Chapter 5 – A Fire In My Loins

I stared.

Hubert stared back.

I stared.

He continued staring.

I stared back harder

Look, if he was planning on pulling the whole "not talking to unnerve the other person into babbling to fill the silence" shtick, he should know I ain't falling for that crap. I mean, that's the oldest trick in the bo-

His dark smirk slowly shifted into the type of frown that promised great pain.

"W-what do you want from me?!"

Okay maybe I was a bit scared.

"As you may know, I am a servant of her highness Lady Edelgard, and it is my duty to ensure that those responsible for her instruction are… qualified for the task. I think you'd agree that the sudden appointments we've had here at the academy this year are quite out of the norm."

I rapidly nodded my head in agreement. No argument there.

"Normally, I would've conducted a thorough background check on you prior to your arrival, but since you seem like a reasonable person, I think the direct method would suffice." He chuckled grimly.

Hubert loomed over me with his signature taunting smile, letting the silence hang over us awkwardly.

'I told you the whole Dimitri thing was a bad idea! Oh goooood, Hubie's gonna to unperson us!'

'Oi, that's 'oh goddess' to you, heathen.'

While my last two brain cells argued with each other, I glanced out the corner of my eye, looking for any witnesses that could possibly save me from… whatever Hubert was going to do. Unfortunately, he seemed to have chosen an appropriately desolate corridor which was devoid of life save for one odd-looking lump in the corner – no wait, that's just Linhardt… aaaand of course he's asleep. Gee, thanks for the help there, bud.

'Don't you have better things to be worrying about right now?!'

"L-listen buddy," I started, unable to stop myself from stuttering at his frigid visage. "If you're planning on kidnapping me or something, I hope you know that I'm not going down without a fight! I can scream pretty loudly, too!"

He scoffed, looking genuinely confused. "Kidnap you? My, my… You seem awfully frightened of me, Morgan. I've hardly said anything, yet you're already mewling like a newborn deer. I'm not sure what horrid rumors you've heard of me, but I assure you that I have come only in good faith."

'Good faith my ass!'

"Look, I try not to judge based on appearances, but this?" I gestured at the dark and desolate corridor. "And well, you?" I pointed at him with a trembling finger. "No offense, but this whole scene just screams clandestine assassination."

Hubert chuckled. "I've heard from Professor Engles that you're quite the capable reader - perhaps lay off on the mystery novels next time, hmm?" He shook his head. "No, I chose this private corridor because I figured that you would want to discuss this ability of yours in private."

I goggled blankly at him. He… He was being courteous?

"Oh, uh, thanks for that." I muttered awkwardly. "

He shook his head. "Now, I usually wouldn't care this much about a simple assistant of a well-regarded Professor, but your actions last night have caught my interest."

I coughed nervously.

"So, why not start off with some introductions? Judging from your reactions, you already know a fair bit about me, so I'll let you have the stage," said Hubert. "Who are you, what are your goals here, and how do you plan on furthering her highness' education?"

Welp, guess I have no other option to fake it til' I make it. And with that, I forced on a wide, exaggerated grin and held out my hand.

"Heya! I'm Morgan, the new teaching assistant to Professor Engles, as you know already. I like savory foods and good books, and my dislikes are stinky foods and homicidal maniacs."

Hubert hesitantly shook my hand, but seemed thoroughly unimpressed.

"And my goal is to, uh… To make the world a better place?" I hesitantly tacked on at the end.

'Bruh, that was terrible.'

Alright then, asshole. How about you try churning up an innocent-sounding introduction while getting stared down by a spooky vampire man?

"I see… From what little that I've heard, you're a traveling scholar, a nomad with no known lineage or family history, correct?" said Hubert, wiping his hand with a damp cloth.

'Rude!'

"Yep, sounds about right! I mean, I got offered a sweet job opportunity and took it. Is there anything wrong with looking out for my career?

"Well, I'd say that it's awfully convenient. A mysterious man with no background, unusual resilience, and an exotic appearance is hired out of the blue. And this happens conveniently right when an equally mysterious new professor is hired, and when a suspicious individual is rumored to be spotted around the monastery. You must understand that I find such developments quite concerning for my lady's well-being."

Suspicious individual, eh? I think Rhea mentioned that in one of the early cutscenes, perhaps it was the Death Knight hovering around the area. I hope Hubie doesn't think I'm a moleman agent, but considering the context…

"If I were in your shoes, I'd agree." I nodded. "But given your house's victory at the mock battle, I'd hardly be complaining about the other new hire's performance."

'And considering the way 'your lady' stares at the guy?'

'Definitely no complaints from Edelgard there!'

"Rest assured though, I fully expect to meet the expectations that my anomalous 'brother' has set. Lady Edelgard's education will be in good hands!" I finished, with a thumbs up and a wink.

"Speaking of Professor Eisner," Hubert paused, a gleam in his eye. "So, what was it, Morgan? Mercenary? Disgraced royal guard? Dagdan remnant?"

I blinked in confusion.

"See, based on what I saw last night, you're clearly quite experienced in combat." Hubert started.

'W-what is he talking about?'

"The only people I've seen with such physical resilience were the senior knights of the Imperial Guard… And the only people that I've seen that have been able to face such blows without flinching were veterans with decades of combat experience.'

