"My aim has always been to better the future of humanity. I fight for the lives of all people, present and future. I'm sure you've all read the manifesto that I published five years ago, so I am not going to repeat it here. Instead, I want to expound on why I believe what I believe.
"There is a great secret spoken down the Hresvelg line from one successor of the throne to the next which originates from the first Adrestian Emperor, Wilhem Paul Hresvelg himself. That secret is the secret of the Church's origins: Saint Seiros founded the Church of Seiros in order to control the minds of the people, and Emperor Wilhelm helped her spread the faith, believing that it was for the good of Fodlan."
She casts a quick look around the classroom to gauge her peer's reactions before continuing.
"For over a thousand years, the Hresvelg line has kept Seiros' secret. One after another, my ancestors have served her every whim. We've given her everything she's asked. When she asked Emperor Ionius the Second to divide Fodlan into two, he complied. Thus, the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus was born. When she asked Emperor Ionius the Third to allow for a third split, he complied, giving birth to the Leicester Alliance. These divisions have been in constant conflict ever since."
"Wait, I'm confused," Dorothea raises her hand as she speaks. "You make it sound as if Saint Seiros were alive when those things happened."
"She was," Edelgard answers.
"Lady Rhea," Linhardt says out of nowhere, provoking looks of surprise from a few,
"Yes," Edelgard confirms. "Under different names and guises, Archbishop Rhea has been present throughout much of recorded history. She is the founder of the Church of Seiros."
"According to the books," Caspar chimes in. "Ionius the Second was advised by Archbishop Ahm to cede the north to Faerghus in order to end the war of the Eagle and Lion. Now that we know what war is really like, you can't say you couldn't have made the same choice."
"According to the books… you mean the books written by the Church?" Edelgard asks.
"Yeah," Caspar says; he frowns.
"If Loog had continued fighting to destroy the Church and unite Fodlan, our war would not have happened," Edelgard says with her fists clenched tightly. "But Loog did not have the strength nor the will to bring the war to its proper conclusion as he should have done. I do."
"I have a question for you, Edelgard," Byleth interrupts, drawing all the students' attention. "Two in fact."
"Yes?" Edelgard turns. Her attention centers on Byleth and she tenses visibly for a short second before relaxing.
"Let's say the Church is, in fact, a lie created in order to pacify the people. If it produces peace, if it creates a society in which all people, both believers and non-believers, are able to live fulfilled, happy lives, why not allow it to persist? Why destroy it?"
"Fulfilled? Happy?" Edelgard scoffs with a flare of anger. "Do you think I was fulfilled when they were digging their knives into my body? Do you think I was happy?!"
"Edelgard," Byleth says before Edelgard could misunderstand further. "It is a hypothetical. The premise is presumed to be true. Do not stray into anecdotal appeal, and answer the question."
Facing the front, Edelgard cracks an awfully cynical smile that only Byleth sees. The Emperor looks, for a moment, as if she is about to cry, but she quickly controls herself.
Byleth feels a spark of worry over her student's unusual emotional state, but she makes no sign of it.
"No," Edelgard answers eventually. "They would be living a lie. A happy lie, but a lie nonetheless."
"Why is that wrong?" Byleth presses.
"It's wrong because, well," Edelgard cuts her answer short. "Would you rather know the truth or would you rather live in blissful ignorance? Tell me honestly, Professor."
"Personally, I would prefer to know the truth," Byleth answers. "But would it be right for me to impose my preference onto someone else who would have otherwise lived a happy life?"
The question hangs in the air.
"I do not like this hypothetical, Professor." Edelgard replies. "It does not apply to the reality of the Church as it was. As it is. People were not happy, and the Church was directly responsible."
"What if the Church were to be reformed?" Byleth asks, choosing not to dispute the claim of responsibility made against the Church. "Given that it can be reformed in such a way as to bring about the hypothetical, would you still destroy it?"
Edelgard blinks. Her animosity vanishes as she reaches some sort of understanding. "I see. I understand what you are asking now. If the Church is as it was supposed to be - as my ancestor Wilhelm and many of his successors had believed it to be - then, in that case..."
The Emperor's words come to a stop as she lapses into thought.
The entire classroom is silent, waiting for an answer.
