Chapter Text
Byleth Eisner was a lady. While her father Jeralt Eisner had not been born to the nobility he made enough of a name for himself in the military to marry a woman of decent enough position within society, Byleth’s mother. Unfortunately she died shortly after giving birth. Due to the nature of his rank Jeralt traveled often and took his daughter with him the entire way. Growing a personality amongst the ranks of soldiers was a task for a little girl, one that left her quiet and withdrawn in the way of outwardly presented emotions.
Somehow she grew up able to be, or learned to do so, entirely blank faced through the scolding of her general father. She was able to do this following making a complete mess of the kitchens in the name of experimentation. She had only been seven in this particular instance and yet already could face down her father better than most of his lieutenants. Granted the experimentation had been done alongside her enlistment with a few of the younger men under his command, but that was neither here nor there.
Even when they would be stationed in towns where she could mingle with other children her age, notably other young girls, Byleth did not make lasting friendships. Something about her was always too adult, too boring. If she had a shilling for every time someone commented on the emptiness of her eyes she may have a fortune of her own to rival her father’s. By the end of scheduled play dates she would always be found reading in a corner or training with some found stick in the yard.
“What was it this time, kid?” Jeralt would ask, simply kneeling beside his daughter as she continued copying drills she had seen him do with his own troops.
“They wanted to play with dolls.”
The father picked at the daughter’s hair to pull out a fallen leaf that had snagged in the dark strands. The color and texture of her hair, like most things about her look, were of her mother and nothing of him. “I thought you liked dolls. You have two at home.”
Still Byleth would not meet his gaze, repeating her motions with her acquired stick-sword. “All they want to do with their dolls is brush their hair and pretend to be their mothers, not act out any interesting plots with them.”
And Jeralt would sigh because he knew the issue was largely that Byleth seemed to have a broader imagination, or perhaps simply a more advanced one, than most little girls… but that was not the whole of the issue. It was not only that she had watched her father practice strategies with models across broad battlefield tables, something he was not above admitting appeared very similar to the playing of dolls. No… Byleth also knew not what a mother was, much less how to pretend to be one.
Like this Byleth’s entrance into ‘proper society’ was delayed until Jeralt Eisner could return home to the Kingdom’s soil. But by then it was too late. Byleth was polite enough to make conversation, smart enough to know all of the proper topics, and a quick enough study to catch up on all of the current fashions… but she could not make any friends. Jeralt did not expect nor much want for there to be offers of marriage, but he would have liked for his daughter to find some sort of social circle where she could belong.
Late in the evening when she told him goodnight he would stroke her hair and say, “if I get called back to the front, I will have to leave you here. I would feel better if you had people around you for that.”
“Maybe I am simply not meant to have close friends, father. I have come to accept that this may be the case,” Byleth told him once. For being a battle hardened soldier, the pained look he gave her for such words… she never uttered anything like it again. Even when it did come to pass that he received orders to again visit the battlefield, leaving his only daughter in their newly purchased capital home. As heartless as her less than emotive face made her appear to the general public Byleth did not have the heart to be anything but supportive and loving towards her father in his departure, giving him many assurances that she would be perfectly fine in his absence.
Shortly after Jeralt had left for the warfront, Byleth found some thick blankets and children’s coats in the attic of their capital home. When he was around Jeralt endeavored to get Byleth out of the house too regularly for her to indulge in the thorough learning of a location as she was often want to do. He cited that it made her too sluggish for too long, too obsessive of small details that he feared she would become lost in them. But it was only that Byleth liked to understand a thing she knew would be a part of her life for a long time - all of it’s nooks and crannies.
This is how she came upon the discarded - forgotten? - items in the attic. Probably left by the former tenants she decided, but she had heard from the household staff that all of their children were grown and the couple were moving to live out their days in their quieter country home. This meant they would have no need for these children sized coats.
When she asked the housemaid if she knew what churches were in most need of items for the poor she had said she would take the items there herself, but Byleth had simply shaken her head. If she could simply tell her the address Byleth could take them. Being so new to the city Byleth thought any chance to learn her way around was a chance to be taken and relished. Besides, she could use the exercise after staying in the house for an entire week of exploring after Jeralt had gone.
It was there that she first saw Mercedes. In a small back vestry, assisting a nun in sorting donated goods. Byleth at once wondered at this girl that fought the current norm of after a certain age wearing one’s hair pinned up rather than about the shoulders. Mercedes wore her hair long and pulled loosely over one shoulder to be tied with a simple ribbon. So thick and gold, it looked soft to the touch. Had Byleth thought she was young enough to get away with it she would have reached out to do so - something she had in fact done with women when she was a child. She so loved beautiful and soft hair.
“Oh, do you have things to donate as well?” The girl asked when she noticed Byleth standing in the open doorway, a mishmash of thick cloth in her arms. Her voice was so high and serene. Was that how angels spoke? Byleth imagined it to be so. Even at that moment she knew that forevermore when she heard the phrase ‘the voice of an angel’ the one that rang in her head would be that of Mercedes.
When she once more had hold of her faculties Byleth nodded and fully stepped into the room. “Yes, my father and I recently moved into a house. The previous tenants left these behind and have no need of them. I thought they appeared to be in good enough shape but - I am not the best judge.” She said as she presented them out to the nun.
First a dark coat was held up by one of the nun’s hands, and then a lighter raincoat in the other. “I know just the family that could use these for their children,” the elderly woman smiled warmly. “Thank you so much for your generosity, madam.”
“Not at all,” Byleth responded automatically, a habit of etiquette that trailed off as she surveyed the table they were using. “Are you sorting them by level of wear and then by type?”
“Yes indeed-y we are,” Mercedes answered, her words melted into a soft giggle like butter into a warm biscuit. “How observant you are.” The way in which she wore her hair the only deviance at the time, Byleth noted that the blonde had a white softly front-ruffled blouse and dark brown skirt. Did she not worry about staining the pristine white as most ladies did?
“I have been told as much from time to time.” Byleth gave a small and hopeful hum. “May I be of some assistance? I will try not to get in your way.”
Briefly Byleth thought she had worded it wrong or worn an extremely ill-fitted expression for such a request. Mercedes had looked up to stare at her with a look of mild - shock? Disapproval? Her mouth was slightly open and her eyebrows raised but not so much as to appear in utter disbelief. Before Byleth could apologize and take her leave, however, the woman was clapping her hands together and breaking out into a large smile. “That would be wonderful! Let us introduce ourselves so we can be proper friends.”
Again Byleth thought of baked goods in Mercedes presence. This time of rising dough in an oven, opening up and folding out inside her own chest under the sheer warmth of that smile. “My name is Byleth Eisner.”
“I am Mercedes Ferguson.” When Byleth reached out her hand Mercedes held it in both of hers. “And now we are proper friends.”
The nun cleared her throat and therein made Mercedes step back. The younger woman held a hand over her mouth, her face falling into an apologetic expression. “Oh, Mother Hill, I am so sorry. I seemed to have forgotten you are here.”
“It is fine. Young people can tend to do that when they get caught amongst themselves,” Mother Hill said with a simple shake of her head and laugh. “Now then, Miss Eisner, I will show you how we decide the usefulness of a garment before handing it out to the poor…”
Mother Hill was kind enough to make tea in the small kitchen of the rectory behind the church for the two ladies, as thanks for their assistance. While the kettle was being put on Mercedes offered to show Byleth around the church. It was a small of a smaller community variety, holding a cozier feeling than that of the near dauntingly soaring cathedrals that Byleth had always perceived to be more along the lines of tourist attractions than places of worship.
