The war is over. Seteth says it so simply, like one might turn the final page of a book and reach its end, just like that. Felix can hardly imagine the war's end. What will he even do with himself when it's over? Take up his father's title and retire from the field to play bureaucrat? Eugh.

He arches a brow, hearing about Claude's dangerous schemes, gambles that nevertheless apparently won them the war. He never knew Claude well, and never really cared to, but the man's political savvy over the last five years has impressed even Felix, who knows and cares little for politics to begin with.

"It certainly sounds like Claude's kind of war. High risk, high reward. He's an unconventional tactician who'll do anything to win. I can respect that."

He thinks back on their own campaign so far. More of a shitshow, really. "We started off with a small force, as well. Once we found Dimitri at Garreg Mach, my father and Gilbert insisted he rally what was left of the Kingdom behind the true king, with you and the Knights of Seiros as our allies, but he was a pathetic mess of a man. In no condition to rally or rule anything."

Felix scowls just remembering it all. "So he made us push into the Empire with our depleted forces for the sake of his mindless revenge. Wasting resources and lives on pointless slaughter. It wasn't until my father gave his life to save Dimitri's that he pulled his head out of his ass and reclaimed his throne. We still might have struggled if it wasn't for Claude requesting aid to repel the Empire's invasion of Leicester. Afterward, he remerged the Alliance with the Kingdom under Dimitri's rule, handed over his relic, and flew off to Goddess knows where."

He shrugs. "We were planning to go back to Garreg Mach and regroup for the final push to Enbarr. Then I washed ashore here."