Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd

Prince Dimitri was a kind-hearted young man, that much was clear to Thrasir. Though perhaps he didn't fully know why the information absolutely could not come from her. There was no way she would be believed. The time wasted accusing her of causing this, of wanting to make it worse, of still trying to collect souls... that time would be better spent solving the problem.

........ she couldn't allow that to happen.

"They would sooner believe you over me," Thrasir replied, spreading her arms in a helpless sort of shrug that moved her cloak to reveal her undead body hidden underneath for a moment before she pulled the fabric around her body again. Even then, the longer she lingered, the more chance of their conversation being discovered and the healers linking her research back to her anyway.

"Surely you can tell them that you got the information off a team of mages doing the research," she implored. "Please, Highness. They cannot know it was me. Claim it was some break through they shoved into your hands to deliver as a runner."

A part of him did wonder if there was a deeper reason for the suspicion, but it was unimportant right now.

"I could say that." Dimitri agreed, humming thoughtfully. "Or I could say I found the papers. That they had been delivered by some messenger and marked important."

It was still a deception but it sat better with the prince than claiming the work was his own. "Do you think that would be enough to convince the researchers? I wouldn't want them to dismiss your work"

"Also, if I am to do this I do have one question..." He trailed off finding it hard to contain his curiosity. "Why is it that they can't know the research is yours? Are you some sort of mass murder!?"

Erk drops his gaze towards the flowers coming from this man as more of them spill out of him, clearing his own throat as the same threatens to happen to him.

"Assuming that spewing flowers isn't fatal, I think it would be prudent to find a cure" the prince says "The current situation is unsustainable. First we should compile what information we already know"

Still, the topic was actually quite interesting. "Rye, huh. That does make sense - it's no doubt more resistant to the kinda climate you have than most other crops would be."

Maybe we could one day sign some more contracts and agreements on exchange of goods, he thought to himself, though he didn't verbalize it out loud, for he knew that right now, it would be an empty wish. Once the Alliance nobles learn to care for someone else than themselves, that is, the more disillusioned half of his brain added, and he found himself having to hold back a wince that tried to push itself onto his face.

He shelved the thoughts, focusing instead on the here and now.

"Sooo have you ever observed farmers at work?" He inquired. "Because I have to admit I haven't had the chance yet." He smiled sheepishly. Well, with the field owner's entire family sick, they couldn't exactly go and ask how it was done, either. So they had to figure it out by themselves, with good ol' trial and error if need be.

"Crop resistance is a high priority when considering the nation's food source. It would be a disaster for the kingdom to suffer from famines every winter. " It affected the diet of the country too which was why rye bread and porridges were common food while wheat dishes were for special occasions due to their higher price. However he was curious how it worked for the alliance as it must be harder to oversee farming when spread between various nobles with equal power.

"What sort of crops do you grow in the Leicester Alliance lands? Your climate is milder than ours so I assume more similar to this?" He asked indicating the surrounding fields.

"I have passed farmers at work while out riding but I admit I didn't pay much attention." This might be an issue as they were both essentially novices. "It can't be too hard to simply swing these like you would a sword or axe?"

Lachesis' expression remained stony for the duration that the boy spoke, and it was through sheer force of will that her incredulity did not seep into it by the time he had proffered his alliance to her. He wanted to see the dogs.

That he acknowledged the Church was investigating separately was one thing - knowing that there was cause to investigate, that could harm the people of Pearl Shoals, or others - but there was a part of her that had expected his cause to be less that of a curious child seeking animals in exhibition.

"Ver- "

The howl sounded again, reverberant and all encompassing. She had spent time in deeply forested areas, and had even heard the call of wolves in the distance, but somehow that experience and this were as dissimilar as the light from the sun and a candle. It wavered and sunk itself into the crevices of her mind and syncopated with her heartbeat, a sensation that brought her hand to her chest and a confused pinch to her brow.

