Broken rock rolled beneath his feet, Balen never gaining as much traction as he normally desired. For once, that may have been a blessing as a slight downward slope within the valley propelled him forward just out of reach of the giant wolves and their snapping jaws.

The air was ripe with twang after twang of bowstrings and howls and screeches as arrows pierced the flesh in the monsters behind him. He, himself, felt more than his fair share of the projectiles flying past him with miraculous accuracy.

A giant eagle fell from the sky behind him, shaking the ground as it's form crashed into stone.

Balen felt more than saw the distance grow between him and some of his pursuers, likely hindered by the eagle's collapse in their direct path.

He was close enough to make out the shapes of his students now, dark shadows against a slightly lighter sky. They had taken a defensive position on a slope leading into a cliff face which Balen silently applauded. The slope could be defended by minimal front fighters while the cliffs offered numerous advantages to the archers.

Claude always did have a knack for tactics.

Balen could count at least four of his students' shadows which more than likely meant the entire class was there. Their faces were suddenly alight by magic, a duo of spells joining the volley of arrows as two other shapes broke from the others.

Leonie, continuously firing her bow from horseback, and Lorenz, also atop his horse, pressed their steeds toward him.

They were coming to get him.

Balen doubled up his effort to increase the distance between himself and the closest wolf. Lorenz had sped past Leonie and was quickly closing in on him. He would have to time this just right or Lorenz would be in danger of being overwhelmed by the pack despite Leonie's efforts to cover them.

Barely one exhale had passed before the moment had come. Lorenz jerked the reins, his horse sidelining so that Balen came close to hitting them head on, but this was Balen and he was already in the air and using Lorenz's offered hand to orient himself upon the back of the steed. Magic and arrows devastated the space he had just been, and it was a credit to Lorenz he was able to keep his horse under control with one hand.

But one wolf was particularly stubborn, shrugging off his students' deterrents as if they were little more than drops of rain. It's claws tore at the horse's flank, threatening to drag them down.

The Sword of the Creator lit the space with red as Balen snapped it out with enough strength the wolf was thrown off it's feet.

Lorenz was back in control, his horse scrabbling against the rocky slope as it retreated in haste. "Professor, whatever aim you desired from this endeavor, it is unbefitting of someone of your station to put themselves at such risk," he berated.

That was one of the more common complaints against him.

He still wasn't used to such concern.

They had drawn even with Leonie whose horse fell into step beside them. "You can just say you were worried, Lorenz."

"Tsk. I worried? That is preposterous. I am only performing my noble duty to help the common folk..."

"Yeah, yeah," Leonie interrupted with a laugh. "You can hide behind fancy words all you want, but we know, don't we, Professor?"

Compared to the other two houses, the Golden Deer was a bit of an anomaly with it's strange mix of commoner and noble bloodlines. It had once been a divisive feature between his students, wrought with misunderstandings.

This was one of those situations they'd figured out along the way.

Lorenz may talk fancy, but it was what was behind the words that mattered.

"We know," Balen agreed.

Lorenz was notably silent though whether it was a deliberate attempt to ignore them or due to their closing proximity to the rest of their class, Balen wasn't sure.

The mercenary-turned-professor leapt from Lorenz's horse, landing among his other students the moment they had regrouped. As he guessed, every one of his students were there and a subtle twinge of warmth spread within.

Hilda was the most outspoken, exclaiming a "What a mess, Professor!" from her position leaning against the head of her axe, but Balen could see her smile in dark.

Raphael clapped Hilda on the shoulder, nearly knocking her off balance. He didn't seem to notice her scowl as he, instead, flexed his arm. "How'd you know I missed my evening workout?"

"You miss your evening workout fifty percent of the time in favor of staying in the dining hall until it closes," Lysithea stated.

Balen could practically hear her eyes roll in her voice.

But this was not a time for conversations. They still had a serious conundrum at hand with upwards of ten monsters and a demonic beast closing in upon them. At least the demonic beast was slow at crossing the valley. They needed to secure themselves before tackling it together.

