Hello there folks! When I was looking into different ideas for potential one-shots, something that stood out for me was choir practice. After all, the thought of this emotionless, socially stunted mercenary being forced to sing was such an amusing image in my mind. Then, I wondered what it would be like if he could sing, and why he would randomly be good at singing... Anyway, let's go!

Summary: The world is far grander than the borders of Fodlan. For students who know of little beyond their territories, the earthly knowledge of their professor is like an endless source of fairytales. On a cold night, however, Byleth proves the anecdotes he tells have more than enough evidence to back them up.


Byleth missed a good campfire. There weren't enough occasions for them. The monastery, as free as they let Byleth act, disliked such things. After all, the work they put into their gardens was immense. Having that all ruined in a single blaze would be disastrous. The closest Byleth seemed to get was Jeralt's fireplace. That was good enough for them, but it lacked the atmosphere having the entire mercenary band gave.

When night fell during a mission, Byleth finally had an excuse.

The mission had been the eradication of a bandit hideout. Nothing too difficult, but it took the Golden Deer far from the monastery. With how late the informant had arrived, there was no other alternative but to prepare for a single night camp. Waiting for the morning and then travelling would risk the bandits moving their position.

Not that Byleth was complaining. Though the Golden Deer weren't completely formed of nobles, the students lacked resilience. They were used to the luxuries of Garreg Mach. Hot food, accessible water, well-made shelter; they wanted for little. Some experience in the wild would be good for them.

Fortunately, most had accepted the situation quietly. Leonie and Claude had prior experience with camping out, while the others had few complaints. The two major (and only) objectors had been Lorenz and Hilda. Hilda had been easy enough to placate, with promises of the others handling the labour, but Lorenz was not so easily satisfied.

"I still find such lodgings inappropriate." The purple-haired boy continued to whine as he helped pitch the tents. If he had it his way, he wouldn't be anywhere near a tent, but Byleth had forced the boy into action. With Raphael helping him out, Lorenz wouldn't be too quick to make a run for it. "We aren't that far from civilisation, surely? There must be some residence capable of accepting us for the night. I would even settle for an inn."

"Numbers. We don't have the funds for our headcount." Byleth quickly denied, earning a disgruntled grumble. They were a group of nine, what did Lorenz expect? Even if they shared rooms here possible, Byleth wasn't exactly carrying much on him. Carrying a sizeable wallet into a bandit camp was simply asking for trouble. "Also, survival skills. They will serve you well."

"After all, you ain't getting a feast like this in an inn, let me tell ya!" Claude was proud to boast, his and Leonie's bounty making a hefty thump as it hit the floor. "We got pretty lucky. The animals around here are pretty huge. We won't be wanting for food tonight."

Byleth gave an affirmative nod, trying his best to ignore his ears ringing. He would be surprised if Raphael's roar of approval didn't scare off everything nearby. It wasn't that they hadn't brought along rations, but they were hardly the nicest concoctions. With a greater emphasis on nutritional value over flavour, you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who liked them. With Leonie and Byleth, there was no reason not to hunt.

"Good. Lysithea, start a fire. You and Marianne will be cooking with me." Byleth ordered, just in time for Ignatz to collapse under the wood he was carrying. Between the two people Byleth sent out, it should've been bearable. Then again, if Hilda refused to pitch a tent, she was definitely going to refuse to heft wood. "Leonie, show Claude how to prepare the meat."

"You got it. Try not to throw up Claude."

"Heh, no promises."

Perhaps it wasn't the best of ideas to let Claude assist. With the size of the animals they hunted, there would be plenty of inedible parts. For a prankster such as Claude, it was a veritable treasure trove of material. Byleth wanted to believe Claude wouldn't resort to such squeamish pranks but… you could never tell with the leader of the Golden Deer.

"Professor? Um... do I really have to touch that?" Lysithea's question broke through Byleth's musings. Turning to the white-haired girl with a raised eyebrow, Byleth watched as the girl shuffled awkwardly under his gaze. "I'm… not exactly comfortable handling this sort of thing..."

