Chapter Text
The life of a mercenary was a surprisingly simple one. Byleth woke up, ate some food, and did what she was told. The Blade Breaker’s mercenary company was never left wanting work, so it wasn’t like she was lacking in things to do. She had plenty of opportunities to travel and meet people. She just never stuck around in one place long enough to develop any lasting connections outside of the company. Even then, it wasn’t like she was the most social person. The others were friendly to her, that was a given, but it wasn’t like they were her friends. She was pretty sure they were afraid of her, which made sense. The moniker of Ashen Demon wasn’t one that inspired confidence in her ability to be friendly.
Byleth was somewhat ignorant to the complexities of the world, but she had been educated enough to know that her life wasn’t normal. Children were supposed to be going to school and making friends rather than learning to fight and killing bandits in the battlefield. Deep down she knew that something about her way of life was wrong. Still, it wasn’t like she knew any better. The life she had was the only one she had ever known, and she didn’t really know what else she could do. So, she just moved through each day and accepted that this was how things were. She slept, ate, and killed, and that was fine. Fishing was also fun whenever she got the opportunity, and she could read if she wanted to, but those were the exceptions rather than the norm.
Despite sleep being one of the normal parts of her day, the first few months of the year 1180 had her nights plagued by strange dreams. Despite nothing all that interesting happening in her life, Byleth was no stranger to bizarre dreams. She just didn’t remember them. These new dreams were ones she did remember, though, and they were far more vivid than those she was familiar with. She saw visions of a massive battle on a scale that she had never seen, and that Fódlan as a continent hadn’t seen in over a thousand years. Then there were other ones where she was alone in a black void with nothing but a strange, green-haired girl and a throne. She never remembered the conversations they had, but she knew that the two of them spoke.
That morning, her father woke her up right as the scene transitioned from the battle to the girl. He had been waking her up on his own more and more often these past few weeks, as the intensity of her dreams coincided with her having increasing difficulty in waking up.
She slowly and calmly opened her eyes and got out of bed. Thankfully, her strange dreams had no real impact on her day-to-day life. She had heard other members of the company discuss night terrors that scared them stiff, and she felt fortunate to not have to experience that feeling. ”Good morning, Dad,” she greeted him as she got to her feet.
“Let me guess, you were having that dream again,” Jeralt guessed, reaching over to pat his daughter on the back.
Byleth just took the gesture with a blank face and described, “It was both this time.”
With a nod, Jeralt pointed to the door behind them and explained, “If nothing about them has changed, then my answer will stay the same. It’s something we can get checked out when we have the time. Just put it out of your mind for now. Getting caught up in your thoughts on the battlefield is a recipe for getting yourself killed. Now get ready and go outside. I want us to get a head start for the Kingdom for our next job.”
“I understand,” Byleth muttered as she reached over to grab her gear. She went to sleep with most of her equipment already on (a habit she had developed due to the quick pace her father’s mercenary company moved at), so it didn’t take long for her to have everything she needed for their next trip.
Just as she was about to go outside with her father, one of the company’s senior officers barged in. “Jeralt! Sir! We have a situation outside! You’re going to want to weigh in on this!” he shouted.
Sighing, Jeralt complained, “What is it this time?”
“Just… They can explain it better than I can,” the officer insisted before practically dragging the two of them outside.
The first thing they noticed upon exiting the cabin Byleth had claimed was that the company was getting ready for battle. Byleth quickly figured that they were under attack, so she homed in on the few new faces among the crowd. Three people who looked to be around Byleth’s age stood in the middle of the battle-ready company. They all wore similar outfits but had the color of the cloth draped over their shoulder changed.
As Jeralt approached, he asked, “What are a bunch of kids doing out here at this hour?”
One of the trio, a blonde boy wearing blue, apologized, “Please forgive us for disturbing you. We wouldn’t be asking for your help if the situation weren’t dire.”
Jeralt took a moment to inspect the fervor his subordinates had been stirred into, and agreed, “Alright. Spit it out. What’s the issue?”