He cut into the conversation as Raphael let out a laugh.

"Ignatz, focus on the eagles closing in from the North and monitor the demonic beast's progress. We want to remain out of it's range until we can fight on our terms. Leonie, to the North and have your lance at the ready. Everyone else, to the South. Hilda, Lorenz, Raphael in the front."

The Golden Deer transformed immediately from a dysfunctional group of students into soldiers and split into their assigned duties without complaint until only Claude remained at Balen's side. His House Leader already had an arrow nocked at the ready, fingers idly caressing the end.

"Nothing too crazy, eh, Teach? If this isn't it… Well, I'd hate to see the situation you would consider to be..." Even in the dim light Balen could see Claude's smile grow and the ever-so-slight shift of his eyes to the glowing Sword of the Creator. "… or, perhaps, I wouldn't miss it for all of Fodlan. At any rate, glad you're still alive."

Balen nodded in what was as close to expressing a similar sentiment as he got. He shifted his grip on the Sword of the Creator. "Shall we?"

Claude laughed, letting the arrow loose at an eagle soaring above them. It screeched as the arrow shot true and wedged itself in the wing of the giant bird.

A whiff of scorched feathers told Balen it had already been wounded by a spell from Lysithea, and it would not take much more to take it down. Sure enough, one hit from the Sword of the Creator and it crumpled, falling from the sky and into the cliffs adjacent to them.

"I'll watch your back as always," Claude offered, a second arrow at the ready.

Balen needed nothing more. He had long since passed the point of questioning Claude.

He took off at a run to join the front, passing Marianne as she healed a distant wound a wolf had given Hilda. He caught a glimpse of Raphael blocking another wolf attempting to break through to reach Lysithea before the young mage threw an unfamiliar spell in it's face, and it retreated from the two. Lorenz was struggling against a wolf at least a head taller than the others, and that was where Balen gravitated.

Two arrows rocketed past as he closed the distance, and then he was driving the wolf back with a swipe of his sword. Emboldened by the howl of the wolf as the Sword of the Creator ate at it's flesh, Balen waved off Lorenz. "Go help Hilda," he ordered.

Lorenz bowed his head for the briefest of moments. "Certainly, Professor."

That left Balen facing down the massive wolf as it paced before him, it's eyes glinting with an intelligence not often seen in a mere beast. He made a mental note not to underestimate it.

It lunged at him from the left, the Sword of the Creator meeting air as the wolf apparently thought better of it's attack and backed up. It didn't save it from Balen as he pressed forward, deftly changing the weapon's direction so it met its leg. The blade tore through muscle from shoulder to claw. An arrow lodged into it's wounded shoulder, and it's howl shook the stone beneath Balen's feet.

Or so he had thought.

"Teach!"

Claude's warning was a second too late as the ground erupted beneath Balen, the impact sending him reeling through the air with the breath knocked from his lungs. No number of arrows from Claude could stop the wolf from falling upon him, teeth and claws held at bay only by the awkward twist of his wrist that held his weapon in a protective block. Unfortunately, it required both his arms to keep the wolf from overwhelming his strength and, despite how it's hide was becoming riddled with arrows, it showed no signs of letting up it's attack.

He could admit, it wasn't a good scenario.

The wolf twisted, one claw crashing into the ground on Balen's left and leaving thick gouges in the stone. With the wolf partially free, Balen was about to be in even more serious trouble.

Until he saw it.

The pommel of a sword imbedded in his attacker's flesh.

A familiar sword of which took him months back.

Where is your sword?

He could see Blaise flush in his mind's eye and her answer in Sign.

Lost it.

For some reason that made him... angry. Very angry.

How close had she come to be in this exact position? And alone no less? Had she been harmed? He couldn't recall that detail. He regretted he hadn't gone with her.

But, also, she'd downplayed it like she always did if she thought she could get away with it.

Blaise … why couldn't you just be forthcoming?

Balen grit his teeth and used every bit of strength he possessed to shove the wolf back with the Sword of the Creator. He did the unthinkable then and abandoned the Holy Relic. He rolled past the wolf, one hand gripping the hilt of his sister's old weapon. The Crest of Flames lit the air as he ripped the blade from the flesh of which had healed around the foreign object.

