Author's Note: While writing Piper's guitar scene, I listened to the song "Ocean" by John Butler. FFN hates links, but feel free to google and listen as well so you can feel what I was feeling.

Chapter I: The Ballad of Fódlan

Everything's dark. Like, really dark. Darker than high school level dark.

I feel around in the inky black, grasping only air. I seem to be floating as well, so I'm gonna go ahead and chalk this one up as a dream. After some experimental breaststrokes, I manage to propel myself through the void. Without any scenery or wind resistance, it's impossible to tell how fast I'm 'swimming,' but I take up what feels like a leisurely pace. Since this dream is so damn boring, I figure I'll just move around until I wake up.

"Greetings, child." The voice reverberates in all directions, feminine and laden with poise.

OK. Mildly more interesting now. "Let me guess, you're supposed to be God or something, yeah?" Might as well play along.

The voice hums for a moment. "It would be more correct to say I am a god. A god of what, I cannot say."

God of bullshit, most likely. Oh well, my subconscious is an asshole, what's new? "Fantastic. Am I going to receive a revelation now? Do I get to be a prophet? I don't have to wear a robe, do I?"

"I have lost much of my power since coming to this realm," God Lady says, ignoring my undeniable wit. "Thus, I have taken drastic measures to ensure I might return one day to Fódlan."

Fódlan? Is that a Dungeons and Dragons place? "Sounds like a real pickle. Good luck with that."

I try to continue swimming, but my limbs are heavy. Way, way too heavy. "You misunderstand, child." The voice is harsher now, more imperious. "I used almost the last of my power to bring you here, and I shall use what remains to send you to Fódlan in my stead."

Not cool, dream. Not cool. You're fast approaching nightmare territory. "I'd like to wake up now," I say, slapping my cheeks.

"This is no dream, child. Upon your heart, I shall place my Crest. Therefore, as you walk the land of Fódlan, I, too, will walk with you. And one day, when the time is right, your body will belong to me. Finally, I shall have my freedom."

Nah, nah, nah. Fuck that. This is some demon shit right here. "Like hell I'm letting you use me." I look left and right and up and down. "Anytime now, dream. Anytime you wanna wake me up is great."

She laughs, and it definitely sounds demonic. "It would not do to have my vessel destroyed before I can awaken, however. Fódlan is a dangerous place. I bequeath unto you a Holy Relic, one you may find befitting of your skills."

A flash emanates from the darkness, leaving in its wake a possession of mine I know very well—a crimson Fender Stratocaster with a maple fretboard and neck. Is this some kind of joke? God, my brain is fucked up. The guitar lands in my hands, familiar and alien at once. There's… something inside it. A force or energy. Whatever it is, it's scary. I want to let go of the guitar, but my fingers won't unfurl.

"Simply play the instrument as you know how, and the magic I have infused within will activate. There are other secrets it holds that I am sure you will discover in time," Demon God Lady explains, derisive. "I grow sleepy now. Fódlan awaits, child. Go forth and… what do they say in your realm? Ah, yes. Rock."

Peels of eerie, chiming laughter echo almost inside my mind. The surrounding air constricts, tugging and squeezing to the point I fear my bones will surely fracture. There's a pop, but it isn't my bones. Blinding daylight floods my vision. I lift an arm to shield against the sun. If I squint through the light, I can make out trees and a wooden watchtower.

This is such bullshit.

My knees buckle, and I promptly faint.

I wake drooling on a lock of my own hair accompanied by unceremonious bouncing. My face rests against something cool and metallic, and I peel away from it to the sight of a man's armored back. As in, medieval knight looking shit. Furthermore, I seem to be on a horse. A literal, smelly, weirdly bearded horse. Naturally, I scream.

The man starts at my screeching, pulling on the reins and causing his horse to whinny in protest. Having never ridden a damn horse before, I fall and land directly on my face. There's a shout and heavy footsteps as I attempt to rise and spit the dirt from my teeth.