"Teacher," Edelgard starts to say after a long moment of silence. "I saw no route to reform. If I had known that you were-"
"Stop," Byleth interrupts her with a weighted look.
Edelgard does as she is told.
"As you wish, my teacher."
"If you were what?" Caspar suddenly asks in a demanding voice. "What was she about to say. Professor?"
"I will tell you by the time this lecture period finishes."
"No! Why does Edelgard know and we don't?" Caspar snarls. "Are you siding with Edelgard?"
"Yes," Byleth answers without hesitation to her students' collective shock.
"You are?! Huh. I should've known." Caspar jumps to his feet. "Bernadetta, we're leaving."
"What?" Bernadetta stands, but her voice is unsure. "Are you-?"
"Caspar-" Byleth starts to say, but her voice is drowned out and ignored
"Yes!" Caspar shouts to Bernadetta. "Now!"
"Caspar, wait." Linhardt interrupts.
"Linhardt," Caspar trembles visibly. "You can't possibly-! Are you choosing that side too?"
"You've known me since we were toddlers," Linhardt answers. "I've already made my position clear. Don't make silly accusations, Caspar."
"The Professor is an enemy!"
"You're being extremely irrational," Linhardt replies calmly. "In any case, if the Professor were evil or incompetent, I wouldn't be sitting here quietly, listening to the Adrestian Emperor talk while playing this game of student. Now if you would stop overreacting and interrupting the class, maybe we can finish early and get some sleep."
Caspar finds himself suddenly alone. He looks around wordlessly, aimlessly.
"Caspar," Byleth says gently, drawing his attention. "I'm on your side too."
"What do you mean?" Caspar asks, confused. "You can't be on both sides! We're literally fighting a war against each other!"
Byleth closes her eyes in a show of patience. "I want you to tell me that you will behave until the end of this lecture. Do you trust me, Caspar?"
"I-" Caspar looks away, unable to meet her eyes. "If you had asked me five years ago…"
"I haven't changed," Byleth says. "Will you behave?"
Caspar's fists clench and unclench. He glances briefly at Bernadetta who is already seated before he finally gives in. He sits down, visibly ashamed, and says nothing more.
Caspar's question lingers heavily in the aftermath of his outburst.
"I would also like to know this secret of yours that apparently only her Majesty is aware of," Hubert volunteers.
The students' eyes demand an answer, and Byleth feels the weight of her lie. Despite its apparent necessity, her hypocrisy on the subject of truth is provoking an unexpectedly strong feeling of guilt inside her.
"I will reveal my hand after I've gathered enough information," she says. "Edelgard, please continue."
"My teacher," Edelgard says. "I think it's best if you tell them."
The guilt. It is useless. It is necessary. "Alright... I am the Goddess Sothis," Byleth lies. "I was to gain control of the Church, but the war was instigated and I was defeated by… I don't know exactly who they are. Those responsible for turning humans into Crest-stone monsters. Does the Empire still employ their methods?"
Byleth glances from Hubert to Edelgard. It is Ferdinand who answers the question, to Byleth's mild surprise.
"We are still allies," Ferdinand says, standing to his feet. "But we don't allow Crest-beasts or Crest experiments anymore. They're inhumane, they make us inhumane, and that puts us in the wrong. General Ro would have fought us to the bitter end instead of surrendering if he had seen Crest Beasts on the battlefield. We would have lost the support of at least two Alliance lords if they knew we were still engaged in those fell experiments, and these are just the cases that we know of. That is why the prohibitions are in place. We would have tainted our noble cause with the most ignoble of deeds otherwise."
"Thank you for your detailed response, Ferdinand," Edelgard replies dryly.
"You can always count on me, Edelgard," Ferdinand bows and then sits.
"Your Majesty" Hubert hisses to Ferdinand, correcting his form of address.
"We're in class," Ferdinand says in reply.
Hubert wisely refrains himself from what would've been a pointless argument and looks away dissatisfied.
"Are you really the Goddess?" Dorothea asks.
"Yes," Byleth answers.
"Linhardt! You're a genius! How did you know?!"
"It was only a theory," says Linhardt.
"Still!" Dorothea exclaims. "Who else would have guessed?!"
