I'm a Farmer! (An FE: Three Houses/Hopes and Rune Factory 4 crossover)

Summary: The story of two mercenaries, a goddess, a church, and the rulers of three nations. In the grand scheme of things, I must seem pretty out of place. But I have my own reasons for being here. I was asked to lend my aid, and so I will.

'What do I even do,' you ask?

Well that's an easy one to answer: I'm a Farmer!​

---

​

Spoiler: Beacon Gem

To you who would find this message, I am Aeon, the Kalpa Dragon; child of the Divine Dragon, Sothis.

I will keep this brief. Among my domains is the power to peer into the futures of the world, and what I have seen is devastating.

Mother came to this world to keep it from dying. She traveled all the way here from a gate beyond the stars. Her presence, and those of us, her children, have long sustained this world.

Yet now, mother is dead. Half of my siblings, and indeed, my kind, have followed. I myself am on death’s door; to cast this message to the land of mother’s birth shall be my final act.

With our deaths, this world will slowly die. The few who remain will simply be unable to sustain the planet of its needed vital energy.

And so I send this message to you.

I have never gazed this far into the future, and so I cannot see every detail, as I normally would. All I know is that through you, the revitalization of this world can become possible.

I know it may sound daunting, but I am not asking you to shoulder the responsibility of this world on your own.

Mother is not like us. She is a Divine Dragon. A normal death, even one as terrible as hers, will not keep her dead. As long as a piece of her remains, she will return, and our enemies themselves have paved the way for it. All I ask is that you buy her time. Revitalize the spirit of the planet so that it is not too late when she can take over once more.

Please… help our mother.

Act 1: The Seeds of Adventure - Part 1​

Rune Prana, a place that exists between the realm of mortals and the Forest of Beginnings. Fitting for such a mystical space, its final room could more accurately be called a void. You could walk in and out of it if you knew where to go, but for those without that knowledge, it would seem like little more than an endless expanse of white. A maddening space where no shadows exist, and the only traces of color apart from those inside were the ever shifting lights that always remained in your periphery.

To most, it was a frightening space at the end of a maze filled with powerful monsters. A place that no sane person would ever go to, beyond a life or death situation.

To me? Call me crazy, but it’s one of my favorite places to relax in. A place for me to be alone with my thoughts.

It helped that none of the monsters here seemed to want to attack me, save for the phantom in the penultimate room. Thankfully, the stronger monsters on the farm could generally make quick work of Ragnarok.

Why most of the monsters here never bothered with me was a mystery. It couldn’t have been because of who my parents were, since my sister, Luna still elicited a hostile response. I’d heard my father discuss the possibility of it being because I was conceived in the Rune Prana with a friend from Alvarna once, but that... well, it was something I would have preferred to forget. Primarily because it told me far too much about my parents’ proclivities than I’d like, and also partially because I learned that my younger sibling might be able to confirm it. Given that said sibling wasn’t even born yet, getting an answer to that was still pretty far off.

Also, to reiterate, too much information. I did not need to know that they could confirm that with my as of yet unborn sibling, and I pray to the other Native Dragons that neither of us were conceived in this specific room.

Regardless, the fact is that I can come here and be completely safe, even though I was no match for the local monsters. The only real danger would come if I decide to enter Ragnarok’s room. In which case, I’d just need to bring dad's Ambrosia or Thunderbolt along to take care of him. I indulged in that particular activity often enough that the farm monsters expected it whenever I entered the barns in the middle of the day.

“You know that mom and dad’ll be really angry when they find out about this stunt, right?”

This was not one of those days.

“I am well aware of the consequences of my actions,” I replied with a wide grin as I looked over my shoulder.

The sight that greeted me was a familiar one. A woman, five years my senior, palming her face in exasperation. As if the earlier comment didn’t give it away already, she’s my older sister: Luna.

“In the unlikely scenarios that this works, you're not the one who'd have to deal with those consequences,” she counters, leering at me through her fingers. Were I less used to it, I’d probably be quaking in my boots. One of the kindest people in Selphia she may be, my dear sister could still cow a crystal mammoth into submission with a harsh enough glare. “This isn’t a joke Noel. You’ve heard what happened when dad tried to use Omni Gate, and that was when he was trying to use it properly.”

My smile faltered at her logic, but it didn’t disappear. “You’re right, it is a pretty horrible plan.” My admission seemed to catch Luna off guard, her eyes going wide for all of a second, before realization set in, and her frown returned. “By all accounts, I shouldn’t try it. There’s no guarantee that it’ll work.” Her tired groan and slumping form went ignored as I turned the rest of me to face her, finger raised high the same way aunt Lumi’s was whenever she was explaining a ‘case’. “But! It's also the only idea I have that can work. Besides, you know I can’t just leave someone in trouble, especially when they ask me for help.”

“Ah, yes, your little hero complex.” Luna’s tired groan was accompanied by her hair and clothes beginning to flutter from the wind flowing around her. Not good, but at least it wasn’t a tornado... yet. “Noel, I know that you look up to dad a lot –I do too– but don’t you think this is pushing it?” She grabbed my occupied hand. “You said you found this-” she brought my hand up, bringing the glass like object I held to eye level, “-whatever it is, here.  That means it came from the Forest of Beginnings. Do you have any idea what that means?”

Naturally. I’m not an idiot. “It means that I need to go through the Forest of Beginnings to get to where I need to go to help.” See? It’s not like the conclusion is that hard to figure out, especially not for one of Aunt Lumi’s best students ever.

My grin grew even wider at the thought of it. Surely, figuring this out would put me ahead of Amber. I could already imagine my honorary older sister patting me on the head as congratulations for finally surpassing her.

“Ow!” Okay, maybe she was going too hard and… oh wait, that wasn’t Amber, that was my actual older sister butting me on the head with the hilt of one of her swords.

“That’s not what I meant, you airhead!” A localized tornado whipped around Luna for a brief moment at the crux of her scream. “In case you’ve forgotten, this Aeon guy admitted to being a dragon. An Arch Dragon from the sound of it. If one of those sent what’s basically a distress beacon into the Forest of Beginnings, that probably means he was trying to reach one of the Native Dragons.”

Huh. Okay, admittedly, I didn’t think of that. Seems I still had a ways to go. Still, “All the more reason for me to do this,” I replied, sparing a moment to heal aching forehead. “Terrable is hibernating again, Fiersome is sealed away –and even if he wasn’t, he’d probably solve the problem by burning everything to the ground so less Rune Energy was needed– Aquaticus is still trying to mend the rift between Norad and the remains of the Sechs Empire, Lumenivia and Umbradia have both made it clear that they just want to live in peace now, most of the world doesn’t even know that Amorantha exists, let alone where she is, and in case you haven’t noticed, the local Native Dragon can’t really afford to do anything strenuous at the moment.” Luna winced as I counted each of the dragons out, knowing full well that she couldn’t really argue the point.

The smug smirk I knew I had would probably end in pain, but I couldn't stop myself from making it as I readied the finishing blow. "Besides, you've heard what Aeon had to say," I re-raised the ellipsoid crystal to emphasize my point, "He might not have mentioned it outright, but the problem he was talking about is pretty clearly because their world is running out of Runes. As an Earthmate, I'm well suited to at least stave it off until their Nat-er... Divine Dragon comes back."

Her face scrunched up in annoyance as I made my final point. By now, the wind whirling around her was strong enough to actually be visible. Wisps of green, Rune infused gales whipped her hair and clothes in a frenzy as she tried to come up with a rebuttal.

Then, all at once, it died down with a resigned sigh. “Nothing I say is going to change your mind, huh?” A raised brow was all she got in response. “Right. Of course. Why did I ever think otherwise?” Her shoulders slumped in surrender, shaking her head at my display. “I suppose trying to talk you into letting dad handle this instead is a lost cause?”

I shook my head. “I don't know how long something like this might take, and our brother or sister will be born in a few months. It’s one thing if their brother isn’t around for their formative years, it's something else entirely if dad is the one who's gone.”

Luna grumbled, arms crossed and with a pout on her face. “And the reason you’re telling me to stay behind?” The wind was back again, gentler now, but still there. I suppose that was expected. Most people wouldn't know it at first glance, but Luna's pretty proud of her skills as a fighter. Telling her to stay was a blow to her pride. “Aeon didn’t exactly make his world sound peaceful, and I’m a lot better in a fight than you are. I could go with you.”

That was an understatement. I couldn’t hold a candle to even the weakest monsters in the Rune Prana if I ever actually started a fight.

By contrast, Luna could hack, slash, shred and burn her way through everything in the Rune Prana with ease.

I wasn’t defenseless by any means, but compared to Luna, who grew up admiring and learning from Aunt Forte, I was no match. Trying to go through the Obsidian Mansion by myself would already be hard enough. If I ever got into a fight wherever Aeon was from, having her around would be a huge help.

So why tell her to stay here? “Two reasons.” I held up my free hand, fingers out. “First, aside from needing to tell mom and dad what happened once I'm gone, I also need someone here who I can trust to be able to pull me back if I need it. I’m still not sure Omni Gate would even work; connections between different worlds through the Forest isn’t exactly common enough to figure anything out. But if it can be used to traverse between worlds, it’d be better if I had someone here who could pull me back if necessary. As Earthmates, our powers are even stronger than dad’s, so it’s far safer for us to pull each other through an Omni Gate than him.

“Second: You might be the stronger fighter between us, but I’m the better farmer. With everything Aeon said, his world probably needs my skills more than yours. That means I have to go, which automatically appoints you as the one who stays here.”

It was a good explanation. Something that I’ve been thinking about for a while, since I’d found the distress beacon in this same room less than a week ago. More than that, it was all true too. In the grand scheme of things, it really is better to have a back-up plan, in case I needed rescuing.

So why was Luna looking at me like she was very unimpressed by what I said?

“And I suppose this had nothing to do with you wanting to become a hero on your own, like dad?”

Ah… yes… that. Of course she’d catch on to that.

“It… might play a part…” I looked away from her, face heated in embarrassment. In hindsight, constantly going on about how I’d one day do things that would make me an even bigger hero than dad on a regular basis might have given that away. The daily trips to the Yokmir Forest or the Water Ruins since I turned 16 and could finally leave the town on my own probably didn’t help.

“I knew I should’ve dragged you to my training sessions a lot more often,” Luna mumbled, palming her face once more. I probably wouldn’t have heard it if there were any sounds in this place, but I’m pretty sure she was counting on that. “Damn it, fine! I’ll let you go and try this stupid plan of yours!”

A wide smile spread on my face the instant she relented, my excitement bubbling up at the call to adventure. “But!” The interjection was a slight damper, but I was already too amped up to let it bring me down completely, “If this fails, then that’s it. No second chances, no doovers, nothing. If you can’t get this right the first time and it blows up in your face, I’m hauling you out of here and forbidding you from trying again, got that?”

“Crystal clear, sis!” Heels together, feet pointed outward, left arm bent behind me, and my right hand clenched into a fist and thumping my chest. A mock salute to accompany my answer, just like the ones Aunt Forte always taught her to do.

It got me another goose egg, courtesy of her other sword this time, but I’d say it was worth it. One way or another, one shot was all I really needed.

The existence of other mortal realms was a known factor; so too were their connections to the Forest of Beginnings, the world between worlds. More than enough travelers who’ve passed through the border town of Kardia had mentioned a large, mysterious shell that could be used to exchange items with other worlds. And of course, there was the Sharance Maze –the original, that is, not the branch brought to the Selphia palace’s basement– which many claimed had entrances in different realms, allowing those of different worlds to meet and traverse the labyrinth together.

We know about them, but nothing about how to travel to them. No one even knew if such a thing was possible. Omni Gate was the closest thing I could think of as a method, and even then, it wasn’t an exact solution. Its purpose was to bring entities back from the Forest of Beginnings, not enter it, let alone go straight through the Forest and into a different mortal realm entirely.