"Dammit," a deep voice hisses, and I feel myself being hauled up. The man from the horse looks me over before running a hand through his sandy undercut. "I should have secured you to the horse better. Ah well. You don't seem to be hurt at least."

I stumble backwards. "Who the hell are you?!" I shout, gesturing wildly in front of me. "Where am I? Am I still dreaming? Where'd that creepy demon god lady go? Oh fuck me, what the FUCK!" Please let this be a dream. Please, please, please.

He frowns, though to be fair that's hardly different from what appears to be his bad case of RBF. "You're going to have to slow down, kid. Maybe breathe a little."

"Don't tell me to slow down! You… You kidnapped me! And brought me to this… this forest?" I pace around, blinking and taking in my surroundings for the first time. We're on a dirt path, maybe just wide enough for a truck. Trees and thick undergrowth line the road. Not far behind us are some more armored guys and a few kids who might be around my age. What are these outfits? Is this… some kind of… renaissance fair slave murder cult thing?

The man rubs a palm over his face. "Kidnapped you? We saved you. Found you unconscious just outside the village as those bandits attacked. None of the villagers recognized you, so we took you with us." He looks positively exasperated explaining.

Village? Who says village? "Who is us? And that's all fine and well, but the last thing I remember was falling asleep at my apartment in Chicago!" I have to get out of here, escape these lunatics. They don't seem to have any guns—wait are those swords?! Axes?! Oh fuck this.

"Look, I don't know what Chi… Chicago is. All I know is we found you, rescued you, and that you should probably be a little more grateful than you are." Another man approaches us, this one tricked out in some big ass plate armor.

His mustache twitches as he speaks. "Captain, what's going on?" He looks me over, oddly jovial. "Sounds like she's a bit fired up!"

"I told you, I'm not… Nevermind." Undercut glares at me. "Our friend here thinks we've kidnapped her."

By now we've caused enough commotion to attract the other members of this little merry band's attention. The kids I saw earlier walk up behind me, joined by a woman a few years older wearing the tackiest tights and booty shorts I have ever seen. Her hair's a weird dark blue-green too. A bare midriff window and billowy coat complete the ensemble. I've worn a lot of stage costumes, but this girl's aesthetic is wack. Creepiest thing about her though? Totally emotionless expression. I suppress a shiver.

I weigh my options. Clearly, these people are insane. Assuming this isn't a dream (it's a real vivid dream if it is), that means I was shanghaied for god knows what nefarious purpose. They had to have drugged me for me to not wake up during all this. Even still, there's no way we're that far outside Chicago. They didn't even bring a car! They're also distracted talking among themselves right now.

I do the logical thing and book it, screaming for help as I run.

After only a few yards, I feel someone plow into my midsection. I flail around helplessly for a moment or two until my arms are pinned to my sides. Craning my neck, I see the freaky woman holding me down, that unnatural blank stare plastered on her face. Fear shoots through my veins as bladed ice.

"Please… Please don't kill me. I'll give you whatever you want! Please, I just wanna go home!" Tears roll unbidden off my cheeks into the dirt. I don't understand any of this. God, why is this happening to me? The woman's eyes widen a fraction.

Undercut places a hand on her shoulder. "Byleth, that's enough," he says firmly. "She's terrified. Let her go so we can maybe calm her down."

'Byleth' relents, and I backpedal along the ground as soon as I'm free. A tree trunk eventually stops me, and I realize my guitar is strapped to my back. I quickly remove it and hold it out by the neck, waving blindly. It's the only weapon I have. But it feels strange in my hands, that same energy from the demon lady dream pulsing within.

Before I can learn more, however, Undercut gently pushes it aside with his boot and crouches down to my level. "No one here is going to harm you. I promise. You look like you've been through a lot. What's your name?" He sounds sincere. I don't trust him at all, though. But I just learned escape is hardly an option. At least like that. If I want to get away, I might have to play nice.

"Piper," I say, cautiously dragging my guitar towards me. "Piper Pendergast."

He nods. "Well, Piper, I'm Jeralt. And that girl there is Byleth." He thumbs at Blank Face. She dips her head to acknowledge the introduction.