'Wait a minute…'

"Now, you look much too young to be one of them, but considering the skill and age of Professor Eisner…" Hubert continued on.

'Ohhh, I see what's going on.'

What is it?

'Ah, remember those late-game bare chested warmasters that shrugged off spears like the wind, right?'

So what you mean, is that…

'Indeed. These Fodlan-ers must have some sort of innate magical constitution buff or something'

No, not that! What I mean is, doesn't this mean we're completely obsolete already? If being tanky as hell is seen as normal…

'Well, when you put it that way…'

I heard a cough, breaking me out of my delusions.

"So, Morgan? Where'd you get such strength from?" asked Hubert.

'Quick, think of something!'

"You… You've got me. I'm older than I look - used to moonlight as a hired blade a long, long time ago. But well," I scratched my head and gave a tired sigh. "Those violent days are far behind me now. I've found a new, happier life in academia, and I'd like to keep it that way."

I finished off my parade of lies with a stern glare at Hubert.

'There's no fucking way he's buying that.'

He curled an eyebrow, smirking. "Hmm?"

"R-Right, yeah. I saw the poor lad needed a bit of stress relief, so it was the least I could do to let him wail on me for a bit to let out some anger. Not sure if it really helped though." I replied, barely keeping my voice from breaking.

"That's what I thought," nodded Hubert, looking quite satisfied with himself. "It seems we truly have a rogue's gallery joining the faculty this year. But these are interesting times, Morgan, and lines are getting drawn. Lady Edelgard is always looking for capable individuals to join the ranks of the Adrestrian Empire, so should you ever be looking for new employment…" He trailed off.

"Uh, yeah, sure," I mumbled. "I'll keep it in mind."

After a moment of awkward silence, he shook his head. "In any case, I'll see you in class. And do remember that the offer remains open, shall you ever reconsider."

With that, Hubert turned around and walked down the hall, seemingly melding into the shadows between the windows. That had to be some sort of dark magic.

'Well, at least Hubert didn't unperson us.'

'He… He believed it?! Holy shit, screw this academia crap, I should've taken up a career in theater instead. Do you think Mittelfrank has any open positions?'

'But what if he reports us to the Slitherers?'

I winced.

"Welcome to day two of our journey into the wonders of the natural world! You've all survived one day already, so I am confident that you'll survive the next three hundred or so!" chuckled Marcus with cheer in his voice. "As I said yesterday, we'll be passing out mathematics aptitude tests to see where everyone's knowledge level is at, but before that, I'd like to introduce my new teaching assistant, Morgan, err…!"

"Just Morgan is fine," I called from behind him. "Plain, simple Morgan!"

Marcus shrugged and stepped back and gestured for me to head to the podium as the class clapped in polite applause. As I stood in front of the assembled lecture hall, I realized that Marcus never gave me a rundown on "noble etiquette," or in other words, how to talk to a noble without accidentally getting you, your family, and your town sent to the stockades for accidentally insulting them through some inane unspoken piece of social etiquette.

Hell, he hasn't even given me any sort of orientation yet, aside from that crash course in writing up lesson plans. Either it completely slipped his mind, or he simply had that much faith in me. Both were worrying prospects.

Thankfully, there were quite a few familiar faces in the crowd to soothe my worries – there was Ashe and Annette poring over a textbook, Lorenz and Leonie arguing with each other, Hilda picking at her fingernails while Marianne tried to look as small as possible behind her… It was all a reassuring sight. I couldn't help the grin growing on my face; even though I've barely interacted with any of them without a pasty LED screen separating us, it still felt like I was surrounded by old friends. Not that they'd know, of course.

Curiously, Linhardt was also giving me some odd looks throughout the class period. Was there something on my face? I hope it wasn't a pimple. That being said, I already look like a goblin compared to all these perfectly unblemished anime-protagonist looking people, so it's not like it can get any worse.

I quickly scanned through the roster. It seemed that the class was divided into multiple periods in order to fit all the students, so it explained why some students, such as the Blue Lions trio, appeared to be missing.

As the last of the students entered, I saw Edelgard and Hubert among them, filing in quietly and taking a seat next to each other in the back. No doubt Hubert already notified her about me – I'd probably want to keep a wide berth around them for the time being. Behind them, Dedue and Dimitri walked in, with the latter with bloodshot eyes and pointedly refusing to meet my gaze. I should probably check in on him when I have time.

With my survey of the room over, I cleared my throat and waved my hand awkwardly.

"Uh, hey everyone. I'm Morgan, and I'll be assisting in the instruction of this year's natural sciences course. I hope our efforts in these coming months will be fruitful for your academic growth."

A basic, succinct, and painfully milquetoast introduction. Perfect if you're not trying to attract any attention, and it seemed to have worked. It was clear that the majority of the class couldn't care less for my existence aside from some of the more diligent students like Lysithea and Annette, or oddly enough, Caspar. Though in his case, he was probably looking more forward to sparring with me later today rather than actually learning algebra from me.

That was perfectly fine by me. If I keep my head down, I won't get dungeon'd by an offended noble or drawn into some other noble's complicated scheme about dealing with the crest and moleman-related troubles plaguing Fódlan.

