Moving with a limp is a very difficult task. Lucas could attest to that, having been inflicted with such a problem some time ago. It takes a massive amount of effort to simply move your leg, all the while it burns due to whatever physical ailment has befallen it.
Moving with substantially hefty armour on was a much, much more difficult task. Not only was the armour itself incredibly burdensome on Lucas' chest, his entire body was screaming in agony with every step he took. One foot after the other had become a living nightmare.
Lucas wished he really was dreaming. But after the wake-up call (which, sadly, lacked tea) from earlier with the bandit and Sothis and stuff, he couldn't fall back on that idea ever again. He had to deal with whatever came to him, whether he wanted to or not. That included the armour-related pain he'd been suffering through for so long. Luckily, there was a saving grace.
"You really can't move in that thing very well, can't you?" Jeralt commented, having noticed Lucas' pain. "That's only one of my smaller armours."
"Y-yeah, laugh it up…!" Lucas heaved between breaths. "I was in a rush. I had to make do."
"This would've been avoided if you just listened to me, kid," Jeralt sighed. "I can carry you if that'll help."
"N-no, that'll be fine," Lucas refused. He really didn't wish to have to endure that embarrassment. "Why didn't anyone bring any wagons or anything?"
"Because we were only asked to rescue the students, not to transport any objects! The students themselves were on a simple training exercise, so they didn't need anything transported either," Alois barged into the conversation, having finished speaking with some knights. "It was a good thing we brought large enough bags to contain all of our camping materials."
"Well, what if someone got hurt? Say someone had their leg broken. What then?" Lucas questioned the older man.
"That's what healing magic is for! I think," Alois smiled.
Lucas paused. "Oh, right. Forgot magic's a thing in this world. Hey wait a minute, magic's a thing in this world! How have I only just realised? Hopefully I can cast something cool."
His positive, excitable thoughts were enough to ease the pain ever so slightly. Unfortunately, the blood that Lucas' bandit 'friend' spewed onto him earlier combined with his eternal sweat proved to be a constant reminder of his condition to not only himself, but everyone else around him. Healers kept coming up to him, asking if he needed any healing. He didn't need any, as he lacked any actual injuries that healing could mend. Though, he could've sworn they used some healing spell anyway just to help him with his armour aches, which was definitely appreciated on his end. They made the journey to Garreg Mach Monastery a bit more bearable.
What made the journey even more bearable was his near-constant conversations with Claude of all people, of which helped distract Lucas from the pain. The Almyran was certainly making good on his promise to talk with this new fellow whenever he could.
"Hey, so you're Lucas, right?" Claude asked at one point.
"Yeah," Lucas nodded, pain receding momentarily after a calming heal. "What do you want?"
"Just wanted to speak with you, like I said earlier," Claude happily answered. "Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself? You seem like a nice person."
"Are you trying to butter me up or something? If anything, I should be doing that to you," Lucas growled slightly, a frown coming onto his face.
"What? No, why would I do that? I barely even know who you are. That's exactly why I wanna talk to you, so I can know who you are," Claude seemed mildly offended by that accusation. "At least I know you're of the irritable type."
"Well, when you've had a hellish day like mine, you tend to get irritable," Lucas sighed, releasing his frown.
"Hellish? That's certainly descriptive," Claude chuckled somewhat. "Could it have really been that bad?"
Lucas pointed to his bloodied armour and said nothing.
"You had a bad fight?" guessed Claude.
"Something like that. And, let's just say I had my entire world flipped on its head. It also doesn't help that I'm stuck in this infernally monstrous armour."
Claude scrutinised said armour. "Doesn't seem that heavy to me. I think I've seen bigger. But I'm assuming you can't handle it very well."
"Not at all. If it weren't for those healers, I'd be a puddle of sweat and blood on the ground back near Remire."
"I take it you're not a big weightlifting guy."
Lucas shook his head. "I might have to become one at this rate."
"Heh, probably."
Claude wasn't stupid. Lucas knew that. He could tell the yellow-caped crusader already figured him out as a weakling. No doubt the rest of the game's cast would be able to as well. It wasn't as if he planned on hiding anything, but if everyone saw him as weak, that could cause some complications later down the road.
"Later down the road…" Lucas considered these words. "How long will I be here for, exactly? Will I have to fill Byleth's shoes for the entirety of the game's core events, or am I gonna be stuck here forever?"
An answer didn't come. Not from himself, nor from Byleth or Sothis. He could tell they weren't asleep. Perhaps even they did not have an answer. Lucas wished they did.
Camp later that day was an interesting experience for Lucas. He mostly stood by while everyone took to their respective tasks, them pulling out folded up tents as well as other small pieces of equipment that could fit in their surprisingly large bags. Lucas had been requested to pitch in here and there with smaller tasks. His tiredness prevented him from helping with anything major.
Once Jeralt was free, he took Lucas over to a secluded area and handed him some light robes.
"Here," the impossibly old man offered. "We can't have you walking around like that. It won't be good for you."
"Thanks," Lucas smiled, finally pleased to get out of that goddess forsaken armour.
As soon as Jeralt had his back turned, Lucas, as quickly as he could, changed out of the overwhelmingly heavy armour and slipped into the much, much more comfortable brown robes and black trousers. Going between the two clothing sets was like night and day. Lucas' body immediately released its tension once it felt the cool strands of light fabric.
Though he was still aching all over.
"You decent now, kid?" Jeralt asked, his back still turned.
"All's good," Lucas confirmed. He held out his hands so Jeralt could take the armour back. "Thanks again. You've literally lifted a weight from my shoulders."
"I can tell. You almost look like a different person with how much you've brightened up. Come, I'll take you to your tent. You need some rest."
"I won't say no to that. Wait, what about food? That's what you do at a camp, right?"
Jeralt chuckled. "Don't worry about that for now. I'll come get you when it's ready."
"Right," Lucas nodded in understanding.
As the pair were about to start ambling their way over to whichever tent had been assigned to Fodlan's stranger, Lucas himself paused in place, as if he'd realised something. Like a psychic, Jeralt figured something was up, so he stopped too.
"What's the matter now?"
"I…" Lucas struggled to find his words. "Why are you being so nice to me? Not too long ago, you had a spear at my throat. Why am I still alive?"
Jeralt paused. "Because I believe you're telling the truth. Somewhat."
"But why?" Lucas continued to question.
"It would be pointless to be mad forever. I'm not sure what's happened to my son, but if what you said was true, then he's still technically alive," Jeralt rationalised. "I left Byleth on that couch mere minutes before I found you there. There were no signs of your entry and no signs of Byleth's exit. Something strange had to have happened. That's why I can believe your unbelievable story. That, and..."
"And?"
"Because I could see genuine fear in your eyes. You looked like a cornered, defenseless rat. I can't just kill a rat like that."
Lucas was confused. "Thank you?"
"You're welcome," Jeralt smiled slightly. "Let's talk about your situation some more later. You owe me that much, at least."
"Certainly. Thank you, Jeralt. I promise I'll tell you what's going on soon. Wait, why don't we just talk now?"
"Too tight of a space. We'd be safer to speak about whatever we want in a more confined and secluded area, like at Garreg Mach, where there's a whole lot of rooms nobody goes into. We'll speak after we get there."
"Understood."
With that out of the way, Jeralt led Lucas over to his tent, which was a small, standard affair. The two men parted ways, leaving Lucas to check out his digs. Since the tent itself was rather petite, there wasn't much room for anything besides bedding. Speaking of bedding, it all felt rather comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that Lucas immediately fell asleep, his aches getting the better of him.
Lucas' sleep ended up being a deep one. He was later awoken by Jeralt so he could get something to eat just as planned, but was then left alone purely to rest. And rest he did. He was so amazingly tired that he slept through the rest of the night and into the early morning right around sunrise. While his body was still exhausted, it was in a much better shape than yesterday. That much he was happy for.
