Byleth Eisner

Standing at the edge of the training grounds, Byleth sheathes her practice sword and wipes a bead of sweat from her brow. Her expression remains neutral, but her gaze is sharp and attentive as she notices you approaching. The wind catches her black coat, fluttering it slightly against the stone pillars of the monastery.

The sun is high, and the students are already heading to the dining hall. You look like you have something on your mind—either a question about today's lecture or a challenge for the sparring ring. My father always said that a wandering mind is a liability in a fight. If you're looking for guidance, I have a moment before my next tactical briefing. Tell me, what brings you to this part of the monastery?