“I do love the quiet of a church in between services. The light making colorful shapes on the floor from the stained glass windows. The serenity of the lit candles.” As Mercedes spoke Byleth watched her face. Her eyes looked so far away as she spoke of the emotions she felt inside churches. While Byleth had never spent any considerable amount of time within the walls of a house of religion, likely because her father was not himself a religious man, within this homey chapel she felt she could understand a portion of the sentiment Mercedes spoke of.
“Are you going to enter the service yourself?” Byleth asked following some time of companionable silence and contemplation.
“At one time I thought I would,” Mercedes’ eyes came back to the here and now. In a sad, regretful sort of way.
When Byleth was beginning to ask what had changed, however, Mother Hill was calling to them that the tea was ready. The topic did not come up again in that meeting. Instead the three women sat around the small nook of a table and talked about the weather, local events, places Byleth should see as a newcomer not only to the capital but practically the Kingdom, considering she had been gone since early childhood. In not so subtly offering to take Mercedes along as her guide Byleth had only received light laughter and vague responses. But she did tell Byleth that she was often at the church helping out on Wednesday afternoons.
“Have you heard of the Ferguson family?” Byleth asked the kitchen maid that evening, sitting in the kitchen over a cup of tea. Most of the staff had already given up on expecting the lady of the house to follow proper household etiquette such as taking her tea in the parlor. For her week of taking measurements to all of the rooms had also included entering the kitchen, the panty, and asking after anything she came across and did not recognize with… the bare faced curiosity of a child. One that did not at all include a feeling of superiority as most ladies of rank had towards their servants.
Briefly Jenny, the kitchen maid, thought on the question. She had been washing the pots and pans used for cooking the houses dinner, turning round to make small thoughtless shapes in the air with a wooden spoon. “I don’t believe I have, although it does sound familiar, you’d be best to ask the cook ma’am.” Jenny gesture the spoon in Byleth’s direction as she came to an answer for her. “She loves to read the society papers and knows all about them high class families.”
The cook would prove a valuable resource in Byleth’s navigating the capital then. She arose early the next morning to question her over breakfast. The woman was not relish sharing her knowledge, Byleth would say, not in the same way a schoolgirl took any chance to showcase what she understood and her classmates did not. Rather, Mrs. Foster stated it plainly. “Ferguson isn’t quite a noble family, miss,” Mrs. Foster said, kneading the dough for lunchtime rolls, “but the name was familiar to Jenny ‘cause he’s a merchant. He started out going round to the fancy houses sellin’ wares, until he made enough to buy himself a storefront. I ‘ad ‘eard he’d adopted a daughter, this Miss Mercedes must be ‘er.”
Byleth’s brows came together. “Adopted?”
Mrs. Foster only shrugged. The fact that Byleth ate her breakfast at the same flour dusted table on which the cook worked added to the less pedantically proper way Mrs. Foster spoke to her - something that Byleth quite appreciated. “He ain’t never married from what I hear, so mayhaps he was lonely.”
“But why a daughter then, as a single man?” No one could answer Byleth’s question. Not Mrs. Foster, not Mr. Lindel the butler. For the entire week that followed Byleth attempted to discern what reasons there could be for someone to make such a decision. Most of those she came up with were, unfortunately for her new friend Mercedes, unscrupulous in nature.
One of the more plausible possibilities was that Mercedes had wealth he stood to control as her male guardian. He could be a less successful brother or nephew of the family Mercedes was from that had taken her in once she was orphaned. If he was smart enough with his finances to rise from a traveling salesman to the owner of a store then perhaps he would not completely waste her inheritance on bad investments or frivolous spending. This, however, did not take the timeline into consideration. Perhaps he had adopted her and then used her wealth, rather than his own, to purchase his store.
The way that Mercedes had not given her a definitive yes or no answer to Byleth’s requests to be her guide through the capital did not bode well for this scenario. The girl waited long for Wednesday to come, unsure of how to explain her trepidation even to herself. Was it simply her long standing personal trait of extreme curiosity? Was it because she was so taken by Mercedes voice and manner of being?
“You came!” Mercedes exclaimed joyfully when Byleth entered the church the following week.
“Are there more clothes to sort?” Byleth asked in reaching the blonde, who had been bent checking over the cushion in one of the pews.
“No, but there are other ways we may help and visit at the same time.” Mercedes assured her.
And this was how the young miss Byleth Eisner found herself polishing the candlesticks, chalices, and other fine silver wares of the church right alongside Mercedes. Again they were seated at the table of the small vestry, it’s surface covered over with all of the items that needed polishing. Byleth told herself to pay extra mind complimenting the hard work her own house servants did, to keep her father’s house and it’s goods so clean. That she continued to bother them with questions and conversation that most staff did not have to contend with, at least not to the same volume, only extended their time.
“I don’t suppose this is something you are used to doing,” Mercedes said after instructing Byleth for the fourth time that she had missed some of the smaller nooks within the candlesticks.
“How could you tell?” Byleth hummed.
At first the blonde did not respond. “You know, when you first appeared I did not much trust you to show up again today, even after helping us with the clothes and blankets.” Mercedes gave in explanation as she worked steadily at a chalice’s intricate base. “You have the fine clothes and posture of a young lady. Many like you try to be charitable for means of social bragging, but after they see it involves more than a little work they do not return. Even still - here you are, not complaining a mite even when I correct you.”
“My hands are not quite as delicate as most girl’s in similar positions to mine,” Byleth said, briefly pausing in her own movements to peer at her palms. The skin was not as soft and unblemished as was proper for a young lady. At the heels of her palm and in her fingers there were marks of callouses from wielding training blades and heavy enough outside exploration. Climbing up trees, hopping over fences, and the like. “I imagine if they were they would be beginning to ache soon. This is deceptively difficult work. The muscle and fine skills required to properly polish were unexpected for me. But - I enjoy learning new skills.”
“As do I,” Mercedes agreed with a smile, “although I do not often learn them quickly or without incident. I can be quite a klutz.”
Byleth smiled back, giving her an amused sort of expression. “Is that so?”
“Do not appear so expectant to see it for yourself,” Mercedes chided with an only partly dramatic sigh. “I would like to seem competent in the eyes of my new friend for at least a while.”
“I cannot imagine many ways for you to fall from my graces, Miss Mercedes.” Byleth said. Her smile had melted into something softer. Something her father and only a few close, kind individuals in her youth may have seen. When Mercedes looked up to meet her gaze, seeing this smile that had delivered such affectionate words - her cheeks flushed a shade or two darker.
Byleth allowed the silence for a time before breaking it to ask, “would you like to visit a tea shop with me after this? I do believe I saw one not far from here on my way.”
“Ah-“ Almost imperceptively Mercedes’ eyes flicked to the clock on the wall opposite them. “I am afraid not, I do apologize. Maybe next time.”
Maybe next time became one of the more common phrases Byleth heard from Mercedes’ lips. For a month of Wednesdays they would do some chores around the church or the grounds, such as clearing the cemetery of leaves and twigs, sweeping the cobwebs from the chapel’s ceiling. Every time Byleth would suggest some other outing, either later in the week or following their church duties. Once she even asked if they could meet for lunch before walking to the church together the following week, but that notion too had been rejected. Mercedes would never give an actual reason as to why. While Byleth was more than used to rejection, the continued genuine warmth from Mercedes made her believe it was not out of any malice.
“You really ought to take better care of yourself Byleth,” Mercedes said one Wednesday. It had been the fifth time Byleth had yawned since they began clearing the small garden of the church. Or perhaps the better word would be reprimanded - for after the lesson in polishing this was the most sternly Mercedes had ever spoken to Byleth. “You should get better sleep. What were you doing up so late?”
Another sleepy yawn. Byleth did not care for the grave error such an action was in the company of others, especially not when said company was Mercedes. “Reading.”