The wolf's cry made his ears ring.

Blaise had been aiming for the creature's heart, he realized.

Spinning the weapon in his hand, he followed her path and angled the blade through the same wound as the wolf lunged in a mess of snarling teeth.

Balen felt as the life abruptly drained from the great wolf, it's body seizing before falling limp and sliding from the sword as gravity dragged it to the ground. He was left panting though from more than simple exertion, Blaise's sword feeling unusually heavy in his hand. He hadn't the want to drop it, however, and so scoured the canyon around him.

It appeared all the giant eagles had been disposed of and the wolves were down to two with Raphael, Lorenz, Hilda, Lysithea, and Marianne handling the situation.

"Professor! Claude!"

Balen snapped his head around, muscles tensing in anticipation, when Ignatz scurried down an embankment to stand by Claude.

"The demonic beast is closing in. If we do not want to fight it, we need to move now," Ignatz exclaimed.

"Any chance we can lure it to the edge of a cliff?" Claude inquired.

Ignatz jolted as if startled and he moved to resettle his glasses. "I... well, it is persistent in it's approach but it will take more than arrows. It doesn't seem fazed at all by Leonie's or mine."

Claude nodded, one hand on his chin. "I say we do as we did in Conand tower and find a way to back it off a cliff. Even if the fall doesn't kill it, we should have sufficient time to get out of this forsaken canyon. What do you think?"

It was a question directed to him, Balen knew. He was, personally, loathe to leave the creature alive when it was threatening them so but...

His gaze landed on the ongoing fight between his students and the wolves.

… He had already endangered them enough.

"Grab Lysithea. Her magic will help push it back from a distance while Leonie and I can push from the front," he ordered, nodding to Ignatz before the young archer raced off for the mage.

Balen snatched up the Sword of the Creator and followed Claude where they presumed Leonie waited. He thrust Blaise's sword into Claude's free hand as they crested the embankment. "Take this."

"Teach, you shouldn't have. You know I'm rubbish with a sword."

That was a joke. The only thing Balen had found Claude had difficulties with was lancework where he was truly abysmal. "Don't lose it," he insisted, clapping him on the back as he passed his house leader. He'd learned the action was some form of affection... at least with Claude and Raphael . Blaise hadn't been as appreciative and complained for weeks after that he'd bruised her. Hilda probably agreed with his sister's sentiment.

Claude eyed the weapon skeptically but shrugged and forced the blade into his half-empty quiver where it stuck out but was more or less secure. "Whatever you say. I'll try and keep the beast disoriented for you," he offered.

A nod and Balen jogged out to meet Leonie who had already spotted him and was nudging her horse along toward him.

The horse snorted and shook it's head as Leonie pulled it to a halt. "Professor, what's the plan?" she demanded, eyes focused outward toward the sounds of something very large moving.

He briefly explained as he searched out an adequate location to lure the beast. Somewhere he and Leonie would have ample space to move yet limiting to their foe. A spell of white magic he cast illuminated his chosen destination, earning a thumbs up from Claude.

So they should all be on the same page at least.

It didn't take long for the beast to finally come into view, drawn to them by some unseen thread.

Drawn to him, he corrected himself, the "Sothis-blessed."

He motioned to Leonie, and they were off, Leonie's steed keeping pace with Balen in a slower, more careful gallop.

More than the others, Balen was fond of Leonie's companionship in a battle. She fought like he did or, at least, the way he had been raised. As Jeralt's "one and only official apprentice" (she said that five times a day), it was expected she would pick up some of his maneuvers both in horseback and the lance in which his father favored.

Balen was fond of the familiar.

It grounded him and left him knowing exactly how to swing a battle in his favor.

The black beast was another matter altogether. He had never battled anything quite like it before Conand Tower, and there was enough there of which he knew he'd rather not make such a common occurrence. There was something truly gruesome in the way Miklan had been twisted and torn apart, unnatural in the way the way his body beget the beast…

... Concerning in the way the Lance of Ruin instigated the transformation.