"Lady Rhea knew," Linhardt replies. "I'm sure Seteth does as well. By the way, Edelgard, whatever happened to Lady Rhea?"
Edelgard's response to the unexpected question is guarded. "Do you expect me to know?"
"I don't," says Linhardt. "But I've been meaning to ask. Do you?"
Edelgard falls into temporary silence. She sneaks a glance at Byleth who catches it. "I do," she says, finally.
"Whatever happened to her must have been unspeakable if you haven't announced it to the world," Linhardt guesses. "She's not being... experimented on, is she?"
"I can't say," Edelgard manages.
"Why?" Linhardt quips.
"The question is irrelevant to the prompt," says Edelgard curtly. She glances down at the full page that she'd written as if deciding whether or not to continue her speech. "The Adrestian Empire is my choice of faction. I don't believe I have anything else to say."
Byleth examines the young woman carefully. The subject of Rhea's circumstances is one she really wants to hear about, but it is one she knows she doesn't need to push at the moment.
"Very good," says Byleth. "Any last questions or comments?"
"I have a comment, Professor," Ferdinand says, raising his hand. Receiving a nod, he stands to deliver his comment. "Whatever path you choose moving forward from today, Edelgard, I hope you don't forget that you have trusted advisors you can consult with."
"Noted," Edelgard replies, and Ferdinand resumes his seat.
"Anyone else?" Byleth asks. "Yes, Dorothea?"
"This might be a sensitive subject, but you said something about the Church 'digging their knives' into your body," says Dorothea. "What do you mean by that?"
"You have it wrong," Edelgard answers. "It wasn't the Church that did it to me, though it might as well have been."
"So…" Dorothea ponders in confusion. "If the Church isn't at fault-"
"It's the system of Crests that the Church has propagated since its inception that led to… to what happened to me and my family. It's why I'm the last surviving Hresvelg."
"What did happen to you exactly?" Dorothea asks with a mix of curiosity and concern.
"It's… I am not obligated to discuss it with you," says Edelgard.
"Well clearly you've told the Professor," Dorothea presses. "It's obviously a big factor in why you started this war and who you are today. You have to tell us."
"Professor, I don't think-" Edelgard turns back to look toward Byleth for help, but Byleth doesn't help. She does the opposite.
"Tell them," says Byleth. "They should know."
Byleth watches her student's eyes glaze over, watches her expression tense into a vulnerable panic. Edelgard regains control of her present state and turns back to face her classmates.
She hesitates, looking from one classmate to another as she thinks on what she is about to do.
"I was locked in a cell for three years," she says finally. "And I was tortured every day."
She removes a gauntlet, dropping it unceremoniously onto the floor with a heavy clunk. Her bare hand is covered in countless silvery slivers - scars on top of scars on top of scars. The scars disappear into her wrist and not a single spot is unblemished.
"How many thousands of cuts were made on my hands alone, I cannot say," she says, a strange anger filtering into her words. "Only the skin on my head, my neck and my face, was left untouched. Are you satisfied?"
The most remarkable sight that Byleth sees that night is the sight of tears in Hubert's eyes. Hubert, of all people.
"I-I had no idea…" Dorothea says with horror.
"I don't want your pity!" Edelgard all but snarls. It's too late.
Byleth looks away from Hubert to see that Ferdinand and Petra are reacting the same way as the rest of the students. Of the students, only Hubert had known.
It is a secret Byleth remembers Edelgard revealing to her long before the war was even instigated. Has she always-?
"Professor," Edelgard says tonelessly, interrupting Byleth's thoughts. "I don't see what purpose this serves, but I am done taking questions."
The Adrestian Emperor takes her seat slowly and buries her face in her hands, only one of which is covered.
There is nothing she can say, Byleth knows, that would help except to move forward with the lesson. She is reminded, for a moment, of something Edelgard had said to her after Jeralt's death.
Only you can truly understand your own sadness. Others can sympathize or even empathize, but all anyone else can offer are the tears of an outsider looking in. So I have no intention of crying for you, or of standing still with you. All I can do is promise to reach out my hand when the time comes for me to move forward.
"Three more before we move on to the autobiography," Byleth announces, pointing to her chalkboard. "Petra. You haven't spoken a single word since we've started. You're next."
