"Your heart has made its choice."

That's what the archbishop said after I chose the Black Eagles as my class.

The problem with that statement is that I don't have a heartbeat. So do I actually even have a heart to make such a choice at all?

Could it have been my hand that made that choice instead?

As I sat in the empty classroom waiting for the Black Eagles to attend the morning's meet-and-greet, I stared at my bandaged palm. When I first arrived at the faculty meeting yesterday, Manuela spent a great deal of time fussing over me. With the Archbishop present, I had to prevaricate endlessly on the topic of my comings and goings the night before. True to his words, the Gatekeeper had apparently deemed that there was nothing to report that night.

Thankfully, Edelgard also hadn't checked into the infirmary prior to that meeting, and so there was little suspicion over the course of the meeting that she had been involved. I also declined both of their rather insistent pleas to submit to healing magic.

Both my father and I are under the impression that over-reliance on healing magic tends to weaken the body's natural response to combat fatigue and blood loss. Obviously, neither of us have ever properly studied his hypothesis in any great detail, but I still prefer to resist accepting healing magic whenever possible. Generally speaking, I find that I recover from wounds faster than other men in my company. There are times when I've been grievously wounded and had no other choice, of course - but those events have thankfully been few and far between.

My understanding of those maxims ended up somewhat distrubed by Hanneman's revelation that I possess a crest of unknown origin. Perhaps that has something to do with my uncanny ability to shake off blows that would usually send knights kneeling. Hanneman wants me to visit him frequently for further study.

I suppose it can't hurt to understand my circumstances a bit better.

Examining the wound that Edelgard inflicted on me two nights before by poking around the gauze, I note that it doesn't hurt either, and is mostly patched up. I'd dispense with the bandage now, but there's no trash bin in the room that I can see. Outside of the dining hall, there really aren't that many at all. Doing so would probably be hazardous anyway. I have to remind myself that I'm living in civilization now.

One can't just act the same way they do on campaign.

I took a shower with hot water this morning, for example. What a strange circumstance that was given the past few years of my life. I still bathed, of course - but Fodlan's frigid rivers and lakes tended to be my bathtub of choice. On the Throat, I took air-baths in the sandstorms. Today, I stood in the shower stall for so long that I had inadvertently created a line in the male dorm's communal bathroom.

Sylvain caught me on the way out and gave me a high-five. He was chatting with the Lorenz fellow that Claude had mentioned two nights ago. I have unflinchingly positive impressions of them both. They both return the goodwill to me in spades.

In our brief chat, the two were both eagerly trying to mine me for gossip relating to the professorial assignments, but I was able to pivot over the conversation to their assessment of the Dagdan waitress at the bar. They both explained their difficulties in the art of "mackin'" her. Per Claude's suggestion, I explained the Dos Cravos routine. Both were thankful for the advice.

Speaking of His Deceitfulness, I do recall him mentioning that he had been "scoping" out the bar with Hilda for some time as if it was some sort of hidden gem that only he was able to discover. With the information I've just gathered, it seemed like Sylvain and Lorenz had both been there on a nightcrawl several times already. If anything, I'm impressed at their initiative.

Life is full of surprises, I suppose.

I wonder if Edelgard will be surprised when she sees me in this room?

Naturally, I don't have to mull on this question very long, as she's the very first to arrive. It takes her a moment to notice me sitting at my desk in the corner, just to the side of the rolling blackboard.

She's still wearing the carnation on her cape.

I twist my bandaged wrist in a wave.

She steels herself a bit.

"It seems we need to talk about that, don't we, Professor?"

I bring the hand to my chin and consider the question.

"Did you see Manuela? I don't want you to get blood poisoning."

I can detect Edelgard putting her mask back on.

"...I did. As it stands, I am in good health. What about you, Professor?"

"I'll be fine."

She seems to consider her next words with precision.

"If this is acceptable to you, Professor, could we find a time in the future to discuss what I was doing that night…?"

I shrug.

"We've got a year, right? Talk to me when you're ready."

Edelgard tilts her head down in what must be a kind of melancholy. I then stand up and walk over to her.

"...Are you leaving?" she asks with a clear tinge of sadness in her voice.

I look at her with a raised eyebrow. Am I missing something?

"Where's everyone else?" I ask at last.

The realization seems to dawn on her.

"…Professor… are you saying that you're going to be teaching the Black Eagles?"

I nod.

At last, a smile finds its way onto Edelgard's lips, and illuminates the room in the process. At the same moment, a great weight seems to melt off her shoulders. She leans back on a desk ever so slightly, first looking down at the floor, and then brings her gaze back to me.

"...Truly?"

Maybe my father was right about me not being able to imply things well.

"I can still take Dimitri or Claude's offer, if you'd prefer."

Her lower lip drops in surprise, then turns into a frown, and then beams right back into a smile again.

"I still don't find you all that humorous." She says, turning her chin up. She's not doing a very convincing job of seeming unamused with that grin of hers.