But magic like that did exist. The knowledge was just lost.

In such cases, most people would probably approach with caution, studying the ancient magics to find a method that could work. I… well, to be frank, I’ve never been the most careful person in the world.

If someone asks for help and I might be able to give it? Then I'd say it's better to try something that could work, rather than spend time trying to find a solution that might not exist. That, I could leave for when Plan A failed.

Hence, Omni Gate. I knew the words to it –the Earthscript incantation needed to call forth the dimensional magic– thanks in large part to Uncle Arthur’s meticulous record keeping. More importantly, a week of constantly studying Alvarna Academy’s publications on Earthscript meant that I knew each line’s significance… and possibly what I needed to change to make it work how I wanted it to work.

The setting, such as it was, was just an added precaution. Where better to open a gate through the Forest of Beginnings into another world than the border between my own world and the Forest?

Taking a deep breath to prepare, I recalled the incantation I formulated, going over each line to make sure I’d get everything right.

It was time to begin.

“Through my bond with the world, I call on your help.”

The opening words, a call to the soul of the planet itself. A line spoken in an ancient tongue, common amongst all of the ancient spells.

First, a target is needed.

I stared down at the gem in my hand. Crystalized Runic energy, shaped into an ovoid mass. Its creator, Aoen, the Kalpa Dragon, was long dead. But if his final message was correct, then his mother was still alive in some way.

“I seek the one known as the Divine Dragon, Sothis, mother of the Kalpa Dragon, Aeon.”

Specification of the target was important, but so too was the intent of the spell. The alteration came next. No room for error.

“If you would hear my pleas, forge a path for me to reach through the First Forest and unto the one I seek.”

Now or never. Let’s see if this works.

“Let the Runes guide my way.”

“Omni Gate!”

The once white void was filled with green, the Runes of the world acting in answer to the spell. Yellow lights, shaped into Earthscript, formed rings that circled around me, spinning faster and faster; growing brighter and brighter.

Then, as they reach a blinding intensity, the humming of the Runes was broken by the sound of raging winds.

---

When I opened my eyes again, it was not to find the white void of the Rune Prana’s last room, but instead a camp. One currently occupied by a lot of people.

Heavily armed people. The closest of which –A blue haired woman who looked around the same age as my sister– quickly picked herself up from the ground (it seemed my entrance had blown her down) before drawing her sword and holding it to my throat. The rest of the camp’s occupants followed suit in arming themselves.

All of them, that is, except for a man in front of the largest tent. Easily one of the tallest people in the camp, his dirty blonde hair and orange tunic made him stand out amongst the rest of the more grays, blacks, browns and greens, and stood with the posture of a leader. He seemed content with just observing the situation, rather than ordering everyone to attack what they probably viewed as a violent intruder.

Before that could change, I quickly held my hands up beside my head in what I can only hope was a placating gesture, taking the moment to also make sure that my hat hadn’t been thrown askew (it hadn’t). All the while, I racked my mind for a way to deescalate the situation.

Escape (the spell, not the verb, though maybe also that) was probably not an option. Assuming I am in another world, it either wouldn’t work since there was no beacon here, or worse, it would work, and I’d be thrown back into my own world.

Shine was an option that might get the woman in front of me to back off, but I could see a few archers behind her, and likely behind me too. Those guys might take the spell as proof of hostile action and start shooting. Not ideal.

Rapid Move was also an option, but I can only use that so many times (less now, after just using Omni Gate) before it would tire me out. With the number of people and tents around just from what I could see, that limit would be hit pretty quickly. I could probably get out of the campsite with it, but if they chose to pursue, I'd be in trouble, especially since I could see a few horses around, and I just can't outrun those.

Really should've thought of bringing Silver along. Then again, he might've just made things worse.

In summary, combat wasn't ideal, especially since I was technically at fault here. Fleeing was risky, and would be difficult to maintain if these people don't just let me go.

Negotiations it was then. But how to open that up when everyone was this tense?

Hmm… there is that one spell. I'd have to hope that the woman in front of me didn't consider me a proper threat right now or it wouldn't work, but hey, I’ve already tried one risky spell today, what’s another?

My hands were already in the perfect position to use it anyway, and as one of the easier modern spells, it required no incantations and little effort to use. Really, using it was just a matter of waving one of my hands and using what little Rune Energy it needed.

“Hello there. Nice to meet you.”

The Greeting Spell: If you say hello-

“Hi. You too.”

-even people who don't like you will say hi back.

It took the blue haired woman a moment to realize what had happened. A moment in which everyone else in camp registered what had happened and were subsequently bewildered by the sudden shift in tone. A moment in which the tip of the sword at my throat had moved to point at the ground by its owner's feet as she waved at me with the one not holding her blade.

Thank the Runeys that worked. Probably not for long, but any opportunity to talk without a sword pointed at me was a good one.

I just needed a good follow up.

Now, what was the best thing to say in this sort of situation?

…

Nope, can't think of anything. I've never been in anything even remotely like this aaand everyone else was tensing up again.

Uhh… quick, brain! Words! I need words!

“I don’t suppose there’s anyone here named Sothis, is there?!”

Judging by how the apparent leader actually started glaring at me, those words probably weren’t the best choice.

Hopefully I don't wind up with amnesia after this.

---

A/N: At the suggestion of one of my readers, I'm crossposting this story from SB. I don't think anything I have would warrant getting my story scrubbed there, but better safe than sorry. I'm going over the chapters to edit out some mistakes anyway, so I decided to just kill two birds with one stone.

Currently, I don't have any NSFW scenes planned for this, but I'm posting it in this section because there tends to be more exposure here. Pun fully intended.

I'll be posting the chapters here slowly to give it time to

 

Act 1: The Seeds of Adventure - Part 2​

Noel, Byleth quickly came to realize, was an odd man.

Perhaps that was a strange observation coming from her of all people. She wasn’t exactly ignorant of how most people outside the company (and even some of the newer ones among them) saw her. Emotionless, taciturn, always ready to draw a blade at any moment. These qualities weren’t unique in her line of work by any means, but even casual observers could tell she was unusual in that sense.

The intruder to their camp was odd in a different sense though, and that was ignoring his sudden, showy entrance. Whatever he’d done to her to make her lower her guard –literally, in this case– played a part. As did his following question about this ‘Sothis’ person, though that was more due to both the company’s reaction (and her father’s in particular) to it, as well as her own sense of vague familiarity with the name than the question itself.

More than either of those, however, was how he’d acted after the fact.

Her father had inserted himself into the situation not long after Noel made his inquiry, dragging him by the arm towards his tent. She’d followed soon after, and though Jeralt seemed hesitant at first, he’d ultimately let her join in on the interrogation.

Thus began her conclusion on Noel’s oddities.

Despite benign thrown none-so-gently into a chair and all but pinned down by the heavy table practically pressing into his midsection, all after landing smackdab in the middle of a camp filled with heavily armed people who were none-too-pleased with him, or the large form of her father –a man who was easily a head and a half taller than him, and twice as broad– looming over him and asking questions, Noel was… not that bothered at all.

“So to summarize, I found this thing in my favorite napping spot, it told me to help its creator’s mother, Sothis, then I tried out an experimental spell to see if it could bring me to his mom.”

From his introduction, to his long-winded and tangent filled story –Byleth had thus far learned a little bit about his sister (she was a warrior of some sort), at least three people in his hometown who’d taught him something or other (a lazy man who suffered from dwarfism, a butler who was apparently very prone to emotional outbursts, and a physician who was supposedly haunted by a ghost), and the fact that he had a pet butterfly of all things– of how he got here, Noel had never once shown an inch of worry as soon as it became clear her father was willing to ‘talk’ things out.

He was just… far too relaxed for someone in his situation. Noel even tossed the object he’d claimed had spoken to him on the table with little care, despite how obviously expensive it looked.

Despite her opinion on the matter, it seemed to be working, if nothing else. While the look on Jeralt’s face made it clear that he didn’t quite believe the entirety of the younger man’s story, it no longer looked as though her father was planning to run him through with the first spear he could get his hands on.

Jeralt picked the jewel up, inspecting it with a critical eye. The pink, ovoid gem fit well into his palm. From her own assessment, she could confidently say it was unlike any jewel she had ever seen. Granted, most jewels she’d seen were from objects they were tasked with retrieving from bandits, but she felt that was more than enough to tell when something was off.

It sparkled. Too much, that is. No matter the lighting, or even the lack thereof, the gem always seemed to sparkle in some way. It was almost as though it made its own light. Then there was its shape: Perfectly smooth on all sides; more akin to a stone that had been weathered away beneath a waterfall instead of the precisely cut facets that all other valuable gems seemed to share.

“No mistake about it. That’s definitely the crest of Goneril.”

There was that bit as well. Difficult as it would be to see from afar, there was definitely some kind of symbol embedded in the gem. No matter which way it was turned, the asymmetrical symbol would always remain the same: A concentric circle, the outer rings broken on two ends, and with different sized protrusions poking out of them. Like two halves of a broken cart wheel.

“Goneril? I’m pretty sure the guy who made that called himself Aeon.”

Jeralt cast a contemplative frown at their… guest’s direction. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard of anyone of renown named Aeon,” he said, handing the gem back to Noel, “They might be one of the lesser known members of House Goneril.”

“Although I can’t say I’ve heard of anyone named Sothis in that house either. That would have caused too much uproar to go unnoticed.”

Byleth’s eyes darted to her father. He’d turned away and lowered his voice to barely a mutter, but her training had been enough to let her hear him. It made her wonder, once again, what the importance of that name was. Something about it just seemed to… resonate with her, for some reason. As though it called to something deep inside her.

She’d never heard it before, yet her father clearly had. In fact, everyone in the company seemed to know the name on some level. They knew it, and for some reason, didn’t like hearing it. Or at least, that’s what she’d gathered from their reaction to Noel’s words.

But why? What reason did they have to not like that name? To possibly fear it? Clearly it was someone important, if the name was that well known. So who was she? And why did Byleth feel as though whoever she was, the two of them held a connection.

“Who is Sothis?”

The male occupants of the tent both jolted as a third voice joined them. A third voice –Byleth was surprised to realize– that had come from her. Her eyes flitted between Noel –transitioning from shocked to curious– and Jeralt, the latter of whom had turned around fast enough to worry her. The way her father winced at the question didn’t exactly raise her confidence at getting an answer easily.

Under normal circumstances, Byleth would’ve just left it at that. If her father didn’t want to tell her now, he’d do so later. If not later, then it was probably nothing important. She trusted him to tell her anything that she might need to know, when she would need to know it.

This time was different. That name really did call out to something deep within her. Some hunger to know more, urging her like a second voice in the back of her head. “-othis. Ask him again. I need to know more. Who-” it was like a mantra in the back of her head. Quiet –almost imperceptibly so– but unmistakably there nonetheless. An almost childish whine that seemed to fade in and out.

Ultimately, Byleth gave in. “Father, you clearly know of someone by that name,” she accused, an unusual amount of emotion in her voice that had Jeralt’s brow rising. “I want to know as well. Who exactly is this… ‘Sothis’… that everyone seems so wary about?”

The older mercenary took the time to school his features and contemplate to himself, remaining quiet, save for a few contemplative hums as he debated what to say, or if he should even say anything at all. The silence lasted for long enough that Byleth –unusually irritated as she was– was just about ready to demand an answer, when her father just… seemed to break.

“I suppose I couldn’t keep you in the dark about the church forever,” he grumbled, sighing and mussing up his own hair in that way he always did whenever some overly enthusiastic new recruit messed up an operation. Sending a final, irritated glare at their guest, Byleth’s father turned to her to explain. “The first thing you need to know about Sothis is that she isn’t someone to most people, so much as something; at least in a sense.” He grabbed another chair from the back of the tent as he began, parking himself right across Noel on the table. Wordlessly, Byleth followed along, taking a moment to step out of the tent and grab the one her father had been using before their intruder’s appearance. Seemed they were in for a long story.