"Silence, beast!" a voice called from a window, muffled, beyond the tops of the hedges, and she heard the sound of a shuttered window opening and the distinct thump of something being tossed, ineffectually, in the direction of the howl.

There was a temporary relief when she opened her mouth to speak before they were interrupted by the sound of howling. It was a mournful cry, one of pain and desperation. The rumours of experimentation on dogs was confirmed in that one cry.

What happened next caused anger to rise up from the pit of his stomach. How dare these people hurt innocent animals!

"Indeed." Dimitri agreed grimly "I think it's coming from this direction"

Pointing to the lefthand path, he led the way through the hedges. The sound had originated from this direction however he found the path soon wound back on itself. Of course, how could he have forgotten that they were in a maze. Navigating wasn't going to be as simple as heading in the cardinal direction.

"Simple," she began. "All of that is a matter of performance. How did our alliance do? Did they prove their might? Had they considered my troops as much as theirs?" The weight on her shoulders contended with each hypothetical she left to linger. "Preparing for betrayal starts with understanding those closest to you— This is better than blind trust unearned. That way, you can strategize in advance."

With her hand falling to scrape the wooden podium, she held onto its edges with her fingers and stood proper. "— Were it you as my ally, I'd be asking myself those same questions."

"So you would rate people? Like some sort of battle exam" It sounded ridiculous when spoken about in academic terms but he understood what she was saying. "However, I do agree with you on those who we are closest too. But am I to understand you would keep a potential betrayer close to outsmart them?"

It was a devious concept but also genius. Personally DImitri would more likely confront a problematic person and oust them should they be untrustworthy. But the Felix did say he always charged into matters head first like a wild Boar.

Her next comment hit him like a slap in the face. To think that she'd treat him the same despite their history. Then again, he believed that she was unaware of their past connection though he couldn't forget the regal (somewhat bossy) young empress.

The prince paused and leaned back in his chair as he pondered whether he would trust her. Ask younger him and it would have been yes in a heartbeat, but the years had jaded him.

"I would trust you until you gave me reason not to" He said honestly, his heart winning out over his head. "But know that should you chose to betray me, I would haunt you to the ends of the earth"

It wasn't an empty threat and Dimitri looked Edelgard directly in the eyes as he said it, tone neutral.

In hindsight, he should’ve done so.

Walking into the art room, he was greeted by a smiling professor and the smell of paint. It was sharper than anything he was used to, cutting through the air and hitting him hard. Deimne fixed a calm mask and walked up to the professor. “So, I heard there was a reward for participa-”

His words were cut out by the professor skipping over him, focusing instead on the blonde boy that entered the room. Prince Dimitri, according to her. Not surprising that he was skipped over - princes usually do take precedence over common folk. He waited for her to be finished, then took his turn. “Sorry, I heard there was a participation reward?”

“Oh, you must be one of the models!” The professor said with a smile. “Thank you so much for this! We do believe in enrichment of the arts here in Garreg Mach.”

“Uh, okay. So, what should I do, exactly?”

The professor waved her hand close to where the other student had sat. “If you could model a Wyvern for those students, I’d really appreciate it!”

A Wyvern?! 

He hadn’t much time to think on it when he approached the student. “So, uh, I’m here to be your reference. Your majesty.” As a show of solidarity, he outstretched a hand. Do Wyverns do that? Deimne hadn’t seen one up close… ever, really. The closest he got was shooting them down, and even then they weren’t close by any means of the word. Same with royalty. Minus the killing.

oh no

It wasn't that he didn't know what a wyvern looked like. It wouldn't be good not to be able to identify enemies rides or feral beasts trying to kill you! But that didn't mean he could draw one.

Desperately, Dimitri looked for a way to quietly escape. The professor was busy chatting to another student. He saw the young man's expression fall before he came over to introduce himself.

"No need to call me that, please" Dimitri stated " But thank you for the kind offer." Lowering his voice "Art is not my forte and a reference might help"

Sharpening a pencil, the prince straightened up and assessed the blank paper in front of him. Vaguely he wondered how his model would become a wyvern but at least there was someone to share this experience with.