Letting out a relieved sigh as the class applauded politely once more, I took a seat as Marcus seamlessly replaced me at the front and began talking about course logistics.

The hours passed quickly, with the students taking most of the period taking the introductory quiz. I spent the time browsing through some of the books Marcus had lying around while he patrolled the rows, my reading occasionally interspersed with a student coming up to turn in their finished work. This peaceful moment was soon interrupted, though.

Precisely 3 seconds after the bell rang, I found myself being bowled over by a teal blur. Before I could react to this new, brightly colored threat, I was already slung over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes and getting hustled out of the lecture hall, with a certain sleepy crest scholar being carried across the other shoulder.

"What the f- God dammit Caspar, hold on!" I screamed indignantly as the boy in question rocketed down the halls. "What the heck are you doing? Where the heck are you going?"

Caspar looked over at me with a beaming smile. "You promised me yesterday that you were going to spar with me, didn't you?

"Well, yeah, but-"

"I just couldn't wait, so I decided to take you straight to the training grounds! And don't worry, I already asked Professor Engle's for permission to borrow you for the hour!"

"He allowed this?!" I screeched.

"Yeah! He said something about 'enjoying your youth' or something." Replied Caspar with a sunny smile.

"Well, then you could've just told me, you know! I'm perfectly capable of walking mysel- agh!" I yelped as my skull ricocheted off a passing pillar. "Easy on the cargo, kid!"

"Sorry!"

He seemed to be subconsciously running closer towards the wall on my side to prevent Linhardt's noggin from getting clipped by the walls across the path. Ah, the childhood-friend bromance dynamic. It would be cute if it didn't mean I have to go through such callous treatment.

As our rampaging human totem-pole rounded another corner, we suddenly jerked to a halt, narrowly avoiding a collision with another person.

"Whoa! Watch where you're going, Caspar!" came Ingrid's voice.

I craned my head around Caspar's shoulder and saw the knight-errant carrying what appeared to be a large violet bag over her shoulder. She had quite a disturbing number of bags under her eyes.

"First Sylvain, then Raphael, and you too? You're a student of the academy now Caspar, so you've ought to conduct yourself with some decorum! It seems everyone in the academy is running around like buffoons these days, and the year has barely started!" She thundered. "In your reckless haste, you almost knocked us over!"

Us?

"And Is that the new teaching assistant on your shoulder? By the goddess Caspar, what in the world are you doing with him? Have you no shame?" Ingrid was practically screaming now, but I ignored her flushed face in favor of looking around for the other person that usually makes up an 'us.'

During the brief moment of silence as Ingrid paused to catch her breath, I made out a soft whimpering noise coming from her shoulder. Squinting, I realized that the 'bag' over Ingrid's shoulder was actually a quivering, ratty looking hoodie, with a small tuft of lavender hair poking out from the end.

I poked Caspar's head and nodded towards the bag. "Hey Caspar, are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

Caspar's eyes widened. "Is that Bernadetta?"

"Eep!"

"Mmm,it does seem that way, Cassie-boy." I pointed at the quivering ball. "So blondie, you don't seem to have an issue doing the exact same thing."

"Doing the same thing… What are you talking about?" She followed my outstretched finger over to her shoulder and did a double take upon seeing Bernadetta, seemingly noticing her for the first time.

"B-Bernadetta? Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!" Ingrid blushed, quickly let the loner down. "I've… I've been so busy lately that all the stress must be getting to me, I just…"

From my perch on Caspar's shoulder, I locked eyes with Bernadetta and nodded, as an acknowledgement from one human beanbag to another. The tearful girl tugged her hoodie strings tighter in response, fully obscuring her face with the scrunched-up cloth. It seems she still thinks that I'm going to murder her for running me over with a Pegasus the other day.

"D-does this mean I can go back to my room?" Bernadetta mewled from behind her hood.

The blonde sighed heavily and tightened her grip on Bernadetta's arm. "Professor Jeritza put me in charge of today's archery training, and it's my duty to make sure everyone on the roster attends. That includes you, Bernadetta, though I am truly sorry for handling you like that, though."

"Tough day huh?" I asked sympathetically. "I assume things are behind schedule, aren't they?"

"You don't know the first of it. This morning I had to comfort 3 of Sylvain's 'casualties' so I ended up being late to stable duty, and then I had to spend another half hour trying to coax Bernadetta out of her room before archery practice started, and I'm already behind schedule on that too," she sighed again. "I told Ashe I was going to meet him at the Library later this afternoon to go over some notes, but it looks like I'm going to have to cancel those plans as well."

In what seemed to be a sudden moment of clarity, she paused and quickly patted down her uniform, ironing out the wrinkles and knocking off the debris. With that, she extended her hand up towards me.

"Oh my gosh, where are my manners? My name is Ingrid Brandl Galatea, of the Blue Lions house." She spoke abashedly, "Please forgive me for my boorish behavior today, I promise this isn't what I'm usually like!"

I reached over Caspar's head and shook back. "It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Lady Galatea. I'm sure we'll be seeing us in the natural sciences period later today"

I grimaced inwardly. Ew, Lady Galatea? Something about her was making me get all 'thee and thou' for some reason.

