah, since you’ve brought it up, did you realize where you lost the match or did your trio distract you from it?” He winked playfully as he placed the boots and guard neatly in the space between the door and dresser.

 Dimitri sat up and held his arms above his head. 

“I was confused. Usually I could beat Sylvain, even Glenn, with that but I lost so completely…” Quickly the belt was undone and the sash kept in place by it was pulled up over Dimitri’s head, followed by his shirt.
  “I lost so many pieces before I even realized it. I was too forward?”

A small considering hum came from Lambert as he slid the light blue nightgown over Dimitri and threaded his arms through the somewhat oversized sleeves.
  “Yes but there was something else.”
He took a moment to sit down next to Dimitri and held a hand to his chin.
  “First of all, Glenn and Sylvain choose to play at your pace often. Your moves determine how they’ll react. Compared to the game we had today, you were completely at my mercy. Even with your own plan set out beforehand, you played into my rhythm far too often. Secondly, as you played at my pace, you lost pieces you didn’t mean to. You and your king continued to take opportunities I granted you in hopes to whittle down my forces all while my king was still well defended. Because of that, when I finally did make a mistake, you had no way of truly taking advantage of it.”

 Lambert turned his head and was met with Dimitri’s wide attentive eyes. He was glad he could finally put his thoughts together enough to have his son understand. It put a smile on his face to see.
  “Lastly, you couldn’t adapt to the situation. There were times you could have turned the tables and easily taken back victory but because your focus didn’t change, it was impossible for you to win.”

 As he finished, Dimitri leaned onto his shoulder and looked as though he was running through the game once again in his head.
  “Ah- you’re right...early on I had already lost both knights and a bishop and your queen was already making a successful campaign over the right side of the board. I’ll have to make Glenn and Sylvain go harder on me! I want to beat you at your best just once.”

 Lambert wrapped his arms around Dimitri and held him close.
  “That will be a day I celebrate. My only hope is that you never have to put such knowledge to use in the real world.”

  “Do you command our knights like you play?” The question was innocent and one he should’ve expected but he found himself grimacing at.

  “Goddess no, not how I played today at least.” The simple thought of equating the two left a bad taste in his mouth. One was a simple game that was useful as a way to train one’s mind. The other was the men and women dedicated to him and protecting their kingdom. The overlap was natural but chess allowed you to make mistakes that would only cost you a win in a game. Mistakes on the battlefield often cost not only the lives of the soldiers but the families they’d leave behind.
  “It’s abhorrent for a leader to so readily sacrifice those who’ve sworn to their cause for a chance of victory. In the end death might seem the same, after all we all return to the goddess once we pass but, the death of a knight who died protecting their liege will never be quite the same as the death of a knight who was used as a shield.”

 That had confused Dimitri if the lost look he gave was any indication.
  “Even though death is still the final outcome? That doesn't sound right...”

 Lambert sighed and looked down to his knees for a moment.

  “As a king, the difference will become clearer. The father in me hopes you never have to learn the burden of losing a soldier in a fight, but the king in me who once had the same questions knows you will find the answers as you live your life as a ruler.” A small kiss was pressed to Dimitri’s forehead and Lambert looked at him with somber eyes. “Everything I teach you, I hope you are never forced to use. I want nothing more than to give you the most boring and mundane rule Faerghus has ever seen. The biggest trouble you’ll face being which days work best for the festivals to celebrate the large bounties we receive from harvest. The hardest days being ones where you must squish some petty squabble in the court and quell its trivial feuds.”

 A small pout formed over Dimitri’s lips and his head tilted to the side. The fatigue of the day was beginning to set in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around his father’s waist tightly.
  “As fun as it sounds to be a useless king, I want to be like you father.”

The words immediately sparked memories of Sreng and the battles fought away from home. To call it anything other than a massacre was cruel. He’d long since learned that if peace wasn’t an option, there was no need for him to hold back. He had learned that, and yet his heart had nearly faltered on the battlefield. Sreng had not been prepared for any invasion from Faerghus and as his campaign neared a close and the lands were slowly claimed, he came across bodies far too young to be deserving of such harsh tactics. “That’s commendable and it warms my heart to be looked up to, especially by the one who means more than the world to me. However, once you are of age you will learn of the things I have done and the things Kings long before me had done. I can only hope that..such resolve stands the tests of that.”