An older woman opened the door. She looked exhausted, with one child hanging on to her skirts. "May I help you?" The tiredness even infected her voice.

"Yes ma'am. We're with the team at Broad Manor, we've been tasked with interviewing some of the families who had been affected. Can we come in and ask you some questions?" Camilla flashed a warm smile.

"I'd rather you not. I've another little one sick right now." The woman's brow creased in worry. "But I'll do your best to answer your questions here."

"Mama..." The little boy tugged on the woman's skirt.

"Shh, not now. Go fetch some water for your sister." The woman hushed. The little boy nodded and head off towards the pump in front of the manor, a bucket in hand. Camilla handed Dimitri a small notebook and a pen as she watched the child fill his bucket.

"Do you often use that pump for water?" She asked.

The woman nodded. "It's close by, and the kids can get the water themselves."

Camilla nodded. "Ah sorry, I should have started by getting your family name ma'am."

"Atwood, miss. Christina Atwood's my name." Camilla nodded, flipping through the death certificates. "You mentioned you have another little one who is sick? How long has she been sick?" The woman sighed. "About a day now. My husband was getting treatment at the manor." "When did his treatment start?" Camilla kept her face neutral as she saw the name "John Atwood" listed on one of them. "'bout a week ago, when the manor opened its doors. He'd been sick for a few days before then." "What was your husband's usual schedule before he got sick?" Christina shrugged. "Wake up, work in the shop, come home. I'd pack for him a pancake and some bacon for his lunch." Camilla nodded. "And your sick child? Anything unusual in the days before getting sick?" She shook her head no as her son returned with the water. "She helped me 'round the house, fetching water and such." "Thank you ma'am." Camilla smiled warmly. "That's all my questions.

"Wait before you go, have you any news of my husband? John?" Camilla smiled and shook her head. "No, I don't recognize that name from the doctor's notes. Apologies, I wish you the best."

Camilla waited until the door was closed and they were on to the next house before sighing. "Make a note that her husband is among the deceased." She moved his death certificate to the bottom of the pile. "If you see any familiar names on here, or anyone mentions a name that appears on here, you saw nothing and heard nothing. We're not delivering news of deaths to these people. Not right now anyways. That will be a task for another day, hopefully after we figure out what's causing this illness."

The next several houses went much the same. Nothing outside of their normal routines, family members suddenly got sick, they got water from the pump by the manor. The water from the pump seemed to be the only thing they had in common.

The wyvern knight also had royal blood but the smile she gave the tired mother spoke of understanding and concern. When the woman looked past her to meet his eye, Dimitri quickly hoiked an awkward smile onto his face. Thankfully she was too tired to say anything and returned her focus to Camilla and her questions.

Taking the writing implements, he started to write down her answers. It seemed the assumption about the well was gaining some evidence. He paused when she gave her husband's name as he recognised it as one of the patients on the ward. While Camilla might not know anything, Dimitri was aware of Mr Attwood's situation. There had been no change in his condition and not wanting to offer empty words, he kept his mouth shut.

"I've got it all written down, the children we should move to the manor where the healers can keep a closer eye on them" he answered "From the information gathered I think the pump might be the problem."

The pair wandered further up the street till they reached the brewery. It was a hive of activity with brewers pushing barrels to the cellars and to carts for delivery. Looking round for a foreman or someone in charge, Dimitri spotted the person who appeared to be directing it all.

"Excuse me Sir" The prince said politely approaching the man "Me and Lady Camilla here have some questions to ask you regarding the recent illness in the area"

The man grunted in response, not need to explain further for all knew about the sickness plaguing the streets. "Whadd'ya wanna know?" He said keeping his eyes on those working.

