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“You are dismissed.”
The knight silently saluted and marched out of the tent. As soon as she was out of sight Seteth grabbed his face with his hands and sighed with exhaust, pulling down on his face with his calloused palms then pushing back up to brush is oiled hair back - quick to re-adjust his hair over his ears.
This report will be no different from the last, He thinks to himself.
No, he cannot allow himself to be saying that - thinking that. It’s not a question of ‘if’ or even ‘when’, only a question of ‘where’.
Still, getting back the same conclusive report for 5 years in a row does not make one build or maintain an optimistic state of mind easy. Still, he has to weather it like an awful gust in a storm. For not only his sake, It falls onto him to see it through.
Seteth opens the reports casing and slides it into his hand, the letters are all rolled into one another bound by two pieces of twine, he’s done this so many times, as if a nightly prayer, his hands move without a thought. He slices the twine away with a small dagger at his desk and rolls back the paper with both hands, holding it at an angle where it’s easy on his hands and easy to read.
He scans the document for any phrase that is different, for any line that gives to her whereabouts, but as he looks page through page, the only glean is that Edelgards solider have positioned themselves closer to the border. He sighs, it’s instinctive at this point. He looks up at his tent ceiling.
No signs of Lady Rhea there, and no signs of…
He shakes his head out of that thought.
He rolls the report back up and places it back in its case. With a free hand Seteth grabs a quill and dabs it in a small ink jar, rises out of his seat and steps not far to a map on a wooden board behind him, a map of Fodlan, most of the map is blotched with dried X’s. Seteth adds another onto the map and sets the quill back where it was.
The tent isn’t very big, it doubles as his personal quarters and his office, the only other furniture in his office was a makeshift cot and boxes that held past reports, among other things.
Seteth felt the cool air of the evening wash across his face, which was covered with sweat and exhaustion. He reached into his pocket and revealed a worn handkerchief, with a simple ornate design at its edges, and dabs it on his face. He looks at it again - studies it almost absentmindedly - and rubs his thumb on the fabric, still soft but surely has seen better years.
Seteth is brought back to a dark time, not unlike this one.
Flayn has recently gone missing and Seteth has the Knights of Seiros dispatched as far he can thin them. The Academy has been scoured from to bottom, but nothing of Flayn has been found. The village nearby has sworn that they’ve not seen a hair on her head.
He sits in the side room of the audience chamber, hands clasped together on his forehead, praying to the Goddess that anytime soon a Knight of Seiros will march in to explain that his sister - daughter - is alive and well. When he does hear footsteps he raises his head in hope… only to be met with great disappointment in the person who approached him, Professor Eisner.
Seteth was in no mood to entertain the Professors queries and requests at the moment, “Hello Professor, is there something you need?” The Mercenary - Professor - gives him unreadable stare in response, which was the usual reaction Seteth could only draw from him. Seteth didn’t even try to hide his scowling, couldn’t the man clearly see that he had no patience for him today? His loved one is missing and he isn’t out there looking for her— wait, that strikes him with an idea.
“Professor, I have a request of you. A personal request.”
The Professor took that as an invitation to stay, and he walks to the end of the couch. “I need to combined efforts of you and your class to help find her - find Flayn.” Seteth looks the Professor in the eye, making sure to not look away. His voice shakes as he goes on, “It is the upmost importance that you find her, if not well… at least alive and safe… She is all I have left…” Seteth can feel his eyes well and his voice quiet at the end of his sentence but he does not break eye contact with the Professor. Professor Eisner only stares back down at him with the same unreadable expression.
Eventually the Professor breaks the silence, “Okay.” Seteth looks away in relief, if they’re all searching for Flayn, something will have to eventually turn up. Something.
Seteth was about to wipe his tears away with his hand- “Here,” the Professor says, and he holds something to Seteth, “I wanted to give this to you.”
A handkerchief?
“Ah, thank you.” Seteth says as he takes the cloth and pads it around his eyelids. “I appreciate the gesture.” And he did, he did not expect this interaction at all, least of all the turn in a positive manner. Of course, Seteth has the authority to will the Mercenary - Professor - to aid in the search of Flayn… but in that moment he was not ordering, but pleading. Not as a second-in-command or a chief aide, but as a…
The Professor took a step back to leave. “I’m sorry I disturbed you, I do intend to help find your sister.” He turned around and walked out, but before that Seteth swore he could he heard the words whispered under the Professors breath:
“I promise.”