 Dimitri’s grip all of a sudden tightened and genuinely took Lambert by surprise. When he looked down he saw the tale tell signs of their crest having been called. Had he really called upon it just for that? He closed his eyes and the breathless laugh that escaped him brought a smile to Dimitri’s face. Dimitri...Lambert could not ask for anything more. Moments like these filled him with so much joy he felt as though being forced to leave them was a punishment from the goddess.

  “Of course it will! I don’t know everything and only the goddess ever will, but I know that I am proud to carry this lineage with me. Nothing will ever change that.”

 His laughter subsided and his ruffled Dimitri’s hair.

  “I’ll make sure I hold you to that. For now though, my little prince, you need rest. Gustav went easy on you today but tomorrow I doubt he will be so kind to your clothes.” It was a testament to Dimitri’s skills that he managed to not tear or dirty his attire. He was grateful to have Gustav take care of his son just as he had fulfilled the job for the king before.

 The boy climbed under the covers and peeled back two of the heavier sets. It was still warm these days and Dimitri had a penchant for overheating easily. The large array of pillows swallowed him almost entirely.

 Together, they held their hands in front of their chests and prayed. It was a small gesture to a goddess who could only watch over them but it brought solace nonetheless to know she would at the very least look over them and bear witness to their troubles. 

 Lambert made sure Dimitri was nice and snug under the covers before pulling his bang back and placing a kiss to his forehead.

  “Your stepmother proposed that you have a big breakfast tomorrow, how about we eat together?”

 His son’s tired eyes lit up and he smiled before pulling the cover up to shyly cover it.

  “If you have the time. These past three days we’ve spent so much time together. It’ll make me sad when we get really busy again.”

 As he stood to blow out one of the candles he let out a gentle sigh. He tried to synchronize their schedule but it often left a minimal amount of time at the end of the day to do anything. A horse ride around the gardens. A ride Dimitri could hardly keep his eyes open for. He enjoyed it nonetheless but it had always left much to be desired.

  “After this trip is done, there will be far less for me to tackle on my own. It would be nice to go stay with Rufus for a few days to get away from the palace.”

  “I’d like that but would uncle?”

 Dimitri’s eyes were closed now and slowly he let his mind drift.

  “He could never deny his little brother anything and if he does, I am the king so we could still go regardless.”

 It was a simple jest. Rufus wasn’t a people person as much as he could be when he wanted to. He’d be fine with them on his estate for a few days. There had already been a time when he had obliged Lambert though Dimitri wouldn’t have remembered it.

  “You’re cruel father~”

 With those words he turned over and returned to whatever dreams he’d been having.

  “Goodnight, my son.”

 He quietly closed the door and locked it behind him.

 One deep breath in with a shallow one out and he began the journey to his study.

 It was mindless paperwork for him now. Rufus would handle the hardest parts of his work for him tonight and he’d prepare his mind to find himself on a battlefield once more. He still couldn’t make out a reason as to why Rufus acted so boldly. It wasn’t like him to do so normally.

 Gronder during their academy days had been the one time he could recall Rufus going out of his way for someone other than him. Gautier had rushed in too close and Aegir had nearly finished him off, only stopped by Rufus who’d appeared out of nowhere. Rufus, who said he’d only follow the formation they’d planned, had broken it entirely to save him.

 They wouldn’t have lost if Gautier had given a point to the Black Eagles but they would have lost a point. A point that, in the grand scale of the mock battle, wouldn’t have made any difference. Reigan had lost personally to Lambert and her students had fallen quickly without her leadership. 

When Lambert asked why at the victory celebration in their classroom, Rufus had put it simply:

  “Why ruin a perfect battle because someone couldn’t read the situation?”

 Had he missed something when he was making his plans? There was only one glaring oddity to him and it wasn’t anything he saw reason to fret over. When it came to her, perhaps his judgement was clouded but she didn’t even know of the details of this trip. She only knew where she was to be while it occured and nothing else.

 He shook his head to clear his mind and leaned back in his chair, letting the documents in his hand fall to the desk. 

 Rodrigue’s worry was like his mother’s, he expected it and took it into account when he acted. It would be disrespectful not to when he decided to leave so much responsibility on the man’s shoulders should anything happen to him.

