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“This wasn’t part of the plan.”
Eligor was usually the embodiment of calm and control. Seeing him like this was rare — muscles tense, not from anticipation, but disdain; voice trembling with fury barely held back.
“Not part of your plan,” Byleth scoffed. “Which I told you was bullshit from the start.”
Byleth had known his spontaneous change of plan would stir up trouble. He had expected this kind of friction; pairing him with Eligor was rarely a good idea, considering his penchant for madness and brutality never meshed well with the general’s unshakable morals.
“It’s not like I jeopardized the mission,” he argued. “If anything, I just made our lives a hell of a lot easier. That—” He gestured at the broken body in front of them. “— was simply collateral damage.”
“That was a human life that didn’t need to go to waste,” Eligor growled.
Byleth shrugged. “You can’t blame me for doing my job efficiently.”
“And what job is that?” Lips pressed into a hard line, Eligor stepped over the bundle of misery at his feet, narrowly avoiding the pool of blood still spreading around it. “Are you here as my partner on this mission, or as King Baëll’s spoiled, rabid lap dog?”
A smug grin spread across Byleth’s face. “Both.”
Eligor exhaled sharply, still brimming with tension. “We must move on. But this is not the last word we’ll have about this.” Firm, though not harsh, his words held the same sincerity they always did. Eligor was a man of his word — be it promise or threat.
Byleth chuckled, following the general despite their argument. “Yeah. Whatever.”
They had an obsolete king to dethrone, and revolution couldn’t afford to wait for the day they might finally learn to get along.