"What about him?" I ask, pointing at the smiley man in the big armor.

Jeralt scowls, but I get the sense it isn't about me. "That's Alois, a Knight of Seiros." Alois waves good-naturedly.

I crane my neck to peer around Jeralt at the three colorfully dressed teenagers. "And them?"

He follows my gaze. "Ah, I couldn't tell you their names, but they're students of the Officers Academy at Garreg Mach. That's where we're headed now, actually."

The three of them don't seem to have any issues volunteering the information themselves. Two of them, a blond goody two shoes looking boy and a silver-haired girl bow slightly. The third, an olive-skinned boy with an earring and a shock of messy dark hair, just raises a couple fingers in greeting.

"I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus," the blond announces in regal fashion. "It is regrettable that our first meeting should be so strained, Miss Piper Pendergast." Even in this situation, I can't help but think he's an absolute dweeb. Is he roleplaying or something?

The silver-haired girl speaks next. "And I am Edelgard von Hresvelg." She watches me in a much more calculating manner than Dimitri.

"Claude," the remaining one says, flashing a cocky grin. "Don't let those two intimidate you. They blow a lot of hot air."

Edelgard shoots him a scathing glare. "And I suppose being a scheming miscreant is somehow better?"

Claude's smirk only grows, but Dimitri steps in before he can respond. "Now, I believe this is hardly the place for a squabble," he says, giving me a sympathetic glance. "Piper appears confused enough as it is."

Why yes, I am confused. Thank you for noticing, you LARP weirdo. Jeralt shakes his head at their antics and extends his hand. "Let me help you up," he offers.

I wipe my eyes and nose on a sleeve, noticing that whatever I'm wearing isn't what I wore to bed. My koala pajama bottoms and baggy Fleetwood Mac t-shirt are gone. Instead, I'm clad in snug tan pants and a loose navy blouse or tunic bound around my waist with a thick, black leather belt. Tall brown boots laced halfway up my shin cover my feet. I choose to ignore the implications of this new set of clothes for now—freaking out didn't accomplish much last time.

Taking Jeralt's hand, I allow him to guide me to my feet. "Sorry we got off on the wrong foot. Nobody here meant to scare you," he says, side-eyeing Byleth. Jeralt motions at my guitar. "Your… lute. We found it with you. Are you a minstrel, perhaps?"

Instinctively, I clutch the Fender to my chest. "I'm in a band. I play guitar, obviously." Lute? Jesus Christ, these guys are really taking this ye old Camelot shit seriously.

He scratches and toys with his beard. "Guitar…? Anyways, you have a group? Do you know where they are?"

You kidnapped me! And you're asking questions like that? "I'm begging you, please just take me back home."

Jeralt turns to exchange looks with Alois and Byleth, the former merely shrugging. With a sigh he focuses on me again. "This Chicago place? I don't know of any place with that name in Fódlan. Maybe Almyra or Brigid, but you don't seem to be from either."

Fódlan? Didn't… the demon god lady mention Fódlan? She said she was sending me there. But that was a dream! How could these people know about that? And I've never heard of Fódlan in my life! No, no, no, this can't be real! I grasp the sides of my head, trembling. Wake up! Please!

"If you don't tell us, we can't help you. For now, why don't we just get to Garreg Mach? We can sort the rest out there. We've wasted enough daylight already."

I'm too shell-shocked and petrified to resist when Jeralt begins leading me back to his horse. The others in this company watch me with varying degrees of pity and apprehension, as if none of them are responsible for my current state of mind. Jeralt tries to coax me onto his steed, but I mumble a refusal. I would rather walk. If I need to make a run for it, I can't do it from his horse, not that I expect to get very far. He acquiesces, letting me trudge alongside.

I jump at every sound, every rustling bush as we march. More than a few times, I shriek aloud. I can tell the three teenagers want to speak with me or at least ask some questions, but they appear sufficiently deterred by my jittery behavior. Occasionally, I catch Byleth watching me, her gaze betraying none of her thoughts. I am always the first to avert my eyes. To say she unsettles me would be an understatement.