Not knowing what to do in this situation, Lucas decided to hang around until it was time to leave, in which he left the campsite with the rest of the group, having to pitch in with moving stuff around.
The march continued. It wasn't as bad as last time, considering Lucas didn't have to trudge along with his overwhelmingly bulky armour. Jeralt's robes were a goddess-send. Sothis had to remind him that she didn't provide him with those clothes. Lucas mentally mumbled something about word semantics before ignoring the rest of the conversation.
Many hours of menial walking passed. Most of it was spent silent, though there were times someone like Claude or Alois came over to speak about various things. Claude in particular kept asking about Lucas' past. The answer always had something to do with being amongst Jeralt's mercenary group (as Lucas hadn't quite figured out a full, fake backstory for himself). A lack of specifics seemed to intrigue Claude but the boy knew when to relent. Alois merely spoke about his family. A lot. Lucas didn't mind this as the man was certainly fun to listen to, though it did get a little irritating when Alois repeated several tidbits of information for no apparent reason other than for the sake of it.
What surprised Lucas was when Dimitri of all people came over for a chat.
"Hello there. We haven't had much of a chance to speak. I thought we should rectify that," the prince began. "I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. You can call me Dimitri."
"Nice to finally speak to you, Dimitri. My name's Lucas Hog, but just call me Lucas," the person in question replied. "Ah yes, Mr. PTSD. Nice to meet you indeed."
"I shall endeavor to remember your name, Lucas," Dimitri nodded. "Tell me, are you much of a combatant? What kind of weapon do you specialise in?"
"Swords," Lucas lied, reflexively, immediately regretting having opened his mouth. "I, uh, am a big sword guy. Always have been."
"Swords, you say?" Dimitri repeated, curiosity evident in his tone. "What manner of sword style do you use? Something you learned from the mercenary troop?"
"Kind of. It's mainly my own, self-taught style mixed in with things I've picked up from the mercenaries and Jeralt himself. Unfortunately, I misplaced my sword during the bandit fiasco which is why I've been weaponless for a while."
"Fi-asco? Such an interesting word. But I do understand. Misplacing one's weapon is certainly an unfortunate mistake. I too have done that in the past."
"Yeah. That's the thing about mistakes. You've gotta learn from them otherwise it's all a waste."
"Agreed. I have always at least tried to learn from my errors."
The conversation trailed off from there. Speaking to Dimitri was a pleasant experience. His mannerisms were all polite and his voice certainly radiated a sense of calmness that betrayed the demons which lived inside of him. Lucas hoped he wouldn't have to play therapist for the prince - he had his own problems to deal with.
As a few more hours of talking and walking idled by, something massive soon appeared in the distance.
"There it is! Garreg Mach Monastery!" Alois exclaimed to the entire group.
"Garreg Mach Monastery…" Lucas repeated in his mind. "That's the place I'll have to call home for a while, assuming everything goes like normal on my end. Er, as normal as this situation can be."
Lucas continued walking with the group. Eventually, he came across the massively long dirt path that led through the small gate thing towards the gargantuan collection of towers and buildings and other kinds of structures. That one cutscene from the game really couldn't do this place justice, at least from the outside. It almost looked like a whole damn city was in there. Lucas was excited to see it up close.
Along with the rest of the group, he trekked through the path and ventured up an impossibly long flight of stairs that made Lucas wish he could push the architect down them, precisely to show the person how stupidly lengthy this set of stairs were. After exactly an eternity on those stairs (truthfully, it was more like a couple of minutes), the group made it through the front gates of the monastery.
Lucas was greeted with a very familiar sight. The marketplace! All the stalls and people wandering around, probably doing some kind of admin thing Lucas had absolutely no interest in whatsoever. His mind wandered to Smash Bros momentarily before quickly remembering where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. The group walked straight through the entrance hall and into the courtyard area. Jeralt, who Lucas had been alongside, stopped and stared straight up.
"Rhea's here," he simply spoke.
Lucas followed the old man's gaze, laying his eyes upon the Archbishop herself.
"I wonder. Did the flow of time bring you here?"
Soon, Jeralt and Lucas were brought into the audience chamber, now separated from the rest of the group. Lucas had expected this turn of events. It seemed story elements were playing out exactly as they did in the original game, something that came as a plus to him.
"I guess I have knowledge of future events. Hmm, I could probably use this to my advantage," he began to plan.
Jeralt started speaking, breaking Lucas' concentration. "It's been years since I've last been here. To be forced to see her again…"
"You're feeling wary about her, aren't you?" Lucas guessed.
"So you know who I'm talking about? The archbishop, Lady Rhea. The leader of the Church of Seiros. Can't say I've been a big fan of her as of late," Jeralt disclosed.
Both men shut themselves up once two more individuals arrived in the chamber.
"Thank you for your patience, Jeralt. My name is Seteth. I am an advisor to the archbishop," Seteth introduced himself.
"Right, of course. Hello," Jeralt reciprocated the greeting.
"It has been a long time since our last meeting, Jeralt. I do wonder if it was the will of the goddess that has allowed this to occur," Lady Rhea herself reminisced.
"Forgive my silence all these years. Much has happened since we last spoke," Jeralt bowed.
Lucas wondered if he should as well, but by the time he finished contemplating this, Jeralt was done bowing. As if sensing his confusion, Rhea's eyes shifted over to Lucas.
"So I see. The miracle of fatherhood has blessed you. That is your child, is it not?" she wondered.
"What," Lucas responded internally. "Does she really think I'm Jeralt's kid? How do we look anything alike? I'm sure I don't even look like Sitri either. Why is she making this assumption?"
"Rhea is strange. You should be aware of this," Byleth finally said something.
"Oh, Byleth, you're back. Where the heck have you and Sothis been?" Lucas almost jumped with how sudden the future man's words were.
"Sleeping. She's still slumbering at the moment. I now understand that Sothis' tendencies are not unique to herself. Being a part of someone's mind takes more out of you than I imagined," Byleth revealed. "I'm sorry. I hadn't anticipated this."
"No worries. You didn't miss anything major. We've just arrived at Garreg Mach now," Lucas informed his mind-sharing compatriot.
"I see. You should focus on the conversation. Rhea has called for your name. Father has told her that you're his student."
Lucas snapped back to reality, realising three sets of eyes were staring right at him, indicating they were waiting for some sort of response. Lucas thanked Byleth and got back to it.
"I'm Lucas, Lucas Hog," he answered with a bow. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Rhea."
"It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Lucas. I have heard from Alois that you fought in defense of our students. In particular, you have rescued Edelgard von Hresvelg from an encounter with the enemy's leader. I thank you," she expressed her gratitude towards him.
Lucas was doubtful, but he rolled with it. "You're welcome. I did what I thought was best. Though I will admit that I didn't do anything truly notable. I fear Alois may have exaggerated my actions."
"Your modesty is noted. At the very least, you acted in a noble manner and I thank you for that," Rhea noted, returning her attention to someone else. "Jeralt. You already know what it is I wish to say."
"You want me to rejoin the Knights of Seiros. That much is obvious," Jeralt guessed.
"I see. Regardless, you are correct. I do have other responsibilities to attend to now, but I hope you are able to accept and stay with us," Rhea advised. She turned back to Lucas. "Before I leave, I must request something of you. The Officers Academy is currently lacking a professor. Would you be capable of filling that position?"
"Lady Rhea! You cannot possibly allow this stranger such a position within our establishment!" Seteth objected.
"I understand your concern, Seteth. We have a capable candidate in our midst, according to Alois' reports. It would be rather convenient if we could fix this problem immediately. That, and I feel confident our new friend will be able to handle it. Is that so, Lucas?" Rhea asked, attempting to reassure her comrade.
"Uh…" was all Lucas could say at first. "I don't know what it is I said to Alois, but I guess I made a good enough impression on him? Either way, this is my chance! I've gotta take it!"
