Chapter Text
Bernadetta was nervous as she approached the Varley estate. She didn’t want to see her father. She didn’t want to be anywhere near her father, in fact. But this was an important mission, and if they were successful she would never have to worry about her father again.
It would have helped if she had only one Death Knight beside her instead of two. Jeritza... he was fine! She liked him, and she thought he might like her back, or at least as much as anyone could possibly like her. The more important thing was that he made her feel safe. Yes, he was scary, and terrifying, and dangerous, but that only meant that he was scary and terrifying and dangerous to anything that might want to harm her. Anything like, well, her father.
The other, though... She still thought of him as Dimitri. She knew she wasn’t supposed to; it was a secret that Dimitri was still alive at all, much less working for the Empire. Though she supposed that ‘working for’ was a bit of a stretch. He didn’t do much more than fight, and keep fighting, and not stop until he either exhausted himself or Hubert stepped in.
This was to be his first mission without Hubert supervising. He swore that he’d implemented new safety measures after the incident last month- the most important one being the brass control mask Dimitri wore whenever he left the castle. It was based on the ones that Those Who Slither In The Dark used to command demonic beasts, and Hubert had assured everyone that his own special additions made it impossible for a Slither to try to use it to turn him against them.
Bernadetta was still nervous about the whole matter. She hadn’t been there when the incident had happened, but even just the stories told about it had set her to hiding in her room until Byleth could talk her out again. But she had to be here, for the servants’ sakes. Whatever her father’s crimes were, whatever the crimes of the people he was meeting with, the servants were innocent. She had to make sure they stayed safe and secure and weren’t anywhere near the meeting area when everything went down.
Part of that was making sure they were actually let into the manor instead of having to break in. The doorman looked about ready to raise the alarm; two Death Knights in full gear, spiked armor and all, were highly intimidating. The Imperial standard that Bernadetta was waving was likely the only reason he hadn’t already done it.
What was his name? It had been so long since she’d last been to the estate- before the war, even before she was taken to the monastery. Was it- “Martin!” she finally remembered.
The doorman didn’t look any more relaxed, but at least he wasn’t reaching for the bell pull yet. “Lady Bernadetta?”
She could do this. She’d practiced it on the ride over. “I’m here representing the Emperor. My father is believed to be associating with an enemy state; we’re here to place him under arrest.”
Martin actually relaxed a fraction- Count Varley was not an especially nice man, and especially not to anyone he considered beneath him. If he was removed, the Countess would take control of the house instead. And while Bernadetta’s mother was hardly friendly, she at least understood the merits of keeping the servants fed and free of bruises. “Is this anything you’ll need our assistance for, my Lady?”
Bernadetta nodded. “I need you to have everyone except Father and the men he’s meeting with go into the servant quarters, barricade the door, and not come out until I come for you, no matter what you might hear. He’s not going to come quietly and there will be some fighting.”
“The other guests, too?” asked Martin. “We can try to fit them, but...”
Bernadetta froze in place. “What other guests?”
The von Varley manor had been designed at a time when it was fashionable for servants to be completely unseen and unheard. The rooms were built with cramped corridors running between them, with hidden doors and peepholes built in so the servants could find and slip into empty rooms to clean them without their lowly presence upsetting their betters. In more modern times, the hidden doors were barricaded to prevent the servants from stealing and the peepholes used by agents of the Count to spy on guests and family members alike.
Martin called one of the maids, Mirabelle, to bring her to the peephole for the largest of the guest rooms. She was a veteran of the estate and well familiar with the winding and unlabeled servant corridors.
“Don’t be too surprised by them,” she warned. “They’re a little... strange.”
Mirabelle had been serving the estate when Bernadetta’s uncle started his obsession with seances and tried unsuccessfully to convince her father to “commune with the great ancestors,” so if she said someone was strange, she meant it.
Inside the guest room were perhaps a dozen people, whispering quietly to each other in an unknown language. Most of them, Bernadetta was horrified to realize, were young. Two of them, huddled together on the lap of one of the adults, were barely at walking age. A little girl was waiting patiently as an old man braided her hair. All of them were ash-pale, with stringy white or straw-colored hair. Bernadetta knew that Those Who Slithered In The Dark didn’t look like most people, but they usually at least tried to hide it. She didn’t understand why they would just... be out like this.
Several were injured- she could see fresh bandages on a couple of the adults. That alone was odd; shouldn’t they have healers to turn to?
“We’re changing the mission objective,” she finally decided. “There’s- there’s something strange going on here. We should take them in for questioning instead of just...” Bernadetta really didn’t want to kill children, even if they were the enemy.
“We’re not equipped for a capture mission,” said Jeritza.
