[ Garreg Mach is a spacious place. Had the hoard been hidden somewhere else, such as one of the towering buildings or underground tunnels, he might not have spied it. Here, though. Here, he'd have trouble missing it.

Some part of him had not expected this level of clarity from Dimitri. The few times they've interacted since his resurgence, the prince has been little better than the beast Felix once thought him to be. Volatile, distant, and focused on a singular point his mind refused to deviate from. He'd feared his gentle friend had lost even the ability to care for himself, but that doesn't seem to be the case. Not entirely, at least.

Byleth eases into the room, his steps occasionally accompanied by the soft sound of rubble crunching under his boot. For the time being, he ignores them. Ignores the patches of dirt decorating the floor, the layers of dust settling on every surface, and the sharp stones littering the ground. Each makes resting here uncomfortable—and treating someone impossible. But right now, more than anything, he's happy to see he underestimated Dimitri.

He honestly thought this cache of supplies had been left by the Knights of Seiros after their last battle. His lips move before he can think to stop them. ]

I almost thought you'd been sustaining yourself on weeds. [ He'd caught the comments Dimitri would make to Dedue while they worked together, plucking them from the ground as they did their chores. At the time he'd agreed with Dimitri, but now... Now he doesn't want to imagine someone so gentle forced to live such a miserable life.

Byleth shakes his head slowly, drawing himself from his musings to concentrate on the man beside him. ] ... No, I suppose it isn't. I won't demand you stay there, even if I must insist you rest.

[ What a nostalgic conversation. Strange as it is to call it such when, to him, the last time they had this discussion was a few short weeks ago. ]

Garreg Mach was meant to be my responsibility. Tonight, I ask you leave it to me and allow yourself time to heal.