"That may affect your final grade." I replied after a few moments.

Edelgard seems to chew on that sentence for a while. She then shakes her head as if she's trying to rouse herself out of a dream. Her eyes return to me with an almost pleading look. It's as if they want me to confirm the facts as they are, in spite of them being laid out very clearly in front of her.

A single yellow orb is peering at me from the other side of the door.

I point at it.

Edelgard turns suddenly to meet that gaze, and then back to me.

"Wait here, my teacher, I'll fetch everyone!"


The blue-haired brawler-in-training Caspar von Bergliez is the first to approach me after Edelgard's formal introductions.

"So, our professor is...you?! I didn't see that one coming. I figured it'd be Professor Jeritza."

"I'm just as surprised as you are, Caspar." I reply with a shrug.

Dorothea Arnault, the songstress brunette who I met at the bar the other night, is the next to work her way over. She yanks Caspar on the ear.

"Easy, Caspar, aren't you being a bit rude?"

I raise an eyebrow. An interesting critique from her, considering how she propositioned me right in front of her date the other night. I'm about to reply, but just before I do, I feel a cool hand on my shoulder. I turn to meet it, and it's Lindhardt von Hevring, the sleepy sage.

"It's a waste of time to expect politeness from him, Professor."

He seems to be using my shoulder as a support now. A great yawn overtakes him.

"It will be a pleasure learning from you, I'm sure. While you finish chatting everyone up, I'm going to take a nap over there." He points lazily to the nearest desk.

"Did you bring a pillow?" I ask.

"A fine idea, Professor. I think we'll get along quite well." He shuffles over to the nearest desk and collapses, sans pillow.

My eyes move from Lindhardt to the purple-haired archer Bernadetta von Varley, who had been using the desk as a hiding spot from the commotion of the other introductions.

"Ah! Don't look at me like that! Oh, and...please don't talk to me too much either."

I button an imaginary clasp between my lips. She seems to gather my meaning and nods shakily.

Ferdinand, the ginger gentleman, is the next to saunter over. He clears his throat.

"Just to remind you, Professor - I am Ferdinand von Aegir, legitimate son of Duke Aegir, Prime Minister of the Empire. I heard from Edelgard that we are rather close in age. I hope you do not mind if we treat you like one of us, because in our class, we try to treat each other as equals despite any differences in age or status."

After a pregnant pause, he adds, finally:

"Personally, I would love to include you in that inner circle."

I sense that he's not entirely sincere about that rehearsed monologue, but I'm not going to cast aspersions on him just yet.

"I don't mind at all." I replied.

This year will be a lot easier if I'm teaching friends rather than enemies, won't it?

Petra appears in my periphery and punches my breastplate in a sporting way.

"You have a gut, Professor. I will take great joy from your teachings."

It's easy enough for me to appropriately understand Petra's charms. She's got a very Brigidian temperament about her. The mercenaries from there were very easy folk to get along with, at least for me. They were generally reserved folk, but spoke with clarity, precision, and purpose when prompted. Petra seems downright bubbly in comparison to a few I fought with on the Throat.

Perhaps that's because she's royalty from that country. The mercs I spoke with spoke of their King fondly, in spite of his humiliating defeat and subsequent vassalage at the hands of the Empire.

During those years, I was able to pick up a bit of their language as well. I'm not fluent by any stretch, but the type of things you need to say as a warrior... I know those phrases well. And in the end, that's all that is really required at the end of the day, isn't it?

It occurred to me that my familiarity might be worth mentioning to Petra when opportune.

A more pressing query was at the forefront of my mind, however. Did she punch the intended body part, I wonder? As if recognizing my contemplation about the matter, Dorothea slides over and looks at me with an exasperated expression. I bring my bandaged hand to my chin. She turns back to Petra.

"Petra, I believe you mean to say that our professor has guts. That's a bit different from having a gut."

I'm still trying to get over how she punched my chest instead of my actual gut - but I suppose that's worth consideration too.

Dorothea then turns back to me with a wink.

"You can't go around saying someone so slim and attractive has a gut!"

Before I can even thank Dorothea for her compliment, Edelgard arrives, drawn like a moth to a flame by the word attractive coming out of Dorothea's mouth.

She trades glances with her co-ed, and then returns her gaze to me.

"I'm glad you're getting to know everyone, my teacher. We all have high expectations, but I'm sure you'll meet each and every one of them."

The vote of confidence disarms me a bit. I guess I am really carrying people's dreams now. It'd be selfish of me to let them down.

Caspar, who's been shifting his weight from leg to leg, finally pipes in:

"Sure, sure. Now, let's break the ice with a training session! I want to see our new teacher in action."

"Why will the ice be broken? Is this a custom I have missed in my studies?" Petra asks with a look of total confusion.

I feel bad for Petra, so I opt to jump in.

"Tha e a 'cleachdadh gnàthasan-cainnte."