"Well? Can you, stranger?" Seteth hurried.
"Yes. I think I can do it," Lucas confirmed, his nerves rising. "No way in hell am I a good professor. Let alone a good military academy professor. But if I need to fill Byleth's shoes, then I've got to do this. I CAN do this. I hope I can."
"Thank you, Lucas. I will send the other professors here so that you may speak with them to find out more about your role. Seteth, please begin the administrative process for Lucas' inclusion in the staff roster," Rhea instructed.
"But, Lady Rhea…!" Seteth tried to complain.
"Please, Seteth."
Seteth struggled for a bit before eventually relenting with a sigh. He frowned at Lucas, making it very clear he did not like him, then left the chamber. Lady Rhea soon followed. Jeralt and Lucas were now the only ones in the audience chamber, though this was relatively short lived.
"So, you must be the new professor. My, how stern and handsome you are!" the flirtatious voice of Manuela soon arrived. Hanneman stood beside her.
"That's not me, sorry. It's this guy you want," Jeralt pointed at Lucas. Manuela and Hanneman's attention turned to the right person. "I'll leave you three to it." He then departed.
"Oh! Hmm, well, you aren't quite what I expected, I'll admit," Manuela commented. She almost seemed disappointed.
"Manuela, have some tact! This is our new colleague!" Hanneman corrected her. "My apologies, friend. I am Hanneman, a Crest scholar and professor at the Officers Academy. Do you bear a Crest of any kind? I may be able to help you find one. Please, come to my office later so that we can discuss this further."
"Hah, you call that tact? I, at least, invite my dates to drink before taking them to my room!" Manuela joked. "I'm Manuela. A physician, songstress and available. It's nice to meet you."
"I have not been able to speak since three-hundred and four words ago," Lucas jested to himself. "Hi there. I'm Lucas Hog. I'm a writer and uh, well, I've recently been employed at Garreg Mach Monastery. I suppose I'm also a professor now."
"Indeed you are. I hope you're up to the task," Hanneman confirmed. "Now then, you'll be taking charge of one of the academy's three houses. I suspect you've been briefed on the nature of each?"
"Yes, I have. You've got the Black Eagles, which has students from the empire and is led by its house leader, Edelgard. Then there's the Blue Lions from Faerghus and its house leader, Dimitri. Finally, there's the Golden Deer, led by Claude," Lucas recounted what he knew from the game. "Did I miss anything?"
"You've got the gist of it," Manuela answered.
"Indeed. For now, I suggest wandering around the monastery so you can get your bearings. And do stop by my laboratory when you get a chance," suggested Hanneman.
"He's right. Well, about the wandering around part, at least. You should keep in mind I've informed only the house leaders that you're our new professor. It's more fun that way," Manuela added with a nod. "Try and talk to the students. Get a good idea for which house you may want to pick. Lady Rhea should have more information for you tomorrow, but that'll get you going for now. Good luck!"
"Right," Lucas was eventually allowed to say. "Thank you, Manuela, Hanneman. I'll do just that."
Proceeding to do exactly as he said, Lucas departed the audience chamber and moseyed on down the stairs. While doing so, he perused his memory of the game to determine where the three house leaders should be located. It was very convenient that Edelgard was nearby in the reception hall. That was his first stop.
"Hi there, Edelgard," Lucas greeted the white haired girl. "How are things?"
"I'm fine, thank you for asking," Edelgard responded. Her tone of speaking indicated a sense of annoyance. "I understand that you're to be the Officers Academy's new professor. I must congratulate you."
"Thanks. I honestly wasn't expecting it, but I'm not one to reject such an offer. As long as the offeror is truly okay with the offer in question. I'll have to do my best to ensure I do a good job as professor."
"Do you have any experience with teaching?" Edelgard asked inquisitively.
Lucas shook his head. "No. Well, I mean, I did teach some children for a brief period a long time ago. That was fun. Kids are smarter than you think. Regardless, I haven't had any recent experience, no."
"I see. In that case, it will be difficult to determine how good of a professor you will be here. I'm certain you're of the type that will not laze around and not deign to learn a thing about what you will need to do."
"Of course. I don't intend on going into this with what I know now. Perhaps I can ask Manuela or Hanneman for advice," nodded Lucas.
"Good. Should you select my house, I would look forward to learning from such a proactive professor. I must ask an additional question, however," Edelgard added. "What sort of combat experience do you have? I noticed you lacked a weapon when you assisted me with the bandit leader. Do you fight unarmed?"
"No, not quite. I know some vague unarmed fighting techniques, but not enough to put them into action," Lucas answered, thinking about certain fictional mediums. He then remembered his earlier lie to Dimitri. "I'm a sword user. Still in training with Jeralt. I assume we'll be practicing again soon."
"A sword user? I may be in luck," Edelgard smiled. "Although I am primarily a user of axes, I have been somewhat interested in using a blade. Perhaps you will be able to teach me something after all."
"After all? That doesn't inspire much confidence…"
Lucas analysed Edelgard's word choice momentarily, his fixation on words and reading in-between the lines fusing with his low self-esteem to create a being of true doubt. He knew Edelgard was the kind of person that judged others frequently as if it were a hobby, so it wasn't surprising to hear an implication of this variety. It was almost like she was seeing straight through the veil of lies and half truths he'd molded thus far.
He really needed to do something about his combat prowess. There was no way he'd be able to get much further in Three Houses' events with how he was at this point. If he lazed around as Edelgard suggested, he'd die very soon and his reputation in this world would plummet severely - outcomes he severely disliked.
Lucas made a mental note of what needed to be done.
"Professor?" Edelgard snapped him out of his line of thinking.
"Oh, right. Sorry," Lucas apologised. "Anyway, I came to you to learn about the other students in your house. The Black Eagles, I believe."
"I understand. I shall give you a brief description of each of them."
Edelgard paused momentarily, giving herself time to think about who to start on.
"Hubert is a loyal retainer of mine. He's the heir of Marquis Vestra. Although he appears to be rather menacing, he is truthfully quite astute and reasonable," Edelgard began. "Petra is a talented warrior and huntress from the Brigid archipelago. Her grasp on our language is still developing, but she wields a heart of gold."
"Ferdinand sees himself as a bitter rival of mine. It's rather irritating. He is the heir of Duke Aegir, who is Adrestia's Prime Minister. Linhardt is intelligent, but he is frustratingly fond of napping. He won't apply himself to something he is not interested in. Teaching him may be a challenge," Edelgard continued. "Caspar is the second son of Count Bergliez. As a result of being the second, he will not be inheriting from his father. He is a rather eager individual. Bernadetta is Count Varley's only daughter. She's gentle, but easily provoked and is very doubtful of herself. She likes to shut herself away in her own room, which may be difficult to deal with as her professor. I will ensure she finds her way to class."
"Finally, Dorothea is our house's only commoner. She was a songstress from the famous Mittelfrank Opera Company in Enbarr, the Imperial capital. I don't know why she is here, but her presence is welcome nonetheless," she finished.
Lucas nodded all through the explanations. While he couldn't confirm it fully, these were definitely different than the ones from the game. Not too different, though it was enough to be noticeable.
"Perhaps your presence in my stead is changing more than we expect," Byleth guessed. "After all, you are not me. Others are not likely to speak with you in the same way they would speak to me."
"Maybe you're right," Lucas agreed, at least partially. "What about you, Edelgard?"
"Me? Well, some certainly have opinions of me. I am aware of what others have said about me behind my back. It doesn't matter to me what they say. I will become Adrestia's next emperor regardless," the princess responded. "I trust your curiosity has been satisfied?"
"It has. Thanks for satisfying it. I'll be going to find the other house leaders at this point."
With a shared nod, Lucas vacated from Edelgard's presence, wandering down the rest of the entrance hall. He noted how there weren't any knights around to block his path like in the game; he had free reign of the monastery. An interesting prospect. One he didn't linger on since he had a mission to take care of.
