Author's Notes: Damn. It's been a while, huh? I've had this chapter typed up since May but never got around to editing it. It's been sitting on the backburner ever since life decided to kick my ass into full gear for the past couple months. COVID has not made my life easy. Being an essential worker sucks.

I could harp on and on about how much life tore me a new one but we'd be sitting here all day if we got to it.

Here's what you came for. Please enjoy.

"A duel, here of all places? People are so impatient these days…"

Byleth said nothing in response to Hilda's jeering words. His focus was honed in on—and only on—the fight that was about to unfold. She leaned over and caught a glimpse of his handsome—totally ignoring her—face.

Back when she met the two, Delthea came off like any normal girl. Curious and bubbly, she had a tendency to get lost in her own thoughts a bit, but who wouldn't at that age?

However, the backwater—Delthea's words, not hers!—girl was sharper than she anticipated. Hilda would need to watch her step around her. Even if it was for just a second, Delthea had caught a glimpse of Hilda breaking face when broached about an uncomfortable topic: her attendance at the academy.

Thankfully with some quick thinking, Hilda was able to change the subject.

As much as it was a nuisance, Hilda carried an image with the Goneril name. People had their eyes and cameras pointed at her, whether she knew it or not. The last thing she needed was an angry letter from home about her demeanor. She could hear her brother's words already.

"It would absolutely NOT do for a member of this house to act so—"

She didn't even bother finishing her imagination. It felt too real. Hilda could feel another wrinkle being added to her face the longer she dwelled on such unpleasant thoughts. She should follow Byleth's example and completely relax her face.

And talking about Byleth, boy, was he ever the enigma.

He came off like a total robot. His face, devoid of emotion. Regardless of who was talking, he had this neutral, indifferent air about him. The whole ordeal with Lysithea earlier hadn't even fazed him.

Would it kill him to crack a smile? Or a frown?

The more she thought about it, the more curious Hilda's became about the two. Delthea and Byleth weren't your typical couple. Hell, they weren't even a couple, given Delthea's less-than-subtle denial about the whole thing. It was kind of adorable how flustered she got when asked.

Sure, Hilda didn't have any grounds to go around and point fingers at weirdly matched groups. She and Balthus were a similarly mismatched duo, but they complimented each other at least. Balthus was brash and vulgar; Hilda was polite and well-mannered when needed to be. The thousands of hours of etiquette lessons needed to go to use somewhere.

Delthea and Byleth on the other hand did not bounce off each other at all.

They didn't come off as particularly close—or friendly—for that matter. Hilda remembered the way Delthea scolded Byleth for looking through Lysithea's belongings. That wasn't the kind of tone you would use among friends. But to say that Delthea disliked Byleth was completely off the mark.

Of course Hilda realized that Delthea was attracted to Byleth—honestly, who wouldn't be? The boy was a looker—but that attraction seemed to stem more from curiosity than that of romantic intent.

Hilda was feeling the same way in fact.

Byleth was oblivious to all of it. Either that, or he had a masterful poker face.

For her pride's sake, Hilda hoped for the former.

Piecing together all of this only further confused Hilda about the pair's relationship. While Delthea exhibited a certain level of attraction to Byleth, the latter seemed completely indifferent. Which was a crying shame because Delthea was rather cute, on top of being clever. The boy didn't seem all that interested in her—or anything else for that matter.

… No, that's not right.

The boy definitely WAS interested in something. Hilda was sure Delthea realized it too.

Whenever the two mentioned Channeling, Hilda noticed that Byleth's eyes would widen ever so slightly.

It was a minute detail, one people would often overlook during conversation, which was understandable. People widen or narrow their eyes all the time. It was grasping at straws.

But that kind of thinking only applied to people who at least expressed a degree of emotion.

So when Byleth, the living sculpture, widened or narrowed his eyes, it was far more noticeable than your average Joe or Jane.

They had mentioned Channeling several times in conversation back at the luggage kiosk. And every time without fail, Byleth would visibly react. Hilda remembered the glint in the boy's eyes as he recounted Lysithea and her Channeling status. It ignited a small spark where everything else failed.

How disappointing.

All this thinking about Channeling left a sour taste in her mouth. She sighed, shaking her head, plopping her bottom on top of her suitcase.

Channeling—and Duels—was the world she belonged to. People were intensely passionate about Channeling and the like, how strong they were, and so on. Almost everyone in that world was a nut when it came to it.