Caspar snapped his fingers. "Speaking of training, we were heading to the training grounds too! Morgan here promised to spar with me today!"

"Him? A spar, with you?" Ingrid remarked dubiously, pausing to pull at Bernadetta's wrist as she tried to slip away. "I mean no disrespect, Sir Morgan, but are you really sure about this? You don't seem to be built like the brawling sort, and Caspar isn't the type to hold back."

I shrugged. "There's no harm in trying, right? I'm sure Caspar will appreciate a new sparring partner, regardless of my skill level. It has to be at least a step above training dummies, right? Besides, we've got a healer with us, so I think things will be fine."

"If he's awake for it, I suppose so. Good luck then, Morgan. Perhaps I might ask you for a spar as well," smiled Ingrid.

After we finished our pleasantries and parted ways, Caspar looked up at me in wonder.

"You know, Morgan, you seem awfully cool about this. The first time I tried carrying Linhardt around like this, he wouldn't talk to me for a whole week!"

I shrugged and nestled myself into a more comfortable position on his shoulder.

"Where I come from, you learn to just roll with the punches, learn to find the bright side of everything," I replied sagely. "Besides, if someone offers you free transportation, you take it."

He doesn't need to know about the horrors of 21st century gas prices, and I hope he never will.

Caspar laughed and resumed his sprint towards the fields with a smile on his face and some tune humming under his breath. Kidnapping is bad and all, but the ride wasn't all that uncomfortable, aside from the occasional head smashing. I can only hope that Bernadetta can one day learn to appreciate the joys of spontaneous shoulder carries as well.

Eventually we arrived at the training field, only after I had the unique experience of having my head bounce harmlessly off of no less than a dozen pieces of priceless monastery masonry. Unfortunately, the 'harmlessly' part didn't exactly apply to the stonework that I was colliding with - if Seteth noticed the dents Caspar's recklessness left behind, let's just say that there might be an actual student perma-death during the Academy Phase.

Linhardt was dropped off on a nearby bench (with surprising care, I might add), and then Caspar put me down at the next stop – the equipment racks. Thankfully, he seemed to have taken us to a more secluded corner of the training fields, away from prying eyes.

At first I was worried that sparring like this would get my secret outed in no time, but considering what Hubert said, maybe being tanky as hell isn't all that crazy…

I grumbled as I wiped chips of marble and limestone out of my hair. "Jeez Caspar, were you so afraid of fighting me that you felt the need to concuss me before we even started?"

"Concuss? What do you mean? You seem perfectly fine to me!" replied Caspar confusedly.

"You… Did you seriously not notice my head hitting…" My eyes locked with his blank look. "You know what, never mind. Let's just get this over with."

As the diminutive noble practically vibrated in excitement while I slipped on the leather training pads, I took the moment to size him up. I haven't had the best fighting record so far, but let's be honest, Dimitri doesn't count as a reliable point of reference with regards to martial ability.

Caspar's what, about sixteen right now? I've got a good few years and inches on him – surely, I'd at least be able to get him a little winded, even with my lack of fighting experience. His supports talked about having problems fighting taller people, right?

Caspar grinned at me as I tightened the last strap on my gauntlets. "Are you ready, Morgan? I won't go easy on you, you know!"

I nodded, raising my arms into a basic defensive stance that I remembered seeing on some discount-aisle kung-fu movie. "Bring it on, kid."

I shut the door with a bang as I stepped into the library, stewing over my latest humiliation in the ring of honor. It's really not a good feeling to be curb-stomped by a person a fraction of your age and height. I don't think I even had the opportunity to throw a punch, much less actually land one. Then again, the fact that he could sprint through the entire monastery while carrying two people without breaking a sweat should've clued me in on the fact that he was stronger than his stature suggested.

Unlike Dimitri though, at least Caspar was polite enough to offer to end the "spar" after the sixth consecutive suplex. Thankfully, it seemed he was too shocked by my sheer physical ineptitude to notice the lack of injuries on my body that usually follow enduring said suplexes. Small blessings, I guess.

I pulled a random book on Fódlan's history off the shelf and shuffled into a chair. If I'm going to be annoyed, I might as well direct that energy into something productive, such as learning more about the feudal hell that I've been dropped into. Before long, I was engrossed in a rather vivid recounting of the Adrestian Empire's recent war with Dagda and Brigid.

My journey through Fódlan's history was interrupted by a shuffling sound, and I glanced up to see Lysithea slide into the chair across from me with a bundle of stationery in her arms. I nodded at the mage and continued my reading in comfortable and companionable silence.

Or, at least, I attempted to. I couldn't help but watch as she started to make increasingly contorted (and cute) expressions of indignance while glaring daggers at the paper laying in front of her. When she looked like she was seconds away from tossing a Miasma at the offending paper, I sighed and laid down my book.

"Are you doing okay there, Lysithea?" I paused to crane my head for a better look at her paper. "That's… that's one of Professor Engles' worksheets, isn't it? I don't recall him assigning anything for homework today."

"Ah! Sorry if I'm bothering you, Morgan," she yelped, startled by the sudden break in the silence. "I asked Professor Engles yesterday for some advanced materials, as I don't have the time to go at the same pace as the rest of the class. It would be a waste of my abilities and time, after all. I'm sure an academic like you would understand."