Speaking of which, Claude was up next.
"Well, well. Looks like you got yourself a teaching gig. Not bad," the Almyran remarked. "Gonna be honest, I thought you'd be made into a knight's squire or something. You don't look like a professor to me."
"What is it with these main characters and doubting me? Granted, that doubt is well placed, but still," Lucas sighed mentally.
"You shouldn't refer to everyone as 'characters'. I understand that was the case in your world, but please don't refer to my friends in that way," Byleth requested.
"Right. Sorry. Still not used to this," Lucas admitted, snapping himself back to reality. "Well, uh, looks can be deceiving, Claude."
"Too true. You can't judge a person based solely on their face," Claude agreed with a smile. "So what exactly are you doing here? Are you teaching the Golden Deer?"
"Maybe," Lucas remained coy. "I'm scoping out my options. Getting to know the houses and general vibe of things before I make a decision. Would I be correct in assuming your casual way of speaking is a reflection of your house's attitude as a whole?"
"Heh, not exactly. There are some students in our house who aren't as...relaxed as I am. Such as Lorenz, the heir to Count Gloucester and resident ladies man, or Lysithea, local studious mage and daughter of Count Ordelia. Ignatz, the second son of a merchant family and knight-in-training, can be a bit too tight as well, if you get what I'm saying. Marianne is always depressed it seems, so really, it's just me, Hilda, Raphael and Leonie that can be considered relaxed. Hilda's the coddled daughter of Duke Goneril, Raphael is a big, strong guy and Leonie is our mercenary-in-training."
"Quite the varied bunch," Lucas noted. "What about yourself? Anything interesting there?"
"Whoa now professor, that's quite the question, don't you think? Why don't we get to know each other better before we start asking questions like that? Let's spend the next year doing exactly that. I'm sure you'll get your answer by then," Claude winked.
Lucas nodded. He already did have his answer, which made the situation funny to him, only having to ask in the first place for customary purposes. "I see. Maybe we will get to know each other. See you later, Claude."
Golden Deer's house leader waved the new professor goodbye as the latter stepped further into the courtyard next to the three core house classrooms. Taking a quick peek at the building, Lucas realised it was much taller than in the game. There was an additional storey, the purpose of which was lost on Fodlan's stranger. Byleth explained that the storey housed extra classrooms for the students not in the Officers Academy. In other words, for the nameless student NPCs, as Lucas figured out.
He wondered if he'd have to teach any of those NPCs. Rather, additional students. Byleth kept having to remind Lucas to change his language of referral. These were real people, not fictional. Lucas was made especially aware of this when he approached Dimitri.
"Ah, greetings," the blonde prince gave a small bow. Lucas suspected it was not a bow of respect, though Byleth was certain the prince was being honest. "It is a pleasure to see you again. I've heard that you are to become a professor here. Is that correct? If so, congratulations. It must be an honour to work here."
"Yeah, I'd say it is," Lucas grinned, still not entirely used to being at Garreg frickin' Mach. "I've been talking to the other house leaders so I can learn more about their students and what the general feel of the house is like. Would you be able to tell me about everyone?"
"Certainly," Dimtri accepted. "The Blue Lions has its roots in Faerghus, I'm sure you know. This is reflected in its students, as almost everyone is from there. Myself, Felix, Sylvain and Ingrid even knew each other growing up. Felix is the heir to House Fraldarius. He's rather sharp tongued, but he has a good heart. Sylvain is, well, a skirt chaser, so to speak. Many women around Garreg Mach have complained about him in ways I'm sure you can imagine. He's also the heir of House Gautier. Ingrid is a kind girl who dreams to become a knight. She's the daughter of Count Galatea."
"Mercedes and Annette have also known each other for some time. Mercedes was actually originally born to Imperial nobility, but was moved to the Kingdom for reasons I'm unsure of. She's a very warm hearted soul. Annette is rather energetic, though that energy of hers tends to get her into minor trouble every now and then. She's Baron Dominic's niece."
"Next is Ashe. He is the adoptive son of Lord Lonato of Castle Gaspard, but it seems he was born a commoner. He's quite the earnest fellow. Finally, Dedue. He was born in Duscur and has been working in my service for many years now. You may hear of some rumours surrounding him and his kind. Please do ignore them, as they're simply untrue."
"Understood. Seems like you've got some nice folks in here," Lucas observed. "Is there anything you'd like to say about yourself that you didn't on the way over here?"
"Me? Oh. Um, do forgive me. It's difficult to speak about one's self on the spot," Dimitri mildly stuttered. "My past is not the happiest. I hope that doesn't sour your opinion of me."
"No, that's fine. We all have our secrets. That's all I needed, anyway. I think I still have some time before I have to decide on a house. I'll see you later, Dimitri."
Leaving the prince to his own devices, Lucas took a gander around his current location, ensuring to peer off the cliff in order to get a good view of the dark abyss below. It was only then he realised just how far up Garreg Mach was - he was well above sea level. Before leaving the area for good, he glanced over towards the building where his room should be, assuming it would be the same as Byleth's from the game.
Then, it hit him. He never actually got the keys for his room, let alone its location. Upon coming to that realisation, Lucas followed the short path back upstairs and peered his head into Seteth's office.
No dice. Seteth wasn't there. Narrowing his eyes in minor frustration, Lucas instead decided to peer into Jeralt's quarters to check up on him and see how things were going. Yes dice. Jeralt was there.
"Oh, hey kid," Jeralt greeted, happily turning his attention away from a pile of paper. "You're no longer busy?"
"For the moment, I'm done, yeah," Lucas confirmed. "I can see you've still got some things to take care of."
"Sadly. Paper's never been my strong suit. Actually, since you're not preoccupied with any Garreg Mach admin crap right now, you think we can talk? About you."
"Oh. Yeah, I guess we can do that. I'll close the door."
Lucas did exactly that, locking the door as per Jeralt's instructions (since Lucas couldn't figure out a simple Fodlan lock). He parked his backside onto one of the quarters' couches, Jeralt doing the same but for a different couch.
The air fell silent. Tension rose. Lucas' heart was beating just a bit faster than usual. He knew there was nothing to worry about, but the clear seriousness of the oncoming conversation still worried him. He sighed, for he knew he had to deal with it sooner or later.
"So. Explain why you're here and my son isn't."
Lucas didn't answer right away. He needed to find the right words to explain the situation, else Jeralt became too confused.
"I'm not sure. I was sitting in my apartment one moment, I received this weird ache that came over my entire body, the ache forced me to fall asleep and then I ended up waking to your spear."
"Will you tell father the entire truth?" Byleth wondered.
"Why wouldn't I? Hiding the truth never works well in these situations, from what I've read. It'd just end up getting found out sooner or later. Better to get it out now before I hurt someone. Besides, Jeralt deserves to know. He did sort of lose his son after all," Lucas explained.
"But will you tell him about the video game?"
"...Good question. I, unfortunately, don't have a very good answer. Should I inform him that everything he knows and loves is deemed fake in another world? Would it really be a good idea to make him question his own existence like that?"
"I haven't questioned my own existence."
"Well, yeah, that's because you're you. You're used to the idea of other realms, what with your time travelling and dealing with Sothis in your headspace. I don't think anyone that isn't a Nabatean or Agarthan would know anything about worlds or dimensions or whatever."
"Hmm. Do what you feel is right. I cannot stop you."
Lucas thought about this for some time. Eventually, he came to a conclusion.
"Jeralt. I should clarify something," he spoke after a pause.
"What's that?"
"I'm not from this world."
"What," Jeralt's eyebrow was raised. "What the hell do you mean by that?"