He found his thoughts drifting towards the Professor often, when he found himself at his lowest. Finding Rhea may be priority number one, but not a day goes by where he hopes Professor Eisner - Byleth - appeared in the margins of the reports as well.
Seteth turned over the handkerchief and placed it back in his pocket, where it has always stayed. Come to think of it, the handkerchief was the first gift he ever received from Byleth, out of kind or polite gesture- sure but in the grand scheme of things, the gift marked the turn for the better on their subsequent alliance and eventually… their close friendship.
A flash of memory struck him, as it has been almost every time he allowed himself to walk this line of thought. Memories of that day.
Betrayal has crept into his questions very few times, what if the Professor was aligned with Edelgard from the very beginning? Feigning ignorance to Flayns disappearance until it served his interests? Orchestrating the attack on the church to steal Rhea right under their noses - his nose? Is shame what prevents Byleth from appearing in front of him and confessing his grievous sins?
“Where is he?” Seteth mutters to himself.
No, he may once have felt justified in his doubts of the Professors character in the past where he knew nothing about him, only rumours that spelt out a demon, an adversary and an omen. But the Professors actions over the year of knowing him had spoken loud of what kind of man he is. There was no wickedness to be found.
Seteth shall hold on to the sliver of hope that tries to slip from his mind. The hope that they shall meet face to face and then….
And then…
And now the fifth anniversary of his disappearance is on the horizon.
Seteth suddenly feels a wave of exhaustion hit him, he should retire for the night. He tries to steady himself, putting his weight against one of the boxes-
CRASH!
Seteth jolts awake, a spike of adrenaline calling him to action. He whips his head around scanning for any signs of discord, but nothing appears amiss. He listens for signs of distress, only the distant sound of cracking from the campfires can be heard. Something fell, but where? Seteth picks up a chamberstick and scours his tent only to notice objects gleaming from behind the wooden board, familiar objects.
Oh no.
He moves the board to the side and finds a box has fallen from the stack, spilling its contents on the ground. It was gifts and keepsakes Flayn and himself has received from their time at the church and academy. Seteth had initially planned to leave it all behind but Flayn argued for the sentimental value, in the end he caved to her as his patience had ran out. Very few items were stored in there but all of them were considered precious in one way or another.
Seteth set down the charmberstick and knelt, dragging the box to his side and started to put things back the way they were. Most were the way he expected them to be - what was intact;what was broken - Flayns Clasp, Hairpin Stuffed bear in armour, her book and map all intact. He sighed with relief. As for his belongings, his book on Fodlan, his fishing rod along with his fishing float and his fable-to-be was spared as well, bless the Goddess. He expected his favourite quill to be broken but he didn’t expect what else would be.
The small wooden ship he picked up had its mainmast completely broken off, panic rose from his heart.
His eyes flicked anxiously around until he noticed the mast under his knee, just out of sight. He lifted his knee to free it, slowly twirling it around to observe any other signs of damage. The sail - with a crudely painted fish in its centre was nearly ripped. Seteth felt no will to stand.
Why did something so mundane, so easy to repair, twinge his heart with sorrow?
“Thank you for your report Professor, this will conclude our meeting.”
It was a cool evening at the academy, the long day has passed and so has the meeting between himself and the Professor about Flayns excursion to the village, accompanied by the Professor himself, of course.
The Professor - Byleth - gave a slow nod, “Thank you for placing your trust in me, the trip has meant a lot to Flayn. It’s something she will not forget.”
Seteth smiles and gently rubs his hands together, “It was well placed indeed, I’m grateful she has someone other than myself to stand stalwart by her side.”
Byleth bows and goes to turn around- but stops, giving a queer expression on his face. “Before I forget,” the Professor says reaching for something in his bag, “There is something I have for you.”
Oh?
Seteth slowly reached out his palm but instead of a small mystery gift being placed in his hand a medium gift box was settled onto his desk, it seems Byleth would never cease to surprise him.
“You didn’t have to get me anything, much less a gift this size.” Seteth observed the golden ribbon wrapped around the pale olive box, the size and length of it could only make Seteth guess if Byleth had commissioned him a pair of shoes, a funny but absurd notion he sheds from his thoughts.
“I didn’t have to but I wanted to.” The Professor adjusted the strap to his bag, “Besides, Flayn helped me pick it out.”