"How has business been?" Dimitri asks "I'm sure it's been hard with workers falling sick"

"nah, no-one's been sick 'ere" is the reply. "Still working at full capacity, it's more the buyers which have been affected. Not many wanna buy from a brewery in the 'cursed' area"

Eyebrows raised at the answer, he looks towards Camilla before noting it down.

Except for that one thing. And that other thing. Oh, and then there was-

Whatever! Nothing bad was going to happen to him this time! Which was the total truth and definitely something that he saw in his future!

He hums softly to himself as he follows the trail with his eyes closed, abruptly stopping as he stumbles into someone.

"errr... hello?" Dimitri said cautiously. "If your after the priests then feel free to join. I may currently reside in a church, I wouldn't say divine inspiration is my forte"

While he respected the church and their role in Fodlan, he preferred to take a practical approach to problems rather than simply praying to Sothis and saints for an answer. But don't let Mercedes know that!

Picking up one of the flyers, Dimtri glanced over the text. Sadly, it didn't give much information to go on. Merely a sketch of a hooded figure pointing a finger with the words 'Join us'

He imagines himself, suddenly, alone in his homeland. His ties with the Hounds cleanly cut, his path to absolution slow but steady. He imagines, further, encountering someone whom the Hounds had wronged. Someone who has been stripped of all they hold dear. He asks himself, with no clear answer, if they would have a right to take his life.

He brings his own mount to a stop in the ankle-deep snow, seeking a place to tether its reins. "I suggest we station our horses for a short time," Mauvier continues. "It would be easiest to follow it on foot. And, if we were to find evidence that this creature poses no threat...that would be a more worthwhile result, in my eyes, than offering its head."

"Perhaps no rule is best" Dimitri muses "That way you don't have to worry about breaking it"

A heinous thing for a ruler to say. Growing up his tutors had greatly impressed on him their importance to prevent the kingdom falling into lawless ruin. But the academy was teaching him that there were times when rules needed to be bent for justice to be upheld.

like finding those who led to our deaths the ghostly voices whispered in his ear.

Shuddering Dimitri follows Mauvier's instructions and leaps down from his own steed. "I wont secure my horse if that's acceptable Sir Mauvier" he says "I want him to be able to escape should anything try to attack him" Walking forwards, he begins to scan the ground for tracks, a task made easier by the fresh snow.

"Research, your highness," she replied. "I've written down a few probable causes for this epidemic, however... I cannot simply just present them to the healers."

She tightened her grip on her cloak, hiding her undead form. The words of the vagabonds from Thracia echoed in her mind. The accusations. A situation she didn't wish to face again, and certainly not now when she was trying to hand over something that could save lives. There was no time for arguments and accusations when people were sick.

"You know the cause?" He asked hopeful that they might finally get some answers about what was going on. However, the next statement confused him, leading him to question "But surely the healers would be grateful for this information?"

Her answer raised the prince's hackles. The injustice of it! Why were nobles and academics so narrow-minded? As far as he knew a title did not come with brain-cells as a given.

Part of her does wonder if Dimitri means to make light of her comment, though. She doesn't really know what kind of man he is, nor of his reputation; but the way heads have turned at their arrival, she guesses it's pretty significant. At this point, meeting another foreign royal is no big deal, usually, and the difference in reception could just be their setting foot outside the monastery walls. Thinking back to when she had been chatting with Leif or Shiro, they hadn't turned quite as many heads, right? And as far as she knows, they're every bit the royalty she is! (Well, for Leif, probably a little more important.)

Plus, he's the friggin' house leader. He's gotta have been picked for a reason.

Musings aside, it was best they focus on their current goal, finding this supposed horse racing ring. It didn't help that he drew attention where ever he went, but Fee might be able to go more unnoticed. "How about we split up. You can move about the stalls and listen in, eavesdrop on groups. I'll go check the noticeboard and flyers to see if I can find anything. We meet back in 30 mins?"

