Chapter Text
The second floor of the monastery is quiet in the wake of receiving the bulk of the former students in such a short span. Flayn and Seteth are still talking, as they would. It’s been three months since the young saint had been at Garreg Mach,and, other than the occasional rendezvous Seteth arranged while Flayn was following her merry band of inventors, the two had communicated almost completely by letter. Seteth aged twenty human years in those three months, but seeing the frenetic energy finally burn off at the sight of Flayn, happy and whole, in the Archbishop’s office brought a smile to Byleth’s face. The fact that Flayn would eventually leave again, to continue her self-given task to heal the worst of the damage done by those who slither in the dark, forgotten in the laughter and exclamations exchanged by Byleth’s two favorite people.
“You two don’t need to keep me company, you know,” Byleth says over the stack of letters she’s received from the knights she had stationed at churches throughout Fodlan.
“Nonsense!” Flayn exclaims from the low sofa across the room. “There is nowhere I would rather be than with the two of you.”
Byleth smiles at the green-haired duo and flips through the letters, skimming the first couple lines to see if anything required her immediate attention. Other than a request for a few knights to help with the finishing touches on a small chapel in Gautier territory, there’s not much that even requires a response. She extricates the letter from the stack to find that it’s pinned to a copy of a letter she didn’t write. The letter promises ten mounted knights and provisions for the winter. It’s signed by Seteth. She flips through the letters again. Every single one is attached to a copy of a letter penned by Seteth. She keeps her head down, but lifts her eyes to see the offender looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
“Seteth, you could have left some of my job for me to do,” she says with mock irritation. She looks at him in full, and his gaze shifts, settling resolutely on his hands. Flayn’s face lights up like it usually does whenever her father is about to be scolded.
“I couldn’t sleep. Most of the letters came in the night.”
“Thank you. But I wish you would spend half us much time taking care of yourself as you do helping me.”
“So you’ve said. There’s correspondence from Claude and Shamir that I haven’t opened. It’s in the box to your left.”
Byleth grabs the box and opens it, and true to Seteth’s words, there are two letters. She grabs the scroll tied closed with a single black cord. The paper is inscribed with a short message:
Arrived. Settled. All is well.
-Cyril
Byleth frowns at the paper. Cyril writing a message sent by Shamir was unexpected, so Byleth casts a weak fire spell and holds the paper to the flame. A short message blooms across the page as the heat licks the parchment.
You were right. Something is going on. We’ll be back tomorrow after the welcome feast. Unsafe to travel by road or wyvern.
Byleth frowns again. She had dispatched the two of them shortly after dawn. After that terrible dream. She strengthened the fire spell until the paper began to burn. After putting the still burning parchment in the waste basket at her feet, she turned to the other message. This one was crammed haphazardly into a black envelope and held shut by wax stamped in a crescent moon.
Claude’s message is longer, but at first glance looks like it says less than Shamir’s brief one.
Holiness,
Had to swing through Edmund Territory to nab two of our old friends. Picked up more than I expected.
Heard a couple stories about you. I won’t write you what. Don’t want you to come up with a cover story. I’m pretty sure Hilda has been reading my messages, anyway.
I’ll be back sooner than we thought.
Please apologize to my wife. I’m pretty sure Marianne has tried, but I doubt that has made much of a difference.
Your Favorite Archer,
Claude
She holds this one over the flame as well, but instead of showing an additional message, it’s a crudely drawn map of the chapel-turned-shrine where her father died. She puts this letter to the torch, too. With a sigh, she stands, drawing the attention of the saints in her office.
“Is everything alright?” Seteth asks as he stands up. Their eyes meet, and she looks away with a small shake of her head.
“Flayn, please go to the training grounds and wrangle Duke Fraldarius. I need to speak to him and His Majesty, the King, immediately.”
“What’s going on?” Flayn asks. Her eyes are wide and she keeps looking back and forth between Byleth and her father.
“Flayn. Please find the Duke and the King and bring them here. When you see them, be sure to use their titles. Speak to no one else.”
“You never refer to them by their titles,” Flayn says, panic creeping on the edges of her voice.
“And give this to Dedue.” Byleth writes a note and folds it twice before pressing it into Flayn’s limp hands. “He’ll know what it means.”
“Professor!”
“Cethleann, please,” Seteth says. He pulls her into a tight hug and holds her at arm’s length. “Do as the Archbishop asks. We have to reorganize some of the reunion’s events.”
“I am an adult and I will not leave this room until one of you tells me what’s going on.” Her hands are on her hips, and a defiance she could have only learned from Lysithea is set on her face.
