[If there was one constant in life, it was Shez's seemingly unshakeable confidence.

But not arrogance. It was a fine line, but Shez admirably maintained a level-headed humility that kept his ego well in check, that ensured he didn't become blinded by his own skill and his unflagging optimism. If it had been anyone else, standing there and proclaiming that they could take on anything Fate threw at them, no matter what, he would've brushed it off as the delusional bragging of a third-rate mercenary.

But this was Shez, and he always backed up what he boasted - he always got back up after being kicked down again and again, swinging harder and harder, relentless in closing the skill gap until Byleth was the one floundering to keep up. If he believed that they could do this, that they could succeed where they failed last time...]

Careful. Saying things like that may tempt Fate to throw more arduous trials our way.

[But there was a hint of a smile on Byleth's face, his even tone a smidgeon more warm than usual. As he spoke, he grasped his own whistle and pulled its twine from over his head, curling his fingers around it so it was held gently within his fist.]

But if it does...

[He reached out, and gently bumped his fist - still holding the whistle - against Shez's own, his smile widening a little.]

...we'll meet them head on, together.