"I mean I come from a place where you, Byleth, Garreg Mach, Fodlan, crests, magic, Lady Rhea and everything you know don't exist. It's not a place that can be reached by sailing out to sea or taking a horse. It's another realm where other places and people exist," Lucas left out the 'fiction' side of the equation.
"Another realm?" Jeralt repeated, moreso to himself than anything. "I've heard of weird stuff in my time, but the concept of another world is completely new to me. But I suppose it explains those weird clothes you had when we first met."
"Yeah. That's kind of a casual attire from my world. What did you do with them, by the way?"
"Left 'em back in Remire Village. They'll be fine there, don't worry. Nobody's gonna be stupid enough to break into my base of operations."
Lucas nodded. "Right. As long as they're safe."
"And they will be. Now, I'm willing to believe your other world story since it does explain some things, like I said. But what does that have to do with my son?"
"Not much, I don't think. All I know is that one moment, I was in my world. The next, I was in some dark void, speaking to some mental apparition of your son and the goddess Sothis who are now both in my mind for some reason."
Jeralt blinked.
"Wait, did you just say Sothis? Are you sure?"
"Positive. It's definitely her. Allow me to explain. You see, Lady Rhea experimented on your wife, Sitri, using Crests and all kinds of magic to get something in particular to happen. Long story short, all that experimentation caused Sitri's baby to come out with no heartbeat, as you might already know. She requested that her Crest - reCrested if you will - be transferred to the baby. In doing this, your wife perished, but the baby was finally granted a heartbeat."
Jeralt sat there, his face agape and mind bewildered. "What the...how do you know all this?"
"Because I'm something of a seer," Lucas quickly thought up a partial lie. "I know things I shouldn't. Things such as what I just said to you, Rhea's true identity, her goals, the future of Fodlan, some elements of Fodlan's past I wouldn't otherwise know, amongst others."
"Has this got something to do with the goddess?"
This was it. Was he really going to tell Jeralt the truth about this world and its meaning to him? About how he was simply a video game character in another dimension? How all his secrets were laid bare to millions of players? Questions such as these were deliberated in Lucas' mind before he came to a decision.
"No. To tell you the absolute truth, in my world, Fodlan does exist...fictionally. It exists as a form of story. Something like a novel, but not quite. My world has some rather complex technology that'd take far too long to explain in any capacity. The point is, you are in that story. As is Byleth, Rhea, Seteth and the others. Fodlan is the setting and Garreg Mach Monastery is the primary location the story's events take place in."
Jeralt was silent. His face was clearly wrought with confusion as he stewed together what he was told by this strange kid. He wasn't sure whether to believe him, but what other explanation was there? Jeralt already knew there was no possible way Lucas could've gotten in the house without anyone seeing him or him leaving some sort of mark. There would've been signs of Byleth leaving, too. It all added up, yet the answer to the calculation made no sense.
"This is ridiculous. But how else would he know what happened with my wife?" Jeralt concluded. "Kid, I don't know if I should believe you. No sane man could ever come up with something as stupid as this for a lie. And I've listened to my share of bullshit over the years. It makes sense but it doesn't at the same time. I'm not sure what to think. If Fodlan in your 'world' really exists as a story, you mean you know what's going to happen, don't you? You know about things that have yet to take place. As well as things that have already happened that no ordinary person should know. Is that right?"
"Yes."
"That means you know all about me."
"Yes," repeated Lucas.
Another pause. A long one. Not a single utterance was spoken between the two men. Until at least a minute passed, anyway.
"Well, that's something. You really are a stranger, in every sense of the word."
"Huh?" Lucas tilted his head in confusion.
"Not only are you someone I barely know, you're a rather strange person. You say you come from a different world, so that makes you a literal stranger to Fodlan as a whole."
"That almost sounds like something Alois would say."
"Heh, you're right. Maybe that guy's rubbing off on me again."
A lightbulb of realisation went off in Lucas' head. "Wait, does that mean you believe me?"
"I don't have much of a choice. Either I go ahead with this crazy story of yours and look like a fool myself in the process, or I choose not to believe you and instead make you look like the crazy one. Remember, I've lived a long time. I know when someone's lying or not. You are definitely not lying. That's why I'm more inclined to believe you, despite the rational part of my mind trying to convince me otherwise."
Lucas breathed a sigh of relief. "T-thank you, Jeralt. I was worried you wouldn't be on my side."
Jeralt smiled. "You're welcome. Just don't be wrong. I would be pissed if this were some kind of elaborate prank."
"Right. I can assure you, this isn't a prank. Of any variety. Trust me, if this were a prank, I wouldn't have faced death the other day."
"I understand. Now, back to the topic of my son. You were saying he and the goddess are in your mind?"
"Yes, they are. I don't know how, but I think Sothis said it was the result of a temporal glitch - an error of sorts. Originally, Byleth was supposed to have Sothis in him due to the Rhea stuff I mentioned earlier. I guess my sudden arrival here in this world somehow caused Sothis to jump to me instead. And, well, I should probably also mention that the Byleth in my head isn't exactly your Byleth."
"What?" Jeralt asked, puzzled.
"It seems this Byleth is from the future. He's been sent back in time repeatedly due to some strange entity neither he nor Sothis know anything about. Because of that, he's seen many possible futures for Fodlan. The same futures I know of from the story."
"Really? I never realised my son would end up being wrapped up in something like that. How important is he to these futures?"
"Very. Without spoiling anything because I don't know if anything bad will happen if I do that, Byleth ends up being a big help to certain events."
"And he's not here. Not physically, anyway."
Lucas' small smile dropped slightly. He wasn't sure what Jeralt meant by that, but he didn't like the vibe it emanated.
"Yes. What are you saying?"
"Without Byleth's help, I can't imagine Fodlan and everyone in it would end up okay. I don't know what's going to happen. I can at least tell it's not going to be good. You're going to have to be the one to help everyone in my son's stead."
Lucas clammed up. His throat became tight and his breathing became more frequent. Mild sweat began pouring down his face like a waterfall of fear. He really didn't like the implication there.
"Hey, relax. It's not going to do you any good to get all worked up like that. Breathe."
Because his mile-a-minute brain was too preoccupied with dancing alongside anxiousness, Lucas simply nodded and followed Jeralt's instructions. He introduced steady breathing into his current, worrisome state of being. This allowed Lucas to calm down, though the ever present worry of what Jeralt said lingered as if it were a horrible stench.
"T-thank you. Sorry, I just...I don't know if I can help everyone. I can barely save myself. I had a lot of trouble with a simple bandit the other day, how the hell am I supposed to beat the kinds of enemies we'll be facing later on? I have no experience in fighting, save for the bandit. This is going to be impossible for me. I can't do it."
"In that case, we'll have to train you up as much as possible."
"But that's…"
"Painful?" Jeralt interjected. "Kid, if you don't do it, you'd be in for a world of pain later on. Best to save yourself and Fodlan by training as hard as you can now. Whatever the worst case scenario is, would you want to let that happen? Could you live knowing that you could have prevented all of it by merely training?"
"I...no. I couldn't live with myself if I knew I'd doomed everyone."
"Then there you go. We'll be training with each other tomorrow after breakfast. I'll come get you when I'm ready. The mock battle's in a few days from what I've heard, so we better get started right away."
Lucas was silent. The rainclouds pouring down on him internally were clouding his judgement, but the rays of determination were peeking through the cracks. He really didn't want everyone or even anyone to die. He didn't want the Agarthans to rule the land.
Mostly, he didn't want to let himself down again.
"Right. I'll see you then."
With his next general course of action decided, Lucas stood up slowly from the couch and left Jeralt's quarters, leaving the door closed as per the man's request. He was then frozen, standing beside the door while stewing together everything Jeralt told him.
He would have to save Fodlan. Despite the self-deprecating part of his soul telling him otherwise, he had to do it. For everyone, for Byleth, for Sothis and for himself. It would all start with him probably getting many hellish training sessions from what could be considered Fodlan's strongest warrior. The prospect of that alone terrified Lucas.