"You will get used to it." Came the professor's blunt answer, as if it were obvious. For Byleth, it was – if a mercenary didn't get used to the survivalist's life, they left. With a mercenary's future always uncertain, one had to be prepared to rough it out. while everyone's skill level differed, every mercenary could cook, and do every other task. "In the field, you don't eat if you don't work. Tonight is the same."

If nothing else, Hilda suddenly appeared to be far more interested in her task. Having spent so long travelling, their lunch hadn't been the most satisfying of meals. If anyone had to skip dinner as well, they'd die. Conveniently, a new fervour entered everyone's bodies, the determination permeating the air.

"You well cause worse damage to your enemies. If you can handle their corpses, you can handle your food." Byleth absently added, washing his sword in the nearby water. Considering they didn't have any knives they would have to make do. An axe to cut through the bones, a short sword to do all the delicate work; that was all you needed. It wasn't the most elegant of methods, but they produced decent enough results. Pausing in his washing to see Lysithea cringe once more, a flash of inspiration had Byleth turning to Leonie. "Pass me the innards."

"Sure, Professor."

"Thank you. Lysithea, catch."

"Wha-!?" but Lysithea could not outmatch the professor's throwing arm. Before she knew it, Lysithea was faced with a mass of bloody organs, her already pale skin going even whiter. There was only a second for the man to cover his ears before a piercing scream filled the air, a burst of heat bringing sweat to the other student's brows. It was fortunate that Lysithea was sat so close to their intended fire. If nothing else, they at least had their warmth for the night prepared. "Professor! You can't just do that!"

"Hmm… the scent might attract nearby animals…" Byleth mused, completely oblivious to the embodiment of anger beside him. A pout came to Lysithea's face. With how straight Byleth's was, she had no clue whether he was genuine or actively ignoring her. "No matter. If we're cooking, the scent would attract anyway. There have been no animal sightings. Lysithea, you have now touched the organs. The meat will be cleaner. Can you cook now?"

"…That was horrible." She muttered in response, taking the short sword regardless. "I know a bit. I've watched the chefs at Garreg Mach and my family's servants were skilled. I should be able to do something. What about you Marianne?"

"I-I'll do my best! I'm not a good chef, but I think I can handle something small…"


It may have taken some time, but the pair managed to find a good rhythm. With Marianne carving their way through what few vegetables they brought and Lysithea (reluctantly) handling the meat preparation, Byleth could relax somewhat. Whether it would be enough to satiate Raphael was a different story, but that was an issue for him to solve. Knowing the blond brawler, he had probably brought along more than enough sustenance in his supplies, just as a precaution.

It was nice, having a position of power. Whereas with the mercenaries Byleth would be right in the middle of the action now he could sit back and watch his students do all the hard work. It wasn't as if any of it was particularly difficult. Any mistakes made were more inexperience that genuine struggle. There was a special pleasure with delegating any duty to another, however. Now Byleth could empathise with his father's satisfaction at overseeing the mercenary camp's operations.

There was no small sense of pride as well. Having guided these students, helped mould them into the people they were now… seeing them working so harmoniously and efficiently brought a strange swell to Byleth's chest. It wasn't as if Byleth didn't have experience leading. Jeralt had been trying to prepare Byleth to take the head role for a while now. The mercenaries were all fully grown however, they knew how to act even without a head. Mostly. These were different. The Golden Deer depended on him to show them the path: how to fight, how to survive how to thrive. There was a difference between leading just anyone and leading those you helped flourish.

With the tents soon assembled, food on the go and everyone settled down around the campfire, there was nothing to stop Byleth from basking in the warmth of the flames. If he could spend the rest of his days in this kind of bliss, Byleth doubted he would complain. With the stars gradually revealing themselves above, the night was proving to be picturesque. It seemed his companions, however, weren't as content to be idle.

"Well then, what now Teach? We've got the whole night to burn." Claude called from the other side of the fire, kicking the embers with a small snicker. He soon found Hilda's elbow in his stomach, the girl rolling her eyes as the leader of the Golden Deer began rolling around in false agony. "Okay puns aside, what do you guys do now? There has to be something special you did when you were camping?"