Gustav’s worry was like his father’s, it was founded on his experience and it often went unvoiced if he believed the situation would allow for such silence. He hadn’t plainly expressed worry about the trip. There was a flinch in his eye anytime Dimitri brought it up but if he was concerned. He didn’t make it known to Lambert. Gustav would offer his support as he always did.

 Rufus’s worry exceeded what he knew his brother to act like. The letters he penned were never so frantic when they described how he’d somehow missed dispatching his knights to an area that needed their help despite such an issue being just as pressing. Lambert could only feel like his life really was in danger when he looked back on the attitude he was presented with. 

Rufus had heard or seen something. Something credible enough to make him push past his reservations and directly inform Lambert instead of just telling Rodrigue and letting him take care of it.

  “Have I really read this wrong or have you?”

 His eyes wandered to the chess board and he put the pieces in their respective drawers of the table. There was no use trying to work when his mind got this way. There was no focus to be found in between the countless thoughts that ran through his predicament and turned up different outcomes each time. The least he could do is tidy his study a little while he let them run their course. If he did that maybe his body would find it in itself to lay down and get some rest.

 The rain from the afternoon had left a fog on the window that had yet to clear due to the cool air of the night. A small finger drawing was where Dimitri had sat during their earlier parley. His son had tested the thickness of the fog by drawing a heart. His mind saw the smile on Dimitri’s face as he drew the small figures of himself and Lambert holding hands. He must have done it before Lambert returned with the servant who handed off their tray of tea and sweets. So that had been why he pushed the tray over. Lambert had taken it as an invitation to eat all of the hot, freshly baked sweets all on his own. 

 The whine that came from Dimitri as he took his first move suggested otherwise. It was too late, the small pale blue cakes they had been brought were too delightful looking to not want seconds. He’d barely sat down before he had started eating the soft and rich treat.

 At the rate they were playing, Dimitri would never touch his cake. He was so focused on his pieces, Lambert had to give his son credit for his dedication but as an opponent he felt bad continuing to lead his son into his traps and further assuring his own victory. A few macaroons had been thoughtfully shoved into Dimitri’s mouth and his pout grew further still. Lambert had only half finished his cake before he cleaned off the fork and called the match. It wasn’t finished but Dimitri’s chances were slim to none in the conditions he faced.

  “Being so honest is a good trait when it comes to interacting with the people you serve but,” Lambert’s fork found itself chasing after another bite of his cake. “If your opponent can read you like that you’re easy to predict and control.”

The shock still hadn’t washed from Dimitri’s face as he desperately searched for any move he could make that could potentially get him out of the situation. Lambert gave him a minute and the sigh of resignation came from Dimitri a moment later.

  “I-I didn’t think it’d be that easy for you.” Small hands reached up on the tray to grab the cake’s plate and his fork. One bite and a smile shone through the cloudy eyes Dimitri had. “I’ve been practicing with Sylvain when he comes over. Glenn won’t play anymore because he says I need to train more.”

  “Well I’ve been playing for quite some time and much of this game, as many things in life, is understanding what those against you want to do. If you know their goals, then you can deduce a method they’ll use to achieve them and once you’ve figured that out, you can choose your defense against it and figure out the best way to counterattack. Of course that means your own plan and goals must be a mystery to them too, lest you find yourself unable to make strides against them.” His attention turned to the steadily pouring rain out the window.

  “Being as honest as you are is dangerous when facing certain people who can get under your skin. You’ll need to learn how to not act rashly when such things happen. If a valued piece is taken from you, for the sake of your kingdom and victory, you must know how to be a bit…detached at times. Do you understand Dimitri?”

His head turned back to face his son.

 Dimitri looked like a rabbit caught in torchlight. His cheeks were full of what context clues told him was cake and he had moved a bit closer to Lambert now that they were finished with their game. He gave a nod of his head before holding his it back and swallowing what must have been at least three slices at once. His son was a treasure.

 He hadn’t meant to let his mind drift off but he let it happen. It was a pleasant memory to sleep on. The fatigue of planning alterations to his mission with his brother was finally hitting him with the brunt of it’s force. At least it would not plague his thoughts, Dimitri's cake filled face had firmly taken that spot. 

 Tomorrow. He’d face it all tomorrow and he'd let his mind do so as if it were any of his other tasks as a king.