Jeralt made to speak as soon as she sat down, only to pause and turn to Noel again. “You speak the language well enough, but you’re not from Fódlan, are you?” The younger man shook his head in response. “Figured as much. You don’t exactly dress like any noble brat I’ve seen before.” If the mercenary captain noticed the offense that their intruder (guest? Jeralt wasn’t really being hostile towards him anymore) took from that statement, he didn’t show it. In fact, Jeralt seemed to completely ignore him after that in favor of turning his attention back to Byleth.

“To begin with, tell me everything you’ve ever heard about the Church of Seiros.”

---

As it turns out, what the blue haired woman knew about this ‘Church of Seiros’ wasn’t really much, detail-wise. It was the majority (if not sole) religion in Fódlan, which was apparently the entire continent, as opposed to the name of the country I first thought it was. At least going by her mention of the church’s presence and connection with an empire, a kingdom, and an alliance. They have an order of knights to help keep the peace in the continent, and presumably did religiousy things, as churches are wont to do.

Just the basic stuff that anyone would know about the church, from the sounds of it. No actual details about stuff like what said religious practices were, or whatever made up their core beliefs are.

Judging from the little quirk on the edge of the camp leader’s lips, I’m guessing he was rather happy about his daughter’s lack of faith. I could relate. Mom always found devout worshipers of the Native Dragons very tiring to be around, and I had to agree. The thought of being around those kinds of people again even had me checking my hat once more (still in place), and channeling some rune energy into it to make sure its enchantments were working (they were).

Once the woman was done, her father began explaining more things about the church in detail. Sothis was the name of the Church’s goddess, a name that people in general are encouraged to rarely use. Something about using the name in vain, or some such belief. From the sound of it, while pretty much all followers of the Church (and quite a few who aren’t) knew the goddess’ name, the only ones who ever really called her by name were bishops and other high ranking members of the organization. And even then, it was only used during big religious festivals.

He’d even gone as far as to warn us –more his daughter than me– not to use the name in casual conversation, where people outside the company (which I guess makes them mercenaries?) could hear. Too much risk of somebody complaining to a particularly strict and pious priest, I guess.

On the whole, it wasn’t anything I didn’t already expect. Aeon literally called his mother a ‘Divine Dragon’. By their very nature, such Dragons usually wind up as figures of worship due to how vast their powers were. The Native Dragons back home were much the same… for the most part. They’re revered and considered sacred beings, if nothing else, but the whole worshiping them thing wasn’t really widespread. Churches existed here and there, and pilgrims came to Selphia to revere ‘Ventuswill, the Divine Wind’ on a seasonal basis, but despite how closely tied they were to Norad as a whole, worshiping them never became a state religion. In fact, Norad had no state religion.

A vast difference from here, but I could deal with that. It wasn’t like I even needed to meet Sothis anyway. I’m just here to make sure that she comes back to a world she can still save from collapse.

“I don’t really know much more about the goddess specifically, despite the… number of jobs I used to take from the church. But I’d say you already know all you need to know now.”

The mercenary(?) leader ended his impromptu lesson on a subdued note. Not that he’d been particularly enthusiastic about anything he’d shared concerning the church, but it did leave me wondering what kind of history there was between them. Not that it was my place to pry.

His daughter though? To say she looked unsatisfied by the explanation is… probably an overstatement, given how emotionless she seemed on the outside, but there were small things here and there that hinted at her unease. Years of dealing with Aunt Dolce made me very good at reading the emotional cues of people who barely showed them on their faces. Though admittedly, this woman was leagues better at it than my physician.

“That is…” the younger mercenary began, trailing off as she seemed to retreat into her thoughts. “Why does all of that seem so… wrong? No. More like… incomplete?” She looked up to stare her father in the eye in what was probably her version of a demanding stare.

The man couldn’t really do much more than shrug his shoulders uneasily and shake his head. “Don’t know what else to tell you, kid. That’s all I’ve ever personally learned about the goddess.” A thought seemed to come to him, causing a frown to spread across his face. “You… could ask someone from the church for more details when we get back to the village, if you want.”

The suggestion came with no small amount of reluctance. The younger mercenary did ultimately agree to it, nodding in response, but what little emotion I could read from her had been gone by then, so I couldn’t say what she felt about it.

This seemed like a perfect spot to cut in. “Speaking of,” I started, a little louder than how I’d normally speak, “This village; are you guys heading back there now?”

The mercenary leader seemed oddly ambivalent about the sudden interruption. Probably equal parts still annoyed at me, and relieved to drop the topic of the church. “Not yet,” he shook his head in reply, “we still need to finish up our current job to take down a few demonic beasts near the area. Why do you ask?”

The question was pointed, but not necessarily heated. I don’t think he saw me as a bad guy anymore, at least. “Does this village have a farm?” I asked back.

He huffed, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “‘Does a village have a farm?’ he asks. Of course it does. You’d be hard pressed to find one that doesn’t. Some towns might be able to make do with trading and commerce alone, but villages would starve if they couldn’t grow most of their own food.”

Despite the man’s tone, I couldn’t help but smile at the news. “Great! Guess that means I’ll be joining you guys until you get back. I should be able to take care of myself from there.” Something about what I said seemed to really confuse and annoy the older man. For the life of me, I couldn’t tell what I said that had that effect, but it was clear on his face.

“First of all, who decided that you’d be able to come with us?” Ah, yeah, I suppose that would do it. “In case you’ve forgotten, you’re an intruder in this camp. The last thing I need is some random noble brat running around and-”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold on!” I cut him off, suddenly sitting up straight. “When on earth have I ever said I was a noble?” I mean, I know my parents are pretty prominent figures, but neither of them were nobility. That was uncle Arthur’s thing.

It seemed, however, that both of these mercenaries thought differently, what with the pair of incredulous stares they were sending my way. Even the woman’s emotion on the matter was clear.

“If you’re not some noble’s kid, what are you then?”

The man’s question was challenging, as was the way he crossed his arms, his back now as ramrod straight as mine.

Now, there were a lot of things I could say to that. ‘I’m an Earthmate’ came to mind, but that might not have any real meaning in this place, judging by the differences in a few other specific terms. ‘Apprentice Blacksmith’, ‘Apprentice Chemist’ and ‘Amateur Cook’ were all also true, but didn’t really fit the conversation at hand. ‘Fledgling Mage’? ‘Warrior’? I could maybe fit either of those descriptors, depending on what one considered the appropriate skill level to be recognized as such.

But really, out of everything, there was only one answer I could give.

“I’m a farmer!”

 

Act 1: The Seeds of Adventure - Part 3​

Jeralt looked at the boy across from him who so boldly claimed to be a farmer. He looked at his straw hat –too spotless to ever have been worn on the field, and the ribbon too intricately designed to be homemade or cheap– and well kempt hair. From his feather cape, fastened by a polished broach to his metal buttoned, custom tailored, and obviously high quality doublet. From his unstained shirt, to the unblemished fingers of his gloves and their gold piping. Lastly, Jeralt observed the boy's face: Only lightly tanned and far too smooth. In conclusion: “Bullshit.”

That single word left Noel completely unable to respond. His once crossed arms growing limp, and his posture stooping. Over and over again, the self proclaimed ‘farm boy’ opened his mouth to speak, only for his words to catch in his throat.

Now, Jeralt had never been one to enjoy the suffering of others, but he couldn’t help having a laugh at the absolutely flustered look on the boy’s face. “Listen kid, I don’t know where you’re from, but just because you wear the hat and gloves for the job, doesn’t mean people are going to believe you when you say something that outlandish.” For his part, the advice was pretty genuine. He still didn’t know the kid’s full story. For all he did say, it was easy for Jeralt to tell that he’d either omitted or outright lied about some parts of his story. It was very much possible that the boy was running away or something, and thought that disguising himself as a farmer would be the best method.

That didn’t stop him from laughing at the absurdity of it all. Some random noble’s son just running off and deciding to hide away as a farmer, probably thinking the simpler life was easy. It sounded like something straight out of a bedtime story. Despite his unnaturally long life, this was a new experience.

“Bu- I- an- urgh…” the boy smacked his head on the table. The sound of the collision was actually loud enough that Jeralt began to worry for the boy, especially since he seemed content to just let his head lay there. It stayed like that for one deep breath. Two. Three. Then Noel was back to meeting him eye to eye, with equal parts resignation and exasperation on his features. “Nothing I say is ever going to convince you that I’m telling the truth, will it?”

Not missing a beat, the older man replied with an instant, “Nope."

The green haired boy picked himself back up with a sigh, taking a moment to straighten out his clothes, putting particular focus on fixing up his cape and arranging his hat. “Not exactly helping your case here, kid.” Jeralt wanted to add, but held himself back, figuring he’d already had enough fun.

“Alright, fine then. I’ll stop saying stuff like that for now,” Noel conceded with a huff, “But tell me, Mr. Mercenary: Are you a betting man?”

Jeralt’s brow rose at the very obvious challenge set before him. “Oh? So that’s the brat’s game now. The stubbornness of these kids.” Externally he huffed, shaking his head. “Never made a habit out of it, but I’ve never shied away from a chance to teach a brat a lesson while taking some of their money at the same time.” He’d leaned forward a bit as he spoke, looming over the boy. Jeralt had to give it to him, he knew exactly how intimidating he could be, but Noel hadn’t so much as twitched.

“Then I have a wager for you,” Noel started, one hand reaching under the table, likely for one of his hip bags. It was probably nothing, but years out on the field had made Jeralt cautious enough to subtly begin reaching for his dagger. Sure enough, his worries were unfounded, as the boy proceeded to toss a… perfectly cut ruby onto the table. “You bring me to this village you’re staying at and get one of the farmers to take me on as a farm hand. If I still can’t convince you I’m a farmer after that, you can have this thing.”

The mercenary leader blinked wordlessly at the boy, then down at the ruby that most nobles would have a tough time affording, then back at the boy. His silence didn’t seem to be taken well. “Alright, I guess that might not be enough. I don’t really know how much these things are worth here anyway, so I guess that makes sense. But I have a lot more of these in my bags, for just in case I’d need to trade for money, food and lodging before I could find work. Name your price.”

Another round of thunks on the table served to break Jeralt out of his stupor, only for him to look down and nearly go into another. Emeralds, sapphires, even a diamond, all properly cut and significant in size.

In the end, the older man could do little more than stare incredulously at the self proclaimed ‘farm boy’. “Are you… sure… you want to do this?” he finally asked, slowing his words to hopefully give the boy some time to cool his head. It was funny when it started, sure, but now it just felt like he was taking advantage of the noble brat. He might not like the kid, but he wasn’t about to go and do that.

“If there’s one thing I have absolute confidence in, it’s my ability to grow crops and take care of the fields.”

Those were technically two things, but he wasn’t going to waste his breath pointing that out. The boy was back in that same confident pose he’d started in, arms crossed and with a self-assured smirk on his face.

That, combined with his confidence in himself might have been enough to convince Jeralt that he actually was telling the truth. Just casually throwing the equivalent of a queen’s jewelry box on the table as if they were nothing ruined any chances of that happening, but getting that little bit of doubt to creep into his head in spite of that was pretty impressive.

Jeralt sighed. “Alright brat, you got a deal,” he conceded, fingers raking across his scalp in one of his usual ticks. “I’ll just put this down on the books as an escort mission. We should be able to find a trader for the gems once we go deep into kingdom territory; maybe even sell it off to some noble directly, if we’re lucky.”

“So does that mean I’m a temporary mercenary now?”

Looking back, Jeralt would be surprised to find that he’d actually felt both his eyes twitching at the sudden change in tracks.