Luckily, the arrival of a certain Nabatean distracted him from thinking about that any further.
"Ah, Lucas. I have been asked to escort you to your room. Due to the limited space we currently have, yours will be amongst the students'," Seteth stated. "Please follow me."
Fodlan's visitor nodded and did as the non-human told him to. As expected, his bedroom was exactly the same as Byleth's, down from the location to what was inside the room itself. Seteth handed over the key before leaving, allowing Lucas to peruse the room's contents on his own. Nothing was in the closet or drawers and everything was immaculately clean. Fitting for such a highly regarded establishment. The bulletin board as well as the calendar were all here and accounted for. Everything was as expected.
Since there was still time until tomorrow, Lucas decided to head straight for bed. The next day would bring about a massive change to not only himself, but Fodlan as a whole. He needed to figure out some strategy. Obviously, going with a route from the game wouldn't be all that great. It would still result in some people dying.
In order to avoid as much needless death as possible, he needed to go off-script. After all, some people weren't saying what they should have (according to Byleth and Lucas' respective experiences). May as well go all the way.
Following an uneventful night's sleep, Lucas removed himself from the bed's covers at what appeared to be a rather early time. It was an experience he was more than familiar with, thanks to all those late night writing sessions ruining his sleep schedule. Considering how often he assumed the monastery's staff would be doing admin stuff in the morning, Lucas was glad he already possessed experience in this field.
There was the issue of finding a coffee or tea substitute, seeing as both drinks were much less common in Fodlan. That was an issue he had to sort out at a later time.
After consuming a healthy breakfast consisting solely of fish and egg, Lucas made his way over to the audience chamber where Lady Rhea, Seteth and Hanneman were all waiting for him. Seems like he wasn't the last one to arrive, which was neat.
"I am glad you have arrived, Lucas," Rhea greeted him with her eternally warm smile. "I trust you have warmed up to the monastery and its students."
"We are only waiting for Manuela now. Hopefully it will not be a much longer wait, though it can be quite the challenge with her involved," Hanneman added. "She is usually rather late."
"Well, she can't take that much longer, can she?" Lucas wondered.
Manuela arrived half an hour later. Lucas could only guess as to what she was doing in her room, wherever that was. Hanneman and Seteth were visibly irritated with the skin bearing professor's tardiness, while Rhea remained composed.
"Apologies for my late arrival, everyone. I had...yes, I had some things to take care of. They're all gone now, so don't worry," Manuela apologised after coming in.
"You wouldn't have been so late if you were more composed," Hanneman jabbed, frowning.
"What was that, old man?" Manuela retorted, also frowning.
"Cease your bickering, you two. Such behaviour is unbecoming for professors of our esteemed monastery," Seteth quietened the two down. He turned to Lucas. "That applies to you as well. Do not do anything that would dampen the reputation of our establishment. I will admit that I believe your position as a professor does precisely that, but it is as the archbishop desires."
"Oh, I love this part of the year. Getting to decide which of the three houses to teach is such a fun time. Sorting through each house's wildly differing rosters, seeing which students you like the look of the best, it's all quite the thrill. I do hope you've managed to meet each of them, Lucas," Manuela commented.
"We have decided to allow you first pick," Hanneman included, facing Lucas. "Manuela and I will decide between the remaining houses."
"Thank you, you two," Lucas smiled and nodded. He turned to Rhea. "I've been thinking about this for a while. It took me some time to come to a decision."
"I can understand why. Which house will you choose?" Rhea inquired.
Lucas paused, sifting through his thoughts momentarily. While each house had their merits, there was only one he could go with. The very house he selected on his first playthrough almost two years ago.
"I choose the Black Eagles."
"Your heart has made its choice, then. All I ask is that you guide these minds so they may achieve their highest potential," Rhea requested.
"They are all promising youths who bear the weight of Fodlan's future upon their shoulders. I hope you understand the importance of leading them in this manner," Seteth advised.
"Ironic," Lucas commented internally. "Of course. I'm well aware of their noble statuses. I will do what I can."
"Let us all hope that is enough," Seteth remarked.
It seemed like Manuela was about to say something, but the arrival of a certain someone Lucas almost forgot about amidst everything else prevented her from speaking.
"Brother! I need you-oh! I am so sincerely sorry! I did not mean to interrupt this important meeting of yours," Flayn arrived. She soon acknowledged Lucas' presence for the first time. "Who might this be? I haven't seen them before."
"This is Lucas, our new professor. They have just decided to teach the Black Eagle House," Seteth informed his sister.
"Oh my! It is rather fortunate that a replacement was found so soon. My name is Flayn. I am very pleased to meet you, Lucas!" Flayn addressed the newbie.
"It's nice to meet you too, Flayn," Lucas returned. He already knew the story behind her, but he played along. "I didn't know Seteth had a sister. I'd love to speak with you some more later when I'm not busy."
"I would appreciate speaking with you as well," Flayn rejoined. "I shall make my departure for now. Brother, I will return to you once you have finished."
"Of course. Run along now, Flayn," Seteth responded, waiting for his sibling to go before continuing. "Now, back to the topic at hand, you must be aware of something, Lucas. In a few days time, there will be a mock battle between the houses. Its purpose is to gauge the current strength and skill of each student. We will also use the battle as an opportunity to ascertain your capabilities. Please do not disappoint the archbishop. That is all."
"Thank you, Seteth, Rhea," Lucas thanked his newfound superiors. Before leaving alongside his colleagues, a thought crossed his mind. "Wait, what about you guys? What houses are you gonna teach?"
"I was intending on selecting the Blue Lions, if that is fine with you, Manuela," Hanneman answered.
"That works. I wanted the Golden Deer anyway. Blue Lions and Black Eagles seemed too stuck up for my tastes," Manuela accepted. "I just hope that Claude won't drive me up the wall."
"I'm sure he won't. Not too much so, at least," Lucas reassured her.
"Thanks, but I'm already dreading it. Seems like I've gotta stock up on alcohol," Manuela sighed.
"Manuela, you know drinking on the job is a terrible idea. Did you not listen to Seteth when he was mentioning the monastery's reputation?" Hanneman quizzed.
"Oh, I get it, you don't need to tell me twice. A bottle or two here and there won't hurt. That being said, Lucas, do you drink?" Manuela queried the new person.
"Not a whole lot. Drinks can be expensive," Lucas revealed. "I can't imagine the pay here is that good."
"It's enough to get by and still have some left for things like alcohol. We get paid several thousand gold at the start of each month, which is really quite lucrative compared to other jobs out there. I'm making more here than I did at the opera," Manuela detailed. "I think."
"I must agree. I'm given enough for not only necessities such as food, but also for my Crest research," Hanneman chipped in. "That reminds me, Lucas. We're to meet our students at our respective classrooms. Those are the ones at the ground floor. Once you are done there, please meet me at my office so that we can check for any Crests you may have."
"Right. I'll be there," Lucas consented.
Lucas, Hanneman and Manuela proceeded out of the audience chamber together, though the three went their separate ways once Jeralt approached, seemingly wishing to speak with the newly crowned professor.
"I was going to head out to get you at your room. You've saved me the trouble of doing that," Jeralt joked. "You busy with something professor related?"
"Yeah, I'm about to meet my students. After that, Hanneman wants to check my Crest. Where should I meet you after that?" Lucas responded.
"Near the stables. I'll be taking you to the knights' training grounds. More secluded than the regular grounds that students can access and it's a lot less suspicious than leaving the monastery altogether," Jeralt explained his plan.
"Understood. I'll see you there," Lucas finished.
He wasn't keen on the training session to come, but it was a necessary step. After all, he figured any of the students could take him in a one on one fight right now. Being at such a level would not allow him to achieve anything, let alone saving Fodlan from the war to come. A monumental task such as that did reintroduce doubt into Lucas' systems. He had to do it regardless. For Fodlan's future.