Hilda had REALLY hoped that the next, dashing man she met wouldn't be obsessed over it like every other guy she knew. It was why she liked being around Baltie.

A close family friend, he was as knowledgeable about Channeling as her brother, but he didn't spend every waking moment talking her ear off about it.

… But Baltie wasn't really her type. They were too close. A relationship this late in the game would feel weird, especially given how the two saw each other as brother-sister… Not that she ever really considered such an avenue in the first place. Honest!

So, when she saw Byleth displaying the traits of a Channeling-Nut, Hilda's heart sank a little.

The utter lack of attention was bad enough, but seeing how into the duel Byleth was only further cemented Byleth's passions to her.

What was so fun about Duels anyway?

Sure, they were opportunities for Channelers to flex their guns and strut their stuff—Defend their honor and all that jazz—but that was too much hassle. A pain in the ass, as Balthus would vulgarly put it. (Where did he run off to anyway?) Surely there were better ways to prove your worth… not that Hilda cared all that much.

Despite her brother's insistence, showing up and showing off just wasn't her cup of tea.

Besides, fights make you all sweaty and sticky, eugh…

Still, to say she wasn't curious wasn't true. Jumping off from her suitcase-chair, Hilda stood shoulder to shoulder with Byleth at the railing, trying to get a good look at what they—and the entire crowd—were in store for.

At first glance, it was easy to see that it was going to be a mismatch.

A fashion mismatch.

The boy with his back to Hilda was dressed well enough BUT THAT HAIR! WHAT WAS THAT HAIR?

Who was responsible for this?! Did no one tell this poor boy that his hair looks like a pineapple on a fishing line?!

The ponytail from fruit hell ran down to his waist. Untied, the boy's hair was probably longer than her own. Quite the achievement. Hilda wondered what his hair care routine was.

Putting the fashion disaster aside—as hard as that proved to be—Hilda's eyes drifted towards his opponent in black.

Oh. Surprise, surprise.

"Huh, who would've thought?"

"So it seems," Byleth said.

At least he replied.

It… really didn't take a genius to figure out it was HER beneath that small hood. No one else Hilda had seen would wear such an outfit unabashedly. Especially at a place like this where the upper class and wary eyes were rife.

First impressions were important, and Hilda wasn't the type to forget them.

Especially bad ones.

Lysithea had her arms to her side, leaving her completely open, vulnerable. But her stance lacked urgency and was relaxed, as if this duel was nothing more than a mere stroll to her.

If it was a ploy to get her opponent off kilter, it was working. The thing the boy was holding was a reflection of its wielder. It reverberated with an odd humming sound, one that grew stronger with each passing second.

"Ugh," Hilda groaned, cupping her ears with her hands. "Doesn't this bother you at all?"

"Hm. I've heard worse." Byleth said bluntly.

Before Hilda could ask Mr. Robot to elaborate, Pineapple Boy had raised his weapon, pointing it towards Lysithea. As it moved, Hilda could see that a bluish glow trailed the object's arc of motion. Then, a thin, blue strand materialized from one tip of the weapon to the other.

With his free hand, the boy reached out and arced his index, middle, and ring fingers on the blue strand, pulling it towards him. A thin ray of light began to form between his index and middle. It was shaped like an—

"So, his Gear is a bow, huh?" Byleth remarked. Hilda realized the same thing.

It was a garish-looking thing, Hilda thought. Long and flared wing-like arches adorned the upper half of the weapon, as if an angel had perched right above the boy's hand. The bow looked every bit cumbersome as the boy's impossible hairdo. While it looked downright monstrous, there was something regal about it as well, especially with the hue of its radiant light, shining brightly like the northern lights.

You couldn't buy a Gear like that off the market, not without paying a pretty penny for it anyway.

Gears were the name given to the weapons Channelers wielded. They weren't weapons in the typical sense. To the untrained user, they were nothing more than glorified clubs. Amateurs would only be able to power their Gear at less than half of what it was capable of. Sometimes, they wouldn't get them to work at all.

But to someone who actually knew how to use one properly, Gears were—in the words of the scholarly spoken Balthus—Weapons of Total Ass Destruction. WOTAD for short.

They acted as extensions of a Channeler, being infused with their power and dispersing its energy in a more efficient weaponized way. In doing so, it opened up many avenues to effectively use one's power.