Petra's eyes widen. Well - everyone's eyes do, except for Lindhardt, who is fast asleep. Hubert and Edelgard particularly seem stunned, as if I just snuck an army through the gates of Enbarr.

"...Tha fios agam air cuid den chànan, ma tha feum agad air cuideachadh." I continue.

Petra nods eagerly.

"B 'fheàrr leam gu mòr a bhith a' maighstireachd teanga na dùthcha seo, an t-Ollamh." she replies.

I have to admit I kind of failed to catch the adjective in there, but the rest of the sentence was clear enough.

She'd prefer to speak in Fodlanese.

"If that's what you'd prefer. But please don't hesitate to ask me in Brigidian if you're struggling."

"I will. Consider me feeling most impressive by your knowledge of Brigid, Professor!"

I shake my head as if to ward off her flattery.

"I learned a great deal from your people. Brigid makes excellent mercenaries."

The rest of the class completes the equation after I mention this. Caspar's the first to recover.

"Not to interrupt, but uh, training? Can we head over if you're done speaking in whatever that was?" he asks.

He's clearly itching for a fight. I appreciate that about him. I'm about to reply in the affirmative when Bernadetta, who I've almost forgotten about, chimes in.

"I don't want to train! Let's stay in the classroom and...learn from a book."

She looks at me with the most pained expression that I've ever seen. I've seen a great many people grievously wounded, dying, or mourning the death of lovers on the battlefield. Their expressions could not compare to the fear and dread that seemed to wash over Bernadetta's entire being at present.

"Let's all calm down and have a nice cup of tea, how about? Doesn't that sound lovely, Professor?" Dorothea added.

Ferdinand looks like he's had enough and taps my shoulder.

"Professor, I know we all agreed to treat each other as equals, but there is a limit to what I can tolerate. The esteemed Black Eagle House requires order. If Edelgard refuses to lead the House properly, might I lobby you to have me formally replace her as leader of the Black Eagles?"

I must say that I'm impressed with his attempt at a coup on my very first day. Unfortunately for him, though, I'm not really interested in politics.

Edelgard, to her credit, ignores it and leans in.

"...They're not normally this rowdy, my teacher. Please don't get the wrong idea."

Hubert, who has been lurking behind me for some time, finally speaks.

"Looks like your first job will be to quiet down this racket. I don't envy you."

I crane my neck towards Hubert in order to nod, unsheathing my sword in the process. This movement does not go unnoticed by him, and he seems to slide into a combat stance as I hold the blade lazily in my bandaged hand. The rest of the class, facing me as I do this, grow immediately silent. Their faces in my periphery seem to run the gamut of terror.

Well, Hubert - the first job's done.

I use the tip to gently rap on one of the iron legs on the desk that Lindhardt is sleeping on. The close-proximity-clang and resultant vibrations are sufficient to rouse the sleepy sage.

"Let's work out this energy at the training grounds, then." I say with a blank expression, eyes never leaving the Adrestian retainer.

At last, he relaxes, belatedly realizing that I made him flinch.

I think I'm coming around on Hubert.

If I could find things amusing, I suspect I'd find him amusing.


Getting the Eagles from the classroom to the training field in a cohesive group presents a greater challenge than I expected.

Lindhardt and Bernadetta both protest bitterly along the way. I'm able to bargain with them to play nice by allowing them each to take a book from their dormitories with them to read while I get a feel for the more enthusiastic Eagles' combat preferences.

When we arrive at the training ground, we're told by an attendant that Professor Jeritza is still on leave. After Edelgard informed her that I was in fact a professor, she allowed us in with a stream of apologies. I take it Garegg Mach is a bit more formal in practice than the rather easygoing little band of noble scions I've gathered.

Upon arriving on the training field, I ask the mages to identify themselves first. Lindhardt, Hubert, and Dorothea make their combat preferences known.

"How familiar are you guys with elemental magic?" I ask.

"I must admit to only focusing on dark magic. The Marquisate of Vestra has its engineering society for matters regarding elemental magic." Hubert informed me matter-of-factly.

"I would prefer to only learn healing magic, Professor. Are you familiar with the Convention of Sreng, by chance?" Lindhardt replies through a yawn.

"The treaty protecting healers that no one in Fodlan actually observes?" Edelgard chimed in from over my shoulder.

"If you ask me, Professor - it's because healers are always learning other types of magic." Lindhardt replies.

"You're going to learn other types of magic." I say bluntly.

"Ugh. Fine." He replies at last.

I turn to Dorothea.

"I can bring the thunder, Professor! Wanna see?"

I nod.

To her credit, Dorothea nails the incantation and brings a lighting bolt down on a training dummy. This prompts a yelp from Bernadetta.

"Excellent work." I say.

After a few moments of consideration, I ask.

"Are you guys able to summon fire?"

All three shake their heads. I bring the bandaged hand to my chin and consider my next words for a moment.

