The fire raged against the night, combating all attempts to snuff it out. The building was a lost cause, the treasures and history within it turning to ash. But Jeralt Eisner had the one thing left that truly mattered. Cradling his infant son in his arms he spared a look back at the burning building. This place was his home for over a hundred years. Home to so many memories, good and bad, the family he could have had, which lead to thoughts of the family he once did. His own parents were a half-remembered blur. Swore to do better with his own kids, if it ever came to it.

Now was the time to put it to the test. Everyone's attention was drawn to the building aflame; it would be simple to vanish in the night. There would be no worry of noise. His son did not cry. Despite the heat that lashed at his skin, and the whiffs of smoke that stung at the eyes, his son did not cry. A baby that never cried, or smiled or laughed. Heat enough that Jeralt's skin crawled and yet the baby did not cry.

The archbishop had done something. Marigold died during the birth. Rhea said she chose their son over herself. He could believe that. She smiled so much when pregnant. But everything else was wrong. No heartbeat, but his blood flowed. He did not smile, did not laugh or cry. It was an utterly unnatural situation and now was the best time to escape it.

He'd been Archbishop Rhea's sword too long. He'd seen that soft zealotry that condemned anyone who antagonized her. Carried out the orders too many times. If Rhea wanted something, you didn't get to say no.

He just never thought he'd be on the other end of her power and secrets. Not after so many years of dedication. Not after she gave her blood to save his life.

Now was the perfect opportunity to just disappear. All he had to do was leave the church and find some small corner of Fódlan to live out life in peace. But where could he go? What did he know about raising a child? He'd lived by killing for so long that protecting had long faded from his skillset. He had no trade to ply beyond death.

This place had been everything to him for so long.

Friends. Students. Comrades.

This was were she was buried.

What would Rhea do if he was ever found? He knew what she did to enemies.

Jeralt looked back down at his son. Those blue eyes not even blinking. There was no good option here.

Jeralt walked back to Garreg Mach Monastery.

AN: Just baiting the hook for now, hoping there's enough interest to kick me into high gear on a writing front.