"Train. Tell stories. Drink. Sing." Byleth answered, unprepared for the massive smirk that plastered itself across Claude's face. "Is there a problem?"

"Teach, you never mentioned that you could sing!" Claude boldly accused. This time, however, it seemed that everyone else was of the same mind. Every eye in the area immediately turned to the blue-haired man, Byleth undisturbed. "You can't just say that and not give us a show."

"You have all heard me sing before." The man pointed out rightfully so. After all, Garreg Mach was a monastery before it hosted the Officer's Academy. That meant all of the religious rites that came with it. Though students weren't heavily pressured to participate in religious practices, some such as hymn recitals had been made one step away from mandatory. That meant everyone, including Byleth, had been made to sing multiple times by this point. "I don't see the fascination."

"This is different, Professor. In those recitals, everyone's voice gets drowned out. You can't make out individuals." Lysithea pointed out, the impish smile on her face almost matching that of Claude's. she knew full well how hard it was to make out anyone individually – it was part of the reason why she participated so willingly. "I do wonder what it's like to hear you sing. It'll be enlightening, for sure."

"…Very well." The man relented, something about Lysithea's expression tearing down whatever reservation he had. Pointedly ignoring the curious excitement of those around him, the man let his eyes fall shut. "There is one song. One I was taught during our journey. They came from outside Fodlan. Morfis. Their people used songs as magic. They taught me their songs as thanks."

"Songs… as magic?" Lysithea couldn't help but parrot. "But spells don't usually require a vocal incantation. At most, people would just call the name; nothing long enough to act as the basis of a song. What purpose would transcribing spells as music serve?"

"Memory. Songs are easily remembered. For longer rituals, where perfection is required. Songs are useful then." Byleth recalled fond memories floating to the front of his mind. How strange it had seemed, watching what was supposed to be the creation of a barrier. With their intricate costumes, melodious harmonies and graceful dances, it was as much a form of entertainment as it was battle preparations. "Greater variety. Fodlan magic is limited. I have heard far more song-based spells. They are also stronger. Though longer, they allow communication with supposed spirits of Morfis' past. This empowers their spells."

"Music not only to praise the spirits but communicate directly with them? Sounds… somewhat questionable." Lysithea dismissed. It was to be expected. Out of them all, she was the one who placed the greatest emphasis on logic, rationality. The idea of being surrounded by beings beyond our comprehension didn't sit easily with people like her. It was why Lorenz was nodding from his position. "Besides, if such a system of magic exists, surely we would've heard of it here in Fodlan. It's not as if we don't do trade with them or anything. Someone must've come across it before you, Professor."

"Fodlan cares little. They are isolationist." Byleth immediately answered, the closest thing to a bitter tone you could get with the man. Such a vehement statement naturally surprised those gathered, only Claude remaining calm. "If it is a foreign weapon, it is weaker. If it is a foreign language, it is cruder. If it is a foreign custom, it is lesser. Fodlan looks down upon the countries surrounding. It is a shame."

Lysithea's protests were very quickly silenced. When it was phrased like that, she really wasn't helping the situation, was she? If this had become a traditional art form in a different continent, there had to be a reason. To dismiss it without evidence would be idiotic, even if the history was rooted in less than empirical concepts.

"I understand it's not exactly fair to look down on it immediately. But you still have to give us a demonstration." Lysithea prompted, a content smile coming when Byleth gave a swift nod. He had no idea what to expect, yet just like everyone else, Lysithea prepared herself for a spectacular show.

And it was a show they received.

Lay shon kahsenti ma rul hatishu...

dol gar qurento pan rei mu...

Lay shon pomaruun ma rul hatiko...

Ti fon yomidah ma gar Folentia...

ka-ah munagu hino sami ruto munagi doki ima,

la-tah munagu hino samil ruto munagi suenjo...

ka-ah munagu hino sami ruto munagi doki ima,

la-tah munagu hino samil ruto munagi suenjo...

ka-ah munagu hino sami ruto munagi doki ima,

la-tah munagu hino samil ruto munagi suenjo...

ka-ah munagu hino sami ruto munagi doki ima, l

a-tah munagu hino samil ruto munagi suenjo...