“Whatever were you reading so long that you lost so much sleep?”
“Some research on poisons and their varying uses as well as symptoms.” Of a simple reply, as if she were stating the weather.
At that Mercedes set aside her small gardening shovel and gave Byleth her full attention. “And why in the world would you need to read something like that?”
“One can never know,” Byleth hummed, placing another pulled weed in the growing pile beside her. “I like to know a great many things. It may come in handy one way or another.”
It did not appear Mercedes was convinced. “Knowing poisons?”
Clear blue eyes squinted in search of the words to explain. Byleth had always been among people that either already knew of her eccentricities - such as her father - or those that thought them too strange to ask for any reason behind them. “My father is a captain in the military. I spent much of my childhood in places where using the wrong fork at dinner and causing hurtful gossip about myself was not my most frequent, nor most catastrophic worry. There were poisonous plants and venomous snakes, dangerous wild animals, or even tamed ones that could turn if not treated or read properly. I suppose growing up in such a manner… I learned it beneficial to always be investigating the world around me. What could hurt me - what could heal me.”
“Well before you finish pulling that very good and purposefully planted flower that will do you no harm at all,” Mercedes sighed, reaching her hand out to rest it on Byleth’s outstretched wrist ready to rid the soil of a tulip, “why don’t you come over here with me.”
Some could say that Byleth gave little resistance to the tug at her wrist because she was too tired. Some would only be half right. The rest of it simply was that Byleth felt little need to resist. Mercedes’ touch was so featherlight and warm on her skin it was as if any amount of force against it would break this newborn moment. Something that could turn incandescently beautiful if it was allowed to live out it’s youth.
Away they walked to a quiet corner of the garden they had already thoroughly cleaned. There was a small opening beneath the trails of soft purple wisteria that Mercedes bent down into and sat herself down. Neatly she spread out her broad tan skirt. Once satisfied she patted the spot beside her for Byleth to sit. It appeared as if the space would be a bit cramped with the both of them but Byleth felt little reason to object. She tipped her head down, gingerly pushing aside the dainty purple curtain whilst she crouched to begin settling herself beside Mercedes. Barely a moment after she had sat herself down Mercedes was tugging on her bicep to throw off her gravity, sending Byleth falling to her side until her fall was pillowed by her friend’s lap.
“We did enough work, we have time for a quick nap.” Mercedes said as the world righted itself, moving about as it was following Byleth’s sudden shift. The easy passing of Mercedes’ fingers through her hair made her eyes grow heavy that much sooner. And the way that Mercedes began to hum in that voice of hers, an aimless sort of tune… Despite the time of year Byleth realized she felt exceedingly warm and cozy in this moment with her head resting in Mercedes lap. Like this little niche created by the wisteria was a tiny cottage home for them with a lit fireplace and warm cocoa on a lazy winter’s night. Byleth drifted off dreaming of just such scenes with Mercedes.
When Byleth arrived home after that reverie of an afternoon with her friend she decided enough was enough. Had there been any indications that Mercedes truly did not want to spend time with Byleth outside of the church - Byleth would have left it at that and discontinued her invitations that she was well aware became rude and invasive when extended despite multiple refusals. But so many things did not add up. Byleth wanted to know if the reason for Mercedes’ strange behavior surrounding her schedule or being in each other’s company elsewhere were at all due to a less than hospitable home life for her friend. If Mercedes reasons were of her own will - then Byleth would accept it.
It was a long shot, she knew it well, but finally she resorted to simply skimming through the entirety of the most recent copy of Burke’s Peerage for any and all Mercedes that could be around the right age. Just as Mercedes had perceived in Byleth a young lady of higher financial standing, Byleth too found Mercedes to hold a few traits that were indicative of being taught the etiquette of a lady. Her straight backed posture, the care she took for her hair. This lended to the possibility that she was from the nobility, if even a lower branch.
That was where Byleth received the answer she was looking for.
“You have had many names, Mercedes.” Byleth said in ‘greeting’ when she came upon said woman replacing offering candles that following Wednesday.
Mercedes shrieked, one of the candles loudly ‘plonk’-ing back down in the glass votive holder. “B-Byleth?” She said as she as she turned to see whom had spoken with a hand to her chest in shock.
“My apologies,” Byleth bowed her head, “I tried to call out to you from the door but you did not hear.”
“Ah-I see. I can be a bit absentminded…” Mercedes trailed off in a nervous sort of laugh, tucking some hair behind her ear. A nervous gesture that allowed her to look away. “You sure don’t know how to give up. Finding out about me, I mean.”
“It was not out of a disregard for your wishes, I assure you,” Byleth insisted. “I’ve been told I’m too curious for my own good. And I was… worried for you, when you would not tell me any way to meet you other than here, nor why.”
Now Mercedes turned her eyes on Byleth again. Her head tilted to the side just so as her mouth broke into a more sincere smile. “That is sweet of you to say.”
“All I learned is that you were born to the Martritz family, and with the death of your father your mother was remarried to Baron Bartels. Your adoption by Johnathan Ferguson was not in Burke’s Peerage.” Byleth said, trying her best to convey genuine warmth towards this girl, nothing indicative of an egregious violation of Mercedes privacy or autonomy. Nor of the disgust Mercedes now so clearly expected from those that knew of her past. And then lastly, “at least not the copy in my home, anyway.”
“And that I have inherited a Crest,” Mercedes added. Again she looked away, her eyes sad. She moved to sit in the nearest pew and cast her eyes up at one of the stained glass windows. “So much just in one book.”
“But not enough to make any meaningful judgement of someone’s character,” Byleth said, softly, intentionally, in her sitting beside Mercedes.
Finally she turned to look at Byleth. Mercedes eyes were blue but in such a different way to Byleth’s own. If Byleth’s were glass marbles, clear right down to the center of her being, then Mercedes were two ponds. Pools full of a depth she doubted most people recognized, much less understood. “I do not reject your invitations out of any malice towards you, I truly hope you know that.”
It was unlike her, but Byleth did not even recognize this in herself as she reached to hold Mercedes hand and stare into her eyes. “Has he harmed you in any way?”
Even in this situation Mercedes had to laugh, although it was a strange sort of sound. Unexpected. “Not in the ways you are thinking, I assure you. He just… wants to find me a match among the nobility, now that my Crest is not tied to any major line.”
Byleth nodded for her to continue. “But that is not what you want.”
And Mercedes shook her head, looking out with her soft gaze around the church while still clutching Byleth’s hand in turn. “I want to be of the church. After my mother’s second husband was… not so kind to us, we fled to a country church for refuge. They took care of us, warmed and loved us in our time of need. I want to do that for others. The people I saw there, in far worse situations than our own…” Another shake of her head, disallowing herself from growing too full of emotion.
The daughter of a general and a late lady of standing but a lady of standing all the same, Byleth could hold little understanding of being in such a position. Most girls her age would likely be able to sympathize with being pushed to marry for a place in society - but Byleth had always been spoiled by her father in this and many regards. “Have you told him as much? Your father.”
The look Mercedes gave her, a forlorn smile that did not reach her kind and compassionate eyes, said enough. What would it matter if she had? “He does not know I come here so often. He would likely put a stop to it if he did - he thinks I spend time at tea houses or painting in the park.”
“I apologize for putting you in the position of having to reject me so, and for wantonly ignoring said rejections,” Byleth said after a long moment of reflection. “I will stop trying to invite you out. If we cannot be friends anywhere but here, then let it be so, rather than not friends at all.”