"I think we should focus on fire incantations after I conclude my assessment of the melee fighters. During the mock battle, we're prevented from using offensive spells directly on opponents. Doing so results in elimination. So that leaves stasis, silence, shielding magic - and non-direct, environmental uses of elemental magic. Fire is by far the most versatile."

All three seem surprised. I guess because I don't really speak at length like that under normal circumstances.

"Well, I would not protest the opportunity to add a few pages to my spellbook, Professor." Hubert says, seemingly the first to recover.

I turn to Edelgard. She also seems a bit surprised at the lecture.

"Have the rest of the class arm themselves with their preferred training weapon."

She nods and relays the order to the rest of the Black Eagles.


I expected Edelgard to offer a challenge to me first, but much to my surprise, Ferdinand is the first to take arms, and immediately jogs over to me, wooden spear in hand.

"Professor, as the legitimate scion of the Duke of Aegir, foremost House in all the Empire, please allow me to challenge you first."

I nod.

"Excellent!" He replies enthusiastically.

The rest of the black Eagles gather around the sandy pit as Ferdinand and I step in.

I offer Dorothea my cloak, which I usually clasp in a rather lazy way to the back of my breastplate. While useful on the march, I find it to be a hindrance in combat.

"Would you mind holding this?" I ask her.

"Of course Professor! Oh… Professor?" She exclaims, and then asks.

I raise an eyebrow.

"Yes, Dorothea?"

"There's dried blood on this sleeve."

Edelgard, who's been silently working her way over to the two of us, suddenly freezes and goes bright red.

"Now that you mention it…" I notice that the right sleeve is indeed caked in blood.

"I… can hold onto it, my teacher."

I suppose it can't hurt. That's her blood, after all.

After a moment, I hand her the jacket, which she doesn't take as much as she grasps. She holds it quite tightly to her chest, but to her credit, doesn't let it touch the ground. This is worth mentioning of course, because she barely clears five feet in height. It works, though. And I'm really not concerned about wrinkles.

"Are you ready, Professor?" Ferdinand asks. He's about twenty paces away and has already leveled his spear towards me. I grab a training sword that stands upright in the sand.

"Attack when ready, Ferdinand."

"I am Ferdinand von Aegir!" He yells as he begins his charge.

I take note of some minor issues with Ferdinand's form as he does so. The first thing to notice is that he handles a short spear rather like a pike or a cavalry lance. His grip is far too low on the pole for him to have any real driving power in a strike. It's as if there's a great deal of wood behind his grip, even when there isn't. I'm sure I can even detect it wobbling a bit as he advances.

Naturally, with such little force behind a strike, I could probably just absorb the blow in the training sword's fuller and then drive his energy to his left, planting the spear in the ground exposing his entire right side to a blow.

So, I do just that.

Ferdinand looks at me in shock as I tickle his oblique with the training sword.

"Incredible, Professor. You scarcely even moved." He admits.

It's actually quite credible, but I'm not going to argue.

"Woah!" was all a shocked looking Caspar could manage.

The rest of the class seems quite surprised as well, sans Edelgard. She seems to be taking some perverse pleasure in watching Ferdinand eat shit.

"A suggestion, Ferdinand?" I ask.

"Certainly, Professor." He replies.

"It's regarding your grip on the spear. Just a moment."

I look over to Petra, who's standing closest to the weapons rack.

"Petra, could you hand me a cavalry lance?"

"Professor... I cannot notice any longspears made from the wood."

"Any material is fine, Petra."

"I am understanding, Professor!"

Petra then brings over a cavalry lance made from iron. It holds an additional yard in length over the infantry spear.

"Ferdinand, level your spear again."

"Professor…" He's clearly taking note of the very real weapon in my hand versus his.

"Just do what I ask." I reply.

"As you wish." He gets into his uncomfortable looking stance.

"Alright, now loosen your grip on the spear."

Ferdinand does so, and I slide out his weapon.

"Hold your stance." I command.

He nods.

I hand the wooden spear to Petra, and put the iron cavalry lance in Ferdinand's hands, with roughly the same amount of distance between the tip and his hands as the short spear.

"Feel any differences?" I ask.

Ferdinand grips the iron lance and moves it around in his hands.

"It's heavier!" Ferdinand says at last. This prompts a chuckle from Hubert.

"How observant, Ferdinand." He says.

"What about balance?" I ask at last.

"Now that you mention it, Professor, I must admit that such a weapon feels far more proper in my hands than that wooden spear!"

"That's because you're holding it at its appropriate point. You want to make sure that you're not handling a short spear like you would a pike or lance. There's more wood behind you now. Practice with that on a training dummy."

I could try more, but I get the impression that I'll need to proceed slowly with Ferdinand. One step at a time.

"I see… thank you for this demonstration, Professor! To be expected, of course. You are the son of Jeralt, the Blade Breaker, after all."

I nod.

"Who's next?" I ask.

Petra volunteers by leaping into the sandpit with her sword.

"It is seeming that we are both disciples of the swordplay, Professor!" She says with great enthusiasm.