“No! Now stow your rocks and get out!”

“But you guys haven’t even intro-”

“Out!”

“Okay, okay! I’m leaving!”

Heaving another sigh of exasperation, Jeralt let himself collapse into his chair again as soon as the sounds of Noel’s footsteps had gotten far enough. With an annoyed grumble, he turned towards the other remaining occupant of his tent.

Byleth had kept track of their… ‘guest’... up until she must have felt his attention on her. When she turned to him, it was with that same, dispassionate look on her face. The same face she’s made since she’d been born.

All except for a precious few moments not even an hour earlier.

He grimaced at the thought, both from his daughter’s general lack of emotions, and exactly which topic had finally broken the twenty one year long curse she seemed to be under. “Just what the hell did you do to my little girl, Rhea?” Externally, he kept his face calm, but inside, he felt his blood begin boiling over a question he’d been asking for over two decades. It was an old grudge, one he had no concrete evidence for, but… well, never let it be said that parents can be logical when their kids are suffering. Not most, anyway.

“That was unusually harsh,” Byleth pointed out, breaking her father off from his building tension.

Though she didn’t voice it as such, Jeralt could tell the critique for what it was. “Call it a case of professional pride,” he replied, moving to push his chair back. They still had preparations to make.

“You’re mad that he talked about being a mercenary so casually?”

He’d already expected the follow up question. While Byleth wasn’t one for words –even if she was better at them than emotions– when a topic of interest came up for her, she would ask question after question until she learned all she could. Rare as those times were, Jeralt treasured them. They were signs that his daughter wasn’t just some emotionless shell of a woman who was only good for killing.

“Wait… is she this interested because- nah, can’t be.”

He shook his head at the stray thought. “I’ll apologize to him when we get back from our hunt today.” Wordlessly, Byleth followed his lead, getting out of her own chair and exiting the tent to see to the preparation of the day’s hunting party.

“Two more groups reported, both within a few hours' ride from here. If we’re lucky, we can take both out by tonight and head back to Remire by dawn.”

---

“Why on earth are you here?”

I looked up from the horse I was petting, once again coming eye to eye with the leader of this band of mercenaries I landed myself in. While he still hasn’t told me his name, I’ve heard enough people refer to a ‘Captain Jeralt’ in conversations for me to have reasonably figured it out.

‘Here’, I’m assuming, was the rendezvous point for the hunting group today.

I shrugged. “Well, I’m already done healing up all the guys who got injured in your last excursions. There wouldn’t really be much else for me to do here, other than maybe cooking the food or something, so I decided to come along and see these ‘demonic beast’ things for myself.” It was an interesting term. Very negative, compared to the relatively more neutral ‘monster’ that was used back home. Granted, some species did get very foreboding names, but those generally warranted their dangerous epithet. It had me wondering what the differences were, between these things, and monsters from home.

“You what?!”

I blinked up at the man in confusion. What was so hard to understand about that? “I said I wanted to see these-”

“I meant the part about the healing, brat,” (Probably) Jeralt cut me off, groaning, “were you serious when you said you healed all of my injured men?”

I nodded slowly, not really sure what the issue was.

“There were still three dozen before you popped up. You’re telling me you healed all of them in the twenty minutes it took us to prepare to head out?”

Again, I nodded, still very much confused. Technically, it was less, since… you know, I also had to convince one of those guys to let me borrow his horse so I could join in on this hunt. I actually think that part might have taken longer.

The surprised look on his face quickly dawned into realization… though, for the life of me, I couldn’t tell what.

“Right… right… of course you’d know magic,” he said, as if it was a given. Okay, I suppose my entrance probably gave that away. That must be the conclusion he came to. “I’m guessing you used something like Fortify?”

Fortify? Why would you call a spell that heals wounds ‘Fortify’? That sounds more like something designed to make you harder to hurt.

“Never heard of it.”

“You’ve never heard of- oh, right. You’re not from around here. Not even from Fódlan. I guess you guys would just have entirely different spells that do more or less the same stuff.”

I thought about that for a second. On a whole, it was odd to think about. Despite their differences, spells used were generally the same throughout Norad, the former Sechs territories, the Kingdom of Roland, and other allied nations. Of course, I also knew that elves had some things only they could use, whether out of actual species limitations, or just tradition. But even ignoring that, all of those areas did exist on the same continent. It stood to reason that a lot of practical knowledge would be shared amongst even hostile countries.

“That’s probably a safe bet,” I answered after some thought, part of me now glad that we were having a relatively more… civil conversation. Time to cool his head, and the goodwill I made by healing his men probably contributed a lot to that. “Your medics were doing a pretty good job, but when I noticed they were doing it individually, and that a lot of others were still suffering, I decided to lend a hand.”

The mercenary captain leveled a contemplative look at me, seemingly searching for something. Whatever it was, it had him grumbling to himself afterwards, scratching frustratedly at his head.

“Well… thanks for that. Those guys really didn’t need to feel pain for any longer than necessary,” Jeralt said, head slightly bowed, “And sorry for being so harsh earlier.”

I tried to play it off as just another thing that I do. Maybe say something to brush it off. Really I did. But I just couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. There are so few things in this world that feel better than getting thanked for your good deeds, and I never quite know how to respond.

“Oy, don’t let it get to your head kid!” The sudden admonishment had me shaking my head and focusing back on Jeralt… who wasn’t there anymore. He was, in fact, a few steps away already, beckoning for me to follow along. “I’ll let you come along since you can at least pull your weight with that magic of yours, but you follow my every order on the field, got that?”

Instinct born from years of getting dragged into my sister’s training reared its head as I gave a salute worthy of a knight. “Sir, yes, sir!” I shouted, prompting the horse I was riding to begin trotting.

“None of that formal crap in this company, brat. Just call me Jeralt. But if that’s being too informal for your tastes, I’ll take ‘Eisner’ or ‘captain’ just as well.”

I looked at the older man as if he’d grown a second head. Why would he- oh, right, he still thinks I’m some kind of noble’s kid. I grumbled at the thought, and the fact I couldn’t really do much of anything about it now.

Definitely something to remedy later. Best to focus on something else for now, or I might get frustrated enough to start giving old Gabriel here a fright. He was no Bolt, but I could already tell the horse had heart in spades.

By the time I did manage to catch up to the mercenary captain (and his daughter, who’d been waiting at the head of the group from the beginning, and who’s name I still didn’t know), I already had at least one topic in mind.

I rode up right alongside them at the head of the group, which earned heated glares from a few of the other mercenaries. Probably should have expected that, a good number of these people still don’t trust me, even after all the healing. I’ll just have to patch that up later.

“So, I already know your name, Captain Jeralt,” I started, nodding to the larger man, only getting a curt nod in response. “But despite how much we’ve… talked, I feel I should at least introduce myself properly.” Mom always said that it pays to be polite, and to always make sure to introduce yourself properly, so that people would never mistake you for anyone else.

How anyone could possibly mistake her for anyone else was a mystery I’m willing to let lie.

“That’s not really necessary, but I won’t stop you, if that’s what you want.”

Jeralt’s reply sounded… oddly resigned, as though he already expected this to happen, and was just now dealing with the consequences of it. Still, the man didn’t say ‘no’ so…

“My name is Noel Selphia, a farmer, and, for the purpose of this excursion, both mage and fighter, at your service.”

Trying to bow while on a horse is not the smartest idea (I would know), so I settled for a deep nod as a show of respect. The mercenary girl, though her expression was still mostly empty, nodded in kind.

By contrast, Jeralt was looking at me with a rather… complicated expression that I couldn’t quite decipher.

“Byleth Eisner, Mercenary.” Much like her actions, Jeralt’s daughter, Byleth, was rather curt. A stark contrast from her earlier display… although perhaps that might have been the out of character moment for her. Jeralt had certainly looked surprised enough at the time.

“Oy, brat, can you tell me again what town you said you were from?”

I had to suppress a twitch at the captain’s persistent brashness. You’d think he’d at least have the courtesy to be a little polite right now. This was starting to feel like getting old man Bado to work all over again.

“Selphia, Captain Jeralt. My hometown’s name is Selphia.”

For some reason, that actually managed to get a laugh out of him, and gods only knew why. The only clue I ever really got was him repeating ‘of course it is’ to himself every once in a while.

---

A/N: This got delayed by a day. Sorry about that. Had to go out yesterday and came back home too late and too tired to get anything done.

 

Act 1: The Seeds of Adventure - Part 4​

Tracking down the first of these ‘Demonic Beasts’ didn’t take too long. After the first hour, the trackers in our hunting party had taken the lead and begun leading us in a different direction. I’m not really sure what they kept finding, but it led us to the mouth of a small cave.

The entrance was at the base of a cliff, not particularly tall (a fall was probably survivable, if you were lucky), but craggy and covered in moss and lichen; an impossible climb, even with proper equipment. Trees dotted the bottom of the rock face, just dense enough that what plants grew there could do so healthily, yet leaving little room for new competitors to pop up. Given that, under normal circumstances, the entrance probably would’ve been harder to spot despite the relatively large opening.

The area immediately outside the entrance couldn’t really be called a clearing, so much as a horribly mutilated piece of forest. There were fallen trees everywhere, half way cut up before just falling to their own weight. Claw marks raked across most of the surfaces, becoming more and more prominent as they neared the cave entrance.

Five digits, mostly evenly spaced. Fifth is lower than the rest and doesn't always leave marks. Large enough to slash near the top of the cave entrance (at least three meters high) and powerful enough to rend through tree bark and stone alike with little effort. I might not know a lot about tracking and couldn’t figure anything out from the clues that the trackers found earlier, but I knew my monsters, and these were definitely ursine in nature.

Key word being ‘these’, since there were two very distinct sets of claw marks, so unless these demonic beast bears could somehow grow leaps and bounds within a small time frame, I’m betting on there being two of them.

As it turns out, most of the company thought much the same, though the surprised look on Jeralt’s face when I relayed my findings was a treat. Guess he didn’t expect me to figure something like that out. Not quite the revelation I wanted, but I’ll take what I can get.

“Targets seem to be asleep,” one of the trackers reported, having come back from the lip of the cave. “Two of them, just like the reports said. Typical of the species. No signs of cubs, which is good. It’s the middle of the Lone Moon, so they’ll be lethargic unless there’s food nearby.”

Jeralt eyed the cave entrance contemplatively. “How big is the space inside?” He asked, gears turning in his head as battle plans began to form.

“Not big enough,” the other tracker replied, “We could fit three to four people at a time through the hole, but footing inside is uneven. A steady march would be difficult, especially without lighting. And if go in there with a torch-”

“The smell of burning fat would just wake them up before we get close,” the mercenary leader concluded, nodding in thanks towards the two trackers, “We’ll have to lure them out.” He turned to address the rest of the company. “Alright boys and girls, no need to try anything too crazy here. I want archers on top of that cliff; it should only be a half hour trip on horseback if you go east of here. Try to gather some food on the way there to drop from the cliffs as bait. The rest of you, form a perimeter around the entrance. Keep to the treeline and try not to make too much noise. These things might not be as active in the winter, but that doesn’t mean enough noise won’t wake them up too early. Once we lure them out, pincer them in. Keep them disoriented enough and we should come out of this with minimal casualties. Any questions?”

I raised my hand at the closest opportunity… which might not have been the smartest decision, given the looks everyone gave me. They ranged from annoyed to amused and everything in between, with more than a few fists full of (what I can only assume is) money changing hands.

Jeralt just rolled his eyes and gestured for me to continue.

Being the center of attention like this was embarrassing, to say nothing of the least, but I soldiered on. “I don’t think the guys climbing up there need to gather food. I’m pretty sure I have something here that’ll get the attention of whatever’s in that cave.” I already began rummaging through my bags halfway through, trying to remember which one I put my reserve food in.