The trail through the woods bends and winds, over hills and past trickling streams. I begin to note that we've steadily traveled at a gradual incline. Conifers overtake oaks and maples, and there's a marked dip in temperature. No place like this exists anywhere near Chicago. It reminds me a great deal of my family vacation years ago to the Pacific Northwest. A needling panic, more than the baseline anxiety I've felt so far creeps under my skin, insidious and pervasive. Even if these people kidnapped me, bringing me to a place like this would be impossible unless I was asleep for a long time. Rationally, it makes no sense. Why go to all this effort to bring me here?

Jeralt stops in front of me, and I nearly collide with his horse. "We're not going to reach the monastery before dark," he declares. "Time to set up camp, everyone."

There's a grumble among the troops, but they waste little time unpacking tents and creating a fire pit. I'm left standing off to the side, hugging myself against the twilight chill. Spending the night out here with likely unstable strangers is basically the worst thing I can imagine. But do I have a choice? I have no clue how to survive in the wilderness. I'd be lucky if a bear or wolf or whatever didn't eat me before dawn.

I feel something drape over my shoulders, insulating against some of the wind. I flinch and look up to see Dimitri. "Forgive me if I've acted impetuously. You seemed cold." I finger the fabric, velvety and smooth. His shoulder cape.

"Thanks… Dimitri," I manage to say after a short while. He tilts his head, a little taken aback. My brows furrow. "Was I not supposed to thank you?" Leave it to the criminally insane to be offended by gratitude.

He smiles and puts his palms out. "No, no. I am just unused to being addressed without titles or formality. In truth, I prefer it this way."

Delusions of grandeur? Fits the bill. I don't get a chance to question him, though, as Edelgard and Claude take up positions on either side.

Claude places his hands behind his head and chuckles. "Ingratiating yourself with her, Your Highness?" He tacks on a wink at the end.

"Not all actions come with an ulterior motive," Dimitri counters, narrowing his eyes at Claude.

Edelgard tosses some of her hair over her shoulder. "And yet it is foolish to take a person at solely face value." I'm beginning to think these three do not particularly get along.

They trade banter until I am forgotten. A few yards away, Jeralt nurses a fledgling flame into a respectable fire. With nothing else to do and nowhere else to go, I decide I'd rather not freeze in the night. I sit nearby, warding away the icy breeze. Jeralt grunts to signal he sees me but doesn't speak. Byleth stands on his left, scanning the forest for god knows what. At least she's not scanning me. Slowly, other members of the group gather around the fire. Alois and the three students, plus the assortment of gruff individuals traveling with us. I never asked about them, but I assume they must be subordinates of Jeralt or Alois. Maybe both. There do seem to be two different sets of armor—one more like Alois and the other a bit eclectic and ranging from leather pads to chain mail.

"So." My head snaps up, and I see Alois smiling softly at me. "You play music, right? I think a nice song would lift everyone's spirits!"

He wants me to play? After all this, he wants me to play a song? My hands ball into fists. Impossible. These people are… impossible. Besides, I don't even have an amp.

If Alois notices my discomfort, he doesn't show it. "Oh, come on! I'm sure it will make you feel better too!" He nods at my guitar. "Just play a little strumthing."

Did he… Was that… God, that was awful. The group rewards Alois with resounding silence for his effort. I hear a small pfft to my right. Dimitri smiles into his palm. Somehow, only one person reacting instead of none is worse.

"Play, child." Demon God Lady's voice echoes in my mind. I've settled the guitar in my lap before I register the action. No! I don't want to play! Not here, not for these people. But as I hold my Fender Stratocaster, feeling the energy tingle through my hands and arms and chest and legs and all the way down to my toes, I have to know. I have to know what it means. My fingers trace the strings. Playing is like breathing for me. There's nothing I love more than music.