A sigh passed through Byleth’s lips and her eyes became downcast before she continued. Not out of an inability to admit her truths or even shame over them, but out of understanding how they appeared as flaws in the eyes of others. “I am not the most adept at following all of the proper social norms, nor do I particularly enjoy the situations in which they are wholly necessary, so it has always been… difficult for me to make close friends. I enjoy your company too much to put a stop to it for a reason such as where I must keep it.”
The relief that washed over Mercedes’ face… the way that it made Byleth’s heart beat so rapidly in her chest was close, but only barely, to the way it sped up to feel akin to that of a hummingbird’s wings when Mercedes hugged her gratefully. There was even the hint of thankful tears in those beautiful eyes when Mercedes bade Byleth goodbye. Mercedes was not upset by Byleth’s research into her past, rather she was relieved that Byleth would neither end their friendship nor use her secret in any harmful gossip.
For a brief time Byleth believed the matter settled even if it was not in a manner she would have liked the best. She understood enough of the capital’s society to know that she could not simply demand to meet this man and speak her perceived sense into him. Nor was that likely something Mercedes would want. However, the relief over the conclusions was just that. Brief. The following Wednesday morning, before Byleth could make her way to the church, she received a letter.
‘Dear Miss Eisner,
In most cases I would bring this matter up with your father, but as I have been made aware he is out of the country in his duties, I am forced to communicate with you in his stead. It has been brought to my attention that my daughter Mercedes has been spending her valuable time at a local church. While I have always commended her charitable nature, I have made it clear that what spare time she has should be spent in pursuits that more suitably prepare her to be wed.
In my being informed of her whereabouts this Wednesday I also learned of your presence there and consequent friendship with my daughter. Having not been properly introduced by a mutual acquaintance that could vouch for your character I would be remiss to not state that I did not at first condone this friendship. It should be noted that the introduction via a nun of the church is not the worst case scenario and would not be wholly damaging to my daughter’s reputation, but was still not the proper way for things to have been done. However in making inquiries about your family myself I have reached a decision that, should you agree to partake, will be to the benefit of all parties.
You may continue your relationship with my daughter, some of your time of which together may be spent at the church. However for this to occur you must agree to also be social with her at public events. Connections that you have within society, whether by your father’s rank or your late mother’s, will be called upon for invitations to events that you will attend with my daughter.
The goal shall continue to be finding a proper suitor for Mercedes - as it should be for any girl of her age - and your friendship will be as a possible means to this end. That is the only way in which I will allow it to continue.
I await your response,
Mr. Johnathan Ferguson’
“Ma’am?”
Byleth looked up. Mr. Lindel was standing over her. She must have been sitting reading the letter a long enough time after he had handed it to her to warrant an amount of worry from the man. So many lines of questions and their possibilities had been running through her mind she had forgotten he was still standing there.
How had Mr. Ferguson found out? They had spent a fair amount of time talking about Byleth’s confrontation of Mercedes, it may have even been longer than the usual time Mercedes was away. Mercedes had never let on how she arrived at the church and she had always been there before Byleth. She could have had a coach take her to the false destination she told her father and then walked from there. Her father could have gone looking for her at this location and, in asking about her finding she had not in fact been there at all that day, gone on a mad search. Mercedes was so kind hearted Byleth could easily see her dispelling the truth if she came home to a truly distraught father.
Another equally likely possibility was that a trusted footman brought her directly to the church and picked her up from a different location - as Byleth had always seen Mercedes leaving down the street rather than straight into a carriage. But if Mercedes did not arrive to that agreed upon spot for pick up then said footman could have grown worried and relayed the truth to Mr. Ferguson in case any tragedy had befallen Mercedes.
As for this ultimatum of sorts… Byleth took a deep centering breath. “Do not worry Mr. Lindel. I am fine. I will have a reply for you to take shortly.”
This situation was not within the realm of comfort for Byleth by any means, not at all something she would have ever chosen. But in asking herself if she believed the presence of Mercedes in her life to be worth the impending discomfort it would take to keep her there… Byleth’s feelings were easier to read than she could remember them being in a while.
When Byleth arrived at the church that afternoon Mercedes was already there. She rushed to hug Byleth the moment their eyes met. “Oh Byleth, I am so sorry.”
Byleth patted Mercedes’ hair and realized it was softer than she had first guessed. “Don’t apologize. I suspect the reason your secret was found out was because I kept you too long by confronting you as I did. I am sorry it came to this.”
There was surprise in Mercedes face when she leaned back from their embrace. “However did you know? My footman became worried when I was late and told father of our secret understanding. I did not think father would say as much in his letter.” For risk of embarrassment Mercedes did not say but Byleth understood. No man would keep on a servant he found out to be more loyal to his child’s whims than the masters.
A sigh and a nod. “I expected that to be one of the possibilities. I assume he also let your footman go?”
“He did,” Mercedes nodded sadly, “Helmut was very kind towards me, I hope he finds another position soon.”
It would be difficult for any servant to do so without a recommendation from the previous employer, but Byleth chose not to say as much. Mercedes would already know this herself. In the ensuing pause Mercedes fiddled a tad with her gloves before she again looked in Byleth’s eyes. “You said you do not enjoy social gatherings or are very good at them. So for you to agree that you will attend them with me…”
Ah. How silly. Byleth tilted her head before raising a hand to gently touch it to Mercedes’ cheek as she watched her. “I enjoy your company too much to put a stop to it for a reason such as where I must keep it.”
If Byleth did not think her agreement to be worth it before, by the goddess did she think it at that moment when Mercedes smiled that smile and reached up to clasp at Byleth’s fingers against her face.
And as it turned out, Mr. Ferguson would allow a degree of build up in this agreement of theirs. Now that everything was out in the open Mercedes was able to speak and meet freely with Byleth and relay her father’s wishes herself, rather than Byleth meet him in person or continue their communication through letters. Byleth was not at all above admitting to Mercedes that while it might not be wholly comfortable to Mercedes to be the ‘middleman’ as it were, she preferred it to the alternative of speaking with him herself. It was not very certain to Byleth what she might say or do if she were forced to be in the same room as the man that was using her friend so against her wishes and now orchestrating their very friendship how he deemed fit. No matter how close it may have been to most relationships at the positions of the two girls.
Most things could not be any more dissimilar to most girls, however, when it came to the young Miss Byleth Eisner. In receiving word that the daughter of another military man that had worked many a time with her father was also now in the Kingdom to make her way about society, Byleth had hoped there was enough alike in their situations that they could at least be cordial to one another. And yet when she found herself standing in a parlor sipping away at tea facing none other than this Leonnie herself, well… she saw that nothing could be further than the truth.
The party was held by a woman that was friends of Leonnie’s family. Given the task of introducing the redhead into the scene as fresh off the boat as she was the woman had decided to throw a small party for her to meet other girls her age within similar circles. Byleth had received an invitation as another military daughter away from her father and left in the Kingdom. She had then extended this to Mercedes as her plus one. But Mercedes was off chatting and giggling with a grandmother in some corner of the room, having abandoned Byleth the moment she and Leonnie were introduced. Mercedes had left so quickly to allow them to be acquainted she must not have caught the very clear look of disappointment that swept across Leonnie’s face when she gave Byleth a full body glance over. Byleth was certain had it not been for this middle-woman, she would not have been invited in the slightest.
“Are you really Captain Eisner’s daughter? You look nothing like him.” If Byleth was to be ridiculed for her lack of understanding in social cues then it was a wonder Leonnie did not receive the same treatment. Later she would hear women laughing sweetly that she would simply learn in time now that she was among proper company. Was it Leonnie’s more pleasing demeanor that earned her such an allowance Byleth never had?
“I am told I resemble my mother a great deal,” Byleth replied simply.