Gee, without the context of her crest-limited lifespan, she really does sound a bit condescending.

She continued, "But on this last problem, no matter what I do, the result just doesn't make sense! I've redone my calculations four times now, and the numbers still turn out to be incomprehensible! If you don't mind, could you take a look at my work?"

I looked over her shoulder at the furious scribbled out equations, and – oh damn, this worksheet was one that Marcus had slated for 6 months from now, little girl genius indeed. Cold sweat rolled down my neck as I browsed through her calculations, all the while being stared at by a pair of expectant pink eyes. I'll admit, I could barely understand half the stuff she was working on, and the pressure from her incessant staring certainly wasn't helping my thinking process.

"Morgan? Are you alright there?"

I held up my palm. "Uh, give me a sec."

Well, talk about awkward. If I couldn't help her here, she'd probably never respect me ever again. Should I pull a Claude and say that I have a stomachache, then pull an emergency exfiltration? Although pragmatic, it would seem quite rude for me to do that in response to her earnest request.

"It's fine if you don't know, Morgan. Thank you for trying, but I'm sure I can handle it myself," she said. Her disappointed tone didn't match her words, though.

After running through her work one more time, I shrugged and made to stand up, equally disappointed in myself. As I moved to shuffle back towards my seat, I noticed a minute oddity at the top of the page.

"Waaaaaaait a minute," I drawled, sliding back into her chair. "That second equation up here, I think you're supposed to be plugging in the 't' value, not the 'τ' value. I'll bet that's why the numbers are getting messed up down the road."

She looked at the offending line for a few seconds and broke out in a blush. "O-Oh, I see! I'm sure I would've found it on my own, thanks anyways!"

I nodded in agreement. "Indeed. I make similar mistakes all of the time, so there's nothing to be ashamed of."

I watched Lysithea furiously scribble in the revised equations with her small, dainty hands-

Wait a minute, small hands… That reminded me of something, what if Caspar's one-sided tenderizing of me, despite his unassuming stature, wasn't an anomaly? With what Hubert mentioned about people's magic-fueled constitution in the world, perhaps…

I cleared my throat. "Say, Lysithea, could I have a moment of your time? I've had a theory that I've been looking to test out."

She set down her quill after a moment and smiled at me curiously. "Certainly Morgan, what do you need?"

"Are you familiar with arm wrestling?"

It was quite jarring how quickly her eyes glazed over in disinterest.

"Right, I heard you sparred with Caspar today, didn't you," muttered Lysithea. "I suppose guys like you would be into that. Look, I'm not sure if this is one of Claude's schemes to mess with me, but-"

"No, no, this isn't about that!" I squawked. The last thing I needed was her to think that I was some sort of raging meathead. "Fighting isn't my forte at all, Caspar completely steamrolled me!"

The mage raised a brow. "Steam… roll?"

Right, being in a pre-industrial civilization means I have to put a ban on post-industrial sayings.

"Never mind that. The point is that Caspar beat the absolute stuffing out of me." I paused to rack my brain for a plausible excuse. "Buuuut because of that, I came up with a hypothesis about human physiology, and I wanted to test something with you."

Her brow rose even higher. "And you're going to test that idea by… arm wrestling?"

"Yes." I replied, with the straightest face I could muster.

After staring me down for a few seconds with a doubtful look, she rolled her eyes and shifted her papers off to the side of the table.

"I don't know where you're going with this, but let's make it quick. I plan on getting this worksheet done before supper."

She held out her arm with a disinterested look. I returned to the seat across from her and grasped her outstretched hand with my own.

"Ready?"

She nodded halfheartedly, but I could see the hints of a competitive glint in her eye.

"Then… go!"

To my great surprise (and judging by the look on her face, hers as well), not only was her arm not budging, it was instead slowly pushing me down. Despite my best efforts, I soon found my arm pinned to the table by a hand a fraction of the size of my own. It was a close contest, but considering our differences in stature, it should've been anything but close.

"Oh. Uh, wow." She mumbled incredulously, flexing her fingers in wonder. "I think this is the first time I've ever won at arm wrestling."

She suddenly paused and narrowed her eyes.

"You weren't going easy on me, were you? I know I may not be the most athletic, but I'd ask that you not coddle me like thi-"

"N-no! No, I was giving it my all - I'm as surprised as you are!" I interrupted, equally incredulous. "I know that I'm not the most fit person in the world either, but…"

"But?"

"But… I think I've found exactly what I was looking to test for. Thanks, Lysithea!" I rose from my seat, satisfied. "Now, if you'll excuse me…"

"Hold on a minute, that didn't answer my question at all!" whined Lysithea. "What are you talking about?"

"Well truthfully I'm not quite sure what to tell you, other than that evidently we have some pretty significant physiological differences." I replied evenly.

"…Physiological differences?" mumbled Lysithea, nervously running a hand through her bone-white hair. "Are you saying that I'm… I'm-"

"What, no! I'm saying that there's something off about me!" I yelped. "I don't think it's anything related to you! Maybe… Maybe I'm just a freak of nature or something, yeah!"