I might not be the smartest person in the world, but I was far from stupid. It was a stroke of luck that I wound up teleporting in the middle of a mercenary camp. I could have just as easily landed in the middle of this forest, and then I’d just be stuck looking for civilization with no clear direction of where to go. Say what you will about the rough reception, it still turned out for the better.

I'd considered the possibility beforehand. In preparation, I decided to pack three day’s worth of food with me, along with a few seeds of fast growing crops. It wasn’t much, but it would’ve been enough for me to keep myself going; more so if I could find a river or lake to fish at. And speaking of fish…

“Brat, I’ll be honest with you, I’m not really sure what kind of fancy- where the hell did you get that?”

I felt myself blinking in confusion at the odd question. My eyes darted from Jeralt, who was pointing at the object in my hands, down to said object –a plate piled with cuts of grilled, salted salmon– then back up to him again. “From… my bag?” I answered, not really sure what it is he was looking for. I’m pretty sure he saw me pull it out of my bag too, so I don’t really know why he was asking.

The mercenary captain did not look best pleased. “That plate is bigger than your head,” he pointed out. Literally, he was pointing at the plate with the most bemused look on his face.

Again, I looked down at the plate of fish in my hands, then back up. “Er… yes? I’m not really sure what the purpose of this line of questioning is, captain.” He wasn’t wrong. The plate was, indeed, wider than my head. I still don’t understand the problem.

Aaand judging from the fact that Jeralt just smacked his face with a gauntleted hand, I’m guessing there still was one.

“Are you honestly telling me that you managed to fit that thing inside your tiny hip bags?” He asked incredulously, as if I was the weird one for pulling a large item out of a tiny bag.

“Yes. That’s… how spatial distortion enchantments work,” I countered, returning the plate back into its designated bag. “I keep everything I thought I’d need in here. My fishing rod,” I reached into another bag and whipped out my Beginner’s Pole, something that evidently came as a surprise to many (I’d have to apologize to Byleth later for accidentally hitting her. Seemed she was too shocked to dodge), “my combat gloves,” the pole was just as quickly stowed away, in favor of my Bear Claws which, now that I think about, strangely appropriate for the situation at hand, “this Lightning Wand my sister made for me as a joke,” the magic staff came out next, and just to really drive it home, I even charged it up, causing a magic turnip to come hurtling out of the sky and bounce harmlessly off of a tree before disappearing. “I even brought all of my own farming tools in here.” So saying, I stuffed the wand back into my hip bags before pulling out my trusted hoe, showing her off proudly for all to see. “I call this one ‘Terra’.”

Everyone in the entire company within sight stared at my Seasoned Hoe, jaws dropped. I couldn’t help the smile on my face at the sight. It’s always a treat, knowing that others are so impressed with the quality of equipment that you made and maintained yourself. Sure, Byleth didn’t have as strong a reaction as everyone else, but I learned that she was even less expressive than Aunt Dolce pretty quickly, so that’s to be expected.

If she was around long enough,I might just have to put effort into getting through that frosted exterior to get a proper smile out of her. People like Aunt Dolce and Uncle Dylas who rarely, genuinely smiled always seemed to have the best ones.

An exasperated sigh from Jeralt finally broke the odd silence that followed my showing Terra off to everyone. He was scratching at his hair a little harder than usual and shaking his head.

“Right. You know what, we can table the rest of this discussion later.” He turned to address the rest of his company, while I was left to wonder what other things about this could possibly be left for discussion. “We’ll… go with using Noel’s bait. Stroke of luck that we were upwind during that whole fiasco.” I mean, not really, I had to consciously make sure the wind wasn’t blowing the smell towards the cave yet, but maybe pointing that out now wasn’t the smartest idea. “The rest of you still have the same orders; you know what signals to give. Get to it so we can put this mess behind us.”

---

Like Jeralt said earlier, it took about half an hour for the archers to ride all the way to an incline they could climb, then reach the top of where the rest of us were set up. The ‘signal’ was some form of bird call that I wasn’t familiar with, sung (for a lack of better word) in a particular pattern. Aunt Meg probably would’ve been able to tell. She was always good at matching sounds like that. Then again, she might also have begun critiquing the mercenaries for any inaccuracies about their bird call, so maybe having her listen to them wasn’t the smartest idea.

For our part, most of the ground ambush forces had dismounted, myself and Byleth included. Warhorses were a lot rarer than the scouting horse I managed to borrow (okay, I brushed her a bit, and gave her some apples, then she just started following me, but I was going to give her back!), and so were reserved for dedicated cavalrymen.

They were to be the first wave after the archers were done firing down on our targets, followed closely by the rest of the melee fighters to capitalize on the disorientation of the hit-and-run attacks, supported by the few magic users in the group… which was the group I was lumped in with.

Not good, considering my best spells are either for close range, or not advisable to be fired into a crowd with lots of allies. I could probably make do with shooting Sonic Winds, but if these things were half as tough as I think they are, I’ll probably need something harder to finish them off.

And I do want to be the one to finish them off. From the sound and feel of it, the people in this place don’t seem to cast Tamitaya on their weapons, as people in Norad do. A similar case to the former empire back home, maybe. Or just plain lack of knowledge about the discipline.

Either way, I wanted to land the final blow against these demonic beasts to hopefully spare them from death.

Hence why I was already thinking of ways to break rank when opportunity comes knocking.

I just know I’m going to regret doing this. But I’ll regret letting those bears die even more, so I couldn't just let things be.

Just then, Byleth tapped me on the shoulder. That was my signal to set the bait. No going back now.

I reached into my bag and pulled the plate of salted salmon out once more, much faster this time, since I actually remembered where I put it. Taking a few careful steps, I made my way to the edge of the treeline, scanning the ‘clearing’ to find the perfect place to set down the food… and realizing that I really had no idea where that would be.

Middle it is then. Taking careful aim and one step back, I raised the plate of food above my head, making sure to coat the whole thing in Rune energy. Then, with a final breath-

“Wait, idiot, what are you-”

I completely ignored the words of the mercenary behind me as I threw the plate of food smack dab in the middle of all the broken trees and crushed stone. It landed perfectly with nary a sound.

From there, it was a simple matter of getting the pungent smell of grilled fish into the cave. A simple matter of subtle wind manipulation, and not so subtle sonic winds fired from a distance to get the smell of it into the caves faster.

The wait after that didn’t take long.

Within ten minutes, a pair of gigantic, ursine creatures came lumbering out. They weren’t quite Geyser Bear large, but at over three meters in length and proportionately larger bodies, the damn things were pretty close. No horns, thankfully, but those long claws of theirs could slice a person up just as easily.

They ambled towards the plate of food, sniffing the air curiously. It took a lot of effort to try and hide everyone else’s scent by keeping the air flow in such a wide area so controlled, but it was worth it if it meant keeping things from going very wrong, very fast.

The demonic beasts barely got halfway there before the attack signal was given. Arrows rained down on the bears, causing them to roar in alarm, waving their arms wildly as they tried to search for the source of the attack. Distressingly, only a third of the arrows seemed to penetrate anything, the rest either bouncing off of some kind barrier that seemed to coat them randomly, or just outright being deflected by their thick hides.

This wasn’t enough to deter the next wave of attacks though. In short order, the cavalrymen on either side of the clearing came charging out, polearms raised to attack. It was a very coordinated assault, despite the uneven ground, each man coming in and leaving slashes across the bears’ hides one after the other. Unlike the arrows, these all managed to penetrate whatever defenses the monsters used; their fur providing little resistance.

From there, it was our turn, and I took the quick moment when I didn’t have to worry about friendly fire to shoot a water laser at the larger bear. The beam of magically pressurized liquid – strong enough to penetrate stone – didn’t manage to punch through the ursine behemoth's bones, but it did produce an audible crunch, and left the thing limping afterwards.

Sorry big guy, but I kind of have to prioritize now. Plus, you were attacking merchants taking the nearby road, so we'd have take care of you either way.

The mercenaries took advantage of the opening quickly and efficiently. Byleth leading the charge, the larger bear was swiftly overwhelmed, the rest of its limbs targeted to bring it down as quickly as possible.

The other bear was a bit luckier in that it had a better opportunity to fight back, but that wasn’t saying much when faced with over a dozen trained fighters being backed up by arrows and spellfire.

It really was a well coordinated assault. A thing of beauty, some might even say.

Now it was time to break it up.

Throwing one last Double Sonic to confuse the bears even more, I began to move. Rapid Move, specifically.

In one step, I covered a third of the way to the larger, more damaged bear. In another, I was three quarters in. By the third, I’d appeared in the middle of the scrum, causing more than one person to jump back in shock. Right on time, it seemed. This thing was nearing its last leg.

“Uppercut.” A mental command, done more for a sense of familiarity than any actual need. Rune energy flooded into my right hand as I drove it upwards into the bear’s stomach, throwing the gigantic creature into the air.

Not missing a beat, I flooded even more power throughout my body, grabbing the airborne creature and twisting myself around so that it landed squarely across my shoulders. One massive heave later and I was up in the air, arms fully extended with a writhing monsters above my head. “Look out below!” I shouted, the only real warning I could give before throwing my massive cargo at the other monster in the clearing.

Fortunately, the other mercenaries were very quick on their feet, managing to get out of the way long before the two monsters collided. Less fortunate was that, even after that massive impact, neither monster seemed to be down for the count, both of them still struggling to try and get up by the time I landed.

I wouldn’t be able to pull a maneuver like that again anytime soon, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t follow through. “Gust.” This time, the mental command was necessary, not nearly being used to this as I am. Despite being best suited for use with dual blades, Gust was still a less intensive mobility option than Rapid Move, letting me jump high into the air, before then jumping off of the air towards my target.

Neither bear was up yet, caught up in a tangle of limbs. My right fist was already cocked back, spell ready to fire at any moment. Left foot landed first, skidding across the ground to stop me just in front of the demonic beast I threw. Right foot next, already positioned to keep me in the proper stance.

Target locked: The same spot in the stomach that I hit with my uppercut earlier. The bleeding holes left by my bear claws making for excellent markers. “Sorry again, big guy, it’s necessary. You’ll recover from this quickly once you go back to the Forest.” Body twisting for maximum impact, fist spinning into a corkscrew punch. It was a well practiced motion that I must’ve done thousands of times already.

“Rock Screw!”

Just before the moment of impact, a burst of magic coated my hand, forming into a mass of jagged stone, spinning like a drill as it crashed into the monstrous bear’s guts.

…
…
…

Something slimy covered my arms. Red was everywhere. Wha-what was this? Blood? No, that’s… why would there be- The bear. The bear’s body was still there. Still there, and now missing most of its stomach. Dead.

But that’s- that’s impossible. The Tamitaya should have- but it's not disappearing. It’s still there. Still red. Still bloody.

Guts. That was what was on my hand. And that foul smell… intestines. No. That can’t be. That can’t be! Why?! I shouldn’t have been able to kill it! So why!? Why is it dead!? Why did the Tamitaya spell not work!? Why!?

“RAAAARGH!”

A bestial cry pierces the air. The carcass –dead. My fault. Why? How?– was swept away, driving me to fall back as I stared up at the still living specimen. I could hear shouting from all around me, but my mind refused to try to understand any of it. All I could focus on was my still bloody hand, and the equally bloody and angry monster standing in judgment above.

It raised its claws, ready to kill. A part of me almost called onto that sleeping power deep within me. An instinctual drive for survival guided me to call on it so I could live.

Then, just before I could finish the thought, before the monster’s claws could descend, a flash of silver flew into view. A blade, thrown expertly, piercing the monster’s paws. A vision of black and blue came next, as someone –Byleth, a distant part of me noted– interposed themselves between me and the creature.

A flash of light covered me then, followed by a sudden sense of movement.

