Dark Abyss

Chapter 10: The Onset of Dubiety

The atmosphere in the classroom of the Black Eagle House was tense, to say the least.

Byleth peered over his desk, allowing his dispassionate gaze to sweep across the room. Not one of the students failed to flinch as his eyes met theirs, a fact Sothis was taking great delight in.

Even the usually cool and composed Hubert had stiffened momentarily.

To no avail, Byleth tried to remind himself of why he had agreed to follow along with Sothis' ridiculous antics.

"Because you have no choice, my mortal friend. I wish to be entertained, and entertained I shall be!"

He suddenly recalled his reasoning. It was the only way to shut her up.

There was one student completely at ease, however. Monica, whose certification exam had been postponed by a month due to her late arrival at the academy, seemed to be finding just as much sadistic enjoyment out of her peers' distress as Sothis was.

"You have dallied enough, Byleth. Proceed with the spectacle!"

Byleth stood up, his chair creaking slightly in relief, and began to pace on the spot. The students remained silent, only a few daring to sneak a glance in his direction.

He cleared his throat, drawing his cloak around him ominously as he came to a halt.

"I find myself most... troubled."

Several drops of sweat ran down Caspar's temple, quite literally soaking a sheet of paper which was lying face-down in front of him. Behind him, on the edge of the furthermost row, Bernadetta trembled uncontrollably. However, the heaviest weight on his consciousness came from the princess herself, Edelgard, who looked at him in shame akin to a puppy caught misbehaving.

Unfortunately, once Byleth committed to something, he would always see it through.

"A mere month ago, I vividly recall myself stating that I would expect nothing less than your very best."

Someone whimpered pathetically.

"Do my words and teachings mean so little to you that you would ignore them outright?"

A chorus of desperate, almost pleading apologies broke out across the classroom in response. Byleth raised a hand, immediately cutting off the distraught students.

"Silence. Excuses will do you little good. When I asked for your best, I did not intend for you to go above and beyond and exceed even my wildest expectations."

After a whole minute's worth of confused blinking and shared glances, Linhardt voiced the class' collective thought.

"Huh?"

"Congratulations!" said Byleth; a touch of genuine cheerfulness in his voice.

"You've all passed your exams with flying colors. Please take a look at the sheet of paper in front of you and find your grades stamped in the bottom right corner."

"..."

"Professor!" exclaimed Bernadetta in indignation, followed closely by an irate-looking Edelgard.

"Yes?" he replied, raising an innocent eyebrow.

Both girls spluttered, struggling for words. Hubert glared at him viciously, while most of the other students simply sagged in relief.

Monica broke out into laughter, rocking her chair back and forth.

"The looks on your faces! Oh, dear me! Good one, Professor By!"

"That was a very... cruel thing to be doing, Professor." said Petra.

He shrugged dismissively.

"Blame that hellish imp who squats in the back of our minds. Mine takes far too much pleasure in pointless frolicking."

At the students' blank faces, Byleth shook his head sadly. To make matters worse, it did not take long for Sothis to begin screeching, and he immediately regretted his vengeful quip.

"Just me, then. How unfortunate."

He clasped his hands together, managing for all intents and purposes to appear ever the prim and proper professor.

"Now then... Let's move on to more pressing matters. In a few days' time, we shall be moving out to put a stop to the misguided Lord Lonato and his band of insurgents in the Kingdom."

The students fell silent at that; a hint of steel finding its way into their eyes.

As well it should, he thought. He would not stand for a repeat of the last mission's shortcomings, and thankfully, the students seemed to be of the same opinion.

"I asked you to procure as much intelligence about House Gaspard as possible. Together with what little I've gleaned myself, it's high time to devise a course of action for our mission."

Byleth moved toward the chalkboard; picking up a crayon from his desk as he passed it.

"Miss Hresvelg." he said, motioning toward the girl seated at the very front the classroom.

"Please, begin, and share with us the information you've found."

Were Jeralt present, he would have whistled appreciatively at the jam-packed chalkboard; scribbles and sketches reaching as far as to each corner of the board.

The students had been thorough in their research, something Byleth was both proud and glad for. Most of them had left by now, heading off to the dining hall for some well-deserved lunch. Only Monica, Hubert and Linhardt stayed behind; each of them for widely different reasons.

"Well... that was most certainly an informative forenoon. These students of yours may show some promise after all!"

"Excuse me, Professor?" asked Monica, who had approached his desk; her eyes trailing over his papers curiously.

"I was wondering..." she began, placing her arms behind her back and pouting slightly in confusion.

"Edel mentioned the conflict between the Central Church and the Western Church. You know, that whole thing about-"

The doors the classroom were suddenly blown open; an ashen-haired boy scrambling his way inside with red and swollen eyes.

"P-Professor!" stammered Ashe, nearly tripping over his own two feet as made his way to stand beside Monica.

"Yes, Mister Ubert?" Byleth said calmly, taking note of how Linhardt had jerked awake, and the sinister way in which Hubert narrowed his eyes.

"You have to take me with you!" the boy demanded. "I- I know I'm not in your house, but..."

Byleth sighed, having expected this turn of events for more than a while.

"Please take a seat, Mister Ubert."

"Miss Ochs, please excuse us for a moment. The same goes for you, Mister Vestra and Mister Hevring. I'll answer any of your questions in the evening."

Monica nodded in understanding, grabbing her belongings as she dragged out Linhardt and a sour-looking Hubert behind her.

"The menacing one possesses a rather vicious glare, does he not?"

He silently concurred, wondering if he should be more worried about his student's dark tendencies. He recalled a late evening when the boy had approached him, and with a remarkable lack of subtlety proceeded to threaten him should he ever pose a threat toward Edelgard.