"First the new professor calls himself a demon, and now the new teaching assistant calls himself a freak," snarked Lysithea, now regaining some of her usual pomp. "The faculty here at the academy certainly wasn't what I expected them to be."

I laughed. "In any case, I have to head out for now to get some work done, but if I find out anything new about this, you'll be the first to know. Thanks for the help, by the way."

She nodded hesitantly as I slotted my book back onto the shelf and quickly made for the exit, leaving the confused girl in my wake. Indeed, it seemed that my deduction from earlier was correct - the people of Fódlan were quite stronger than the good ol' Homo Sapiens that I knew and loved. Though this did conveniently explain how some of them were able to shrug off things like ballista bolts and literal meteors in-game.

'Dude, you just lost in arm wrestling to a pint-sized mage, there's no excuse around this one. Try hitting up a gym sometime, yeah?'

'I mean, she does have a budding talent in swords, and that strength has to come from somewhere."

'Ah, but that's after several months of training and instruction at the academy, yet we've barely even passed the first chapter.'

Listen, I just wanted to know if the average people of Fódlan really are that juiced, or if the chefs are just spiking these kids' sorbets with medieval creatine or something. And judging by how that experiment went, it seems to be the former.

A disturbing image of a 'roided-out war master Lysithea with bulging pecs popped into my head as I shut the door behind me.

I glanced at the flickering candle as I grinded through the age-old task of grading worksheets. Due to my burnt-out 21st century retinas being unused to the lack of the splendors of electric lighting, I had laid out a wide array of candles to keep the room bright enough for me to actually see. Oh what I would give for a nice LED desk lamp right now…

The unfortunate part about candles is that they use an open fire to create light. Combined with the stack of burnable clutter on my desk, and the vast array of candles dotting every corner of my room, it was frankly obvious in hindsight that I was just asking for a disaster. As I reached for another sheet, my traitorous elbow swiped the tip of one of the candles, knocking the burning candle onto my desk and spilling hot wax everywhere.

"Ahck- Oh shit!"

The wick quickly made contact with the puddle of wax and set my desk aflame. On instinct, I looked around for the ever familiar "break glass in case of emergency" boxes that hold fire extinguishers, only to remember that I was still stuck in good old Fódlan, with an emphasis on the old. I eyed the growing flames creeping ever so closer to that detestable stack of arithmetic as it left a trail of smoldering table in its wake. Sure, I could move the papers off the desk, but that won't solve the looming danger of possibly burning my room down and taking the rest of the dormitory with it.

'Even if the dorm goes down, what's the worst that could happen? I'm sure people like Marianne or Linhardt could just facetank the fire with their high magic resistances!'

'I'm sure Seteth would be all too happy to fire us for, well, setting the students on fire, regardless of whether we injure them or not.'

Right, less excusing, more extinguishing. I swept across my room looking for firefighting implements, muttering as I went.

"-glass of water? No, that won't be enough to extinguish all that wax… I could smother it with a rag, but then the rag would burn as well - no wait, I can dunk the rag in water, but then I'll just have to hold it in place to prevent the wax from spreading, but then my hand might get burned and that would be-

…

Hah, what am I worried about? I'm invincible!

With that sudden realization, I reached out and smothered the flames with my bare palm.

Have you ever heard testimonials from burn victims? How they describe the unimaginable pain of being cooked alive - with their skin searing, every nerve ending spasming in their death throes as it melts away? Well let me tell you, those words didn't even get close to describing what I felt.

Mostly because I didn't feel anything at all, aside from a somewhat uncomfortable warmth.

I lifted my hand off of the table, smiling at the now-extinguished burn mark on my smoldering desk. My hand, however, was now coated with a layer of wax, reignited by a stray ember.

Now let's be honest, how often do you get to observe your own self-immolation without all the pain that usually comes with it? Because I for one, couldn't help but giggle as I got up close to the fire and let the flames lick at my corneas. It was entrancing – there was a certain childish wonder, or perhaps an excitement stemming from the taboo nature of fire. So beautiful, yet too dangerous to reach out and touch, until now.

I held my arm out and twirled around my room, letting the colorful flames trail behind my hands as if I were a fire dancer. Eventually, the wax burned itself out, and I dunked my hand into my glass of water to put out the little smoldering bits that remained, ending the brief moment of childish wonder.

*sniff*

But how come I still smell smoke?

My concerns were interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on my door.

'Who'd be up this late looking for us of all people?'

'Is it Hubert again? I sure hope it isn't.'

Shrugging, I headed over and pulled the door open and came face to face with Linhardt, the person I least expected to be awake at this hour (or any hour, actually).

Linhardt nodded politely with a yawn. "Good evening Morgan, I hope you don't mind the interruptio-"

He suddenly froze, with his eyes comically growing to the size of dinner plates as they trailed down my figure, settling down somewhere around my nether regions.

I choked on my spit. Is… Is he checking me out? I have to say, that's a first for me, so I'm not quite sure how to feel about that. With great trepidation, I followed his gaze to see what got him so riled up only to notice – oh blast, my trousers were on fire. A wild ember must have gotten to it while I was trying to LARP as a firebender.

"Ah Linhardt, perfect timing! Could you go fetch a bucket of water? As you can see," I paused to gesture at my burning lower half, now mostly clothed by flames. "There appears to be a fire in my loins."