Flayn helped him? Seteth felt touched that his kin went out of her way to advise Byleth on this. She has always been so thoughtful when it came to these kinds of matters.
He must open it at once, no time to dally.
Seteth starts to pick at the ribbon, watching it unfurl as he pulls the knot apart. Once it lays flat he grabs the sides of the lid and lifts…
What he discovers is not a pair of shoes but a small wooden boat cushioned by a light coloured fabric. “Well look at this…”
“I hope the boat isn’t an excessive choice.” Byleth re-adjusted his bag strap once again.
“I had Flayn and yourself in mind when buying this, something to put on the pond water when you fish together.”
“Not at all,” Seteth studies the small vessel, too enchanted to notice the fact that the Professor has repeatedly adjusting and re-adjusting the strap to his bag. The craftsmanship is simple and utilitarian on the first look, but if looked at closely he can observe the hollow of the inside and the careful shaping of the hull, it will stay buoyant.
He finds something curious about the mainsail, “Well it seems that whoever painted this doesn’t have a firm grasp of illustrations, I can’t tell what this blob is suppose to be.”
The room is silent, Seteth looks up to find Byleth staring back at him.
“it’s a…” Byleth mumbled the last word.
“It’s a what?” Seteth’s hearing must be getting bad, he’ll have to follow up with Manuela about it tomorrow.
Byleth clears his throat, “It’s a fish, or suppose to be. I painted it on myself.”
Oh.
“OH! It’s a fish!” Seteth’s voice raised slightly as his mind scrambled about to make up for his rather poor choice of words, “Yes! It’s a fish I— uh, I see that, now.”
“It’s alright, I’ll make sure to practice for a next time.” With a final re-adjustment of his bag, Byleth nodded and went to turn for the door.
“Wait…! before you leave.” Seteth wasn’t sure when he stood up, or why he felt such a disoriented when he approached the Professor, but he felt a deep need to say this- or say something. When Byleth looked back with such a stare Seteth wasn’t sure if he was at such a loss for words before. “Thank you… for the gift and thank you for looking after Flayn. I feel that I reiterate this a lot… but it’s only because I… trust you. Please,” Seteth bows his head, “do not hesitate to trust me in turn.”
“Of course,” the Professor gently patted his arm that was holding his- when did he grab ahold of his arm? -and promptly let go. When Seteth looked up at Byleth he had a… smile on his face. huh. “Sleep well, Seteth.”
He is so afraid to say it, he’s terrified to say it because if he admits it to himself… it means that he has failed to save him, he has lost another… in his life. And he’ll never know how much he means to him, how lonely it has been without him at his side…
But if he doesn’t admit it to himself… then these tears will never cease falling down.
“Brother?” A familiar voice called out, “Brother I heard a noise an— oh my goodness!”
Flayn quickly rushed to his side, he never wanted her to see him in such a state of… disarray yet here she was. “Are you alright?” She asked softly, all he could do was shake his head and look back down at the broken ship. “I’m afraid not…”
Flayn put a hand on his shoulder and knelt down to see what he was holding, she gave a small gasp when she saw the pieces. “Oh my…”
Flayn gently shook his shoulder “Hey,” her voice as quiet as a mouse, hopeful as the dawn, “It won’t stay broken forever… we can fix it.”
Seteth took a shaky breath, he couldn’t look her in the eye. “I miss him,” he spoke so quietly he wasn’t sure if she even heard him, he took another shaken breath, “I miss him so dearly, Flayn.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. Guilt streaked through his body as he confessed, he shouldn’t be admitting this to her; her mother was his anchor and was her world… he had no right to move on when she is still grieving her—
He felt the weight of her head on his shoulder and a hand brushing the top of his back, “I know,” she said with a whisper, “You used to smile so often when he was around… I miss him too.”
He eased and wave of relief hit Seteth where he thought there was nothing to be relieved about, it’s hard to parse whether this admission of lost affections is making him feel better or worse - his eyelids throb and feel numbed. Perhaps this is akin to taking away an arrow from a healed wound - reopening what he thought he already had made peace with in his heart.
Was it so obvious? To her? Did he smile ever so easily? When? When did it start to become so easy?
When did he fall?
But it doesn’t matter, not anymore. These feelings will never be met with recognition, to be reciprocated - to be rejected. He’s gone, perhaps never to cross paths once more.
It took Seteth only now to realize… only a little too late, he stifled a sob.