"Now then, Mister Ubert." said Byleth, sitting down opposite the anxious boy. "I'm afraid my answer is no."

Ashe blinked and rubbed his eyes, the finality of his response only hitting him a moment later.

"W-What?!"

The otherwise gentle boy's glistening eyes sparked with rage, and he jumped to his feet, clutching the edges of Byleth's desk tightly.

"You're angry." responded Byleth, no trace of emotion in his voice.

"I-"

"I have no doubt that your father is a good man. Nothing I've heard of him points to a terrorist or a murderer."

"Then-"

"However, what I have heard points to a man fighting for a cause." he interrupted sharply.

"Few men are as dangerous as those willing to wage war for their beliefs. Are you ready to see the man you hold in such high esteem cutting down your friends and allies?"

Ashe's eyes widened briefly.

"Are you prepared to face a man willing to sacrifice anything for his goals? Could you raise arms against your own father? I know I could not."

"He wouldn't hurt us!"

"Some possibilities are best left unexplored."

Byleth shook his head, feeling a twinge of compassion for the boy.

"I must ask that you trust in me and the Black Eagles to do the right thing. I cannot in good conscience approve your request. If you choose to hate me for it, I'll understand your decision."

He stood up and made his way out of the classroom, leaving a highly conflicted Ashe behind.

Hopefully the boy would not do anything stupid.

"So, kid. Are you feeling prepared for the mission?"

Jeralt broke the silence awkwardly, looking distinctly uncomfortable. An odd sensation came over Byleth, and he fought down a faint urge to laugh.

His father was not suited for any sort of tea party.

"That is an understatement. Witnessing a warrior of his caliber surrounded by flowers and cakes is as amusing as it is bizarre."

The older man's bulky frame made it difficult for him to sit comfortably in his chair, and he kept readjusting himself and tugging on the sleeves of his gambeson. A cup of tea rested on the table in front of him, untouched.

"Not as much as I'd like to be, but we'll manage."

Jeralt raised an eyebrow.

"This mission… it bothers me. Lord Lonato's motives remain shrouded in mystery, and the information I've ascertained points to a disagreement with the church. Yet, I'm having trouble picturing the man as a mere malcontent."

A gust of wind threatened to blow away a dainty, embroidered napkin, and Byleth quickly brought his hand down over it.

"I heard of your scuffle with Catherine." his father eventually said. "What do you know of the woman?"

"Not much. I've deduced she's in fact Cassandra Charon. Beyond that, only minor details."

"Charon… Of course."

Byleth watched as his father muttered to himself, seemingly coming to some sort of conclusion.

"You know, I've been to Castle Gaspard. Many years ago… By request of the son of that family. Christophe, I think."

"The traitor?" asked Byleth, recalling what the archbishop had told him.

"I wouldn't know. Those were… strange times. People saw enemies around every corner. Though I'd be willing to bet a bullion of gold that this whole rebellion business has to do with Christophe."

"How so?"

"It was Cassandra Charon who had him captured and sentenced to death."

"A grudge, then? Yes… it makes sense. However, a personal grudge does not justify jeopardising the lives of one's subjects - especially not in a futile war against the church."

Byleth agreed wholeheartedly. It was rare for Sothis to do much else than jeer and gibe, but on occasion, she could be surprisingly wise.

"And each time, you make me regret imparting that wisdom."

"You should drink your tea, Father. It's getting cold."

While Jeralt struggled to grasp the ear of his cup, Byleth could only frown at the importance of the information Lady Rhea had withheld from him.

He would have to revise his plans.

Again.

Monica found it hard to tear her eyes away from the professor. For the entire duration of their excursion, she had been observing him with rapt attention. Not even the sound of leaves and twigs crunching beneath her boots distracted from her scrutiny.

Ahead of them marched the Knights of Seiros, clearing a path into the dense forest that made up Magdred Way.

The knights were unaware of just how lucky they were, Monica thought darkly. Were it not for the professor occupying her attention, she might not have resisted the urge to slit their throats from behind.

While Byleth was mostly passive and unflinching, she had, over time, discovered tiny clues which allowed her a glimpse into his mind. Whether it was a brief twitch of his lips, or a light inclination of his head as he pondered something, she had realized that he was consumed by thoughts as much as anyone else.

He almost seemed to hold a constant inner dialogue with himself.

In light of this discovery, Monica also realized that something was weighing heavily on his conscience, and wondered if she ought to ask. Then again, he was currently conversing with that zealous witch, Catherine - someone she wanted to stay as far away from as possible.

"The fog is growing thicker."

"Yes, Edel. I can see that." she answered, refraining from sarcastically thanking the princess for pointing out the obvious. Magdred Way was as if made specifically for the purpose of an ambush.

"Hold, Miss Hresvelg. Miss Ochs."

Monica and Edelgard stopped at the sound of their names. Hubert, naturally, followed suit and stood next to his liege. The rest of the students shot them curious glances, but a wave from the professor had them quickly moving along.

Byleth inspected the trio thoroughly - enough to make Monica slightly self-conscious. With a start, she realized the professor was hesitant to speak, something he had never shown a hint of before.

"I need to ask a favor of you."

"What is it, my teacher?"

The way Edelgard addressed the professor bothered her far more than it should have. She did not quite appreciate the thought of him belonging to the princess in any way.

Hubert merely hummed, while Monica furrowed her brow and eyed him in a curious manner.

"I can't ask this of anyone else. As of yet, you're the only three that have proven open-minded enough."

Before anyone could comment on that particular statement, a knight hollered from far ahead.

"The enemy is approaching! Their numbers are too great to be avoided! Secure the perimeter and prepare for battle!"

Byleth drew his blade, but not before issuing a final, definitive command - one which she knew Solon would be elated to hear.

"Lord Lonato must survive."