The boy nodded in thanks and described, “A group of bandits is pursuing us. I can only hope that you and your group will be willing to lend us your aid.
Byleth raised an eyebrow at that. The company had been stationed in this village for a few days now, so most bandits should’ve known to stay away. Another of the visitors, a short girl with white hair, noticed Byleth’s look of confusion and confirmed, “It’s true. They took us by surprise while we were resting at our camp.”
The final member, a darker skinned boy in yellow, elaborated, “We were resting with some companions, but they forced us to scatter. It’s just the three of us against a whole lot of them. They were after our lives, not to mention our gold.” His tone seemed remarkably light considering the situation, which Jeralt noticed the same as his daughter.
He scratched his beard and thought the situation over. “I’m impressed you all have stayed so calm considering the situation. I’m assuming from the actions of my men that you’ve been followed. We’re still working for this village, so we’re duty-bound to protect it.” He turned to Byleth and instructed, “Kid, stay with these three while the rest of us circle in on them. Make sure they can see you and lure them in.”
“Got it,” Byleth accepted, drawing her sword and getting into position.
The boy in yellow called out, “Hey, don’t think we’ll sit this one out! Now that we’re not running for our lives, I’d love to give these bandits a taste of my mind!” He reached onto his back and pulled out a wooden bow, grabbing an arrow along with it. The two expressed their agreement, drawing a spear and axe respectively.
Byleth saw no reason to argue, relenting, “Alright. Stay behind me.” She wasn’t nearly as good at giving orders as her father, but she had a solid enough understanding of tactics to know what position everyone in her small party should take up.
She waited patiently for the bandits to come running over the horizon. They came out in an unorganized mob, spread out enough that she was able to get a good sense of their numbers. There seemed to be a couple dozen of them, but it wasn’t anything she hadn’t handled before. With the company closing in on them from the sides, she didn’t expect the fight to go too poorly. They quickly saw their targets and came rushing at Byleth and her allies.
Turning to the boy with the bow, she gestured to him to take aim. He picked up on her signals and started to lob arrows at the incoming bandits. They didn’t have any bows or magic on their side, so they were free to attack from a range and hopefully take out a couple of them before they reached their group. Most of the arrows were easily dodged, but a few managed to land some decent hits. None were fatal, but they were enough to take down a couple bandits for the moment.
She raised her sword up in front of her and waited for her time to strike. Then, as the members of the Jeralt Company came rushing out to the open, crashing in on the bandits’ flanks, she struck. The sudden turn of the battle caught the bandits off guard, and she took full advantage. None of the strikes she made were fatal, but they were enough to take her enemies down for the count. She generally didn’t like to kill if she didn’t have to, and this fight would be simple enough that she felt she had the option. Within a few seconds of her entering the fray, five enemies had been disposed of.
Her companions were all taking different approaches to the battle. The girl (or Red as she had taken to calling her in her mind) had a lot of power behind her blows, and didn’t bother to spare the bandits like Byleth did. She fought with the ruthlessness and precision of someone with a lifetime of experience. Blue’s fighting felt simultaneously rigid and reckless. His form was that of someone trained in a formal environment for their entire life, but it was clear he lacked experience. Still, he matched Red in how he didn’t mind going for the kill. His form with a spear was brutal, and he tore through flesh like it was paper. Yellow was the odd man out, as he seemed to be the worst of the three when it came to fighting. His arrows came out fast but lacked power and accuracy. It was also clear that he was following Byleth’s example and intentionally avoiding fatal blows. His covering fire was useful by virtue of its existence, but he was the weak link in the chain.
Byleth kept fighting the whole time she was assessing the trio. Battle came naturally to her, and killing was second nature. These bandits were unruly and unskilled, so she was easily able to take them down before they could even land a hit on her. It was the same fight she had had a million times before. It was boring. She noticed the primal terror in the eyes of the bandits as she took them down. It was a sight she had grown familiar with over the years, but it wasn’t one she was comfortable with. Death was the ultimate fear for humanity, and every soul she had killed felt it in the moments before they fell to her blade. She was their reaper. She was their Ashen Demon.