It was true. Bernadetta was the only member of the group that could reliably do disabling shots, and even those were at risk of bleeding out the target- limbs generally did not like having large holes poked into them. It was hard for Jeritza to keep his Death Knight personality in check when fighting. And Dimitri...
Dimitri was twisting his hands around the shaft of his scythe like he was trying to wring someone’s neck. Bernadetta didn’t know if he could fight non-lethally at all.
“Still, we need to try.” She couldn’t live with herself otherwise. Turning to Mirabelle, she said, “Can you make sure Father’s guests don’t leave the room? Tell them the truth- there’s an Imperial inspection and they need to stay still and silent if they’re going to stay safe.”
Dimitri let out a gasping, wordless groan and started walking down the corridor ahead of them. Jeritza calmly but quickly went to catch up with him to rest an arm on his shoulder. Dimitri seemed to barely notice, maintaining his pace without the slightest pause.
“Say whatever you need to get them to agree,” Bernadetta corrected as Mirabelle looked at the two Death Knights with alarm. “I’ve already asked Martin to have everyone else hide in the servant quarters- after you’re done here, help him spread the word. Can you do that for me?”
Mirabelle nodded, eyes wide, then turned to hurry back down the corridor behind them.
They heard the arguing before they reached the meeting hall. Her father was demanding something- shelter, it sounded like- and seemed to think his guests were reneging on their deal for it.
Bernadetta knew what kind of a negotiator her father was. He made a point to never compromise- either the unfortunate person he was dealing with accepted whatever he deigned to offer them, or they were cut loose to go their own way. And it was a very rare occasion where he dealt with anyone who could afford to let him do that.
That he hadn’t just thrown the Slithers out yet suggested that whatever was being bargained for, he needed it more than he would usually ever admit. Considering the context, it was clear that he knew the Empire was coming for him. If they didn’t neutralize him now, and he got away, there was a good chance they’d never manage to find him again.
“Traps on the door?” Jeritza asked her quietly as they approached the meeting hall.
She shook her head. Her father wasn’t the sort to lower himself to traps.
Jeritza nodded at her, then gestured at Dimitri to follow him. In one smooth motion, he kicked the door open and surged through, Dimitri at his heels. The three of them fanned out into the room, Bernadetta between the two Knights, her bow at the ready and an arrow nocked, just in case they couldn’t manage a clean arrest.
There were four mages with her father, all wearing the bird masks that Imperial mages used to hide their identities. Their robes fit poorly and were clearly borrowed, and one of the masks was cracked so badly that a flash of paper-white skin was visible underneath it.
Count Varley was already beet-red with anger, and he somehow managed to get even more flushed when he saw just who it was who had interrupted his meeting.
Bernadetta froze. There were words she was supposed to say, but they died in her throat at the sight of her father’s outraged face.
“Bernadetta, really? She sent you?” Count Varley asked. His voice was quiet, but glacial in tone. “I would have thought she’d send someone competent, but I suppose the Emperor thought it amusing to have someone stab her own father in the back. And who are they?” He nodded at Jeritza and Dimitri, the latter of whom was focused intently on him. “Your minders?”
This was a bad idea. This was the worst idea. How could she have possibly thought she could do this? This mission was going to fail in such a miserable way, and she’d be a laughingstock and be kicked off of the Strike Force and have to go live in the Abyss with the thieves and whores and castoffs, and she’d make a horrible thief and a worse whore so she’d probably starve there alone and unwanted.
Even the Slithers looked embarrassed to have to deal with her, but the three of them were between them and the door so they couldn’t even slink away to leave her in her misery. Jeritza was trying to get control of the situation, but he was almost as bad as she was at projecting a sense of authority (he was much better at terrifying people than talking them down), Dimitri didn’t seem interested in helping him at all, and her father was still talking.
She couldn’t even tell what her father was saying anymore- something about dogs, and possibly the Empire- but she could tell well enough when Dimitri let out an unholy shriek and charged, scythe clattering against the floor.
For all his faults, Count Varley was a nobleman of the Empire and well-trained in the art of combat. He neatly sidestepped the charge and slid his sword into the gap in his armor underneath his upper arm. For most opponents, that would be it. Even if he didn’t cut the large arteries that ran under the arm and bleed them out that way, the loss of use of their arm would render them easy to finish off. Dimitri was not most opponents. Dimitri had once taken a spear through the chest and run up the shaft to kill the wielder. Dimitri wouldn’t be stopped by anything.
Dimitri snapped the sword in half and bowled Count Varley over, slamming him to the ground. There was only a single moment of panicked flailing- which resulted in the Count knocking off the brass mask and nothing more- before Dimitri grabbed him by the face and slammed his head against the floor.