The image burned in his mind when the lance's stone shone black and consumed the man.

The Sword of the Creator held no such stone though there was a conspicuous hole in the pommel where it should rest.

Balen almost felt he was back in Conand Tower as he slashed the Sword of the Creator at the beast before him. His weapon seemed to melt the protective hide in a way Leonie's lance and Claude's arrows could not hope to achieve.

But what was it about the weapon that made it so... different? Was it the stone, was it the Crest, was it the actual weapon? All of the above?

Was it dangerous?

The Sword of the Creator always glowed red when he touched it. It was familiar, like an old friend he never knew existed much less had.

But, if Miklan became a beast from wielding the Lance of Ruin, could the same happen to him?

He hadn't asked Rhea.

Gifting Sylvain the Lance of Ruin and then Flayn and Blaise's disappearance... the question had slipped his mind. He suddenly wasn't as confident in the weapon as he had been. All of Blaise's side-eyeing, her avoidance, the way she flinched, recoiled, or, otherwise, briefly took on the characteristics of a caged animal came to the forefront of his mind.

He had noticed. He knew her mannerisms better than anyone else.

She knew something he didn't, and he should have tried to find out.

Balen dodged claws and teeth. He outpaced the dark magic the beast spewed upon the ground. It was only interested in him, showing zero interest in Leonie or Claude even as they picked away at it's defenses.

It was easier than Miklan in that way, falling easy prey to the massive spell Lysithea cast upon it when she finally joined the fray. The beast, already on unsteady legs, couldn't recover it's defenses as Balen danced out of range and cut his sword in a horizontal arc. Leonie had switched to her bow and fired shots along with Claude at it's feet, and a second spell from Lysithea sent it tumbling deeper into the canyon below.

Silence permeated the air, an uneasy silence that made the hair on back of his neck stand on end.

Balen spun and took count of his students. Leonie, Claude, Lysithea… they seemed fine. Unharmed for the most part though they seemed to feel what he did as well, exchanging uneasy glances with one another. He ran past them where he had last seen the rest of his students and slid down the embankment.

Several cries of "Professor!" reached his ears.

They sounded like lost children and something in his chest tightened.

He heard frantic whispers of prayers, he could see the white glow of healing magic in the dark.

"Hilda!" It was Claude who called out from behind him, sliding past Balen in a haphazard kind of way with rocks rolling in every direction. "What happened?" he demanded.

More wolves happened, coming from deeper in the valley. Hilda had taken a hit for Marianne.

It felt as if a dagger pierced within him, and he clawed back at time, erasing the event from all but himself. He shuddered within at the pervasive pain even as he calmly ordered his House Leader to return to the other group.

Claude's leadership would turn the tides below.

He ordered Leonie to fall back with her bow, her only job to cover him and keep an escape route open. For all his concerns over the Sword of the Creator, now wasn't the time for them to hold him back, instead searching and pulling deep for the coursing power.

It was all he could do to keep the beast at bay until Lysithea arrived, but it was worth the heaviness in his limbs when he heard his students' victory cheers reverberate through the canyon, louder even than the black beast's roar.

Balen stayed where he was, falling back into a familiar numbness that was more comfortable than considering what was going on within him. His eyes followed the beast's pacing below. It wasn't dead, but it was well out of reach.

He saw Sothis appear out of the corner of his eye, the green-haired girl staring out over the expanse of Zanado.

Or, more specifically, where the confrontation with the Flame Emperor and Chevalier took place. There was no longer any sign of either.

"I cannot help but…" Sothis trailed off with a violent shake of her head. "... No, our work is done. Let us return before the demonic beast catches up…"

Balen nodded, turning his back upon the beast and all of the Red Canyon.

As he gathered his students together, he did not think he cared to return.

~FE~

He was quick to retreat from his class once they were safely within the walls of Garreg Mach. He told them he had to report to Rhea, but, mostly, he didn't want to look at them and feel that gnawing sensation inside himself.