It sounded like a good plan in his head. He wasn't naive enough to think a secret betting ring be loudly advertised, but instead there would be subtle clues placed where people could see and follow if they knew where to look. Stuff hidden in plain sight could be surprisingly effective when wishing to evade attention. It wouldn't surprise the prince if there was some innocuous poster for some horse related item which actually advertised the races.

The truth is, Claude does, actually, but as far as he's concerned, he didn't really need the Church and their silver-tongued idealisms to tell him that. Besides, getting places with his own hard work instead of relying on others to do the job for him was already his style before this.

He would, however, have to admit if asked, that working the soil is something he has not yet tried. Well, first time for everything, he supposes. He'll give it a shot. Besides, if the plague keeping the farmers at home resulted in the crops going to waste, that really would be a serious issue.

And well, if it isn't the famed crown prince of Faerghus coming that way, as well? Claude smiles and waves lightly to greet him; it's his usual smile for the most part, one that doesn't reach his eyes, but at the same time, devoid of any mockery or sarcasm, or anything like that. They're in the same boat, and as far as the Deer is concerned, they're not here to do anything that would be embarrassing.

"If it isn't His Highness in the flesh," he says with good cheer. "Ready to work the field? I'm curious to see how we do. Dunno about you, but I gotta admit that with this particular activity, I don't have a whole lot of experience."

Grabbing a sickle from the toolshed, he headed out to the fields where the foreman directed him to one of the plots. Arriving, he found himself next to one Claude von Reigan. Raising his hand to return the greeting, he replied,

"I am, I see you've also swapped your bow for a sickle. Careful where you swing that thing if you lack experience"

It wasn't surprising Claude's lack of knowledge of Faerghas crops for it wasn't actually a common topic of noblemen's education.

"I lack the practical experience, but I have some knowledge" Dimitri said a bit defensively "My tutor's taught me about my nation's climate and farming practises. After all, it is part of my responsibilities to ensure my people are fed. Due to the colder climates here, we actually grow oat and rye instead of wheat"

The Fine Arts division has put up a small bounty for the best painter-model duo come the end of the moon to stir up motivation! Artists are encouraged to scope out the best model and draw up the best replication of…a wyvern without actually being a wyvern? With such a specific requirement, do you approach potential partners with the truth? Or is method acting the way to go? [Grants Flying +1]

The art department was not a place you would often find one Faerghas prince but today was an exception. You might ask why a warrior academy would have a fine arts division but the church believed in creating well rounded individual as future leaders. Thus an education including the finer things was required and hence an art department.

After a meeting with his academic advisor, Dimitri had been warned that he was lacking in art credits for this month which would have detrimental effects on his progress. He'd been taking writing, history or language classes to fulfil requirements. This month however, the professors had decided in their ultimate wisdom to insist that all students took fine art.

The problem... he couldn't paint.

Well that wasn't quite true, just his efforts would look immature compared to the pieces he'd seen produced. "How am I going to do this?" he wondered aloud, pausing outside the door to the art room. Sighing he pushed the door open to seen pairs of students set up at easels, drawing subjects.

"Welcome Prince Dimitri" The professor greeted, preventing him from backing out unnoticed. "So wonderful to have you in my little haven. Our subject today is the great mighty Wyvern. Naturally, we can't have a live subject but this simply allows us the opportunity to use our IMAGINATIONS"

"Err, ok" Dimitri replies hesitantly in the face of her joyous explanation. "Thank you, I'll take a seat over here"

"Your curiosi-?" Her brow pinched, and instantly she craned her neck about to see if there may have been other movement, other people to be mindful of in the space they occupied, any listening ears connected to wagging tongues. 

Though there seemed none others with them in the maze, this didn't quite satisfy her, and the tucked her fingers into his elbow and dragged him to a quiet corner. "What are you doing here, if you are not aware of the rumors inside of the house? Of what the owner is up to? As a student of the Academy, surely you are not here for a social call...?" 

She trailed off, incredulous, tilting her head to one side in simultaneous confusion and vigilance, continuing to listen for other footsteps crunching against the gravel. 