Another expression of displeasure. Whatever more socially acceptable attitude that made Leonnie more palatable than Byleth, she had yet to see it. Leonnie’s brows came together and her mouth drew to one side as if she were wondering at just how much she disliked a taste in her mouth. “When I was young my father was stationed in a village that was often attacked by poachers and bandits. Captain Eisner came and laid absolute waste to them, my whole family including myself have looked up to him ever since. Where were you when this was happening? I don’t remember him mentioning a wife much less a child.”
A nod from Byleth. It was not strange for her to hear - although the clear distaste before she even had the chance to do anything so strange herself was new. “My mother passed when I was born, and for a time I was very sickly. While father took me with him wherever he was stationed he would often leave me at the bigger forts and cities until my health later improved.”
This did earn a change in expression at least. Leonnie flushed - her mouth now drawing into something akin to a frown. Byleth caught herself thinking that she quite liked the orange of this girl’s hair and that of her light eyes. How tightly her hair was pinned back it almost looked as if it were short as a young boys - and it fit the shape of her face quite well. Was she adventurous enough against social norms to attempt such a look? In wondering at this Byleth almost missed the eventual apology Leonnie gave after her pause of shame. “I am sorry. That was not very kind of me to say.”
Byleth merely shook her head. “I can understand your disappointment. I am about as different from my father as oil is to water. And - you were unaware.”
A tilt to Leonnie’s head so that she looked at Byleth out the corner of her eye. Was it surprise? Amusement, as it tunrned out at least in part, by the way she laughed. “No - that was pretty close, actually.”
While they did not talk for much longer that particular evening - Leonnie was pulled away to be introduced to another daughter of a military man she might have known - Byleth considered it the high point of that particular social gathering. Following that interaction Byleth made a number of blunders including but not limited to: citing the late fashion of a woman’s dress when Byleth overheard her laughing cruelly about Mercedes only speaking to the elderly grandmother most of the party, saying that clearly her attitude was not the only thing that needed to be fixed, disagreeing in only slightly colorful language with another woman about the benefits of education for the lower classes, and so on.
Byleth had hoped at the very least that Mercedes had been saved from overhearing any of this. It was preferable that she had instead been content in the little world she had created talking to the elderly woman and retrieving a variety of little cakes for her. This too turned out to be very far from the truth. “I understand you think you were rebutting with another social faux pa when you said that about that woman’s dress, Byleth,” Mercedes said once they had settled into their carriage at the end of the party, “but it was not very nice.”
“They laughed at you,” Byleth said, voice betraying not an ounce of shame. Not until she considered it for a moment - and then hung her head a fraction. “I do apologize, your father will likely not deem this a victory.”
Mercedes waved a hand. “I’m not so sure. I did not trip and spill anything over any furniture or fine new dresses - so it is better than some of my past attendances.”
Byleth’s eyes rose to meet Mercedes for such an image. The girls looked at one another for a beat - before breaking out laughing. When they were coming close to Byleth’s home for her to be dropped off first Mercedes leaned in to plant a soft kiss on her cheek. “But you seemed to have done well with Miss Leonnie. Maybe we can go to other functions with her.”
“You are an optimist, Mercedes,” Byleth said in a hum when their carriage came to a stop. Within the action of standing to exit she gave Mercedes her own kiss - just the faintest pass of lips over her own. “Do not lose that.”
Only when she made it to the safety and solitude of her bedroom did Byleth allow herself to touch one hand to the bloom of warmth at her cheek and the other to the soft sensation in her lips. Now that… she would call a total success.
She was still buzzing in wonder over the quiet affections she had shared with her friend in their carriage the following morning. It was unexpected when Mr. Lindel broke the silence over her breakfast and coffee with a sobering question. “You have not written your father since this… arrangement with Mr. Ferguson has begun, Miss. Are you sure that is wise? If you would forgive my being so forward… I do believe your father would not at all be pleased with how you are being treated. This man split so many hairs in citing the social etiquette for young girls of society to be introduced - the hairs are too miniscule to comprehend.”
The sound of her cup being set into its saucer made a small ‘clink’ in the ensuing pause. She released a small laugh in response to the last sentiment. It was rather true. “You may always be honest with me, Mr. Lindel, I hope you know that. I welcome your opinions and advice. Nor do I disagree with you. My father would be angry if he were to hear anything about this, and probably write to Mr. Ferguson immediately if not threaten to return home and deal with the matter in person. However… I do not want him to worry, at least for now. I do not believe Mr. Ferguson means me any harm. He is grasping at any and all chances he can find for Mercedes to be wed as he deems fit.”
“No, I would like to try and deal with this as a grown woman on my own should.” As she spoke Byleth had been watching the morning pass them by through the sheer curtains, but now she looked up to meet her butler’s gaze. “I ask that you please not inform him of this, if you have not already. I promise if I believe myself to be in any real danger, physical or otherwise, I will write to him myself.”
A moment passed between them. It was then that Byleth realized perhaps this was what others meant when they said it was disconcerting to speak with her at times, because her expressions were so difficult to read. Whether it be a personal flaw like her own, or a trained manner after years of service, Mr. Lindel’s expression remained unmoving as he watched his young charge. Finally he spoke. “As you wish, Miss Byleth.”
They had reached an understanding then. Byleth was relieved and nodded to him. “Thank you, Mr. Lindel, I do appreciate it.”
“You must find this Mercedes girl to be very worth it, ma’am, if you don’t mind my saying.”
A smile tugged at Byleth’s lips. “She is.”
Two weeks following their first small party together the girls were invited to another social gathering, this at a slightly larger scale but not by much. A young lady was having her coming out into society but, as the rumor had gone around, her elder brother was on the protective side. This led to the girl having grown up in quite the sheltered life. Such a case meant that the ball was a bit smaller than most would have been for girls of her high position in society. It seemed the only reason they secured an invitation was because the elderly woman Mercedes had befriended at their last party had spoken so highly of her as a gentle soul to Mr. Seteth, the elder brother.
Against the expectations of most upon meeting her and taking in her usually bland countenance Byleth was a fan of fashion. She was more than happy to go shopping with Mercedes for dresses to wear for this event. “Are you sure, Byleth? You already wear so much blue and black…” Mercedes spoke softly, watching her friend rub different fabrics between her fingers.
“They are my signatures, and make it that much easier to get dressed in the morning.” Byleth hummed. She had long been told that her love for dark colors made her appear drab and even depressing at especially gay and lively parties. But none of those comments had seemed to affect her taste in fashion as of yet. In the end the outfit she chose did include a few… nods to different colors. A black skirt with gray designs not unlike lacework, with a black corseted bust in gold accents, and a high starkly white collar.
Byleth could not help pointing out that Mercedes final choice included just such colors she had said Byleth seemed unwilling to stray from. A full skirt of dark gray with cerulean blue trim, a pale pearl colored blouse with gold accents to match the gold, blue trimmed shawl. “I may have some earrings that would go quite well with the whole ensemble,” Byleth mused, “father bought them for me once, but they have never quite matched anything for me.”
“Oh, if you don’t mind lending them to me, I would feel rather comforted to know I am wearing something of yours should we get separated.”
This made Byleth tilt her head. “You seemed fine enough when we were apart at Leonnie’s party.”
Mercedes laughed and shook her head, letting the pretty gauzy fabric of a lining she had been feeling fall from her fingers. “That was because I saw Mrs. Gregory needed assistance. I feel more at ease when I can be of service to others. I am not sure such a situation will occur again this time around.”
“I will try my best to need your help through the entirety of the evening, then,” Byleth grinned deftly.
Mercedes seemed ready to question Byleth’s request for the dress to be delivered early enough for some ‘personal design touches’ to be done in time, but decided against it by the time they alighted a handsome cab to take them to their homes.