She hated it.
The experience of watching a man beg for his life, be it through words or through expressions, right before you killed him wasn’t one she would wish on her worst enemy. Before every kill, she was reminded that these were real people with real lives. They had families and friends waiting for them. There had been a lot of funerals for members of the company that fell in battle. The others always mourned, despite seeing it so many times before. The bandits would be the subjects of funerals of their own, and those people would have Byleth to thank for their suffering.
Still, that was her lot in life. Someone has to play the role of the executioner, and that someone was her. The work had to get done, and a price had to be paid. That price was often the lives of those who fell at her hands. So long as there are those in the world evil or desperate enough to hurt and kill others for their own benefit, there would always be a need for a mercenary. She would hope for the day that the need for her would go away, and she could find some new part to play, but that day would likely never come.
The leader of the bunch was easy to identify. He was a wide man with a rough beard, and was barking orders at his men loud enough that it felt like Byleth’s eardrums would burst. Taking him down should have the rest of the bandits lose their will to fight.
Turning back to her teammates, she ordered, “Cover me.” Without waiting for a response, she dashed into the heart of the enemy lines, ducking and weaving through their disorganized lines like a ghost. The enemy captain didn’t notice her until she was right on top of him. His eyes widened with shock as she swung her sword down, tearing a big gash across his chest and sending him down for the count.
The effect the defeat of their leader had on the rank and file was as expected. They began to panic and started to run off. Some surrendered, but most tried to make a break for the woods from where they came. She let out a long exhale, allowing herself to relax. She stared down at the captain’s corpse. To end the fight quickly, she had to be brutal and efficient. Her morals didn’t matter much when compared against the lives of those around her.
She began to walk back toward the causes of this whole situation. She grabbed a cloth from her bag (which she hadn’t had the time to take off due to how quickly the fight began) and started wiping down her sword. She nodded to the trio and told them, “Good work.” They had been a pretty big help at the start of the fight, and she felt they deserved some praise.
Blue wiped the sweat from his hair and complimented, “You were stunning! I’ve never seen someone so efficient and powerful!”
Red nodded and agreed, “I’m impressed. To think we’d happen upon someone so strong to help us.”
Yellow walked up to her and held out his hand for her to shake. “I’ve seen a lot of great fighters, but you may be the best! The name’s Claude! Pleasure to meet you.”
She was about to accept his gesture when she heard a rustling from behind her. She turned around to see the bandit captain back on his feet and charging at Yellow (or Claude, as she had just learned). The wound from her attack was still gushing blood, but she realized she hadn’t been as forceful as she intended. She had still been holding back unconsciously. He was already too close for her to block his attack. She had sheathed her sword already. If she was the target, then maybe she would’ve been fine, but he was running for Claude. She didn’t have time to draw her weapon and get into the proper position to parry his axe strike.
In moments like this where planning proved fruitless, Byleth’s instinct tended to take over. With reckless disregard for her life, she charged toward Claude, shoving him out of the way and placing herself in the path of the brigand’s strike. All she could do was hope he wouldn’t hit anything vital.
As the blade began digging into her flesh, she felt the piercing metal quickly slow to a halt. It wasn’t like it had found its perch in her body. It was more like time had frozen in place, and the axe was paused midway through its swing. She gradually opened her eyes and got to her feet, realizing that the brigand and his weapon were gone. In fact, everything was gone. All that she saw around her was an endless sea of inky blackness.
Then she heard a familiar voice call out to her. “Honestly! What were you even trying with that little stunt!? It’s like you’re trying to get me killed, you fool!”