"That we are." I say, after a pause: "Attack when ready."

Petra brings the sword above her head and whispers a prayer to Brigid's flame spirit before charging forward. I immediately note that she is much faster on her feet than Ferdinand. Her stance from a moment ago was also deeply familiar. In a sense, it's the essential Brigidian approach to battle.

Immediately, it's easy to recognize that she's not to be trifled with. I'd go so far as to guess she might even be on par talent-wise with Edelgard. These two are doing a great deal in improving my estimation of nobility as of late.

I bring my sword to bear to parry her first blow, which strikes home with a fair bit of force. I do note that there's a minor discrepancy, however, in how much energy Petra is putting behind the strike vis a vis the energy it actually lands with. My eyes fall to her hips, and I see what the mechanical issue must be almost instantly - but it's something I'd want to confirm one more time.

Summoning the reserve of my real strength, I drive her backwards with my block after pivoting my ankle and pushing forward.

"Good, Petra. Try again."

She nods and repeats the same strike with a shorter lead. I block it with ease, and close the distance, bringing us quite close to one another. My eyes drop even lower, this time, towards her ankles.

There it is. I've got it.

I bring my gaze up again and then stare directly into her deep, auburn eyes. There's a great deal happening behind them, which makes me consider the great mass of emotions that she's probably unable to properly express in Foldanese. We're alike in that sense, perhaps. She clearly struggles to emote through the complexities of our language. I struggle with that myself in spite of my fluency.

"You are seeming distract, Professor…" she grunts through deep breaths. She's struggling to maintain the sword above her head. I can sense her starting to give ground.

Distract, huh? Well, that's an idea. It's probably time to end this before she gets too tired to give proper instruction to. I make an effort to relax my expression. Frankly, I'm not sure it worked. It rarely does.

"Petra…"

Her eyes flutter a bit in surprise.

"Mi air mo tharraing le do shùilean brèagha."

I say those words with my eyes never drifting from hers.

With that said, she seems to lose all the strength in her arms. Whatever blood was circulating there seemed to march at the double-quick directly into her face. Although her already-reddish skin hides her emotions a bit better than Edelgard, I gather that my ploy worked.

The Brigidan mercenaries were quite good at close-quarter feints like this. Only fair I return the lesson, I suppose. I gently tap the pommel of my wooden sword on her nose. She seems to only notice the collapse of her defenses at that very moment.

"P-Professor… w-when a man such as you... are saying such things with such a seriously expression... I find it most disarmor-ing… Did you be meaning…?"

I shrug.

With a look of confusion and conflicted feelings, she retreats back to the weapons rack.

I turn to the rest of the Black Eagles.

Edelgard appears to have rolled my cloak in a ball while watching my fight with Petra. She clutches it tight in her bosom.

"What exactly did you say to Petra, my teacher?" she asks with a stunned expression.

"I just told her something that would distract her." I reply matter-of-factly.

The Adrestian seems extremely dissatisfied with my response, but she doesn't protest further. How can she? Trading glances with the rest of the class, I continue:

"What I just did is called a gambit. In battle, distraction is as useful a tool as any."

I beckon Petra back.

She meekly complies, making Bernadetta - who's still hiding in the corner - look as confident as a lion in comparison.

"Your technique is actually really good, Petra." I offer.

"Professor- might you just be speaking in a manner-"

Realizing that she might have been irony-poisoned by that gambit, I opt to communicate with my body instead, mimicking her sword stance.

"This… is the traditional style of sword attack for Brigid, correct?"

She nods eagerly, her focus returned.

"Yes… you are knowing it quite well, Professor!"

"Who taught you how to fight, Petra?"

"My grandfather, the King of Brigid!"

I nod.

"A man taught you. That makes sense."

Petra turns her head slightly as I approach her.

"Petra, can you please get into your attack stance, please?"

She does so. As she does, I squat down.

"P-professor?" I realize now that Petra's wearing the academy's summer uniform, which below the waist consists of a short skirt and thigh-high riding boots. Betraying this surprise realization would only make things worse, so I cast my eyes down to her feet, steel myself, and continue.

"Petra, when you strike, I notice that your heel is turned out."

I point rather indirectly to her foot.

"Heel?" she asks.

Does she not know what that is? I don't know what the anatomic vocabulary is in Brigidian, either.

"Can I show you?" I ask.

Petra nods.

I turn her right heel from an outward position to a more forward one. Her entire leg right up to her hips follows with the strength of my grip. My less-than-gentle touch doesn't rankle her much, thankfully. Perhaps she's used to being handled roughly. Brigid doesn't have the same restrictive expectations on women that Fodlan has. I'd say there's roughly an equal ratio of female-to-male mercenaries from there on the Throat, in my experience.

My manuever does prompt an "Oh!" from Dorothea in the back, though.

I stand up.

"There. You're a woman, after all. Don't fight against your body while fighting me."

Petra's eyes go wide. It struck me rather belatedly that I needed to explain that comment in more detail, lest it be misconstrued.

