The ghosts of her former life spring at her from unexpected corners. She remembers patrolling the night, remembers the many cats that used to wait on the walls and the grounds outside the dining hall, mingling-strangely-with stray dogs in trysts of unlikely friendship.

The roads outside the abandoned monastery are now empty. The animals appear to have vanished along with their human counterparts five years ago. It doesn't stop her from looking for them. It doesn't stop her from feeling that something is amiss.

What ultimately surprises her isn't the absence of what once was, but the presence of what should not be. The sound of marching greaves, of metal against stone, signifies a patrol moving through the monastery grounds. She is disoriented for a fraction of a second before she realizes what it is she is hearing. Not Knights of Seiros from an age that is now gone.

Imperial soldiers.

A patrol perimeter is put up around the classroom in which the Emperor sits. Of course.

She is about to slip away when a voice challenges her.

"Stop! Who goes there?!" It cries.

She sees her challenger clearly. A man whose beard makes it difficult to ascertain his age. He bears a torch. Behind him, a gaggle of soldiers are lined and ready to subdue the potential threat that she represents.

"Step into the light!" The man shouts, and she walks forward with her hands up in the universal gesture of peace. She is relieved that her student's subordinates are at least following good protocol. They could've just shot at her, which would have made the encounter messy.

The hostile air dissipates as the soldiers seem to recognize her.

"That's Byleth Eisner!" One of them exclaims.

"That's right," Byleth confirms. "Who am I speaking to? How do you know me?"

The soldiers look at each other for a moment before the original challenger, the torchbearer, steps forward. "I am Trystan, lead lancer of the Empire's eighty-fourth squad," Trystan answers with a small bow. "The Emperor issued a search for you after the attack on the monastery five years ago. Everyone knows what you're supposed to look like, and, well, it's incredible to finally see you in person."

The soldiers make noises of agreement.

"She's beautiful," someone quips.

"I see," Byleth nods at Trystan, ignoring the out-of-line comments. "Well Trystan, if you and your squad weren't so busy being distracted by my presence, you'd see that you lack proper dispersion. Who is watching your rear?"

The soldiers immediately take up their positions.

"Relax, I am not your commander." Byleth says to Trystan's apparent shame. "You are safe while I'm here."

The man does as he's told and relaxes a little, but his squad is no longer standing around looking loose and vulnerable. "I heard General von Aegir say the same to the Minister earlier. That they'd be safe with you around."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. When we were told that you'd been found, we knew we had to see for ourselves. We spent so long searching, you see. We've heard so many stories about you. The Emperor must be over the moon about it."

The man is suddenly at a loss for words, and he lapses into silence.

"Stories about me?" Byleth prods.

"Yes ma'am." Trystan answers and then makes a choice not to elaborate. "I'm sorry for taking up more of your time ma'am, but I have a question that I'm sure we'd all like to have answered."

"Ask," Byleth commands.

"Are you fighting with us or are you fighting against us?"

It is exactly the type of question a soldier might be expected to ask in the middle of a continental war. It's a completely ridiculous question. If she were an ally, then the question is moot. If she were an enemy, then there are only two options. Either she lies, which is something a normal enemy might be expected to do, or two, she tells the truth and slaughters the soldiers before her. The thought flits through her mind in a fraction of a second, but she answers the question anyway.

"I am with Edelgard," Byleth says unblinkingly.

Trystan is visibly relieved, as are the soldiers behind him. The ones whose faces she could see in the light anyway.

"They say you're a military genius. I hear many of the strategies we use in battle are adopted from your teachings." Trystan says with unrestrained admiration. "With you, we can finally turn this war on its head!"

Byleth feels an internal discomfort at the expectation being levied at her, but externally, she doesn't make any reaction, giving no quarter. "We shall see," she says flatly. "Please excuse me. I would like to have some time to think. Notify the other squads of the situation and that I am to be left alone."

Trystan stands happily to attention. "Yes ma'am!"

Byleth forces herself to smile. "Keep up the good work, Trystan," she says before turning away. She marches toward the fishing pond, ignoring the dwindling noise of the Imperial soldiers' conversation erupting from behind her.

Being with Edelgard is not the same as being with the Empire, but if the Empire's soldiers choose to interpret her words as such, she sees no reason to stop them. For now.

She's always been careful with her words, picking through them to make sure they are internally consistent. Playing a false subservient role to the Church for two entire years had given her a lot of practice in paying minute attention to the words that come out of her mouth.

As she writes to her teacher, to Byleth, she thinks over the words she has said so far. How much has she revealed? Does her teacher know? She must. Does her teacher think the same?

Edelgard feels herself becoming flustered at the thought.

How dare she wish for something so selfish and self-indulging? An accompanying feeling of shame gnaws at her. She is too much a coward to say or even think it outright which is entirely comical given that she has no qualms risking her life in battle or in giving up her honor - her morality - for the sake of accomplishing her goal. Yet this. This holds her. It is beyond laughable.

If she had known for certain that Byleth was to succeed the Church, it was possible she might have delayed the war in favor of an attempt at reform. The question then becomes, what kind of reform would Byleth be willing to push? Regardless of what her teacher might have been willing to uphold, there is only one direction that is acceptable to her: the complete dissipation of the Church and its dogma.