A smattering of light cheers ripple throughout the camp. It's like being on stage. They all want to hear me. What I have to say with my music. Demon God Lady's words repeat over and over. I pluck a string. Then another. Then a chord. Then two. Three. Four. My fingers fly along the frets, and the notes flutter around me. My domain. My world. My own composition, airy and full, building to a crescendo where I forget everything and everyone. And I feel it. I feel it! The power and latent kinetic potential locked inside my guitar. It floods outward, enveloping me, caressing my skin with sweet heat and tidal warmth. I don't fight it. I let it carry me, wash over each fiber and cell. My music. What I've spent my life refining and tuning and cherishing as the part of my soul I most want to preserve. No one can take that away from me. It's mine. My indelible legacy.

When I reach the end, my hands slide down into the dirt, and beads of sweat patter on the guitar. Why did I play like that? Like I would never play again, never touch a guitar for the rest of my life?

"Wow." I remember where I am. Every pair of eyes in the clearing stares at me. Even Byleth looks affected. I don't know who said that, but it's followed by thunderous applause and whooping. The raucous noise take a while to die down. I did that?

"That was magic, wasn't it?" Jeralt says when it's quiet enough he can be heard. "We all felt it. You… cast a spell. During the song, it was like my limits were removed. I knew I was stronger, faster. How did you do that? I've never seen anything like it."

Magic? Magic isn't real. All the trepidation and fear of being here flows back. I don't know what just happened. It wasn't normal. "I just played," I say, knowing that couldn't be further from the truth.

"Keep your secrets then." Edelgard eyes me with interest, the appraising kind. "But that sort of ability could be worth a lot to the right people." Assuming I'm not killed or worse, I don't think I've heard the last on the subject from Edelgard.

Claude laughs. "If she said she just played, then she just played," he drawls, showing me a lopsided smile.

Whoever these students are, the way they carry themselves isn't like ordinary people. And with a gut-wrenching pang, I can no longer deny that this place isn't ordinary either. It's not Chicago. I don't even think it's America. I'm scared. I'm scared, and none of this adds up. I am not dreaming. This is reality. I study these people's faces. Alois, his genuinely kind eyes. Jeralt, severe and morose but not malicious. Even Byleth is just… vacant, not evil. Did they really kidnap me? Did that voice in the void really send me to 'Fódlan?' It's unbelievable, yet more likely than any other possibility. I felt the music as I played. Not in some hipster audiophile way. Really felt it.

God, just what is going on?

If I had any lingering doubts about whether this is a dream, waking up the next morning in a tent on the hard ground quashes them.

I'm numb. Physically. Emotionally. Numb. Jeralt says we should reach Garreg Mach by early afternoon, and all I can do is vaguely nod. I miss Chicago. I miss my friends and family. The more time I spend with Jeralt and the others, the more certain I am that this is all a cosmic joke. If they wanted to kill or maim me, sacrifice me to the blood god, they've had a thousand chances by now. I don't detect any hostility from them. Alois is supposedly a knight, and nothing I've observed has led me to think he isn't just a chivalrous man with an unfortunate attachment to puns. Maybe I lost my mind and this is psychosis. Maybe I'm dead. I don't know. I'm just numb.

The terrain becomes rockier, the density of trees thinning as we walk. I am very clearly not fit for this kind of exercise. Each of my breaths is labored and taxing. My legs feel carved from stone, dragging behind the rest of my body. In some places the path is narrow enough that those with horses are forced to lead them by the reins rather than ride them. Is there truly an academy and monastery in a location like this? My question is answered soon enough.

"There it is. Garreg Mach Monastery." Edelgard looks ahead impassively.

Oh.

Yeah.

There it is. Nestled into the weathered peaks of this mountain range sits a structure so magnificent that even in my present circumstance, I have to marvel at it. A series of imposing stone walls seemingly hewn from the cliffs themselves border the main complex. They protect a castle, its turrets and spires looming above the valley. Well, I call it a castle, but the true centerpiece of the sight is a Notre-Dame-esque cathedral. The front facing facade features two towers capped with blue cones—another two, even taller towers, rise at the back. Complete with flying buttresses and an ornate dome, the cathedral majestically presides over the mountain. A pair of waterfalls jet off the left side, so high that the water mists before it hits the bottom. I gawk inelegantly until the party passing by reminds me to close my mouth and keep moving.