"Right, it is a more natural position for your hips, I think. You'll lose less energy that way."

Petra nods. Luckily, she was able to power through my cavalier description.

"My heart is thankful, Professor…"

Bringing a hand to my hair, I consider my next bit of advice.

"Your strikes should be more powerful. Practice on a training dummy for now, OK?"

She nods and immediately starts hacking away at the nearest training dummy, humming enthusiastically with newfound strength. Petra is really refreshingly genuine. All the more strange when she's probably more blue-blooded than anyone short of Edelgard.

Speaking of the devil, the Lady of Hresvelg is the next to make her way into the sand.

"I'd like to challenge you next, my teacher."

She's already armed herself with one of the wooden halberds. The halberd's an intriguing choice. It takes on the best and worst qualities of three weapons: the axe, lance and sword. Most classify in the category of the first of those three weapons, but I feel as if that's putting a square peg in a round hole. It's got the blade of an axe on one side, the edge of a falchion on the other - and at the tip, a spearpoint. To me, it's a hybrid. A blend of purposes and intents.

The weapon she had on her when we met in Remire was a short axe. What prompted her change? I glance at the wooden weapons rack. It's currently short both a halberd and a handaxe, which clues me in. She's clever, that one.

I'd smile if I could.

"Ready, Edelgard?" I ask.

"I'm ready, my teacher."

I nod.

She takes her first step forward with the halberd in her left hand, and from her back the handaxe appears, its head hidden under her cape. This girl… I know I made the right choice, now.

Unsurprisingly, Edelgard does as exactly as I instructed that night in Remire - using her elbow as the pivot - and pitches the handaxe towards me as she picks up speed.

Perhaps on purpose, the axe is aimed just a bit too high, prompting me to duck. Edelgard is now close enough to bring the length of the Halberd to bear, taking a stab at me with the pointed tip. The fuller of my sword just catches the blow, driving it up and presenting a juicy target for me, much the same as Ferdinand's attempt with the short spear. She takes note of this on the fly and attempts to wheel back and to the left in order to increase the distance between her and I in order to recover the fight's tempo. Proximity - rather the lack thereof - is the only advantage I'll have on her in this fight. Naturally, Edelgard knows this and is extremely reluctant to hand it over. She's made good on my comparison to her with Petra, and then some.

Hazarding a guess, she's probably expecting me to stand my ground and attempt to regain my footing. Doing so will give her the opportunity to twist the handle in her grip and bring the axe-blade to bear. I know that's the part of the weapon in which she's most likely the most well-practiced.

Instead, I lunge forward on a mediocre leap to close the distance. There are justifiable reasons not to do this from my position, and perhaps Edelgard took those into mind as she plotted out her strategy in facing me. The first is that I'd be launching into an attack from a point too low to bring down a powerful swinging strike - which is probably the extent of my combat arts that she's witnessed. For good reason, of course - I save fencing for opponents I truly respect.

If she keeps this up, Edelgard might be able to see some fencing.

The essential weakness of any halberdier to a swordsman is clear enough to anyone, I suspect - you simply have to sufficiently close the distance in between you and the array of pointy and/or sharp bits your opponent is wielding. Past that point, the halberd is just an unwieldy, poorly balanced staff. Even lances offer better protection in close quarters, not least because they have something approximating a center of gravity.

Instead of attempting to deflect with the polearm, however, the Adrestian chokes up on the pole and attempts to bring the falchion down on me.

Extremely bold on her part. That's probably the type of decision you make on the battlefield if you've already made peace with death. Doing so means that she has roughly zero chance at blocking any attack of mine now, and has made such a decision in order for one last opportunity to strike at me. Either she brings that falchion blade on me first, or I make contact with her and beat her. The road ends here, in effect. There won't be any fencing today.

That's what I gather she's trying to do anyway. A slight problem presents itself in her margin call, though. Although she's choked up on the length of her polearm, she's failed to close the distance between her hands. That means I can rather neatly move my arm in an upper-cut motion to grasp the drastically shortened handle in between her own and prevent her from being able to bring it down on me at all.

A minor oversight in the grand scheme of things, but in battle - this would be unmistakably fatal.

As my hand nestles in between hers on the pole, she immediately realizes the error.

I also immediately realize her right hand is bleeding again. The pole is now slick with blood in her attempt to choke up on it. Apparently the motion ended up tearing her glove. She must keep quite the supply of those.

"You didn't actually see Manuela, did you?" I ask.

She turns her neck down and away, presenting her jugular to me.

"Please don't ask me that, my teacher…" She replies.

I tip the pommel of my training sword against her chin to bring her gaze back to me.

"Don't lie to me at the expense of your health." I command.

She seems to take offense at the order. I guess that's natural, given her state in life.

"What does it matter to you?" She asked with a snap.

"You matter to me." I say softly, but clearly. My gaze doesn't leave hers for a while. The purple orbs across from me are assaulting my eyes as if they were a fortress.