With the slow destruction of the Church from the top down, the face of the war would have been drastically different. Obviously there would still have been some type of armed conflict. There would have been zealots who would doubt her teacher's claims, doubt the Central Church's new command, and fight to their dying breath to preserve the traditions by which they had been indoctrinated for countless generations.

Even if her teacher were to enact reform slowly, benevolently, there would have been dissent.

Her thoughts give her no comfort. If only she had known, if she had just trusted her teacher, the war wouldn't have become such a monster. Even if there would have been some kind of a war, it wouldn't have been the same in scale. Not even close. What's more, it would be Byleth who would have spearheaded the movement. Byleth, the only one she can trust to bear the awful burden of such a monumental task. The Goddess herself would have literally been on her side, would have literally helped her. Her long days and nights of prayer in that dungeon, that hell, would have been answered if she hadn't so cynically taken her knife and cut through the ribbons of her own salvation.

If only she had known.

If only she had trusted the professor, her teacher. If only she had trusted the Goddess who she'd thought had forsaken her, who she'd cursed, whose existence she'd ultimately rejected during her years in the darkness. Her Goddess who she now loves.

The thought makes her smile. "What irony," she mouths to herself. Hubert somehow hears her and glances to his side to stare at her for a couple seconds. He decides to not comment and directs his attention back to his assignment.

She will not cry. Not now. Tears of regret and self-pity are worthless. The past is strictly a place to learn from. The Edelgard that mourns, that is pitiable and useless must be locked away into the dungeon from where she came. The future is forward. Not back.

Edelgard swipes angrily at the tears building behind her eyes before they can betray her, before that pathetic version of herself could overtake her again.

Hubert wisely does not comment.

"How many of you are not finished with your assignments?" Edelgard asks in place of the still-missing professor.

She receives silence in response. The tension in lieu of the professor's absence is palpable which is perfectly understandable. Sitting right before her, surrounded by an army of over two hundred imperial units, are two generals of Faerghus: extremely high-value targets. The longer the professor is absent, the more likely it is that they are in danger. It is harsh, but if the professor was to vanish again, Edelgard wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of the opportunity at hand.

Such is the nature of war; when Edelgard vowed to herself to do anything to change the world and accomplish her mission, she'd meant it.

Reality is harsh, and everyone here should understand, given the last half decade. No point beating around the bush.

"I know what troubles you, Caspar. Bernadetta."

Bernadetta appears suddenly frightened and too scared to speak.

"Do you?" Caspar challenges.

Edelgard stares Caspar down, taking his challenge head on. "If the professor disappears again-"

"Of course," Caspar growls with barely concealed anger. "No matter what Ferdinand might say for you, you really are a heartless woman."

Caspar's words sting, and nothing she can say would mean anything to either of them. Only empty platitudes. "I'm sorry," Edelgard says firmly, looking from one adversary to the other. "But this is war."

"That's true," Caspar replies. "Worse comes to worse, we fight to our deaths. Are you with us, Linhardt? Dorothea?"

Linhardt pretends to be asleep, and offers no answer.

Dorothea looks away. "We don't fight anymore," she replies.

Disappointed, Caspar goes back to glaring at Edelgard. "We really should kill you right here, right now, professor or not."

"You can try," Hubert threatens, standing to position himself in front of Edelgard. The magic in his hands flare dark against the lamplight. "I promise you won't get very far."

Petra has her knives in her hands. Bernadetta puts a hand to her bow, unwilling but ready.

"Wait, hold on-" Ferdinand starts to say before he is interrupted by the creaking noise of the classroom doors.

The professor walks in at the perfect moment.

"Weapons away!" she commands. "Back to your seats!"

The students do as they are told, and the tension is momentarily held at bay.

She walks up to the podium at the front of the classroom, settling back to her familiar position. "I'm not going to disappear anytime soon, got it? I will solve this problem, but I can't do it if you don't cooperate with me."

"My apologies, professor," Edelgard says. "I wasn't able to manage the class as well as I should have."

Byleth gives her student a nod before giving her attention to the rest of the class. "Leave your papers at your desks. I will collect them myself. You have three hours to break while I read and think. Get some sleep, food. Consort with your armies. Whatever it is you need to do. I want you all back in the classroom before sunrise. Understand?"

"Yes Professor," her students chorus.

The sound of tables legs and chairs scrape the stone floor of the classroom.

"Please don't kill each other," Byleth adds as the students start to leave.

"We will keep order," Edelgard replies, giving her a grave nod.

"Sure you will," Caspar says with his head tilted up cynically. "If anyone's going to be the first to stab someone in the back, you can count on Edelgard to be the one to do it."

"I think we've all had a rough night, especially the professor. Let's not make it any harder for her, alright?" Dorothea says before anyone could respond to Caspar's provocation.

Caspar scoffs. He slams open the door and is gone before anything else can be said. Bernadetta follows suit. "We'll be back," she promises.

"Let's go," Edelgard announces in their wake, addressing her subordinates. "Our soldiers are waiting."

The Empire's leaders leave together without further trouble.

"Thank you," Byleth says to Dorothea in the aftermath.

Dorothea winks at her knowingly. "It's the least I could do. I'll see you in three hours, professor," she says before walking out into the night.

The class is soon emptied except for Linhardt who asks if he can be allowed to stay in.

"Don't interrupt me," is the assent that Byleth gives, and Linhardt, satisfied, props his arms and his head onto the desk and falls asleep instantly.