Speaking of Fodlan's future, Lucas traipsed over to the Black Eagles classroom. Its grandiose doors were shut, although he could hear chatter coming from the other side. Everyone was jabbering on about the professor business no doubt.
Nerves kicked in. As per Byleth's advice, Lucas took a deep breath to alleviate some of those fears. Then he opened the doors.
"Hello, everyone! My name is Lucas Hog. I'll be your professor for this semester. Hey, that's a good rhyme," Lucas greeted his students.
Everyone (except for Edelgard and Hubert) was certainly surprised. Their shocked faces did not betray the sense of mild bewilderment they were all facing.
"So you're our new professor, huh? I'm fine with that. Can't say I wasn't excited to learn from the other guy, but hey, if he skipped town then maybe he wasn't good enough!" Caspar, the ever energetic boy exclaimed.
"Oh my. I can't fault you for saying that, Caspar, but was it necessary to be so rude?" Dorothea pointed out.
"You should know Caspar is always the one to speak his mind so brazenly," Linhardt shrugged. He turned to Lucas. "It will be a pleasure learning from you, professor. Now, I shall take a nap."
"You don't want to stick around?" Lucas questioned him.
"It will take some time for me to fall into a deep enough sleep. Carry on, I'll still be able to hear the lot of you. For better or for worse," Linhardt admitted, parking himself onto one of the classroom's benches and at least attempting to sleep.
"Well then. I can work around that. I hope," Lucas commented on the action. "Anyway, uh, this is the first time I've ever been a professor or lecturer of any kind. I'll do my best to not do anything wrong."
"Do not worry, professor. Everyone makes mistakes. It's simply in our nature. Even nobles can be at fault sometimes," Ferdinand von Aegir chimed in. "If I may add, you seem rather young, professor. Would it be correct to presume you are close in age to us?"
"Well, I'm twenty-three. You guys don't seem to be old. I don't see any Hannemans here," Lucas joked around, a smile forming as he said that.
"Too true, professor! I can safely say that I am not quite as old as you are. Neither are the rest of us, from my understanding. With that in mind, I hope you do not mind if we treat you as one of our own. In our class, we like to treat each other as equals, despite any differences in age or status. Not that we have anyone that is overly old or young, but you should understand the idea," Ferdinand continued.
"I'd love to be included in that. Seems like a nice, warm atmosphere you got here. I'd be crazy to not wanna be a part of it," Lucas remarked.
"Our professor is being smart! Our class is nice and warm, but we are very determining," Petra stumbled over her language.
"Petra, you mean to say that we are very determined, not determining. Determining is a different thing entirely," Dorothea advised her friend. "That's when you're trying to figure something out. Determined is when you are really confident about getting something done."
"Oh! I have understanding now. Thank you, Dorothea," Petra thanked in return. "Please have excuses for me, professor. I do not have mastery of the Fodlan language."
Lucas kept his smile. "No problem, Petra. I appreciate that you're trying, at least. Learning a whole new language is quite the feat. Eng-I mean, uh, the Fodlan language is very tough to learn and grasp wholly."
Luckily nobody seemed to notice his small slip-up, though Lucas could've sworn Edelgard raised an eyebrow. Byleth was able to ease his paranoia somewhat, however.
"I am thankful for your understanding, professor! I have been learning the language for the past few years now. It has always been struggling," Petra recounted.
"I can only imagine," Lucas responded. "Back to the topic of inclusiveness, don't worry, everyone. It would be incredibly weird for me if you all started treating me as some kind of all-powerful, experienced deity of knowledge and combat or whatever you want from me. I am only a person, just as you all are."
"Indeed. My sentiments are the same, professor. Although I am the Imperial princess, you can treat me as 'only a person' as well. I would much rather my friends refer to me in that manner," Edelgard declared.
"Certainly, Edelgard," Lucas replied. "I'm not sure if there's anything we should be doing. Perhaps we can all do something together. I don't know what, though."
"P-please don't let it involve something outside!" Bernadetta cried, throwing her voice into the mix for the first time. This directed attention her way. "Ugh, sorry! I didn't mean to be so forceful…"
Lucas did his best to ensure he wouldn't give Bernadetta any more attention than she wanted. He knew better than to break a person's boundaries and needs like that.
"Dealing with Bernie here is going to be a problem. I'm no psychiatrist," Lucas worried mentally. "Maybe I should've gone with Golden Deer so I wouldn't have to deal with any of this."
"Marianne is in the Golden Deer," Byleth reminded. "If you wish to help Fodlan, dealing with the problems of its individual residents is something you will have to do. Ultimately, you'll be assisting everyone, but you may as well make things as good for some people as it can be."
"But can I even help someone like Bernie, let alone someone as serious as Marianne or Dimitri? I'm not even sure if I can help myself…" Lucas' worries were increasing.
"I have seen the way you've interacted with others. You're not a complete emotional wreck. Not as much as you see yourself as, anyway. You've seen that psychiatrist of yours, yes? Perhaps you can apply the lessons learnt from them onto the problems of others. Maybe some aspects of that teaching won't carry over entirely, but you should be able to make it work," Byleth reassured. "I have faith in you."
Lucas was thoughtless. Although the illogical side of his brain was telling him that he couldn't make it work and that he should just give up right now, there was something about Byleth's words that made it all seem like it'd be okay. Like a comforting parent or a truly caring teacher.
"Wait a minute. This makes so much sense now. Why everybody warmed up to you so much in the game, or in your case, the other timelines," Lucas realised something. "You're a really charming person, Byleth. I don't know how you do it."
"Neither do I. Now, focus. Everyone's staring at you."
Lucas almost nodded before remembering he didn't need to do that when speaking inside his mind, which was contained in his head, the body part that would move when a nod occurred. Either way, he had a conversation to get back to.
"Well, uh, I suppose that's okay, Bernadetta. I can figure something out. In the meantime, you all keep studying and focus on your main weapons of choice. The mock battle's coming up soon. I really don't want to fail. I'm sure neither of you do," Lucas addressed the students.
"Do you have a plan for this battle, professor?" Hubert spoke up. "Or do you mean to improvise?"
"Not at the moment," Lucas disclosed. "Once we all start training together, I can come up with a roster and a general plan of attack. Only three students aside from myself and the house leader, Edelgard. As soon as I see you guys train, I can start thinking something up. Dismissed."
All of the students left the classroom (save for the still napping Linhardt, he was left alone). While Lucas did want to get right to figuring things out with these guys, he still had things to figure out regarding himself. Next on the itinerary was his little date with Hanneman.
"Come in," Hanneman called out from behind his office door. Lucas pulled the handle and slowly swung the door open, closing it behind himself.
Hanneman's office was the same as it was in the game. Books everywhere, sometimes dotted around with random pieces of vaguely scientific equipment and an oddly purple carpet that made the place seem a lot more regal than it truly was.
What stuck out the most was that strange metal contraption in the middle of the room: most likely the analyser. Lucas hoped for the best.
"I see you have finally arrived. Thank you for indulging in my research," Hanneman thanked his colleague. He motioned to the analyser. "I would like to make use of this device to determine if the power of a Crest resides within you. I promise it will not hurt a bit."
"Alright. What am I supposed to do?" Lucas inquired.
"Simply hold out your arm above my device. I will activate it. From there, you will not need to do anything else as the device will handle everything," Hanneman explained.
Lucas nodded and did as he was asked, placing his palm over the moderately sized purple circular thingy on the ground. In an instant, the machine seemed to turn on with a flash of light coming from the circle. The light persisted for what seemed to be an usually long amount of time. Nothing else happened. Hanneman's eyebrows furrowed.
"What is the meaning of this?" the elder mage mumbled to himself aloud.
"Is everything okay?" puzzled Lucas. "Should it be doing that?"