Then he did it again. And again. Bone crunched, and still he kept at it. At some point, Count Varley stopped struggling, but Dimitri didn’t seem to care. All he cared about was that there was still enough of a head left for him to grab and smash.
While he was busy, Jeritza circled around to approach him from his blind side, scooping up the discarded mask as he went. As Dimitri finally realized there was nothing left of the former Count Varley worth smashing and stood up, he lunged. Dimitri let out an outraged screech and swung a fist at the man, but before it could connect Jeritza managed to set the mask on his face.
Dimitri stilled instantly. Even his breathing, which had been sharp and harsh, slowed and evened. Even as Jeritza prodded at the wound in his arm, he stood up straight and unresponsive.
Ok. No, not ok. But better than it had been before. Dimitri was as stable as he ever was. Her father was very dead, but she needed to wait until they were back in the carriage going home until she could start unpacking the emotions roiling in her head. Now there was only the matter of Those Who Slithered in the Dark.
She had to get control of the situation. They were cornered and scared, pressing themselves against the back wall as if they could slide through it if they tried hard enough. If she pushed too hard, they’d attack. If she didn’t push enough, they’ll try to flee and attack when she tried to intercept them. This was no time to have a panic attack.
“Surrender now,” she said in a surprisingly steady voice. Don’t squeak, just talk. “Don’t make any sudden movements, and follow us. Your families are safe. You will be too if you cooperate.”
One of the mages jerked in surprise and gave her a horrified look. Right. They didn’t know their family was a known factor in these proceedings.
Dimitri groaned. As one, all of the living people in the room turned to stare as Jeritza pressed the mask more firmly against his face.
“No sudden movements,” Bernadetta repeated. “You saw what the Death Knight can do. As long as you aren’t a danger, he’ll stand down.” She hoped. She dearly, dearly hoped.
In the end, their retreat was surprisingly simple. The Slithers allowed themselves to be arrested, on the condition that Dimitri go nowhere near them or especially their families. The servants of the von Varley estate even loaned them two extra carriages and drivers so they could take their prisoners to see the Emperor.
The servants themselves agreed to maintain the estate until Edelgard could have the Countess von Varley installed in the Count’s place. No one seemed especially unhappy about the circumstances of the change in regime, or at least not visibly.
Their original carriage’s driver looked both impressed and annoyed at the inconvenience of it all. “Only you would manage to come out with so many... extras,” Hubert said, voice almost purring as he considered the prisoners. “I was going to shut him down, but I think having the Death Knight active will be needed for security if nothing else.”
“Keep him away from us!” the mage with the broken mask demanded. Hubert glared her down.
Hubert was not a good person to try to order around, especially in circumstances like this, but Bernadetta understood the sentiment with Dimitri still covered in the gore of her father. She herself was going to have a good long scream about it as soon as she was done debriefing Hubert about their mission.
But even so... “They did agree to come peacefully if he’d stay away,” Bernadetta said.
Hubert had moved on to inspecting Dimitri and was making annoyed noises at the injury to his arm. Jeritza had given him a vulnerary, but shreds of his doublet had healed inside the wound. “It’s not as if we can leave him here,” he said, with a final prod at the wound. “He’ll have to travel with someone. Myself and... oh, enough of the children to keep the others from getting any ideas about fleeing.” He smiled sweetly at the mage. “Unless you would rather find some volunteers?”
The mage vanished into the crowd of prisoners. Hubert watched her go, dropping the smile only when she had started rallying the others. “How unusual,” he drawled. “Civilian slitherers in the dark, out here in the open? Something interesting must be happening in their burrows.” He shook his head. “Well, we’ll just have to interrogate them and see what information they have for us.”
“In the meantime, we still need to get them home,” Bernadetta reminded him.
Hubert nodded. “In the meantime, yes. Get yourself situated,” he said as the mage started directing the other prisoners to the carriages. He turned and walked toward her. “The other wagon!” he called. “You there, and you- yes, like that.
Bernadetta followed him. “I’ll ride with D- with the Death Knight,” she offered as the carriages filled up. She could see how afraid everyone was of Dimitri already, and adding Hubert to that would be... well, unnerving. Especially if Hubert decided to make some tweaks to Dimitri right there in front of them.
“Are you sure?” Hubert asked. “I can see how much blood is on him, I can see who isn’t a prisoner here, and I know how he fights.”
She was probably going to have nightmares about what had happened, but still... “So do they, now. We don’t want to terrify them too badly, and they know me as the one who spared them.”
Hubert paused, then nodded. “Take the middle carriage. I’ll send him in once everyone else is settled.”
Bernadetta went over to join the prisoners waiting for their turn at the carriage door. As soon as they were in, she climbed up into it herself, squeezed herself between a terrified old man and the wall, and sighed. Enbarr was a long way away.