Channelers would imbue their armaments with their Channeling and use the Gear like a powered-up tool; hence, the uncreative name.

Even though he was agitated by Lysithea's nonchalance, this boy looked like someone who knew what he was doing.

His stance was solid and refined, even when handling something that unwieldy. His poise was natural, not rigid at all.

The humming noise was now gone. It was replaced by a horn-like howl.

It was a sign that the Gear was primed and fully synchronized with its user.

All the boy had to do now was aim and loose.

Hilda had her arms folded and could feel her own grips on her arms tighten. Even though she wasn't doing the fighting, she was still getting antsy.

This WAS a Duel after all.

One person would leave the circle on their own two feet—the other, probably on a stretcher. Depending on how strong the duelers were, the destination of the stretcher would change drastically.

She let out a nervous sigh and shook her head, trying to compose herself. Hilda didn't even need to look at Byleth to know that he was the epitome of calm. She wondered how he was able to look upon the Duel so unflinchingly.

This was one of the more brutal parts of the Channeling world, one that Balthus and her brother always warned her to steer clear from. It didn't take lectures from either of them for Hilda to know the dangers. She was perfectly capable of seeing, and her eyes didn't fail her now.

Despite the danger the boy now posed with his readied weapon, Lysithea wasn't fazed at all.

Hilda was sure she had a smug grin beneath that oversized hood of hers. Lysithea shifted her stance slightly, turning her right shoulder more towards the boy. Holding her left hand to her side, Hilda could see Lysithea slowly begin to clench her fist.

A purplish light emanated from her palm.

"She channeling without a Gear," Hilda observed, noting the unarmed stance Lysithea had opted with. "She lives up to her reputation."

Byleth nodded. "She's quite skilled."

She bore the von Ordelia name after all. It was a family that dedicated more sweat, tears, and blood than any other upper echelon family to Channeling. Take a look into any Channeling history book or almanac; you were bound to find the von Ordelia name there, guaranteed.

Lysithea was the latest heir to take the mantle, joining the pantheon of Ordelia's before her.

The Goneril family was by no means a weak one. Both in business and Channeling, they weren't pushovers. Their name's reputation became more renown once her brother inherited the business from her father. Despite her less than ideal relationship with Holst, Hilda still greatly respected her brother's acumen for business and worldly matters. She was also aware that Holst was incredibly talented at Channeling too. She'd seen the awards and placards that decorated the halls of their estate.

So when he said to avoid pissing off anyone named "von Ordelia", Hilda knew this wasn't one of Holst's usual naggings.

With skills like theirs, the von Ordelia family wasn't one to be trifled with.

Hilda hoped Pineapple Boy here knew who he was up against—and how much the odds were stacked against him.

The duelists exchanged words with each other. It was customary for duelists to exchange names but that was usually BEFORE the duel started. Whatever was being said now was not part of the regularly scheduled programming, which meant that the two were probably throwing shade at each other. Talking smack wasn't illegal but it was frowned upon. Ironically, for something as barbaric as dueling, it came with its own host of rules and etiquette.

Hilda and Byleth were too far away to make out exactly what they were saying but it seemed that whatever Lysithea said had its effect on Pineapple Boy. His stance and the wobbling sound of his bow betrayed his agitation.

That's not good.

Duels were won by not just Channeling skill. One needed a clear head to win—though, that piece of advice could be applied just about anywhere. A Gear's efficiency depended on its user's undivided focus, unclouded by emotion.

It would be a miracle if Pineapple Boy could pull out of here unscathed, let alone win.

"They're starting."

Lysithea was the first to move, despite not going anywhere. She calmly put one hand behind her back, demonstrating how little effort she needed to put into this affair. Her free hand was now swirling with the charged-up, purple fireball from earlier, now much more fearsome than before. Hilda didn't have to think twice to know that getting hit by that thing would be an instant visit to the emergency room.

Pineapple Boy bravely—or foolishly—stood his ground.

His stance didn't change and he kept his sights targeted on Lysithea. The two had now finished charging their attacks. Whoever let loose first would probably take home the victory. The size of the enclosed fighting ring didn't allow much room for moving—or mistakes. No one would miss at that range.

Though Lysithea was favored to win, it was entirely in the realm of possibility that the boy would fire his bow first and win. That's how small the fighting space was. But Lysithea didn't seem to be worried in the slightest. Her entire attitude during the whole ordeal reeked of utter confidence.