I don't know of a place on Earth like this one. It frightens me. But am I really in Fódlan? Am I really… someplace else?

A shadow sweeps across us, and I glance upward. What I see is too batshit to comprehend. A trio of dragons—scaly, lizardy, fucking ginormous dragons—swoop overhead. I make out figures on their backs, literal dragon riders. Wait. Not dragons. No arms. Wyverns, then? That hardly matters right now. Neither creature exists. They're fantasy. They're not real. Fight or flight kicks in, and I try to hide behind a shrub. Someone snickers.

"Never seen a wyvern before?" Claude says, more than a little teasingly. "Don't worry, they're tame. Some of the knights ride them. Us students do sometimes as well, for flying practice."

"Buh?" I think that's an understandable reply given my world has just been shattered.

Dimitri, who I have come to consider to be the nicest of the three, kneels next to me, concerned. "Hey, you're safe here. We're almost to the monastery. The wyverns won't hurt you."

I want to trust him. I really do. It's just not easy accepting the existence of fucking wyverns. Fódlan is hell. Unadulterated hell. "O-OK," I stammer, summoning the feeble remnants of my courage to keep walking.

He smiles at me while Edelgard rolls her eyes. She probably thinks I'm pathetic. She's not wrong. I'm not cut out for this. Whatever this is. More than ever, I just want to squeeze my eyes shut and pray and pray and pray that when I open them I'm back in my apartment.

It doesn't work.

Garreg Mach gets closer and closer. Other travelers, pilgrims and farmers, greet us on the road. When we finally reach the gatehouse, the guards let us through without incident. Jeralt pauses to stare up at a woman atop a balcony watching us enter. She's otherworldly. Long, luxurious green hair cascades down her shoulders, in part contained by the elaborate headdress she wears. Her robes look ceremonial almost. Religious?

"Rhea's here," Jeralt says. I can't read his tone. But there's history, that much I know. Byleth looks up as well, inscrutable as ever.

At this point, Dimitri, Claude, and Edelgard split from us. They wish us well and thank Jeralt and Byleth again for saving them, an event I am happy to have been unconscious during. Bandits? No thanks. I nearly forget to return Dimitri's cape but save myself future embarrassment by catching him right before they leave.

Alois leads those of us remaining (Jeralt's men chose to wait outside the monastery) to what I shortly learn is the Officers Academy proper. Not nearly as grand as the cathedral, it's nonetheless fancier than any school I've ever been to. I don't get to see much before we are ushered to the second floor, but the reception hall alone boasts a vaulted ceiling and polished marble flooring. Alois says we're meeting the archbishop. That's not exactly the most calming news. I'm guessing they run the monastery, though, and that hopefully means information.

Unsurprisingly, the archbishop turns out to be Rhea. Up close, she's serene and beautiful, and despite the strange hair, the sight of her puts me a little at ease. Jeralt, however, shifts his weight from foot to foot, grimacing and sighing in equal measure. Yeah, history. For sure. He and Byleth exchange hushed words, and I parse a few phrases, gleaning that Archbishop Rhea is the leader a religious organization called the Church of Seiros. Which makes Alois and those other people, what, Templars or something?

In the audience chamber, Rhea and another green-haired person await our arrival. The man with her has hawkish eyes, observing our every motion carefully. His hair is a darker shade than hers, and he keeps it relatively long for a man. Well-groomed, though. Fastidious is a good word for him.

"Thank you for your patience," he begins, inclining his head. "I am Seteth, an advisor to the archbishop."

Jeralt frowns. "Right. Hello."