Taking note in my periphery that the entire class is watching us in stupefied silence, including a very tense looking Hubert, I attempt to cut through the awkward position we're in.

I tap her cheek with the pommel.

"You also lost. Caspar is next."

Edelgard returns to reality at that moment.

"I suppose I did…" She says as she loosens her grip on the halberd and takes a few steps backward.

"If you're against seeing Manuela, there's also Dr. Lindhardt." I say, pointing at the snoring healer.

Edelgard looks back at her classmate.

"I think he's fast asleep, my teacher."

"Give him a kick in the gut. And tell him it's from me." I say.

A smirk takes shape on Edelgard's face. She nods and leaves the field to deliver my message with gusto.

Caspar takes this as his cue to jump theatrically into the pit. He's sporting a pair of training gauntlets.

"Now that you're done being all sappy with Edelgard, you're finally gonna get a challenge, Professor!"

I hold up a finger to Caspar, and turn my neck to face Hubert, who's been glaring at me with his arms crossed for some time now.

"You look as if there's something you'd like to say, Hubert."

Hubert raises his eyebrow at me.

"There is Professor, but now is neither the time, nor the place."

"After the training session?" I ask.

"I would be available to have that conversation in particular, yes." He replies.

I nod and then turn to Caspar.

"Attack when ready."


A couple of hours later, the last student I have yet to dismiss is Bernadetta, who's currently working through a fifty-yard target practice regimen.

Petra, Ferdinand and Caspar were the first to leave following the pit fight. Dorothea, and Lindhardt took their leave after mastering the fire incantation. Hubert and Edelgard remain, although they're not exactly here to support their fellow Black Eagle. Instead, they're deep in conversation. I'm less than interested to glean the topic, as I have parochial obligations to fulfill at the moment.

All that said, I suppose I'll have to address their lack of camaraderie in time. At the very least, they should have been cheering Bernadetta on a bit.

As if on cue:

"I finally did it!" Bernadetta yelps.

I squint my eyes to check the target. She did indeed. I told her that five bullseyes would be sufficient for her to leave.

"You did, Bernadetta. Excellent work."

"Your advice about bending my knees actually helped a lot!"

"I'm glad." I say that, but my face doesn't really match my words.

"So… Can I go now…?" She begs.

"If you'd like."

"Okay, Professor." As she gathers her things, she turns back to me.

"Um… Professor?"

I tilt my head.

"Thank you for not making me fight you." She says with the first genuine smile I've seen of hers.

"You'll have to spar with me eventually. I'd like to train you in lances as well." I reply.

"...Well, I guess I knew you'd say that..."

I shrug. She seemed to be less jumpy with me now. I'll consider that a win for today.

She slips away without offering a goodbye to either Edelgard or Hubert. I'd prefer that not to be the relationship these guys have with one another - but I'm not exactly a master at building bonds. I think I'll probably have to consult my father about how to best bring these guys together.

But that's for another time, I think.

At present, Edelgard approaches me.

"I'd like to have a rematch, my teacher." she says.

"Absolutely not." I say.

After saying that, I noticed Hubert raising an eyebrow in my periphery.

"But… Lindhardt healed my hand quite competently."

"Healing magic closes the wound, it doesn't restore lost blood."

"Even so…"

Reflexively, I bring a hand to my chin. The bandaged one - so maybe that undermines my next point slightly.

"I'd prefer you to recover properly before the mock battle."

She seemed to accept my explanation for what it was worth.

"...Just how long would you estimate that would take?"

"Give it forty-eight hours."

Edelgard nodded, although I suspect it was a rather conflicted nod.

"We can spar all day on the 28th, if you'd like." I offer.

"That sounds perfect, my teacher."

Edelgard cranes her neck over to her retainer. I don't see the expression she makes at him, but Hubert starts to take a long walk around the perimeter of the grounds. Maybe she mouthed something as well.

I raise an eyebrow when her eyes return to me.

"You're going to talk with Hubert after I leave, are you not?" She asks rather accusatively.

"He wanted to talk." I say with a shrug.

"I know he wants to talk." She snaps.

At this point, what else could I do apart from stare at her blankly?

"I… rather hate it when he goes behind my back like this. I suspect he'll do nothing but talk about me."

"Does Hubert have any hobbies?" I ask.

"Nothing… that would make for polite conversation, I suppose."

"What's his favorite food?"

Edelgard looks at me with widened eyes.

"People tend to be less creepy when they're eating their favorite food." I offer.

"That's… actually quite true. But I don't know your favorite food…"

I raise an eyebrow.

"I'm not creepy, so why would that matter?"

She rolls her purple eyes.

"Tell me yours and I'll tell you Hubert's."

"I'm not sure if I'm really fond of that exchange."

"But you already know mine! It's not fair otherwise."

"Oh, Saghert and Cream?"

"Hmph." She grunts.

"Onion Gratin Soup." I reply after a time.

She frowns in reply. I let her stew on it.