Too much. It was all becoming too much. My vision barely came back to me before everything went dark again. Slipping into unconsciousness, the last thing I saw was Byleth, in the distance, facing the last living bear with little more than a dagger in hand, and her father charging in from the other side.

 

Act 1: The Seeds of Adventure - Finale​

“I expected quite a few people to come back after the first hunt, but never you.”

Byleth shrugged her good shoulder at the healer’s words, her face as impassive as usual, save for the occasional wince. There wasn’t much more that needed to be said. She fought, she got injured, she needed to return to camp. It was part of a policy her father put in place ages ago that made sure the Blade Breakers lasted for as long as it had with as sterling a reputation as it did.

As much as possible, no one was to be pushed beyond what their body could handle. Any injury that could be considered debilitating was to be treated as well as it could on the field, then the mercenary in question would be sent to their nearest camp, or temporary headquarters to receive more thorough treatment. It was an expensive policy to maintain, but it had also allowed the company to retain a large number of very experienced, very skilled fighters, which in turn, led to them getting more jobs with higher pay; ultimately turning the investment into a profit.

Granted, it didn’t always work out. Every once in a while, circumstances would make it so that people just couldn’t afford to retreat, or the injuries they received on the field would be too grievous for the field medics to heal. Byleth had seen more than her fair share of allies fall in combat, and she’d never paid it much mind. She would give them their proper respects, and that was that. At the end of the day, death and injury were just occupational hazards of being a mercenary.

Of course, in this particular case, mercenaries weren’t the only ones who came back with her. “How is he?” Byleth asked, eyes darting to the side, where their… client –he was, of a sort, she supposed– lay in bed.

The matronly healer (and sole certified doctor of the company) frowned in thought, turning to look at the only other patient in the medical tent. “Physically, he’s fine. Zero injuries to speak of, despite the… supposed feats the rest of the returnees claimed he managed. Given that, I imagine he’ll wake up soon. It’s already been well over two hours since he passed out.” She approached his bed silently, the faint wrinkles beginning to form on her face shifting every once in a while in her contemplation. “Mentally, however… Well, suffice it to say, I’m far more worried about that.”

She placed her hands beside his temples, the tips of her fingers glowing gently in the fading daylight. Byleth knew it to be a simple diagnostic spell, having gone under the same light many times herself. “It’s rather unusual for someone in his state to have been knocked out for so long. His body’s showing signs of exhaustion, which might contribute to his current state, but for it to last this long is somewhat concerning. Particularly because he has no internal injuries to speak of,” the doctor said, her frown deepening, “I’ve checked over and over by now, and there’s nothing wrong with his head. Everything is in order. Although…”

The mercenary’s eyes narrowed just the slightest bit, her attention shifting towards the straw hat that now rested atop a desk beside the occupied bed. “They’re natural then? Not the result of some illness?” She asked, fixing her gaze on the doctor once more.

The older woman nodded, albeit hesitantly. “As far as I can tell, yes: Both the horns and the plumage are completely natural. I’ve examined rabbits which have shown signs of unnatural growths before, and these don’t return the same results. Nor, for that matter, does it match any examinations I’ve made on demonic beasts, few as those have been.” She, too, stared at the hat on the bedside table, actually picking the object up and examining it carefully. “You’re certain that no one else saw them?”

Byleth nodded resolutely. “Noel’s hat only fell off as I was getting him on my horse,” she began explaining, “the strap made sure it stayed near his head, but it fell enough for me to see them appear. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened, so I tightened the strap to keep it attached to his head until I could get him to you.”

The doctor hummed curiously, giving the hat another once over before placing it back on the table. “I must say, Byleth, if I was anyone else, I’d have been surprised about your actions. Most would think you’d just ignore such trivial things in favor of getting him here faster.” There was an amused smile on her face as she spoke, much to the younger woman’s confusion.

“I’m sure he has his reasons to hide them,” she answers instead, glancing at the sleeping young man for a moment. “Doctor Curtiss, I have to ask agai-”

“Doctor-patient confidentiality, Byleth,” the older woman cut her off with a stern tone and piercing glare. It froze the blue haired woman in place, a shiver running down her spine in fear, belied by her unbreakable poker face. Despite this, the doctor’s features quickly melted to something more caring as soon as she was sure the young woman was sufficiently chastised. “And how many times must I tell you just call me Irene? I’ve taken care of you ever since that old warhorse you call father guiltripped me into joining this little group of his. I’d say I’ve earned some familiarity.”

The corner of Byleth’s mouth twitched ever so slightly –the equivalent of a violent wince, on anyone else, Irene noted– as she looked away. “Sorry Doctor Cu-er Irene. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The old doctor huffed, one part amusement and equal parts annoyance. “So you say,” she replied, eyes rolling in exasperation, “Yet if I recall, we’ve had this exact same conversation thrice now. And that’s with my failing memory.” Her memory was, in fact, far from failing. If anything, the old bat could remember more things going on in a day than the entire company combined. Not that Byleth would ever call her out on it.

“Sorry,” the younger woman repeated, head bowed. It was probably her most expressive gesture yet, even if most people wouldn’t have noticed the slight tilt.

Irene just shook her head in response, laughing to herself at the mercenary’s antics. “Well, as for your other worries, don’t,” she assured the swordswoman, “I won’t inform anyone about Noel’s odd condition unless I deem it to be dangerous. Not even your father will know… at least not from me. You’re absolutely certain no one else saw?”

“Yes,” Byleth answered with a single, quick nod. “Thank you again, Doctor Irene.”

“Bah, don’t mind it too much you little hellion. Yours isn’t the only secret I’ve sworn to keep,” Irene waved her patient off, not even bothering to look at her as she approached her proper work station. It wasn’t much compared to what she’d set up in whichever village they used for a base at the time, but it did have a portable chemistry station for her to make medicines near the field. “Speaking of, would I be right to guess that that’s part of the reason why you were so protective of this young man’s true appearance?”

Had she been aware of it, Irene would’ve kicked herself for missing the way Byleth’s face scrunched up into a tight frown at her words. Partly because it was more emotion than she’d seen on the brat’s face for eighteen years, and mostly because she was the one who caused it.

“That is… part of the reason,” Byleth admitted hesitantly, enough so that it actually had the doctor setting her glass phials down to openly stare at her patient. “There are some things I would prefer to keep secret. With how Noel hid his own appearance, I’m sure he does as well.”

“I can certainly imagine,” the doctor snorted, eyes darting towards the horns on the sleeping young man’s head. “Although, you say there’s something else…?” Irene trailed off, brow raised questioningly.

Byleth’s eyes narrowed, diving deep into her own thoughts. She couldn’t quite understand it herself, but ever since Noel had asked about Sothis earlier, something inside her began to stir. It had her questioning her father far more heatedly than she ever had in her life, and for some reason, drew her towards the self proclaimed farmer. It became especially bad as soon as she saw those horns of his; the once quiet, yet persistent whispers practically shouting at her to hide them and let no one else see.

For whatever reason, the… thing… in her head believed that Noel was important in some way. It urged her to protect him. It was bad enough that she’d acted far more recklessly than she ever had in years, throwing her main weapon in a desperate bid to keep him from getting eviscerated when every bit of training she’d ever received told her to let things play out.

There was no room for people who made such impulsive decisions on the field, especially if their first kill would just have them freezing in place. It was better to save them, still, if there was an opportunity to do so, but it was foolish to throw away your own life just to save someone in that state. Better one life lost, than two.

And yet… “There’s something about Noel,” Byleth finally answered, her voice low and uncertain, “I don’t get it but… something drove me to protect him. It’s how I got my injury,” she nudged her head towards her bandaged shoulder, the site still numb from the medicine applied to it. “He feels important to me, for some reason.”

Irene’s eyes grew wide as dinner plates at the younger woman’s declaration, confusing the swordswoman as soon as she noticed the expression. Equal parts shock and disbelief, the look was a true rarity from the older woman. Not even seeing Noel’s abnormal features got that look out of her, which left Byleth to wonder exactly what part of what she’d said could possibly have led Irene to such a state.

It didn’t help when the matronly woman’s features began to morph into amusement, nor when that bloomed into an outright belly laugh.

“My oh my. This… I can’t say I ever expected to see you like this,” Irene gasped out between peals of laughter, the old doctor all but doubled over from the effort. “To think I’d ever see the day when someone actually managed to grab your attention.”

“My… attention?” Byleth asked, head tilted, completely bewildered by the doctor’s actions. “I don’t think I understand, Doctor. What do you mean?”

The old woman snorted one last time, finally reigning in her amusement, “I suppose you wouldn’t understand yet. But you will, in time.” She paused, humming in contemplation, her eyes darting between the other two people in the room. “You’ll have quite the tough time with your father though, if this is how things are. Especially with that boy’s actions earlier.”

The young woman blinked, still unable to grasp what her old doctor was talking about. Irene didn’t seem too willing to explain though, seeing as she just went back to her medicine station, still chuckling to herself every now and then.

“I’ll whip up some medicine that can help with panic attacks, just in case your boy toy there wakes up in a bad state.” Byleth’s face scrunched up in confusion at the phrase, but said nothing. “I’ll leave you to look after him while I go check up on the rest of the people who came back with you. There shouldn’t be any problems with them, seeing as you two are the only ones the field medics couldn’t completely take care of, but you never know if those brats playing at being physicians will mess up or not.”

They wouldn’t, Byleth knew. Irene had been whipping all of them into shape for years now. Some for as long as she’d been in the company. Officially, none of them were recognized as doctors themselves, but that was just because they traveled too much to get any certification. Skillswise, they were more than up to snuff, but Irene, crotchety old woman as she was, would never say it to them.

“Do you have any idea when he’ll wake up?”

Irene shrugged, “Not really. He fainted from shock. Normally, he’d have woken up within minutes. If he hasn’t… Well, it’s entirely possible for him to wake up at any time really.” She set down the phial she was working on, leaving the finished concoction on the table as she made her way to the exit. “The unusual duration could be anything from exhaustion to something inherent to his… I’m unsure if I should refer to it as race or species, but it’s whatever has led to him having his horns and plumage. He’s been out for a little over three hours by now. If, in three more, he still isn’t up, then I’d start to worry.”

“And if he wakes up before then?”

The old woman looked over her shoulder at her with a knowing smirk on her face. “If that happens,” she began, a teasing tone in her voice as she pointed to the honey colored substance in the glass container, “Give him that medicine I made. It should help calm his nerves, whether he wakes up in a panic or not. After that, just look after him yourself.”

The swordswoman sat up straighter, surprised by the old woman’s suggestion. “I’m not a trained medic,” she pointed out matter-of-factly.

“And your boy over there isn’t actually injured,” Irene countered, laughing once more. “He’s probably just mentally strained. Not much else to do for that than talking to him about what happened, and trying to work through it. And between the two of us, I’m sure he’d appreciate talking to a beautiful woman close to his age a lot more than to some stocky old hag like me.”

She exited not long after that, but not before leaving a parting shot as the tent flaps fell.

“Just try not to get yourself into a year long medical leave when your boy does wake up, alright brat?”

Once more, Byleth was left confused by the old woman’s words. What on earth could she possibly do to be given a year long medical leave while in a tent? It wasn’t like there was any danger here, and any injury that would force her out of action for a year would probably force her into retirement anyway.

The only time she’d ever heard of anyone taking a medical leave that long was when one of their cavalrymen, Ada, left to for a year to make sure she could safely give bir-

“Oh.”

It really was too bad that Irene had left so early. The way she’d left her charge blushing would surely have been a memory she would remember for the rest of her days.

---

It was less than an hour later when Noel actually began to stir awake. The light of the setting sun had almost dwindled completely, casting a faint orange light from the opening that left most of the inside in shadows. In hindsight, it would’ve been better if she’d lit the lanterns already, but in Byleth’s defense, something else had occupied her mind since Doctor Curtiss had left.