Linhardt remained still.

I coughed awkwardly after a few seconds of waiting. "Uh, as I said, if you wouldn't mind, could you go get me some water or something?

No response.

"Linhardt? Anyone home?" I snapped my fingers in front of his face. "You're looking like you've just seen a ghos-"

Oh, right. I was so entranced by the fire earlier that I seem to have forgotten one very important fact: self-immolation isn't normal.

Luckily, Linhardt had enough self-discipline to not scream - no, he politely fainted instead and collapsed in front of the door. That was fortunate, since I wonder what people would've thought had they seen me trying to muzzle a student while naked from the waist down. I plan on fighting ancient moleman conspiracies, not sexual misconduct allegations, after all. After the fire extinguished itself from consuming the remains of my pants, I grabbed the comatose student and hauled his limp body into my room.

'You know, I'd say dragging around an unconscious student while naked is even worse than trying to muzzle one.'

Yeah, but at least he didn't scream.

'Oh, you're definitely going on a list.'

While Linhardt lay unconscious on my bed, I made sure to air out the room to clear out the smell of smoke and cover the burnt mark on my desk with a wet towel to hide any immediate evidence. But as for how I was planning on explaining this to him if he pressed the issue?

"Agh! Morgan, y-you were-" Linhardt awoke with a start, quickly calming down after seeing my extinguished state. "You… You were on fire, were you not?"

I turned around on my chair to face him and slipped on my 'award-winning' poker face.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." I replied flatly. "Have you been getting enough sleep lately? I don't often get dreams that outlandish unless I've been pulling consecutive all-nighters."

That's right! Deny, deny, deny.

Linhardt gave me a withering look. "Don't play stupid, Morgan. I saw you engulfed in flames not a few moments ago."

"And not a few moments ago, you were out cold, Linhardt." I pointed out. "I think it's highly likely that you dreamt all of that up, since last I checked, burning kills people." I paused to pick at my fingernails with faux disdain. "You don't see me being dead, do you?"

"You…" He sighed. "You have a point, I do admit that is quite an outlandish idea. Very well, suppose we go with the theory that I simply dreamt up your immolation then."

Whoa, was he really just going to let me go like that? Well shit, I'm not complaining!

I jumped to my feet with a grin to usher him out the door, but paused when he held up a hand.

"However, there have been quite a few anomalous events related to this - too many for all of this to be just a figment of my imagination." He continued.

"Oh? Do tell." I said, sitting back into my chair and tenting my fingers.

"For example, this morning Hubert was questioning you about your supposed ability, mentioning something about your exceptional physical resilience. If that were true, that could explain your presently uninjured state."

Huh, guess he was awake that time.

"Ah yes, I do recall seeing you laying on the ground in the corridor when I spoke with him. It looked like you were taking a nap – perhaps you must have dreamt up that absurd part of the conversation. I only recall introducing myself and my hobbies to him, certainly not any unique powers of mine," I retorted. "Which, if I may add, do not exist."

Linhardt looked unimpressed but continued. "Perhaps. But this afternoon when you were sparring with Caspar - I saw you weathering a beating that would've winded anyone but the strongest fighters that I know of. He may not have noticed your lack of injury, but I certainly did. How would you explain that, then?"

I shrugged. "What of that? Last I checked, you seemed to be napping on the bench as well, so I believe you dreamt that up too."

"Morgan, you can't seriously expect that every single one of these occurrences was just a drea-"

"Liiiinhardt." I clapped his shoulders. "I'm sure you've had a lot on your mind lately with the school year starting and all, and that kind of stress does tend to lead to some wild visions sometimes" I drawled condescendingly. "I understand that it may be difficult to tell dreams from reality sometimes, but that's nothing to be ashamed of."

Considering how often he slept, I don't think my blatant lies about him dreaming up everything were really that far of a reach. And judging by his frown, it seemed we both understood that he definitely could've been slipping in and out of consciousness at each of those moments.

"Besides, why are you so interested in this crackpot theory of yours? I'm pretty sure that anything concerning me has absolutely nothing to do with crests and crest-related accessories. I'm sure that a smart fellow like you has much better things to do with your time, like I dunno…" I glanced at the clock, "Ah! Look at how late it is, it's the perfect time to go to bed, is it not?"

I gently pushed on his shoulder, goading him to leave my room. The pushing was more of a formality though, as I'm sure that if push came to shove, even a bookworm like Linhardt could twist me like a pretzel.

The lanky boy held firm. "Oh, on the contrary Morgan, this actually has everything to do with crests. How much do you know about the field of Crestology?"

"Well, they're just spooky magical bloodline things that give you spooky magical powers, yeah?" I joked.

Linhardt grimaced at my crass description. "Well if you didn't know, there are twenty-two recorded crests right now, although the documentation on several of them is limited, or even worse, lost to history. Exceptional constitution, to my knowledge, does not appear to match any of the traits of these recorded crests."

"Thanks for the lecture, doc," I mocked, "What's your point?"