At this moment, Lysithea was absolutely certain she was going to win.

There was no chance she was going to—

"Hey! Vanilla Ice Queen!"

A girlish voice echoed throughout the station, soon accompanied by the thundering roar of the purple fireball, now let loose. The raging sphere of death cut magnificently through the air, roaring like a raging demon… before harmlessly bursting like a bubble against the channeling-reinforced glass panel ceiling.

—miss…?

Everyone had been holding their breaths the entire time. If the Gear-less channeling wasn't a dead giveaway, the signature purple fireball was. The crowd had realized the hoodie-donning girl was Lysithea. And to see the purported prodigy—and bearer of the von Ordelia name—flop so incredibly hard… well, it's not hard to imagine the resulting fallout.

The crowd had been edged so hard but was not given a proper release. Like an unsealed dam, the station erupted into a torrential shouting match to find the culprit responsible for daring to break the sanctity of dueling. Portions of the crowd broke off to hunt down the vile villain responsible for stealing away their entertainment and deserved climax. Pineapple Boy was rooted to his spot, still holding his weapon, utterly dumbfounded at this development.

Pineapple Boy had miraculously won.

"… She's gone."

"What?"

Byleth's words brought Hilda back. Turning away from the mob that had formed, Hilda looked back at the dueling ring.

Proud Lysithea, along with her fearsome purple aura, was nowhere to be seen. The confident Channeler had literally disappeared from the ring, leaving no trace behind. No matter how hard or far Hilda stared, the hoodie-wearing girl was nowhere to be seen.

The duel was now effectively over.

An anticlimactic end to what amounted to nothing more than an intense staring contest.

Though, we did get a mini-fireworks show at the end.

Byleth quietly removed himself from the railings, no longer interested. The duel's premature conclusion didn't seem to bother him. His eyes resumed their usual indifferent gaze.

Hilda let out a semi-relieved/semi-annoyed sigh. She too had gotten worked up like the crowd and understood why they were upset. But at the same time, she was glad no one ended up seriously hurt…

If the duel had carried out as planned, the aftermath would not have been pretty. Not exactly a picture-worthy memory to look back, especially on the first day of school. If only the train arrived sooner.

Where was the train anyway…?

"Hilda! Byleth!"

… A rather familiar voice called out to her.

Turning around to the stairway that came up from where most of the crowd had been, Byleth and Hilda were greeted by an out-of-breath Delthea who seemed to slow down with every step. She nearly collapsed in front of them as she caught her breath.

"Easy now. Take a deep breath" Byleth instructed, quickly walking over to her, patting the wheezing Delthea on the back. "In… out…"

How handsy.

Delthea hunched over with her hands on her knees as she followed Byleth's advice. Before long, the redness in her face began to fade and her breathing returned to normal. When Delthea finally realized what was going on, the red tinge returned with a vengeance. With his job done, Byleth removed his hand from Delthea's back. Hilda swore she saw Delthea's face contort with disappointment for a split second.

"Glad you made it out of that crowd okay," Hilda said, glancing at the swirling mob, still angry with the duel's conclusion, below the steps. "How did you even manage to get out?"

Delthea cleared her throat. "I… had some help." She pointed behind herself with her thumb.

From the steps behind her, a tall, blond-haired boy wearing a uniform emerged from the crowd, effortlessly pushing his way past the mob. Upon seeing Delthea waving at him, the boy made his way towards the group.

Hilda had her eyes glued on him the whole time as he strode towards them.

"Byleth, Hilda," Delthea began, introducing the boy, "this guy here helped me out in a pinch. His name is—"

"Dimitri?"

The name left Hilda's mouth before Delthea even finished. Delthea was so surprised she didn't even continue.

The look of utter surprised on the blonde boy's face was quickly replaced by a warm smile. He then gave a slight bow.

"It's been a while, Miss Goneril."

(A/N): For the people that still follow the story, thanks. I hope I haven't let you down too much. I really want to write more, I really do, but time is not something I can dedicate lightly. Please understand. When will the next chapter be here? That's an excellent question that I cannot answer. I want to say soon but I hate giving hopes that I will eventually dash.

I'll stop rambling. It's childish and unproductive. But I sincerely hope you enjoyed. If you have any questions, concerns, or whatever, my PMs are always open.

Thanks again. Please stay safe and healthy everyone.

Have yourselves a damn good one.