At a glance, Noel Selphia’s hat wasn’t all that unusual. A brimmed hat made of stiff straws, woven together in a way that showed quality, even to her untrained eyes. String straps hung from opposite sides of the opening, moderately thick, yet not enough to be noticeable unless one knew to look for it, especially with how… loudly, the younger man dressed. Finally, there was the band of red cloth that ringed the base of the crown, a set of three symbols embroidered into it in even intervals.

Spoiler: Runes

Three characters, embroidered four times, in thick, golden thread, standing out starkly on the red silk strip. She could almost swear that they glowed as she sat in the shadows, studying them intently.

Byleth had seen such symbols before, or at least something similar. The company had gained a few Brigidian members shortly after the Dagda and Brigid War five years ago. Some of them brought their own weapons; heirlooms passed down through the warriors in their family. Most, if not all of which carried a variety of symbols in different chains. She barely remembered most of them, and probably wouldn’t have made the connection if the last symbol in the hat’s string of characters wasn’t so memorable and prevalent.

She’d asked one of the Brigidian mercenaries about them at some point in the past, though he wasn’t able to say much. They were an old form of writing, not something that most modern Brigidians bothered to learn anymore. A dying tradition, even in a nation so closely tied to theirs, such that only scholars and nobility bothered learning them nowadays. They probably wouldn’t be of much help identifying what the symbols meant.

With an unsatisfied frown, the blue haired young woman ran her fingers across the symbols once more. Like before, she could almost swear that they shone, if briefly, as she brushed across them. Her fingers practically glided across the strip of cloth, feeling nothing but the smoothest silk in between the stitched on ancient letters.

Feeling the hat over actually made a huge difference, now that she thought about it. It looked mostly normal, just at a glance; perhaps a little too well kept for something meant to be used on the fields, but no stranger than that. Yet, as Byleth felt every nook and cranny of the piece of headgear, she continued to find oddities.

She was no expert on such things by any measure, but the mercenary knew enough about the world to know that silk was expensive, and not so lightly used. Obviously, Noel was far wealthier than any other farmer she’d ever met before, but when even the straps of his hat were made of silk, even she had to wonder if perhaps he was going a bit too far.

And of course, there were the letterings again, embroidered with what she was now certain were threads of gold. A true rarity and grand luxury, even among the highest ranking nobles, if she remembered correctly.

Again, her attention was drawn to the symbols. Though the Brigidians couldn’t read them, they believed such ancient writing to be a source of blessing and power. Some ancient magic, the art of which was long since lost to the world. Were they what hid Noel’s excess features? The thought of it rang through Byleth’s mind. The possibility of what such things could do. Was their only purpose to hide his horns and feathers? Could they do more than that? Hide other imperfections, perhaps?

“I wonder what would happen if I put it on?”

More than anything, that thought repeated over and over. So much so, in fact, that she eventually talked herself into finding out. “It couldn’t hurt to try.” Slowly, gently, as if afraid that it would burst into flames, she lifted the hat above her head. It felt a little big on her, though not by much, and-

Lub-dub
Lub-dub
Lub-dub

Byleth stood up in a flash as soon as the unfamiliar sound reached her ears, her one good arm drawing her dagger from its sheath. Her eyes darted to and fro, searching everywhere for the source of the unfamiliar, haunting sound. It was only then, as she scanned the tent, that she noticed the figure on the bed across from her, sitting up. Bright green eyes – faintly shining in the dark like a cat’s – stared at her warily, following the movement of her dagger with their split pupils.

The mercenary blinked, frozen on the spot as she realized that the young man across from her had likely been up for a while now. The near silence that followed, interrupted only by that constant beating, felt suffocating, and for the first time in her life, Byleth was actually wracking her mind for something to say to break it.

“You’re awake.”

Verbal improvisation, her forte was not.

Going by the way Noel’s shoulders relaxed, at least it served to calm him down some.

“So it seems,” replied the young man, sighing as he sat up in bed. His glowing eyes scanned the room for a moment –hidden enemies, perhaps? Or maybe exit points? Those would’ve been her top priority had she woken up in a strange place– before landing back on her. Specifically, he was staring at the top of her head, his hands trailing towards his own, where his horns were. “You’re wearing my hat.”

If it wasn’t for the lack of light, Noel might have actually seen her blush at the comment. Byleth had never really felt embarrassed before, and though the mercenary couldn’t put a name to the feeling, she very quickly decided that it was unwelcome.

“Sorry. I was curious.” It took all of a second for her to resheathe her dagger and pull the straw hat off her head. The constant, haunting beat in her ears stopped the very moment it came off her, a fact which didn’t escape the bluenette. Curiosity piqued once more, she turned the headwear over and over in her hands, examining it for any changes from earlier. “Is it supposed to make that sound when worn?” She asked, more to herself than anyone else.

One of Noel’s eyes rose up ever so slightly in the dark, staring questioningly at her. “Sound? What sound?” he asked back, a hint of worry seeping into his tone. “There shouldn’t be any sounds involved with wearing that hat. It’s designed specifically to mask anything that would make one seem unusual when put beside other people.”

In Byleth’s head, the pieces quickly fell into place. If Noel couldn’t hear the sound, as loud as it was to her ears, then it was likely internal. Something her body wasn’t used to hearing to just filter it out.

The sound of her heart beating.

“I… see. It’s probably just me then. Maybe I was knocked down a little harder than I thought earlier.”

It wasn’t often that Byleth found a reason to lie, but in those few times, her lack of expression always helped. Noel certainly seemed willing to buy her excuse. The verdette’s eyes roamed all across her form, ignoring his headwear completely in lieu of looking her over. By the end, they’d settled somewhere on her right.

“You’re… you were injured.” There was an odd inflection in his tone. A shaky, sinking note that Byleth often heard from newer recruits, usually after the first kills of those who’ve never been blooded by human conflict before. “Did… you got that trying to save me… didn’t you?”

The bluenette frowned at the way Noel’s voice began to waver, her eyes drawn to the phial of medicine on the chemistry table. With quick, decisive strides, Byleth walked up and grabbed the container, shaking the honey colored liquid within just the slightest bit, though she could barely see if it changed anything. The sun had all but completely set now, leaving little, if any, sunlight to see by.

Lighting the lantern in the middle of the tent was almost an afterthought, a simple cantrip that even someone with little experience in magic like her could manage. The bright firelight had Byleth blinking her eyes furiously as they got used to the sudden brightness, though Noel seemed to have it even worse, actually wincing in pain and rubbing at his eyelids. A consequence of his unusual eyes, perhaps? Byleth wasn’t certain, but she suspected he might’ve had some ability to see in the dark, given Noel noticed her injury earlier, despite the waning light.

“Sorry about the light,” she apologized just in case, seating herself beside the verdette, placing his hat on her opposite side. He waved her off silently, blinking his eyes slowly as they adjusted. His pupils, Byleth noted, had returned to looking much more human. She waited for Noel to fully open his eyes before handing the phial to him. “Here, drink this. It should help keep you calm.”

“Huh?” His eyes fell on the glass bottle, taking note of its contents, “Oh, uh… I don’t really thi-”

“Doctor’s orders,” Byleth cut him off, shoving the phial into his hands before he could give any excuses, “drink it.”

“Ah, er… a-alright then,” the verdette conceded hesitantly, bringing the bottle up to eye level. He took his time examining the liquid, long enough that Byleth had been tempted to speak up again. Before she could though, Noel seemed to gather his wits enough to finally drink its contents.

Strangely, a look of contemplation came over his face the moment the liquid passed his lips, his brows alternately raising in thought. “Hmm, it tastes like chamomile. Stronger than Mr. Volkanon’s tea though, and there’s a few other things mixed in there that I don’t quite recognize.” His face kept scrunched in concentration as he set the phial down on the bedside table, his hands quickly roaming all over his body, checking his neck, wrist, and chest. “Pulse is steady, heart rate is slowing, but not to dangerous levels. Diluted paralytic poison, perhaps?” He muttered, volume falling with each word as he continued checking on himself.

“I knew you could use healing magic, but I wasn’t aware you were also a trained physician.”

The sudden comment brought Noel out his musings, his attention turning towards the only other occupant in the tent. Byleth, for her part, only kept staring in interest at the young man. It seemed that with every one of their interactions, he always managed to pull something else out of nowhere to surprise her with.

Her concentrated attention had the verdette blushing, his back going ramrod straight as he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, I-I wouldn’t say I’m on that level,” he stuttered out, “I’m more just… dabbling, really. My Aunt Dolce –I’m pretty sure I told you and your dad about her earlier, she’s the woman haunted by a ghost– made sure I knew some first aid, and basic self-diagnosis. I’ve also learned how to make some medicines with the proper equipment, but that’s about the extent of my medical knowledge. I doubt I could make something like this..”

“I see.” It was still fairly impressive as far as Byleth was concerned, but she let the matter drop. Her last compliment didn’t seem to be taken well, given Noel still wasn’t looking at her.

With neither of them willing to say much else, the conversation quickly died out, leaving the two to sit in silence.

It was much more comfortable than the one from earlier, bereft of any tension from mistaken hostility. Still, it felt awkward to the bluenette. It wasn’t an experience Byleth was used to, and it had her scrambling for something else to say again.

Fortunately for her, she found a subject quite quickly, after spying the glass phial from earlier.

“Do you feel more at ease now? Calmer?”

Noel perked up at the question, turning to look back towards her again. There was still a light dusting of pink on his face, but nowhere near as strong as before.

“Er… yes, actually; thank you for the medicine” he replied with a curt nod. “I apologize for the paranoia as well. It’s just that I woke up and saw you with my hat and… well…”

Byleth’s lips thinned into a grim line at the implication. “You realized I saw your horns and feathers and thought that I might hurt you?” she asked, her scowl growing to an almost noticeable degree when Noel nodded in reply.

“The people back home don’t see any issues with it since they know me and my parents really well, but others aren’t so reasonable. Most people I meet just think it’s strange. Some are even fascinated; mermaids, wereanimals and others of the like, usually. But there have been a few people who seemed oddly hostile, the moment they notice the additions. Usually people foreign to the kingdom of Norad.”

“So you decide to wear the hat after learning that you were going far away?” It was a rhetorical question, really. The answer was rather obvious when Byleth thought about it, but Noel confirmed it all the same. “If it’s any consolation, the only ones who’ve seen your horns are myself, and our head medic. I have some gripes with you and your actions earlier, but I won’t judge you for what you are.”

The assurance might not have been the most conventional, but it got a smile out of the verdette all the same. Far from a full on happy grin, and more than a little uneasy, it still fit on his face better than the melancholy look he wore before.

“That’s good to hear. And I really am sorry that my actions earlier caused you to get injured.”

Byleth shrugged her good shoulder.

“Occupational hazards of being a mercenary. I don’t take umbrage with that so much as the fact that you nearly hurt some of our members when you threw that bear with minimal warning. Father may have more problems to air with your performance though.”

It was a testament to the kind of man her father was that the possibility of his anger and reprisal had someone who didn’t even know of him wincing at the mere thought.

“Perhaps it would be better, then, if I was already wearing my hat before he comes to yell at me.”

A sensible course of action, thought the bluenette. She didn’t think her father would have normally minded the extra body parts much, but now probably wasn’t the best time to let him see them. It was with that thought that she reached beside her, grabbing his ensorcelled straw hat by the crown and placing it on his head.

The sight of the horns and feathers seemingly disappearing out of existence was something to behold. They neither faded away, nor shrunk, or any other method of disappearance that Byleth could think of. One moment they were right there, the next they were gone.

“I’ve never seen magic used like that before,” commented Byleth, tilting her head side to side to better examine the headwear once more. On Noel, she was absolutely certain the old Brigidian letters were shining. “I take it those symbols have something to do with what it does?”