"I'm saying that there is a good chance that you may have a crest that is wholly unknown to modern science, Morgan!" Linhardt said with uncharacteristic excitedness, grabbing my hands. "Do you know how exciting it is as a crest scholar to be the one discovering an entirely new crest?! This could revolutionize everything we know about the field!"

"Oh, that does sound very exciting indeed!" I agreed sarcastically, gently shaking off his grip. "That is, if I actually had such a ludicrous ability. You really do have the most colorful idea sometimes, Linny."

"Mooooorgan," he whined tiredly. "Why are you being so difficult about this?"

"I don't know about you, but as a scholar myself, I think it'd be rather unscientific to be labeling people with absurd superpowers," I said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have papers to grade. Shoo."

He stewed with a pout for a moment, before his eyes brightened and he snapped his fingers.

"Ah, you do know that I can just ask Hubert and Caspar about what they saw, right?" asked Linhardt. "Unless you plan on claiming they were dreaming everything up as well."

"Uh, i-it was a dream?" I offered halfheartedly.

Upon seeing his triumphed smirk, I groaned. "Well fine, I'm more resilient than most people, so what? I'm sure you've already heard my explanation to Hubert."

"And I'm pretty sure that explanation was a complete lie, all the way through," remarked Linhardt. "You claim you were a warrior in the distant past, but considering the way you wrestled with Caspar earlier today… Well I'm pretty sure there's no way for someone to fake such sheer ineptitude. No offense Morgan, but you were really, really bad."

I facepalmed. Right, kinda forgot that I had to at least look like I knew how to fight in order for my lie to work. I'm really bad at this secret stuff, aren't I?

'Yes.'

Linhardt continued, "Thus, it's quite evident that your combat experience is completely nonexistent. In addition, while it is true that some select few warriors are able to hone their body's constitution to a ridiculous limit, I'm pretty sure that not even people like Captain Jeralt can stand in an open fire without at least writhing in pain. How would you explain that, then?"

"But Hubert said-" I started.

"Hubert is many things, but he isn't much of a dreamer." Linhardt sniffed, cutting me off. "When faced with a possibility that goes completely against your understanding of the world, most would err towards the more believable option."

"So, Morgan," said Linhardt, leaning towards me. "Where does your ability come from?"

"Alright, fuck it, fine! I've been given some otherworldly ability that makes me seemingly impervious to damage, are you happy now?" I yelled exasperatedly.

Linhardt's eyes were shining with uncharacteristic lifeliness. "Yes! Perfect, this is exactly what I was hop-"

"Look," I interrupted, holding a palm out. "I don't even know the extent of my ability. And I'm sure you know as well as I do that such powers would probably be in high demand, and there would be people out for my head if they found out about it. There are some daaaaaangerous fellows out there, you know," I wiggled my fingers for emphasis. "Real dangerous fellows."

"You're sounding awfully like Bernadetta right now." Linhardt remarked, still with a small smile on his face.

I shot him a stern look.

"Linhardt, I'm serious about this. I have plans- not evil ones, I swear!" I added when he furrowed his brow, "And I'd rather not be impeded by an army of people looking to dig my guts out. I'll be happy to work with you on researching my… condition, provided you are able to maintain confidentiality about the whole shebang."

After all, I'd probably need a few people on my side to have a chance of success.

'Plus, it'll be nice to have a second opinion on figuring out this invincibility shtick of ours.'

He held up his hands placatingly. "Of course, and that's all that I was going to ask for. Thank you for this opportunity, truly."

I rubbed my temples. "Right, sure. I'll find some time to meet with you, but I can't guarantee it'll be anytime soon since there's still a bunch of things I have to deal with. Now get outta my room, I've got papers to grade."

"Very well. Good night then, Morgan." He bowed, then exited with a spring in his step.

Gee, leave it to dipshit me to get my trump card more or less discovered in less than a week of arriving at Garreg Mach. It's not like I was being particularly secretive about it, so the fault did lay on me. The more logical parts of my mind were far overshadowed by my enthusiasm for being in Fódlan.

At least Linhardt seemed to take it well, though. If your world has magical meteors and petite schoolgirls that could twist iron, I'm sure adding literal invincibility into the mix isn't the craziest thing that could happen.

All things considered, it could've certainly gone worse. If anyone else had been the one to discover my invincibility… well Rhea, for example, would probably try to anatomize me, and Hubert would probably have had me hogtied right then and there if he realized the full extent of my power. I suppose if I had to confess to anyone, Linhardt was probably one of the better choices of the bunch. He seemed like the kind of fellow that would understand the prudence of secrecy, at least based on his support conversations. And better yet, doesn't seem like the 'stabby' kind of person.

What a day - first a simping g-man, two nuclear tykes, and then finally Detective Linhardt. I think I've had enough 'fun' for a whole month. Sighing, I dropped my head onto my desk, completely exhausted. What happened to my simple plan of just nuking the Agarthans and being done with it?

*clunk*

Hmm? What was that noise? Oh whatever, I'll deal with it later… But why do I smell smoke again?

After a moment's rest, the smoky smell started becoming unbearable, so I looked up, only to see that my fat head managed to knock yet another candle over and set my desk ablaze. Again.

Fuck.

'Fuck.'

'Fuck.'

AN: Fics never die, they're just missing in action.

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Oh, who am I kidding, they die all the time.

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