Guilt.

Balen had figured little to nothing out. He was not any closer to finding Blaise, and he'd endangered his students. If it wasn't for Sothis... he'd have failed.

Again.

His body moved sluggishly through the grounds of the monastery.

It struck him to think he was tired.

Why now of all times?

You really don't understand, do you?

Balen swallowed his reply though he knew it didn't stop Sothis from hearing it.

… He couldn't handle more cryptic words at the moment.

Sothis huffed, materializing in his direct path. She floated at face level with her arms crossed.

He could push through her he knew. It wasn't like she was a physical barrier no matter how she tried to act as though she was. But she was Sothis and Balen did try to respect her so he paused his walk.

He waited.

And waited.

Sothis stared right back at him, foot tapping in the air. It reminded him a bit of Blaise when he'd done something she didn't like.

"Sorry."

Sothis shifted, bending at the waist so her face was inches from his with her hands on her hips.

For?

Balen raised an eyebrow.

For whatever she was mad about obviously.

His green-haired companion placed a hand against her head at that, shaking it while simultaneously massaging her temple. No, I'm not accepting that this time. Figure it out on your own.

With that she disappeared, leaving a slightly flustered and disgruntled Balen wondering what she was talking about. Shaking his head of the mystery that was Sothis, he continued his walk through the monastery.

It was past dawn by the time he was climbing the stairs to the second floor, bright, morning sunshine filtering through the windows. The many torches lined along the staircase looked dark in comparison. He passed only a guard or two in his path to the audience chamber, each saluting in respect to which he nodded. No other people were in the hallways this early.

Hopefully his students had the sense to keep the quiet and not draw attention to themselves. Then he thought of Claude and Hilda, the two least likely to keep to themselves ever and rolled his eyes.

He pushed his students from his mind as he neared the audience chamber. He could hear voices spilling from the room, but the door was open which usually meant anyone was welcome inside. As such, he was about to walk straight inside when the voice speaking made him pause.

His father.

Balen knew his father spoke with Rhea frequently. His job technically required such, but something in the way his voice was lowered suggested the conversation should have been held behind closed doors.

He should probably walk away.

He would have except he happened to make out Blaise's name, and, before he knew it, Balen was straining to make out what was being said.

"Peace, Jeralt. I understand your daughter's disappearance has been difficult. It has been so for many of us and why I have allocated as many resources as I am able to her recovery..."

Rhea's voice was its usual calm, laced appropriately with sympathy.

His father, on the other hand, made a noise more similar to a scoff. Balen was certain he must have spent much of the night drinking to do so openly before the Archbishop. "The Western Church is a scapegoat," he argued. "Nothing can be found there."

"They have made it clear of their alignment with questionable allies. The very same implicated in Blaise's kidnapping."

"Doesn't mean they know where they are."

There was a pause in the conversation before Rhea eventually spoke again, her voice softer still. "I do not believe Blaise will come to much harm. They returned her before, did they not?" she asked.

Returned her?

The words rang hollowly in his ears as he scoured his memory for any time Blaise was missing previously.

Jeralt bristled, an edge to his words. "How is it you…?"

"I was there at their birth, Jeralt. I know as well as you, Blaise was not born with the Crest of Chevalier."

"And was Balen born with the Crest of Flames?" Jeralt shot back.

Another pause of which had Balen straining ever more so as not to miss her reply.

"…Sitri bore the Crest of Flames though it was not a well-known fact. Balen inherited it from her," Rhea answered slowly. "Jeralt, I think of you and your children as family…"

"Then tell me who they are…" Jeralt interrupted, his voice straining, cracking even. "...And why they have been interested in my children since long before they could hold a sword," he pressed.

"I do not have the answers you seek. I implore you to instead focus on the investigation, and, I promise, you will be the first to know when a lead is uncovered," Rhea assured him.

From what Balen could hear, his father only grunted before excusing himself. And, by excusing himself, Balen meant Jeralt spun on his heel without any of the usual formalities expected. The heavy, unsteady clomp of his boots towards him had Balen casually backing out into the shadows to wait in an alcove. Drunk as he was, Jeralt passed him by without a glance.