"No. It shouldn't," Hanneman shook his head. "I have never seen this manner of behaviour from this device before. It appears as if it's continually scanning your body for any signs of a Crest, yet it isn't able to find any. But if you did not wield a Crest, then the analyser would have shut down already. It shouldn't be possible for the device to be faulty as I have been carefully maintaining it for a rather long time."
"So what does that mean?" Lucas continued to ask.
"The only explanation I can think of would be that you're capable of somehow dampening the presence of your Crest. However, such an ability is unheard of. How well versed are you in the magical arts?"
"Not very well versed. I haven't had any experience with using magic."
"Hmm. How very unusual."
Lucas and Hanneman stood there, both silent, save for Lucas' strained grumbles that were born from his desire to move back to a normal standing position. Neither man could come up with an explanation for this phenomena. Someone else had an idea.
"Perhaps it could be a result of your unique situation," Byleth suggested. "You're from another world. That may be why Hanneman's device is reacting so strangely."
At that moment, the light flared up again, but then died down after Byleth finished speaking. Hanneman's brows furrowed further.
"What…? What precisely is going on?" he questioned himself. "You're not doing anything in particular, are you?"
"Nothing aside from straining my back and right arm," Lucas partially lied. He had an idea. "Byleth, speak again."
"What do you want me to say?" Byleth spoke again. The light flared up once more.
"I get it now! I'm not sure exactly what's happening here, but I think the device is somehow detecting you, Byleth. But why is it doing that when I have no Crest?" Lucas guessed.
"I have a Crest. And Sothis is a part of your mind, despite you having no Crest for her to inhabit like she did for me. Maybe these aspects combined is what's causing this strange behaviour in the device," Byleth added.
"Potentially. I wonder if that means I can use the power of the Crest of Flames?" Lucas assumed, being hopeful.
"Unlikely. My Crest is a part of myself. It is not a part of you, although I am within you. I am still technically my own being, therefore the Crest does not belong to you and you should not be capable of using its power. We can try to have you use it, if you like," Byleth detailed.
"Maybe later. I'd rather not let the secret out if I can handle it."
Lucas' body officially had enough of holding itself in place for so long, so he instinctively reached back and stood up as normal. The device powered down not long after he decided to do that.
"Sorry, Hanneman. Couldn't keep doing that for much longer," Lucas apologised.
"It is fine. I do not believe anything else would have happened," Hanneman stated. "Your results have been rather interesting, Lucas. I shall peruse my research records and other studies to determine what this could possibly mean. I will inform you when I discover something notable."
"Sounds good. I'll see you later," Lucas was about to walk out of the office, but Hanneman stopped him from doing so.
"Wait," he called out. "If you have any questions or issues regarding being a professor, do not hesitate to ask me. I'm certain Manuela will be happy to help as well."
"Thanks, Hanneman."
Only one more stop for the day. Lucas wasn't looking forward to it.
Lucas and Jeralt clashed blades, the sounds of swinging steel reverberating across the small training room located some ways away from the main Garreg Mach grounds. Jeralt cut through the clash with a kick so strong that it forced Lucas away and caused him to crash onto the floor. He didn't get up immediately. Jeralt was pissed.
"Get up! You're not going to be able to achieve anything by just lying there. Get up," Jeralt commanded.
"But I-" Lucas was trying to say before being interrupted.
"No excuses! Get your ass up or else I'll drag you myself," Jeralt barked orders.
Lucas sighed. His body aches proved to make simple movements a daunting challenge. As per Jeralt's rough instructions, he stood once more. Charging in with a single hand on his sword after what felt like a brief moment of planning, the professor found himself schooled and grounded again.
"Your movements are too stale. You're spending a lot of time thinking about what you're going to do. That in turn gives your opponent the same amount of time to do either exactly what you're doing, or to figure out what you'll do next," Jeralt instructed. "Don't let yourself get caught up in the specifics. Just act. Now get up and try again."
Lucas nodded while still on the floor, having used the time to not only listen to what he was being told, but also to gather up enough energy to stand up and fight. His body wasn't used to such combat. As a result, he'd been sweating all over. Every visible part of his body was burning red. It was just like the whole "walking around in Jeralt's armor" thing again.
Except there was no relieving campsite this time. With a sigh, Lucas carried on with the fight, taking Jeralt's most recent advice into consideration. Spending less time thinking about his movements granted him more time to attack, an outcome that led Lucas to somewhat greater success than previously.
Yet he met with the same grounded fate.
"Aren't you the one with knowledge about the future or whatever? Aren't you the one that's going to do something about what's to come? Someone that can't keep up with me could never hope to be anywhere near as important as that. You might as well give up now," Jeralt spat.
Lucas shuddered. Jeralt was right - he couldn't keep up. He would never be able to protect anyone, let alone everyone. He wanted, he really wished he had the skills to fight on par with everyone. It never seemed to come to him.
"I guess I should give up…" Lucas conceded, his breathing slowing down.
It was about time for him to end this charade, this false bravado of hoping to save Fodlan and its people from the war to come. It was too much for the boy who'd grown up away from such conflict. Too much for him to handle. Therefore, he needed to give up.
"You mustn't!" Byleth exclaimed with as much force behind his words as he could possibly give, regarding his nature. "Do not give up. Everyone's depending on you to make a brighter future for them. They may not actively be doing that now, but soon enough, they will most certainly look to you in times of need. The Black Eagles especially, as you're their professor. You can't give up. Do it for them. Please, Lucas. Remember your time with the game."
Lucas' heart pounded. Faster and faster it went as time passed. Byleth's words activated something in Lucas' brain. Like a light switch brightening the room, it began to best the darkness clouding his heart and soul. Doubt was being replaced with determination. Anxiety replaced with confidence. Worry replaced with hope.
Byleth had just reminded him about how much he loved Three Houses' world and its characters. About how much he cried every time the credits came on screen. About how he built up so many bonds with the students, him refusing to kill them when he fought them as enemies in later playthroughs. About how much he loved everyone. Particularly his first S-Support.
Slowly and with much pain, Lucas stood up, his battered and bruised self matching his similarly damaged blade. Jeralt grinned.
"I'm not giving up. Things are getting tough, but this is in no way comparable to anything that the people of Fodlan will be going through later on. In comparison, I'm acting like a whiny bitch. In order for me to protect everyone, the people I've come to love and appreciate, I'll need to keep moving," Lucas declared. "So, please, give me everything you've got, Jeralt! I'll take the pain of a thousand wars if it's what I need to save Fodlan from its fate! I'm NOT giving up! I'll NEVER give up!"
"Good. That's what I wanted to see. Now show me what you can do with that spirit of yours!" Jeralt applied more force to the grip of his blade's hilt, ready for what could be quite the spirited bout.
"Gladly!" Lucas returned.
The trainee swordsman leapt into the fight, his determination not allowing him to back down under any circumstance. Eventually, he was forced to take a break as per Jeralt's recommendation, but it was proof enough to Jeralt that this kid had what it took to become strong. He just needed some time to get there.
However, with the mock battle on the horizon, time was short.
Author Notes: Sorry this chapter took me so long! I released the first one around the time things started to get a bit hectic for me in university. I have since completed all of my assignments (though I haven't graduated yet), which means I'll now have more time to write and stuff.
Double apologies for the length of this chapter. I ended up incorporating scenes I had in mind for the next chapter in this one for no reason. The next one should be a bit shorter in that case. After that, the mock battle.
Also, I should clarify if I haven't already. Lucas is an OC, not an SI. My name isn't even Lucas. His surname, Hog, actually has a meaning. It means "prudent", which is accurate since he'll be quite prudent in figuring out how to help out Fodlan. Lucas also means "light", which is also accurate since he'll be fighting against Those Who Slither in the Dark. So his name makes good sense overall, I think. Hog also serves as a neat little nod towards my username. That's fun.
Anyway, see y'all next time.