The verdette nodded, bowing his head and pulling the hat’s brim down to better show her the characters. “These runes are from an ancient language we call Earthscript,” he explained, brushing his finger across each character, “Each symbol can have a lot of different meanings. The ones with lines across them, like the middle symbol here, denote an inverted meaning from the usual. Done correctly, they can be used to place all sorts of enchantments on objects… or so the theory goes.”

“And these three combined hide your horns and plumage.” It was a statement, not a question. Byleth knew already, after all. She’d both seen and experienced their effects. Still, she couldn’t quite keep from running her thumb across the other set of runes facing her. The golden thread felt smooth on her skin, and seemed to catch onto more light than was actually around it. “What do they mean, exactly?”

Noel hummed in thought, trying to recollect his studies.

“I don’t know all the possible meanings of each rune, but if I recall, the first one, Pertho, can mean ‘to hide’ or ‘to conceal’. The second rune, Tiwaz, can normally mean ‘togetherness’, but with the mark across it, reverses that to mean ‘separation’. Finally, there’s the last rune, Mannaz, which means ‘humanity’. Put together, it means ‘Hide Separations from the Human Form’.”

In what looked to Byleth like a well practiced move, Noel flipped the hat off his head and placed it on hers, a cheeky smile spread across his face. “While the effects aren’t strong enough to change the appearance of animals and monsters, anything sufficiently humanoid that wears this will have any inhuman features hidden. Pointed ears, fins, horns, even the excess fur of wereanimals will be hidden.”

Byleth nodded uneasily at his words, only listening to about half of them. The sound of her heart was simply far too distracting, even if she was sure that the real thing remained unmoving.

Thankfully, the experience didn’t last long. In a reverse of his earlier actions, Noel snatched the straw hat from her head, flipping it once before placing it atop his own. The comfort of no longer hearing that continuous beating almost had Byleth sighing in relief, the bluenette barely stopping herself so as to not give her condition away.

‘Hiding separations from the human form’ indeed. In that sense, her lack of a beating heart certainly counted. She had to wonder if wearing Noel’s hat would mean that others would be able to hear her heartbeat as well. Would it beat faster when she was fighting? Would it be slower in her sleep? A part of her wanted to find out, but the rest of her worried that she’d be lost to its sound forever if she wore the hat long enough.

“I suppose you have some questions about my horns next, huh?”

Byleth shook her head off its current tracks at Noel’s words, just barely hearing enough of it to understand what was said. “Er… no, there’s no need,” she decided to press on, internally thankful that her answer would have been the same, regardless of whether she’d actually paid attention or not. “It’s something you tried to keep a secret. There’s no need to tell me anything if you don’t want to talk about it.”

The verdette took a second to react, blinking at her in that familiar way that all but told her he thought she was being strange. “Heh. Byleth, the only reason I wore this hat was because of the possibility that people would be hostile to me if they saw my horns,” he explained, chuckling to himself in between, “Since you’re clearly not going to attack me just for that, I don’t really have a reason to not talk about it. In fact, I love talking about my family.”

Before she could get a word in edgewise, Noel suddenly burst off his side of the bed, his body propelled by a sudden gail storm that had him standing midway between her and the tent’s central pole. Winds that blew in from nowhere whipped all around him, causing his feather cape to billow dramatically, his form framed by the flickering firelight behind him. All of it, the pose, the lighting, even the subtle way his clothes moved, served to make the moment look as dramatic as possible.

All Byleth could do was stare in wide eyed bewilderment at the sudden turn of events.

“Allow me to reintroduce myself.” Noel wasn’t exactly shouting, but his bombastic delivery made him sound far louder than he actually was. Or perhaps that was the wind carrying his voice better? “My name is Noel Selphia, child of the Earthmate, Lest, and the Native Dragon, Ventuswill the Divine Wind!” A miniature whirlwind sprung around him as he spoke his mother’s name, the magic in them actually lending color to the streams of air.

From one moment to the next, the supposed half dragon went from standing dramatically a short distance away to kneeling at her feet. His head was bowed and his right hand was pressed to where his heart would be, as if to take some kind of oath.

“Miss Byleth Eisner, earlier today you saved my life,” he raised his head as he spoke, his eyes gazing intently into her baffled stare. For probably the first time in her life, Byleth was left with her mouth agape at the developing situation, not really sure how to react. As such, there was no resistance from her at all when Noel clasped one of her hands into his own. “Though I am only half dragon, it is nonetheless true that dragons always pay their debts. As such, for your actions, I swear on my life, so long as you ask for my help, I will give it to you. As long as what you need me to do is within my power to accomplish, I will accomplish it. All you need to do is ask.”

Ah, now this was at least somewhat familiar territory. Though her father and a select few group leaders handled most of the company’s transactions, there had been a few times where Byleth was given the opportunity to negotiate with their clients. Preparation for the future, her father had said. She performed a service for their client, and now it was time to talk compensation.

Schooling her features back into her usual cool, collected end expressionless face, Byleth began to think. The jewels Noel had wagered would certainly make for a good infusion of cash into the company’s coffers, but those were already on hold as payment for if he couldn’t convince Jeralt that he actually is (also) a farmer. Beyond that, the bluenette figured that he probably had all sorts of other things in those bags of his, but apart from his rod, hoe and that one staff that could apparently summon turnips to hit things with, she wasn’t aware of any of them. It was just as likely as not that he’d have some other valuables in there that the company could sell off.

Then again, did she really have to ask for something monetary in nature? Noel specifically said he owed her a favor, possibly multiple, and there were a lot of things she knew about him that she found useful enough.

In fact…

“I had to throw my sword at that bear earlier because I didn’t have any way to attack from a distance.”

“Understood! I’ll make you a new sword as soon as I have access to a forge!” Noel suddenly declared, nodding resolutely and leaving Byleth reeling at the loud interruption; “I should have more than enough materials in my bag to make something of greater quality than what you were using before, and I can even pull out a few of my-”

“No! That’s not what I was getting at at all!” The bluenette shot back as soon as she’d recovered from Noel’s abrupt disruption, though it still left her flustered enough to raise her voice. “You use a mix of melee and ranged attacks when you fight. I was hoping you could teach me some of the latter.”

It was a weakness Byleth had realized as of late. She’d tried to remedy it with both throwing axes and javelins, but found the constant switching of weapons too cumbersome to be useful on the field. It was why she began learning reason magic, though progress in that particular subject was still slow.

“Is that all? Really? Are you sure?” Noel asked incredulously, his grip on her hands growing slack from his surprise. He let go completely once Byleth nodded her confirmation. “Er… well, I guess I can do that too, but I’d feel pretty bad if that’s all I did, so I’ll throw in the new sword as well.”

That was just fine with her, the bluenette quickly decided. If Noel really wanted to give her more than what she asked for, she was hardly going to refuse. And if he really could make something of higher quality, then that would just be another plus.

“I don’t understand why father doesn’t want me handling negotiations more often. This is easy.”

“As for teaching you some ranged attacks…” Byleth returned her attention to Noel just as he trailed off, cupping his chin in thought. “You’re a swordswoman, obviously, and from what I saw, you seem to prefer using mid sized swords one handed, correct?”

Byleth nodded. She wasn’t quite sure what any of that had to do with learning the spells she saw him use, but she didn’t see any reason to lie about it either.

“Great! Then we can start with Power Wave!”

“Power what?”

Before she could voice her thoughts, Noel had once more begun to act, placing his hands one atop the other over his chest, which began to shine. Whatever questions she had about his actions fled from her head when he pulled them away and dragged a small orb with them, seemingly taking it from within his body!

The object itself wasn’t particularly big, mind, but she still couldn’t see anywhere he could have possibly kept it. It was a perfectly spherical crystal, almost glass like in appearance and predominantly dark green. The only break in the solid color was what seemed to be the image of a sword, pure white, and smack dab in the middle of the stone.

“What on earth is that?” Byleth asked warily after finally finding her voice.

“A Rune Ability Crystal,” Noel answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. The silence that followed, combined with the bemused look Byleth sent his way, quickly disabused him of that notion. “It’s a form of crystalized Runes calibrated specifically to act as an aid to learn a specific Rune Ability. You know, special weapon techniques?”

“You mean Combat Arts?”

“If that’s what you call techniques that use specialized Rune manipulation, then sure.”

A difference in terms on that part then. Byleth wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by Runes, though he made it sound more important than when he was talking about the characters on his hat. Not that she was particularly interested in that subject.

“How do I use it then?”

“You hold it in your hands, for one,” Noel pointed out, leaving the eye-sized orb on the palm of his hands for her to take. The moment she did, the verdette cupped her hands into his own again. “Alright, now, if you’re not used to manipulating Runes, this part can be a little tough, but you were able to use that little fire lighting spell, so it should be alright.”

So Runes had something to do with magic energy then? Or was it just another term for magic energy? Either way, that was good news for her.

“The first step is to concentrate as much Rune energy as you can into it, until it almost feels like air in your hands.”

Easy enough. Byleth just imagined using the same cantrip from earlier without actually going through the steps to form the energy into a spark.

The process took some time, but eventually, she did feel as though there was just a semi-solid blob of air in her hands.

Noel nodded in approval, letting her hands go.

“Alright, now shove it deep into your chest!”

Byleth’s mind ground to a halt. “Excuse me?” she asked, not sure if she heard right, nor was she sure if he was being serious or if it was some kind of lurid command. All the while, the crystal itself returned to solid form, landing firmly in her hands.

The verdette facepalmed at the sight, muttering something about first time jitters as he shook his head. With a tired sigh, he grabbed the crystal from her hand and held it up to her face.

“Alright, I’m only going to do this once, because having someone else do this for you is uncomfortable for both parties,” he started, turning the crystal into its ethereal form again. “I know it can be a bit hard to believe what happens next, but trust me, this is completely safe and normal.”

Byleth wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to trust him right now, but… well, she figured he actually was being serious earlier. More than that, she actually saw him pulling the crystal out of his chest.

“Might as well give him the benefit of the doubt.”

With much hesitation, Byleth nodded her assent to continue.

A second later, she felt Noel shove the crystal into her body, just above her breasts, sending a shuddering jolt through her spine; a feeling that seemed to be mirrored in the verdette, given the way he shuddered in place. Byleth hardly noticed any of that though. She was much more concerned with the flood of information that invaded her head.

It was hard to explain the experience. There was a mish mash of images and sensations running a mile a minute through her mind. Ways to channel magic energy –Runes, the knowledge insisted– through a weapon; a one handed sword in particular. The muscle memory of swinging a blade at exactly the right moment of concentration. The image of a blade of light, traveling along the direction of her slash.

Over and over and over again, in different amounts of power, different swings, different blades.

It was no exaggeration to say that Byleth was left dizzy at the end of it all.

“What the hell is going on in here!?”

Which, of course, made it the perfect moment for her father to return from their hunt.

“Captain Jeralt! Uh… this isn’t what it looks like, I swear!”

Byleth tried to clear the cobwebs in her head after the second shout, taking in her surroundings as quickly as possible.

The first thing she noted was that her father was at the opening of the tent, staring in her direction with a furious look on his face. The second thing she noted was that she was still sitting on the bed, and that Noel was still kneeling before her, with his hand hovering just above her breasts.

None of this was quite enough to start making sense to the mercenary in her addled state, but she was certain that she should probably say something to defuse the situation. Her father being angry was never a good sign, especially if it was directed towards her, something that had never happened before in her memory.

What to say though?

As she wracked her brain for anything, the parting words of her long-time doctor came unbidden to her mind. It didn’t sound like the best thing to say in this situation, but she still couldn’t think of anything so, and it was probably better than nothing.

“Captain, contrary to Doctor Curtiss’s expectations, we have not yet reached the point where I will need to take a year long medical leave for the purpose of childbirth.”

The fact that both her father and Noel were rendered unable to speak, their mouths hung open, was surely a sign that it was the right thing to say, right?