Sure enough, Byleth looked up to see a giant stone throne, and sitting atop it was a small girl in a kind of blue robe with messy green hair. Byleth stared up at her and muttered, “It’s you…”
Rolling her eyes, the girl complained, “Of course it’s me! It’s no wonder you tried to get yourself killed if you’re having stupid thoughts like that.” She let out a sigh as she stood up from her throne and started walking down the rocky staircase. “You clearly need some help to understand the value of your life. Fortunately, I’m here to provide.” Her look of disappointment shifted into one of smug satisfaction the further down the stairs she went, eventually reaching its peak when she stopped at a step where she was just above eye level with Byleth.
The girl smiled at Byleth as the mercenary stared at her with confusion. “You can call me Sothis, but I am also known as ‘The Beginning.’”
“Sothis?” Byleth repeated. The name sounded familiar, but where she heard it had slipped her mind.
As Byleth’s lack of understanding was made apparent, Sothis’s confidence faltered. She adopted a look like the mercenary’s, stating, “Yes, my name is Sothis. And I am also called…The Beginning. I…don’t quite remember who called me that. In fact, I didn’t quite recall my name until just now.” She tapped her chin inquisitively, treating the quandary of forgetting her name and title like some whimsical oddity.
At this point, Byleth was certain she had just died, and dealing with this Sothis was some ironic type of afterlife. Her patience running thin, she asked, “What are you talking about?”
That seemed to set Sothis off. She crossed her arms and huffed, “Don’t be like that. Do you honestly think of me as a mere child who forgot her own name?” She then leaned forward and flicked Byleth on the forehead (normally she would’ve been more than capable of dodging it, but she was too stunned by the events of the past two minutes to care). “Phooey! That child just saved your life! What does that make you, then?”
Part of Byleth felt like answering her question, but something else stood out more to her. “I’m not dead?” she puzzled, rubbing at the spot where Sothis flicked her and feeling the slight sting. Surely a ghost wouldn’t feel pain, right?
Sothis’s anger at Byleth only heightened with that, as she ranted, “What? Of course you’re not dead! When you threw away your life to save one young boy who can’t even shoot straight, I stepped in to stall the flow of time and prevent that brigand from cleaving you in two. You’re welcome, by the way…”
Even with magic existing in Fódlan, Byleth found the idea of this girl freezing time absurd. However, she didn’t care to argue with her, so she merely asked, “Okay. What now?”
Despite all her bravado, Sothis seemed to struggle for an answer. As she thought, she explained, “If time were to resume the way things are now, you’d be dead in a matter of seconds… What to do…”
Byleth could only watch as Sothis muttered possibilities to herself. The mercenary felt a small pang of anger toward the girl, but that emotion had never held much weight over her soul. She didn’t wish to die, and if this were real, and not some hell, she wanted to try and help. With a shrug, she suggested, “Could you turn back time, possibly?” It seemed like a stretch, but if Sothis could stop time, there was a chance she could reverse it.
As soon as Sothis heard the suggestion, it was like a missing puzzle piece fell into place. She shot up like a rocket, beaming, “Yes! I must turn back the hands of time!” With a kiddy excitement, she raised her hands, a series of golden rings with a crest-like emblem at its center forming in front of her. As she moved the rings around, she commented, “I do believe it can be done. I can’t wind back time too far, but all is well. You know what will come to pass, so this time you can respond accordingly.”
As Sothis pushed her hands forward, she began to speak. The words felt ancient, and Sothis acted as if she were moving unconsciously. “Yes, you who bears the flames within… Drift through the flow of time to find the answers you seek…”
Byleth wanted to ask what she meant when her vision began to swirl, shifting into grayscale and repeating the events that led up to her near-demise in reverse. Then, when the world returned to normal, she was back before the bandit captain made his attack, still wiping off her sword.
She saw Claude walking up to her, holding out his hand and just about to make his introduction. Her gaze sharpening like a hawk, she turned around to face the fallen captain, watching as he leapt up to his feet. Readying her sword, she watched as he charged at her, and right as he began to swing his axe down, she met it with her blade, sending his weapon and his body flying.