He waited there for quite some time after his father left his vicinity.

Processing.

You must have been young to have no memory of her initial disappearance. Your strongest memories from before stem from your sister.

Sothis' irritation was still obvious in her voice, but at least she was still speaking to him. That was something.

He turned her words over in his mind.

They helped not except to further grow an inkling of doubt he was ill-prepared for.

He was missing critical information, and, as long as he was, his approach was flawed.

And, in an echo of the Flame Emperor's words, Blaise was the one paying the price. It made him cringe to think the masked enemy had a point on some level.

Two weeks.

The enemy had been ahead for two weeks.

"Balen?"

Only the slightest wince was evidence of his surprise as Rhea called out to him. He shifted around to see the Archbishop with a concerned expression watching him from outside his hiding place.

"I believed I sensed your presence. Might you join me for some tea, and we can discuss what you heard between your father and I?" she suggested.

For the first time in many months, Balen was wary to accept. He could feel a hint of Sothis' similar hesitance though she said nothing.

But he did have questions and Rhea almost certainly had some answers so he nodded.

He followed her in silence.

Rhea always made a crescent moon tea blend, and she did not veer from such today as Balen watched the now-familiar routine. Normally, she seemed happier as she prepared the tea, but today her movements were full of tension. It could have been his imagination, but he thought the tea may have absorbed some of the atmosphere. Even his first whiff suggested a more bitter quality to it than usual.

Of course he mentioned nothing but sipped at the hot beverage as he always did.

And, as always, Rhea was the one to engage in conversation.

"I am afraid Jeralt has never quite come to terms with your mother's death," Rhea admitted in a whisper as she stirred a spoonful of honey into her tea.

"You knew her?"

It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement. Their conversation had made that clear enough to Balen.

"Your mother?" Rhea questioned, a deeper frown pulling at her lips. "Yes, she... was a nun here at Garreg Mach and…. very dear to me." Rhea trailed off, passing the resulting silence off as a moment to sip her tea. "She was always frail and birthing twins is difficult for even the healthiest of women. It was too much for her but, in the end, she weighed her life against her childrens' and chose them. Chose you..." Rhea looked at him then with a deep fondness that he couldn't help but feel drawn into, "...and your sister. It was her decision."

Balen broke the eye contact, suddenly finding an interest in the various paintings on the wall depicting the Goddess. The Sword of the Creator felt heavy in it's sheath, and he fidgeted.

The sound of Rhea setting her tea on the table drew his gaze back to see she had looked away from him. "I see much of Sitri in the two of you. I can only imagine the pain Jeralt must feel."

Balen didn't have a response. He didn't know either.

"Do you remember the Book of Seiros Part Five? The sentence following the eternal commandments?" Rhea asked.

He had to think back to when he had read the Books of Seiros, but still it took only a moment for him to nod.

Rhea smiled, soft and full of pride. "'The Goddess cares for and protects all that is beautiful in this world.' Do not fear. Her will is eternal," she assured him.

"Seiros ensures that her will be done," Balen quoted, his eyebrows knitting at the statement within the texts. It bothered him in a way it hadn't before. Like the Goddess needed Seiros who was a mortal… and no longer alive. So who did that now? The Church as a whole? The same Church that was currently waging a kind of war with it's own factions?

It didn't inspire much confidence.

Rhea beamed even more, seemingly unaware of the internal question beyond the quote. "Yes, her divine revelation was written for us to understand the path the Goddess has laid out before us."

Balen barely heard her, his thoughts still following it's own direction.

Because, if the Church decided what the Goddess willed, then that naturally put Rhea at the head of that position.

And Rhea shifted her resources back to the Western Church.

"Blaise isn't priority," Balen stated aloud, the Archbishop's smile vanishing as quickly as it had come.

She was silent for a long moment, no doubt considering her words carefully. "We have a duty to protect and, as such, I must allocate our attention to areas of which will protect the most. Not just one."