While Mercedes was the first to show her pleasure at Byleth’s dress when she arrived at the Eisner home early the night of the ball, so that they may ride there together, Byleth too felt her vision go hazy with shades of pink at the sight of Mercedes in her own outfit. The gold accents played so well with the color of her hair, and the blue touches with her eyes…
“I fear these earrings may be too little now to hold up to your beauty,” Byleth breathed out finally, taking up her hand to hold a single piece to Mercedes ear. They were simple blue ovals with gold fastenings at the top and bottom. Up close they were alarmingly similar to Mercedes eye color.
“Don’t be silly,” Mercedes insisted, taking both earrings from Byleth’s hands and immediately stepping towards the mirror of the entrance room to slip them on. Byleth could not help feeling elated to see that Mercedes had not arrived wearing any earrings in the first place.
“Why do you suppose this sort of thing is being held at a monastery of all places?” Byleth posed to her friend in their carriage.
“I hear Mr. Seteth has ties to the administration there. It is currently being used both as a church monastery as well as lodging and training grounds for local militia and police. After their facilities were damaged in that recent terrorist attack by that group… the name has something to do with snakes I believe.” A light passed through Mercedes face as she clapped her hands together eagerly. “The grounds are supposed to be gorgeous. I am excited to see them.”
“But if it is supposed to be a modest ball as has been said, why at such a large location?” Byleth mused outloud, looking out the small veiled windows. “Does he believe the mix of religious and lawful overtones will dissuade any men from making advances on her so soon?”
Mercedes merely tilted her head as her friend continued to speak of her theories through the rest of their travel time. Byleth joined the silence once they arrived. It was a silence born of wonder. As she stepped out from the carriage behind Mercedes she distantly recalled her father’s commentary on churches in his own experience. Oh but if he were there to see the Garreg Mach Monastery on that night…
What expenses were spared on the exclusive guest list and thusly less required invitations, food, drinks, and more, had clearly no need to be funneled into the budget for decoration. The cathedral itself was magnificent. Rows of well dressed footman on either side of the stone walk and stairs leading inside were holding lit candelabras to light the way, their gold stands polished to the point that they were practically a light source unto themselves. Just in the dark of night from the outside the colors of the many stained glass windows were dancing from the lights within.
The girl the ‘modest’ ball was for, Flayn, was delightful as it turned out. Byleth noted to later chastise whomever had spread any gossip that a girl raised by such an overbearing brother as this Mr. Seteth must be either a complete bore or an absolute brat. Her beautifully curled ringlets of pastel green hair bounced with her hurried steps to greet Mercedes and Byleth both when they arrived, as if they were all already longtime friends. “Thank you so much for coming!” She exclaimed cheerfully, holding each of their hands in her own and staring straight into their eyes as they were introduced.
“Flayn,” came a low, edging on stern voice to muddle the otherwise joyous atmosphere. The three girls turned to view an older man with deeper green hair to his chin and thin strips beard growth along his jawline. “We have talked about this.”
That much was clear by the way Flayn sighed - she also nearly rolled her eyes, which Byleth noticed and had to keep from laughing over as it earned her a few points in her book - and stepped back a half step. “You are right, brother.”
“Miss Eisner and Miss Ferguson,” the man began with a short nod to the girl, “my name is Seteth Nabatean. This is my sister Flayn Nabatean.”
Both Mercedes and Byleth gave their small curtsies, allowing Flayn to give her own. “Mrs. Gregory and Miss Leonnie Pinelli both spoke very highly of you,” Seteth said with a short nod, his expression as closed off as Flayn’s had been open.
“Mrs. Gregory is too kind,” Mercedes said, her smile easy in the face of this man’s stiffness. Byleth supposed it was to be expected of a girl that was so quick to befriend her.
At this point Seteth turned to Byleth. “And you are Captain Jeralt Eisner’s daughter, are you not? Come, tell me how he is doing.” While he did not physically touch her, the arm Seteth held in close proximity to Byleth’s back herded her away well enough. Mercedes said she would go find a drink with Flayn and could be found later as Byleth was led away by their host.
While it was not the absolute privacy of an empty room - that would be completely out of line - Seteth did manage to find a quieter corner in one of the small galleries adjacent to the main cathedral. “Last my father wrote-“
Seteth held up a quieting hand, expression graver than before. “I do not care. I wanted to speak to you alone because your reputation precedes you.”
Ah, of course. Byleth simply nodded - resigned to the speech she was about to receive. Seeing he would receive no argument Seteth continued. “At least you do not have the audacity to deny it. I have heard that you have a noted lack of etiquette, make rude remarks to others, have a total disregard for rules dictated by your social class, among many other disgressions. The only reason you received an invitation to this event was because of the high compliments Mercedes Ferguson has received, as well as the standing of your father. But should you prove any detriment to my sister’s reputation,” here he leaned in a tad closer than should have been allowed, as means of intimidating her no doubt. His eyes narrowed darkly, “you will come to regret it, I assure you.”
Being raised by an intimidating man in his own right and amongst soldiers certainly had it’s perks. Byleth did not retreat under that stare - simply faced it head on. “In the seven minutes I was allowed to speak with Miss Flayn before this warning, sir,” she said smoothly, “I found her to be very sweet and endearing. I would not dream of having any negative impact on her.”
Thoughts passed through those dark eyes glaring into hers. Finally coming to a decision, Seteth straightened himself up and held his arms properly behind his back. “While I do not wholly appreciate that note of impertinence, I am grateful for your words. You may go and enjoy the evening.”
As she watched him depart Byleth stood for a number of moments thinking to herself. Away from the capitol and amongst soldiers, even if she often had to interact with their families that could dislike her, she had always felt little need to change her ways. If women and other young girls turned their noses up at the ways her mind worked, her bluntly given opinions, her myriad of ‘unladylike’ interests, and her battle prowess - she could simply stay at home reading or be out in the wilderness on long walks away from said stuffy civilization. This was easy enough to do in all of the places she had lived with her father. But in this densely populated capital without her father to function as her backup against social avarice, as it were… going against the grain could have more detrimental affects on her.
Byleth tilted her head up, peering up at the high ribbed vaulted ceilings of the gallery in which she stood. They extended so far above her head that the candle light glow did not fully penetrate the darkness above. Painted details were cast into shadow while the corners were lost to completion. Even the most beautiful of places may hide secrets when there was not enough illumination to be had.
When she finally exited the gallery in search of Mercedes she found she was no longer only speaking to Flayn, the two of them now laughing in a group that included two new women. The first stranger appeared to be in her mid to late thirties, however the way she dressed and held herself alluded to a confidence most women would lost even by then. Her dark teal dress with copper colored accents would have likely been risqué for most anyone’s standards in the neckline - were it not for the large white caplet she wore draped sensually over her shoulders.
The other, closer to Byleth and Mercedes in age, had dark chestnut hair worn in beautifully thick wavy tresses. The warm tones to it were brought out by the deep crimson dress of black ruffles and lace. And her eyes - such a green took Byleth’s breath away when she approached them. Byleth was so taken by that particular shade, and the fiery wit moving within, that Mercedes had to speak when she noticed her presence and subsequent stunned silence. “Ah Byleth, here you are.” Mercedes greeted.
As was her role as hostess, Flayn was happy to make the introductions. “This is Manuela Casagranda, she is a lead diva from an Opera company and is going to preform for us tonight. And this is Dorothea Arnault, here as her attendant for the evening. She is also from the opera company. Manuela, Dorothea, this is Miss Byleth Eisner.”