“You’ll know soon enough, my dear. Please let us preserve your innocence for just a little bit longer,” pleads the Archbishop. For one tense moment, Byleth can see something dark gleam in Flayn’s eye, but it’s over in a second, and Flayn deflates.
“Fine,” she relents. She shoves the letter into her pocket and takes off into the audience chamber, and then into the hallway.
“You should have opened all my mail,” she starts. She sinks down onto the sofa and puts her head in her hands.
“What happened?” Seteth sits down next to her and drapes his arm around her shoulder.
“Shamir and Cyril are bringing Rhea and Catherine back to Garreg Mach.”
“When did they leave for Zanado? I saw Shamir this morning.”
“Right after that, I guess.”
“What are they doing there? What about Claude?”
“Seteth! I am trying to tell you.” She shoves his arm off and takes to pacing the room. He puts his hands up in a soothing gesture, and she continues on. “I’ve been having some odd… hunches lately. From dreams and whispers of shadows of rumors. I’ve been in touch with Claude and Felix for the past few months.” She pauses.
“I am aware of your correspondence,” Seteth says in the silence she leaves.
“A year after Dimitri ascended and I became this,” she makes a motion at her headdress, “the Agarthans attacked Deirdriu, we beat them back, and a lot of people thought it was over, for real this time. But Claude didn’t believe it, and neither did Felix, so we came up with a code and sent people all over the place to gather information. We used Shamir’s network for a while, but Yuri’s birds have provided more help lately.”
“Long story short, Zanado isn’t safe. There’s something going on in Edmund Territory, and Claude found a couple missing operatives and is on his way here. Might be here by now, actually, and we need to meet him and bring him back to the monastery immediately.”
“We must go at once,” Seteth stands and heads to the door. Byleth heads him off and puts her hands in a soothing gesture this time.
“I need to talk to Felix and Dimitri first. Dedue will muster the former students and wait for us in the entrance hall. We’ll tell them what we need to know on the way.”
As if on cue, Dimitri and Felix burst into the office, Dimitri first, weapon drawn, followed by Felix, whose hand rests on the hilt of his sword.
“Did you hear from Claude? Has he found anything?” the swordsman asks.
“What in Ailell is going on?” Dimitri demands. He’s ready to fight, if the tension in his shoulders is anything to go by.
“There’s a couple friends of the Church that need our help,” she levels a look at Felix.
“Are they alone?” he asks.
“Is who alone?”Dimitri barks. Byleth ignores him.
“I’m not sure. But they are probably injured, so we need to get to them, and then fight our way out again, if need be.”
“Byleth!” Dimitri snaps. “Answer me!”
Felix levels a glare on his king, who settles minutely, and turns back to his former professor. “We need to bring him inside.”
“You never told him?” She doesn’t know why she’s surprised. King and Shield may be something more than comrades after the war, but Felix has never been particularly transparent with information.
“He never asked.”
“Well, I’m asking now. Tell me what is going on.”
Byleth sighs. “Fodlan is in danger. Claude has information and we need to get that information immediately.”
“Where is he?” Seteth asks.
“Where my Father died. I’ll tell you and Dimitri more when we get back. But be prepared. We’re probably going to be seeing some enemies.”
“Are the four of us enough?” Dimitri asks.
“Unsure. Dedue should be gathering a few others. And your equipment.” Byleth places her hands on their shoulders. “I’m going to change. I will meet you all outside the gate.” The two former students leave the room, and Byleth rips off the headdress. There’s a mirror above the side table across from the door, and Byleth uses it to sweep her hair into a pony tail. “Seteth, please keep the rest of the former students calm. I need to keep this as quiet as possible until I can talk to Claude and then to everyone at once.”
“Byleth, I’m coming with you,” he says this like it’s a foregone conclusion, like him coming is the most obvious thing in the world. If Flayn were not in the monastery, it would have been.
“You need to be here with Flayn.” She pulls a pair of leather breeches and boots out of the table and pulls both on under her dress.
“Flayn will be safe inside the monastery. You will need every weapon you can get at such short notice.”
“Flayn will be scared and will absolutely try to follow us if we both go. If anyone asks where we’ve gone, tell them we’re going hunting for tonight’s feast. We underestimated how much the guests would eat before dinner or something like that. Besides, Rhea and Catherine are coming, and their rooms need prepared.”
“Byleth,” he begins.
She cuts him off by putting her hand to his mouth. “I’ll be fine. Fraldarius soldiers are ready to march in less than five minutes. Knowing Felix, he’s grabbed a couple to come with us.” She hugs him. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Please be careful. Stay as close to the party as you can.”
Instead of answering, Byleth smiles and grabs her sword from where it glows against her desk.
“I’ll be back in a few hours.” She leaves the room, and the smile leaves her face.