She let out a massive sigh of relief as the remaining bandits scattered, grabbing their captain and dragging him off. She kept her sword at the ready, but the world around her mattered very little. Sothis hadn’t been lying. All of that had been real. The girl in her dreams had appeared before her and reversed time to give her another chance at life. Claude and the other clients crowded around her to sing her praises, and she saw her father ride over to her on his horse to ask what had happened, but it was all in one ear and out the other.
She only really began to process the events around her again when someone new arrived: a man with a chiseled face, brown hair, and wearing a heavy-looking set of full plate armor. He ran over to the group as he chased the brigands away, shouting at them to come back. Then, when he saw Byleth and the others, he commented, “The students seem to be unharmed. And…who’s this?”
The clients, or students, seemed relieved to see the man, but Jeralt responded to his appearance with a heavy sigh. “Ugh… Why him?”
The armored man ran over and forced Jeralt into an aggressive handshake, introducing himself, “Captain Jeralt! It is you! Goodness, it’s been ages! It’s me, Alois! Your old right-hand man! Well, that’s how I always saw myself anyway. I always knew you were alive! It must have been twenty years now since you vanished without a trace, but I always knew I’d see you again!”
Jeralt reluctantly returned a handshake. His outward expression was as stoic as ever, but Byleth knew her father well enough to sense a small amount of happiness within him. “You haven’t changed a bit, Alois. Just as loud as ever… And drop that “captain” nonsense. I’m not your captain anymore. These days I’m just a wandering mercenary. My company and I have work to do in the Kingdom, and we’re already running late. Goodbye, old friend.”
Alois looked disappointed for a moment before slapping his cheeks with his armored gloves and declaring, “No, this is not how this is going to end! I insist that you come to the monastery with me! I can compensate you for the loss of income—out of my own pocket if need be!”
Jeralt glanced at Byleth for a moment before resigning himself. “Garreg Mach Monastery… I suppose this was unavoidable.”
Byleth was content to play passive observer to her father’s conversation, but Alois soon turned to her and asked, “How about you, kid? What’s your name? Are you the captain’s child?”
Not seeing the issue with answering honestly, especially considering Alois’s past relationship with her father, she told him, “That’s correct. My name is Byleth.”
Maintaining his massive smile, Alois made to shake her hand. “Well I’ll be! Physical differences aside, you remind me a lot of the captain. I’d love for you to see the monastery too. You will join me, won’t you? Your father used to work there with me, so it can be a great opportunity for you to learn where your old man started out!”
She was surprised by the sudden reveal of her father’s old place of employment, but she kept her shock to a minimum on her face. She had to admit that she was curious about what Alois was describing. The mention of Garreg Mach Monastery seemed to disturb her father, but he seemed to have already resigned himself to returning. Taking the initiative, she silently nodded her agreement to Alois’s request.
Jeralt quietly grunted and turned away, prompting Alois to nudge him with his elbow and tease, “Oh come on, captain! You aren’t thinking about running off again, are you?”
With a grave expression, Jeralt calmly replied, “Even I wouldn’t dare run from the Knights of Seiros.”
With that Alois dragged Jeralt off, babbling about the goings-on in his life since they last saw each other. Byleth’s mind lingered on the name “Knights of Seiros.” Similar to Sothis’s name, she felt like its origins were on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t figure it out.
She was about to follow her father and his partner when she heard a familiar voice ringing out inside her head. “The Knights of Seiros… They do seem rather skilled,” Sothis commented.
Byleth looked around, holding out her sword and trying to find the source of Sothis’s voice. “I’m still inside your head, you dolt.”
Trying something out, Byleth thought but didn’t speak, “Al…right?”
“Yes, alright, fine, whatever!” Sothis replied. Even if Byleth couldn’t see her, she still could feel her pouting. She then found her gaze draw to the left as Sothis told her, “Now focus. Your presence seems to be requested. Get going!”
Byleth found Claude, Red, and Blue standing in front of her, all eager to speak with the woman who saved their lives. She hoped she could learn the names of the other two. Having only two of the three have colored names felt wrong…