A hum escaped Manuela’s lips as she reached out to finger Byleth’s hair - which she had only bothered to wear half up. “I am so happy to see more girls fighting outdated fashion trends these days. I quite like the worn down look.” She gestured to her own light brown hair worn in a short bob to her chin, and then to Dorothea’s style. “Us performers are allowed a certain level of deviance,” she said, the last word coming out as a purr practically.
As Manuela pulled her hand away Dorothea’s took it’s place, only she touched at Byleth’s cheek with a single, slow stroke of a fingertip. “I don’t know, I think her eyes are the most beguiling part of Miss Eisner. They are so clear I do believe they make me feel like my very soul is being peered into when she looks at me.”
“Aren’t they so beautiful and interesting?” Mercedes asked as she, Byleth, and Flayn later walked to another part of the cathedral. While the five had enjoyed talking about the latest fashions or different shows in production they ought to see, the performers had had to excuse themselves to prepare for later.
“They certainly are,” Byleth said, still somewhere between the lines of amused and perplexed at the meeting of two such women.
Flayn gave a charming little giggle. “I quite like them. Brother allowed me the small consolation of choosing the entertainment for tonight, as he was heavy handed in everything else. I do not think he would have picked such interesting women. He is a bit old fashioned.”
Byleth, rather than extrapolating on Mr. Seteth’s traits - ‘old fashioned’ or no - changed the subject. “Mercedes, would you like to explore the grounds for a bit, now that we have followed part of our social obligations for the evening? And allow Miss Flayn to greet more of her guests.”
“I think I shall stay with you two for a while yet, if you don’t mind,” Flayn shook her head and grinned a little sheepishly. “Most everyone else are friends of my brothers. I know a debut ball is meant to be, well, a ball but… I would much rather become friends with those closer to my age than dance with older strangers. Only if you do not mind,” of a rushed addendum at the end.
She wanted friends of her own. Out of anyone Byleth could not fault her that. She tried for a gentle and warm smile, like one of Mercedes, to show her understanding. “I do not mind in the least.”
“And nor do I,” Mercedes replied with glee, patting at Byleth’s arm as if to tell her she had done well, “let’s explore together then.” As the three passed through a broad pointed archway into a long stone covered walk between buildings. There were a number of lit torches and lanterns casting a warm glow about them into the night.
“Did you have a good talk with my brother?” Flayn asked. An attempt to foster conversation that… Byleth had to give pause about how to respond.
It would do her no credit in Mr. Seteth’s eyes to make him appear a villain to his beloved little sister. However nor was Byleth often one to withhold the truth, no matter how socially isolating it may become. “He may have heard of Captain Jeralt Eisner, but I doubt he’s met him more than in passing. His primary worry was-“
“Excuse me,” someone cut in, interrupting Byleth’s halting explanation with an excited clearing of the throat - if there were such a thing. The girls turned to see a stoutly built man with brown slicked back hair and trimmed beard. “Did you say Captain Jeralt Eisner?”
In the face of such clear friendliness Byleth nodded. “Yes, he is my father.”
“Aha! I had heard he had a child,” the man took Byleth’s hand most enthusiastically. The broad smile he wore more naturally than his fine suit broke face nearly in half it was so large.
With a small exclamation of, “oh,” Flayn realized her responsibility in the situation. “This is Detective Alois Rangeld. Sir, this is Byleth Eisner and Mercedes Ferguson.”
Rengeld laughed, introductions only growing his enthusiasm. “I trained under your father many years ago, before I was discharged and came home to work as a detective in the capital. But I will never forget his kindness taking a kid like me as his right hand man in the old days.”
“I believe he may have mentioned you,” Byleth nodded. “I remember him saying you were really very young when he first met you.”
Just hearing that he had been spoken of at all clearly pleased the man, even more so that they girl had remembered it. He laughed long and loud. “Ah yes, I was a stowaway you see, just wanted to get away from all of the crotchety old priests raising me. They put me to work playing the morning bugle calls and washing but - well, after a week of my wake up calls your father decided I could be of better use somewhere else.”
“I don’t suppose that sort of skill comes up much as a detective,” Mercedes laughed.
“I apologize for interrupting you ladies. If Captain Eisner is here I would be happy to speak with him and allow you three to continue.” A small laugh and nod to Flayn, “you know how your brother is about my speaking too much to you.”
What issue would Mr. Seteth have with Flayn speaking to a detective, especially if he had ties with such areas of government? It would seem by Flayn’s understanding nod, however, that there would be no more context clues to be had at the present time. Byleth shook her head, apologetic. “I am afraid my father is not here. He is still away on duty.”
“That is too bad, I would have liked to catch up,” Detecive Rengeld seemed sincerely disappointed. Bless the man, though, he did quickly cover it up with another big grin. “If you are here by yourself though Miss Byleth, please do not hesitate to call on me at police headquarters should you ever need anything. Anything at all. It is the least I could do to help the Captain’s child after everything he did for me.”
“I will Detective, thank you.”
“Then ladies,” he brought his heels together in a military stance, perhaps out of habit or perhaps because of Byleth’s relation to her father she could not tell, “do enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“I feel I will have to meet your father at some point, just to see if this wonderful reputation I keep hearing of is true.” Mercedes said with an amused tone as they continued on.
“As do I,” Flayn chimed in. “If Mr. Rengeld is fond of him he must be less stuffy than my brother’s military friends.”
“I look nothing like him, I give you fair warning,” Byleth shook her head. “And he has a better sense of humor than I do. Miss Leonnie was right to second guess our relation. Part of me is surprised Detective Rengeld did not.”
Before they continued on, however, they were witness to a tall blonde woman exiting the party into the corridor to meet Rengeld as he had begun to head inside. The way in which she advanced directly towards Detective Rengeld made it appear as if she had been looking for him. The din of the guests made it impossible to hear them from the distance they were now at, nor was the light shining in the most opportune way to attempt reading their lips. Still, Byleth could gather enough from their body language.
The woman had the tanned skin that alluded to time spent outside often, although Byleth would guess that this affect was furthered by an already warm toned natural complexion. Her hair was a light blonde, more gold than Mercedes, also likely from time under the sun. Most astounding was her attire, as she wore trousers. This was not entirely unheard of although it was still a rarity. She was half a head taller than Detective Rengeld, nor did she appear embarrassed by this state as most upper class ladies often were. Rather she spoke to the man with a square shouldered posture of equal authority.
“She is of the militia here, is she not?” Byleth asked, looking to Mercedes and Flayn. They had been commenting on the appearance of the stained glass windows from the outside, lit from within as they were on a dark evening such as this.
“Hm?” Flayn hummed in coming out of one topic to the next. A small gasp of understanding, “oh yes, that is Captain Katherine Charon. She is head of the militia that are stationed here for the time being. Do you know of her, Miss Byleth?”
“I do not. But it is easy enough to guess.” When there was no reply to her statement Byleth turned and found Flayn and Mercedes both watching her in bright eyed wonderment. A sigh escaped her lips. Really, she thought this to be quite a simple case of deduction. “For starters, she is in trousers.”
Flayn was so intrigued by this whole situation, it seemed, that she could not help being the devil’s advocate. “But that could mean any number of things. Maybe she is a part of the show with Miss Manuela.”
A nod from Byleth. “That could be true, if that were the only factor we had of note. But there is also her coloring, which leads one to believe she spends more time outside then a performer.”
Mercedes was happy to enter the action. “A groomswoman, then. I have met one such a woman at a country church.”
“A good guess.” Byleth agreed with another nod, her tone slipping into the matter of fact nature she so easily fell into when speaking of her deductive reasonings. As she listed off points she lightly tapped the toe of her shoe against the cobblestones on which they stood. “However she also holds herself with a dignity and authority, notably when speaking to the Detective, that would be uncharacteristic of most grooms. You must remember that I spent much of my youth amongst the military, and can thus recognize the posture with which one holds themself when they are in the service. The familiarity with which she speaks with Detective Rengeld leads one to believe that they know each other. Taking into account that the militia and police are both holding quarters here at this time, and that she did not give him any motions to respect him as superior in rank, even as a different branch, helps along the assumption that she is a captain or ranked officer of some sort.”