"Wait… really?" she asks at last.

I nod.

"I see… I didn't mean to doubt you, it's just that it seemed…"

"Plain?"

"Well…"

"Have you ever tried it?." I ask.

"I… can't say that I have. What is the flavor?"

"The onions are caramelized in the soup, so it's actually rather sweet."

Edelgard's eyes light up at the last word.

"Perhaps I might like it…"

"We can give it a try after we spar. It's restorative."

Now she starts blushing.

"I think a proper dinner with you might be nice, my teacher…"

I shrug.

"You should tell me what Hubert likes now."

The red drains from her face instantly.

"Hmm… well… Hubert likes pickled seafood and vegetables… I think they're quite nasty."

"That's rather apropos."

"Isn't it? I'm glad you think so, too."

The two of us lock eyes in the declining afternoon sun as Hubert continues to pace around the training ground at his Lady's command.

"You should probably get going." I say at last.

Edelgard realizes that my eyes have fallen on Hubert.

"I… may have forgotten he was there. I suppose I should…"

"Get some rest, Edelgard."

Her eyes seem desperate to not pull away from mine, but eventually her willpower overcomes them.

"Yes, my teacher."


With some coaxing, I'm able to get Hubert into the dining hall. After selecting a seat, I try to see if he's in a forthcoming mood.

"Do you like anything on offer here?"

Hubert just glares at me.

"I don't eat for pleasure, Professor - merely for nourishment."

I'm not sure if I was expecting another reply from him at this stage, but I nod and excuse myself to the buffet. Grabbing two plates, I slap a heaping helping of pickled vegetables and seafood on it. It smells truly noxious.

As I plated those, the head chef emerged with Gronder Meat Skewers. Hearing good things about those from Caspar this afternoon, I plate two for myself. Sitting back down, I notice that Hubert's expression had softened ever so slightly after seeing a plate of his favorite food.

"Lady Edelgard told you my favorite dish, did she?" He asked almost wistfully.

I raise an eyebrow.

"Would you believe me if I said I noticed you eyeing it on the twenty-third?"

Hubert seemed to recoil in his seat a bit and began running through the event in his mind.

"No… I don't think I would, Professor."

"True enough. She did mention it."

"And you… just happen to favor a dish from the Empire?"

"The head chef just walked out with it."

Hubert craned his neck towards the buffet and squinted.

"So it seems."

I shrug and take a bite.

Hubert patiently waits for me to finish my meal before jumping into what I suspect was meant to be a dressing down from the start. He's only really picked around the edges of his.

"You don't seem intimidated by me, Professor." He says at last.

"You're my student." I say matter-of-factly.

"That is true, for now. Regardless, I still feel a bit concerned for your safety. You see, Lady Edelgard has taken something of an interest in you."

"It seems so."

"Don't be flippant."

I lean back in my chair to meet his gaze. Hubert narrows his visible eye.

"There is something you need to understand about the role I play here. One of my many duties is to determine potential advantages and potential threats to Her Highness. If you prove yourself useful to Lady Edelgard, then all will be well. If you pose a threat...I shall have to dispose of you."

"Good luck finding a trash bin around here."

Hubert shakes his head. I tell myself it's an attempt of his not to laugh.

"This is no joke, Professor. While I may be a student here, I am her servant first and foremost. Therefore, if an untimely demise is not to your liking, you would do well to demonstrate your utility with all haste. I should warn you that I am far less compromising than Lady Edelgard. Do not be at ease merely because you stand in her good graces for the time being."

"I'm not worried."

This time, I finally broke Hubert. Unintentionally, but I'll take my wins where I can get them.

"Ha! Such confidence. I'm beginning to see why you caught her eye."

"Tea, Hubert?" I ask.

"I suppose, if there's Cinnamon."

I nod and fetch us a couple of mugs.

As we wait for our tea to steep, Hubert returns to what must have been a planned monologue of his.

"My family, House Vestra, has been sworn to House Hresvelg for generations. Since the dawn of the Empire, we have worked to protect the emperor by any means necessary—both in the open and in the shadows. If you incur our wrath, you will see just what I mean."

"What prompted this?" I ask, after waiting for him to take a sip of his tea.

"You have me in an honest mood, Professor, so I will tell you this: I had planned on simply poisoning you after you had compromised Lady Edelgard socially on that excursion with von Riegan. But, my estimation of you recovered ever so slightly on the training grounds today."

"Is that so?" Socially compromised is an... interesting way to describe what happened to her that night.

Hubert takes another sip and considers his words.

"I must admit to a certain… failure in provoking Lady Edelgard's attentiveness to her own physical wellbeing. You've taken great care to look after that in the short time I've had to observe you. If you continue to do so, I will allow you to keep your life."

I suppose that's the best I can expect from this guy.

"Fair deal, Hubert."

"I'm glad we can see eye-to-eye on this matter. With that settled, I must take my leave."

I nod.

"Thank you for your time, Professor."