"he--y " Dimitri exclaimed as he was unceremoniously dragged away to the side and bombarded with questions. "ok, ok." he said holding his hands up " I have heard the rumours surrounding the lady of the house. The church is aware of it and investigating. However my presence here is separate from that. I wanted to find the dogs, to see if the experimentation tales were true"

and potentially rescue them.

Dimitri didn't say the last part aloud as it sounded silly and naive. But the idea of hurting animals was abhorrent to the Prince. Having spoken, it was his turn to listen to Lachesis' explanation.

"My name is Dimitri" Introducing himself without the titles "I see our goals for being here align. We could be allies?"

"Me?" She repeated, primed at the ready to give a response. Her eyes moved to glare at the entranceway. "I don't disagree with anything you said. It can depend on the battle's goal. There are circumstances where allying with another is influenced by a shared aim, only assured by collaboration."

She would know. She does know. Did know. Always knew. Lilacs squinted. She'd rather be careful with her words. It was important to not reveal anything enshrined deep in the Empire as it was emphasizing what sort of leader she deigned to be. She pondered if Dimitri was choosing his sentences in a similar manner.

"Right" he said further agreeing " So assuming we were in battle with a shared goal, became allies in order to defeat a common enemy. Once they were defeated would you automatically believe me or any other ally would turn on you?"

It was part to challenge the Eagle Empress' view but also genuine curiosity on what her answer would be. It also caused him to look inwards and consider what he would do. On the one hand, he did have a natural suspicion of others following the Duscar incident showing him it was foolish to have a naive belief in the good of others. However, it didn't make sense to burn bridges and start a new battle once one is over.

"Here you go. Take care of it. I haven't seen any other books like it. Likely some degree of magic, but... such a unique energy to it."

No torture method works the same on two victims.

He had seen it drive a neighbor to madness down below.

Who was to say this would go the same?

And if it did... well, not only was it more information, but it rendered someone with such a distinct royalty to him under very easy control...

Well, Iago would not be foolish enough to lose that opportunity.

Even if that book had every right to be his...

Was giving it to the blonde boy really anything different than a slight delay?

He would get it anyhow.

"...What's the title, at any rate? My spoken Fodlani is well honed, but written is... slightly rusty. I would not mind knowing more on this tome than what I was told of it. I would gladly translate it to my native tongue, if possible, but a vocal retelling would suffice."

A lie. He could write like a scholar should. But that was irrelevant. Keep the attention on the book.

No letting him leave with it. He could burn it! He could rip it to shreds with his weapons! He could eat the pages, throw it into the lake, do who-knows-what! And that book was either leaving here in one piece or this student would leave in pieces. The monastery would be in pieces, the CONTINENT would be-

"..."

...Iago takes a breath. No losing composure. No losing scope. He would have this book.

He will.

Even if not now.

Even if this broad stepping stone has to be cleared first.

It would be his.

Good, good. It's yours now. Guard me wisely and all you wish for will be granted.

If his brain wasn't addled from lack of sleep, the prince would have been suspicious at the new voice in his mind but at this point he didn't have the mental fortitude to question it. Then the man in front of him spoke again.

"Um... hang on let me check." He said before flipping the book in his hand to look at the spine. The letters shifted in and out of focus, not in Fodlani yet somehow he could still read it...

It became his business, though, when he was commanded to search for it and kill it. In that way, Mauvier's own opinion had become irrelevant. An order is an order; such a thing is true to the core of his bones.

But...to see signs of the beast now, his heart wavers again. Is it a terrible misunderstanding? Does this poor creature bear the burden of people's unfounded fears? Will killing it bring any peace, cleanse any sins?

What if this was the case now?

"But we were commanded to hunt it, Sir Mauvier" Dimitri countered though his heart wasn't in it. "Surely it's against the knights code to go against orders"

That's what he'd been taught by his masters back home. However, his dear father had also installed in him the importance of using his own judgment rather than blindly following like a sheep.