When she was finished neither Flayn nor Mercedes said a word for a time. Byleth was beginning to believe she had insulted their intelligence, a slight she had been frequently cited for in past failed friendships. This was the first occasion in a long while that she felt a pang of distress over such a possibility. Flayn, as brief as their interactions had been so far, was sweet. And Mercedes… Before she could fully spiral into disparing acceptance that she had lost yet another friend, Flayn began clapping. And then so did Mercedes.
“That is simply amazing, Miss Byleth!” Flayn exclaimed.
“I knew you were smart and oberved quite a lot, but it is still so fascinating to watch it unfold before you.” The fist around Byleth’s heart loosened with Mercedes addition.
“It is a skill I’ve developed over the years.” Was she embarrassed? That was a new emotion for her. Byleth was trying to move on by following with, “but they are still busy talking, and Miss Flayn has kindly provided the truth to my guesses, so perhaps we should continue our walk.”
The girls went on their way down the covered corridor, ending up in a smaller chapel with thin stained glass windows they could see lit up from the outside. Mercedes was eager to see them up close and was even more elated to see none other than a priest talking with a middle aged man inside. “He will be able to tell us the history I am sure,” she whispered as they approached.
The priest was an elderly man with pale brown hair, almost appearing as if it had saturated in old age rather than turning gray. His robes were a modest, thick fabric of light tan. As much as his apparel belayed his profession as a priest, so did the other man’s as a scholar of some sort. His hair a dark gray, he also sported a matching goatee and finely styled moustache. He wore a gray suit coat with a green ascot and, to complete the look, a gold monocole pinned neatly to his striped lapel. It was he that was speaking when the girls came within earshot.
“I was allowed to study I handful of your texts on Crests here during my time in university. But if I was ever given the chance again I would be most delighted to read more.”
“I would be happy to oblige you, Professor Hanneman, at your earliest convenience,” said the priest in a calm ease that often came with age. He even had a walking stick, Byleth noticed as they saw him from another angle in their approach, on which he rested both of his hands. Although it must have been a hand-me-down of some kind, from another elder in the church perhaps, because it did not seem wholly a comfortable fit under his palms as he continued to quietly shift them for better purchase throughout the conversation. The movements stopped in their tracks when he noticed the three women nearby. “Oh, hello there young ladies.”
At this point the professor turned so that he may see who the priest was speaking to. A polite smile came into his expression as he nodded. “Forgive me, did you have a question for Father Tomas as well?”
Mercedes shook her head. “No, if we are interrupting you I can look for another member here to-“
“I am afraid I am the only one here tonight, Miss, and mostly for the purpose of answering any questions guests may have. I am the librarian for the monastery you see, so if I do not know something about it’s architecture or history I know where to look for the answer. My name is Father Tomas,” before a gesture to the man beside him, who bowed politely. “And this is Professor Hanneman, a scholar of Crests.”
While she was not looking at her, Byleth could feel the hitch of hesitation in Mercedes by the tiny stiffening of her body against hers. With so much emphasis based on her Crest by family she supposed anyone would feel some kind of unease when someone that studies them is introduced.
Flayn too had a slight twinge to her expression, although it was only a brief and minuscule change before it was covered over by her proper young lady smile and role. “These are my friends, Byleth Eisner and Mercedes Ferguson.”
Byleth gave a small bow of her head in greeting to the men. “Mercedes and I spend some time volunteering at a small church and Mercedes is always interested in learning more.” If she switched the subject resolutely away from Crests and planted it more firmly in the realm of interest for the priest and Mercedes both mayhaps it would stay there.
Father Tomas took them on a tour of the grounds, expounding on flying buttresses this or shifts in traditional Gothic architecture that, while Professor Hanneman occasionally gave comments about the influence of a Crest could have on an individual in the case of groundbreaking architects and members of history. The professor would attempt to then turn the questioning to Miss Flayn in particular, citing that he knew her brother to be the holder of a Major Crest, and asking if she had any questions about the meaning behind her own. Despite her earlier discomfort Flayn would easily enough inform him that she did not have much interest in the topic of Crests, no matter how many times the Professor attempted to change her opinion with more excited talk about the affects of Crests on different figures in the history the currently surrounded their small band.
On their way down a hall to be shown the library the group came into contact with an odd man just exiting a room. His hair was the color of pale straw, pulled into a neat ponytail at the back of his neck. He wore the tan uniform of the local police with the addition of a red caplet trimmed in brown. Most of the features above his nose were disguised by the presence of… a white mask? A performer in costume, perhaps? Although his manner of walk did lend to actual service. He passed them by with a fleeting glance at Flayn - and then a slightly lingering one on Mercedes. In catching this Byleth realized that Mercedes too had stopped to follow him with her eyes. The expression she wore was one of… pained confusion. When Father Tomas called back for them however she simply shook it away and followed without a word.
They spent very little time in the library, as Flayn was quick to depart so that the girls may hear Manuela’s singing. Byleth noted that for the rest of the night she did not see the man in the mask - preforming or otherwise. Rather she spent a lovely time watching Manuela sing, herself sitting in a place of honor with Miss Flayn, Mr. Seteth, and Mercedes. Mr. Nabatean did not look entirely pleased with this turn of events but did not appear willing to deny his sister outright, or at least not in public. He stood off to the side as they parted ways at the end of the night.
Flayn held one of Byleth’s hands and one of Mercedes in her own when they said their goodbyes. “We must spend more time together. I so enjoyed meeting the two of you tonight. And I really would like to see more of Miss Byleth’s skills at deduction.”
“Deduction?” Mr. Seteth repeated with a quirked brow.
“Oh brother it was amazing!” Flayn exclaimed and smiled at the mere memory. “She guessed so much about Captain Charon without speaking to her at all. Only by watching her speak to Mr. Rengeld.”
“What an interesting skill, Miss Eisner.” Now his other brow rose to the same height as it’s twin - yet somehow Byleth did not believe the statement was entirely within the realm of a ‘compliment.’
Following such an eventfully social night Byleth slept quite well. Although there were a few bumps along the road in the form of Mr. Seteth’s warning, the usual concern of pushing possible acquaintances away with her blunt and curious attitude became a… selling point of sorts to the little hostess Miss Flayn? It warmed Byleth’s heart and made her hopeful that she may in fact be able to count two amazing girls among her friends.
Byleth Eisner tended to be an early riser - whether by her own nature or having been raised by a military men - and was already taking her breakfast with coffee the next morning when Mr. Lindel entered the small dining room. “Ma’am, a Detective Rengeld is here. I left him in the parlor but… he seems to be in a rush. He is investiagating something involving the event you attended last night.”
A flood of possibilities crashed through Byleth’s thoughts as she immediately stood from her place at the table to go and meet her visitor. She found the Detective looking over some photographs on the wall of her and her father. The fact that he had not bothered to sit showed how much of a hurry he was in - even in peering at the photos his foot was tapping impatiently against the floorboards. “Detective,” she said, “how can I be of assistance?”
“Miss Eisner,” he greeted with a jovial enough voice - although when he turned she saw he was holding his hat in his hands. Anxiety. “I am sorry that this is not under better circumstances, miss.”
Byleth nodded, slowly. “I feel there is a but coming, Detective Rengeld.”
He nodded in return and took a deep inhalation of air. “But since last night Flayn Nabatean has gone missing.”