The conversation that follows mostly goes over my head. Something about Jeralt being a former Knight of Seiros. Blah blah blah they want him to return to his old post. Yada yada yada they want Byleth to be a professor (not my first choice, just saying). And oh yeah, Jeralt is Byleth's dad. I try to see the family resemblance, but there isn't any. Must take after her mother. Who apparently sadly passed away. I think of my own parents. Am I going to see them again? Surely, there's a way out of here. Demon God Lady called me her "vessel." That's not promising.

"You are a curiosity as well," Seteth says, turning to me. "Alois says you are a musician? What is your name?"

I expected this. Doesn't mean I don't flounder before answering. "P-Piper Pendergast."

Seteth hums, like he's determining if my name is just an alias or not. "Alois also said you played while on the road. And that it was… magical. May we see your instrument?"

Nodding, I swing my guitar from my back so he and Rhea can get a better look at it. Rhea's lips purse slightly for a moment before her expression returns to normal. "I confess I've never seen an instrument quite like that," she says. Her eyes are piercing, and I can't hold her gaze. "May I examine it?"

Guess I don't have much choice, do I? Holding it by the neck, I offer it to her. Rhea moves to accept the guitar, but as her fingers brush its surface, she recoils. Seteth steadies her with a hand. "Lady Rhea!" he exclaims. "Are you alright?"

"Y-Yes, Seteth, I am fine." The archbishop recovers, staring at my guitar with… hunger? I can't say because it fades as quickly as it comes. "That is a powerful relic you wield. I do not see a Crest Stone, though. Do you possess a Crest?"

Demon God Lady used those words. Relic and Crest. Said she put her Crest on my heart. Disconcerting. This is… I need to be careful here. Something feels wrong. "I don't know," I say simply. Telling anyone that I might possibly have some demon's Crest stamped on my heart seems like a bad idea.

Rhea studies me. And smiles. "I see. Are you a believer in the Church of Seiros?"

I'm not gonna get burned at the stake for saying no, am I? "I've never been much for religion, archbishop," I explain. This is my chance. "In fact, a lot of things are new to me here. I'd like to return home, but I think I'm lost. If you can help, I would really appreciate it." It's a shot in the dark. Still, I have to try.

"And where might home be?"

"Not Fódlan," I say. Barring magic and wyverns, these people are medieval. Talking about America and modern technology also seems like a bad idea. "I think I'm very far from home."

She listens solemnly. "Garreg Mach is a sanctuary for all," Rhea says, eyes flitting to my guitar. "We would be happy to provide you with a safe haven until you can find a way to return to your homeland. However, I have a proposition."

This cannot be good. She continues when I don't say anything. "I am sure you are aware that Garreg Mach also hosts the Officers Academy. Given your… talents and intriguing use of magic, I believe you would make a fine addition to the Academy. The Blue Lion House is even short on ladies. Normally, we require a fee to attend, but under special circumstances, we have been known to waive it. What do you say, Piper?"

Seteth looks ready to pop a blood vessel. "My lady, you can't be serious! This is—"

"That's enough, Seteth. I've made my decision. I would ask that Piper now makes hers."

This is a trap. This is a trap. This is a trap.

"Sure."

What the fuck am I doing?

Archbishop Rhea gazes out her bedchamber window. The flow of time has certainly brought something extraordinary to Garreg Mach. All these years… could it be?

Mother, have you returned to me?

Author's Note: Well, hi there! Some of you might know me best as the author of An Odd Awakening. If you've never heard of me before, that's fine too! Regardless, I really hope you enjoyed this intro to my newest story! Ever since I bought Three Houses on release, I've been thinking about writing an insert for it. Fódlan is just such an interesting place, and 3H gave us the best story we've seen in Fire Emblem in a long, long time. So, I just couldn't resist! For those of you who follow AOA, this by no means spells the end for that fic. I am confident I can handle both. Besides, I love telling stories, so the more the merrier!

Normally, I would run this past my comrades in crime, MixedValence and ThreeDollarBratwurst, two authors of great fics of their own, before posting. However, I wanted it to be a surprise to them as well. Merry Christmas in August, you guys! If you haven't checked out their stories, I highly recommend doing so. They're both great writers and all around swell folks.

Until next time,

Syntaxis