Lay shon kahsenti ma rul hatishu,

dol gar qurento pan rei mu

Lay shon pomaruun ma rul hatiko,

Ti fon yomidah ma gar Folentia!

Ma rul ketoyo eta,

ma pince linyi Folentia…

Ma rul ketoyo eta,

ma pince linyi Folentia, eta...

Lay shon kahsenti ma rul hatishu,

dol gar qurento pan rei mu

Lay shon pomaruun ma rul hatiko,

Ti fon yomidah ma gar dendo

Lay shon kahsenti ma rul hatishu,

dol gar qurento pan rei mu

Lay shon pomaruun ma rul hatiko,

Ti fon yomidah ma gar Folentia!

Ma rul ketoyo eta,

ma pince linyi Folentia…

Ma rul ketoyo eta,

ma pince linyi Folentia, eta...

Lay shon kahsenti ma rul hatishu...

dol gar qurento pan rei mu...

Lay shon pomaruun ma rul hatiko...

Ti fon yomidah ma gar Folentia...

It was a beautiful tune, equal parts alien and familiar. It was quiet, yet thundering; a gentle ballad imbued with what could only be described as an ancient power. The longer the melody continued, the fire once dying gradually grew larger. Even the stars above became brighter, entranced by the flames dancing to the professor's song. What the students didn't notice was how the charm saturated the entire area, nothing escaping unscathed. The breeze once chilling became soothing, while the grass became ever more vibrant. it was only halfway through Byleth's song that miracle paused, a clear difference between that which was affected and that which wasn't.

Lysithea was only half focusing on her surroundings, however. What was far more impressive was Byleth's singing voice. Even if you ignored the literal magic his voice commanded, there was an undeniable power. How Byleth laced such a gentle song with such authority was completely unknown to Lysithea. It wasn't even as if the man was trying particularly hard. Byleth performed with all the practised elegance of a professional, all while looking as if it took no effort at all. Dorothea would clearly be jealous if news got out, to say nothing of Manuela.

It would take a few moments after the man finished for reality to return. Still entranced by his magic laden words, the Golden Deer were left blinking as the stars returned to normal and the flames died down. As soon as they recovered though, Byleth was met with rapturous applause. From the uncertain expression upon Byleth's face spoke volumes about how little he had been expecting it.

"That was… amazing!" Ignatz was the first to blare out, triggering a whole avalanche of comments from the rest. It was obvious that many would be praising the quality of the professor's voice. Lysithea was much the same but didn't mean her curiosity could go unattended for long.

"There was clearly an area of effect, I can feel the power sustaining itself even now! Professor, what was that spell?" the white-haired girl exclaimed unable to hide her awe.

Even now its mysterious presence remained the hairs on Lysithea's neck standing straight. How could such a sensation be so thrilling and comforting at the same time? The presence of magic surrounding her should've been terrifying. No spell Lysithea knew of left such a residue in the atmosphere. The only reason why the others were as calm as they were was that they were less sensitive to the power swirling around them. Lysithea, with her constant use of powerful magic, was much more attuned to its signature. Then again, the same could be said of Marianne, but she always looked nervous.

"It was a wide-scale barrier. Another precaution. No one can enter, anyone can leave." Byleth explained, leaping to his feet and running towards the lake. Moments before he could enter the water however, an effervescent glow passed over the professor's body. It seemed to have little effect until Byleth suddenly withdrew his sword and rapidly swung at thin air. Rather than fly freely, however, it was stopped by a translucent shield, unyielding as it threw Byleth back. "We shall be safe from harm."

"But, Professor…?"

"Lysithea?"

"…How are you going to get back in?"


And for now, that's it! the folk song is, naturally, completely gibberish, but it's based on the song 'Jutenija' and it's fake folk chanting. I tried to eep the syllable count similar, so you should be able to sing my lyrics to the same tune. It's a really beautiful song that definitely deserves a listen to. Did you know? In the medieval era, that was how all songs were made - people knew a set selection of tunes and new songs were simply original lyrics 'to the tune of...'

Super hero time! See you next time!