Balen nodded. Of course he could understand that.

Rhea wasn't the Goddess. She wasn't omnipotent and eternal, seeing all, hearing all, etc. She did what she could, and there were so many in need of their help.

It didn't stop his feelings of disappointment, however.

Blaise was in the hands of a Goddess who, for whatever reason, was relying on mortal judgement to protect Fodlan.

Was that right? Or was he misunderstanding something?

Rhea must have had an inkling of Balen's doubts as she continued right on cue. "The Goddess's Will flows in strange ways. She appears in her own time aligning her plans with those who love her. Sometimes faith is all there is, and we must cling to it. Watch. And see," Rhea admitted.

He supposed the Goddess did perform miracles even now…

"Was what happened to Miklan Gautier the Goddess's will?" It was quite the sudden question he knew, but Rhea showed no sign of being surprised by it.

"His transformation into a Black Beast was nothing short of divine punishment from the Goddess. Punishment for someone arrogant and foolish enough to use a Hero's Relic even though they were unworthy and unqualified," Rhea answered with just a hint of an edge to her voice.

So the Goddess performed judgment as well...

"Will I share the same fate?"

"Dear Child, recall the fourth eternal commandment. If someone without a Crest were to wield the Relic you possess, they would likely meet the same fate as Miklan. You, however, have been chosen. You are worthy of wielding the Sword of the Creator so there is no need to worry."

He was worthy.

Sothis-blessed.

The Black Beast was cursed.

"Is Blaise worthy?" Balen inquired.

She had calmed the Lance of Ruin in a way he felt no one else could. Surely that was a blessing from the Goddess.

Rhea maintained her smile, but Balen could see the tension within. "Why ever would she not be?"

There was an expectation to her voice. Balen got the feeling she wanted him to explain the question. He shrugged instead.

He didn't want to explain having seen Chevalier in Zanado where, apparently, only the cursed are welcome.

His skin prickled as Rhea regarded him for another moment before the stare was broken and she poured them another cup of tea. "... I assume you have heard my decision on the Battle of the Eagle and Lion..."

An easier topic. Balen thought it a more pleasurable conversation. He transferred his full attention to it and allowed his questions to fall away into the recesses of his mind.

For later.

But not much later as it would turn out.

As if the Goddess insisted he work through it, Balen found himself stumbling upon Claude in the library that evening. Claude who flashed his exaggerated smile in greeting and offered the professor Blaise's sword with a flourish. His house leader didn't ask about the weapon Balen had requested he hold onto but the question was there in the way Claude's gaze regarded it.

"My sister's," Balen admitted, if only to satisfy his student's curiosity. It wasn't exactly worth being secretive over.

"I had a hunch," Claude stated. He said it like it wasn't an interesting bit of information.

His eyes betrayed him.

"She was there," Claude went on.

"Was," Balen repeated. "Not anymore."

He didn't say it had been several months ago since she had lost the sword.

"So we're back to ground zero then?" Claude guessed, stretching his arms behind his head as he raised his eyes to stare thoughtfully at the ceiling.

They had never left ground zero.

But Balen didn't say that either. Claude likely already knew.

"Say, Teach, that Demonic Beast. Do you think it was once human?"

Again he asked the question as if he was curious about the weather, not even glancing down from the ceiling.

Balen hesitated. Rhea had forbidden all of them from mentioning what they had seen at Conand Tower lest the general public turn on the nobles. But then this was Claude who was in nearly as deep as Balen. "Rhea suggested it was divine punishment for misuse of a Relic," he explained.

So, yes.

The Demonic Beast was cursed.

Claude chuckled softly.

It was still fake.

"Well, I don't know about all that…" he mused.

"You do not believe in divine punishment." It was a statement and not a question from Balen.

Claude shrugged. "I believe your sister might have had the right idea as opposed to the Archbishop."

Balen jerked slightly. He had noticed too?

"She treated them with caution and not with pride. Seems to me, if it is divine punishment, the Goddess has a curious way of deciding what is worthy of judgement and what isn't," Claude remarked. "There is no record of the Relics having such a power..." he waved his hand at one of the tables full of books stacked in pillars taller than the two of them. "... I've looked."

That was odd from an educational standpoint, but not so much if Rhea wanted to keep the peace.

And Claude wasn't wholly correct.

There was one text of which may not state it directly but certainly could infer such.

Balen pushed by his student and disappeared amongst the bookcases. He knew exactly where to find it, returning to an intrigued Claude in a matter of minutes. Opening the text, he pointed out a passage.

The Goddess's power, intended to stem the flow of evil, became a tool of destruction all because of the greed of humanity.

It certainly could mean nothing more than the Relics being turned upon one another and for oneself but it was vague enough to lend question. Besides, wasn't that what happened to Miklan? He knew he couldn't wield the Lance of Ruin yet stole away with it. His greed led to his transformation.

Claude clapped Balen on the shoulder. "In the sacred text of Creation. I knew I kept you around for a reason," he laughed before he trailed off, expression turning oddly serious as he turned away from the text and toward his professor. "I am not certain what this means, Teach, but it seems to me you've met a dead end. I found something that might help in your sister's desk..."

Balen had half a mind to berate Claude for snitching through Blaise's personal items, but he couldn't deny the curiosity of what he had found.

Nor the trepidation.

His house leader wasn't even faking a smile.

Claude slipped something nondescript out of his cloak and held it out.

An envelope addressed to Blaise from the looks of it. The seal was broken already, suggesting it wasn't exactly new.

Balen glanced from the envelope to Claude before he slowly pulled the letter out. Whatever was in it, Claude clearly thought it important. His eyes scanned the letter.

I desire an audience with you over a matter of great importance of which I cannot divulge as flippantly as through a letter. However, I believe it will be of benefit to you. Should you choose to attend, I will be where we first met at precisely ten o'clock PM on the second day of the Blue Sea Moon. If I am correct in my belief you will have some interest in this letter, I urge you to make every effort to attend. Explanations will be given in person.

With Névé's blessing, I look forward to your presence.

-FE

FE, Névé… If he hadn't already seen the two together he might not have understood the implications within the letter.

The Flame Emperor and Chevalier.

"She must have gotten this letter some time before the Blue Sea Moon," Claude stated.

He was right, of course, which made Balen's blood freeze on it's own.

They had been in contact with Blaise much longer than he had anticipated… and no one had noticed. "I already knew they tricked her," Balen admitted without taking his eyes from the letter.

"I don't know, Teach. I don't see why they would trick her. She didn't sell them out during the Rite of Rebirth or after, and she wasn't being held with Flayn. I was thinking someone else found out."

Balen didn't need Claude to explain who that someone else might have been under the circumstances that Blaise was a willing ally of the Flame Emperor and Chevalier. He steadfastly ignored the idea. He held the offending letter back out to Claude. "Burn it."

Claude raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?" he asked.

He nodded.

The implications were too great if the wrong person saw and misunderstood the situation.

"I want Blaise to come home. Not be executed," Balen insisted.

Claude stared at him for a heartbeat longer before pocketing the letter. "Fair enough. I'll see to it," he agreed. With the faintest of smiles, he nodded to Balen once more and left the professor to himself.

For his part, Balen moved to return the Book of Seiros Part Two back where he had gotten it from. But not without reading the last line with a newfound perspective.

The Goddess grieved and, heartbroken, hid herself in the heavens from whence she came...

In no other scripture did it mention her return.

Maybe she never did.

A/N:

First, I want to thank everyone as usual for their thoughts on the previous chapter. For those in the reviews, I agree with everyone that Edelgard doesn't do herself any favors in White Clouds. The difference in this story will probably remain minimal in that aspect but then we'll have to see cause I surprise myself frequently.

This chapter... well, I ran out of time sort of. Work is not being good to me at the moment but I've opted to post what I've got since it's plenty long enough even without some stuff I wanted. You might feel it though but alas.

Next chapter will, hopefully, tie up some stuff in preparation to go back to Blaise and move us into the Remire Village chapter!