Earlier this evening, I met Lysithea.

I hadn't planned on interacting much with anyone today, so that was a surprise, I guess.

This morning, I woke up feeling lethargic. It occurred to me that this might be a delayed hangover, but I've also never really experienced such a thing before. A few hard drinkers from the mercenary company have claimed the condition in years past, but my father always seemed to cast aspersions on the likelihood of such a thing really existing. These delayed hangovers always seemed to appear whenever there was a need to entrench ourselves. That said, I don't need to entrench myself today.

I briefly stepped outside and was surprised at how the sun aggravated my vision. It struck me that it might be worth visiting Manuela.

Roughly halfway between my dorm and the dining hall, I overheard two students gossiping about how Edelgard went to visit Manuela at the infirmary, like I had asked her to. At first, a feeling of relief washed over me. She did listen, after all. Then, the idea of two random students gossiping about one of my Eagles struck me as completely intolerable, and I considered doing something vaguely intimidating in order to shut them up.

Finally, the realization hit that I am in fact a faculty member, and as one, likely don't have the same leeway to be a perpetually belligerent campus cancer like Felix or Hubert. So the two kids were left to continue their gossip unimpeded.

This did end up changing my strategy for the day, however. First, I opted to make a tactical retreat back into the dormitory. There was no real reason to visit Manuela, really. Edelgard's cuts into my palm had long since healed, after all. Additionally, I didn't want to report myself as hungover if she might be doing the same. That would bring upon us the unwarranted attention that Gatekeeper had endeavored to shield everyone from on that strange and fateful evening.

After getting back into my dorm, I made a few edits to the diary. This took about an hour.

Following that, I hurled myself on the bed, settled in on my pillow, and cracked open the Tacticon. I hadn't even begun to read the first line before Sothis began to protest bitterly.

"Phooey! This is boring, you should go and talk to people!" She gripes.

"I'm talking to you." I reply.

From my periphery, I can see her blush a bit and turn up her nose. Maybe Sothis is nobility of some sort. All the women I've seen do that routine were nobles.

I crane my neck over to meet her. She's also laying on the bed, sharing my pillow, and has returned to staring right back at me with those big green eyes of hers. The rest of her face is wrinkled and wrapped in the eternal frown that she always wears.

For a moment it strikes me that if someone were to walk in on this situation, I'd probably be labeled some sort of freak or child molester. Reality returns, however, and I take note that if someone actually walked into this room, they'd just see me staring at a wall.

"I'm much older than you, you know!" She says with an attitude.

I shrug. Something tells me that it wouldn't matter.

Returning to the book, I notice that Mauricius begins the text on a surprisingly personal note. In fact, the first chapter reads more like an apologia rather than a proper military treatise.

As it happens, Mauricius was inspired to write this book following the death of his wife in childbirth. This woman, who he claimed to love deeply - Empress Zoe - was one of the two surviving great-granddaughters of King Loog, that famous first King of Faerghus, and their marriage was a signal to many that the Empire and Kingdom could look towards a future of peace rather than war.

The marriage was an arranged one. He notes that their initial awkwardness, caused by his perpetual distance from her while on campaign, eventually gave way in a year of trucial peacetime. In that fleeting year, their relationship blossomed with love and passion. He notes that their daughter is a living memento of that time that he so dearly cherished.

"I feel as if I understand this fellow's heart…" Sothis said, reminding me of her presence.

She slid closer to me on the pillow, her head brushing up against my shoulder.

"You have a daughter?" I asked.

"I don't know. I do feel quite sure that I understand the depth of this Mauricius's feelings, however, in spite of everything that I cannot recall - so perhaps I do...?"

Her thoughts are overtaken by a yawn, and shortly afterward, she closes her eyes. I wonder if she snores. I've been told that I don't, but perhaps this is because I'm a side sleeper.

Returning to the story, I have to admit that the emperor weaves an impressive tale, and his rather direct and terse prose makes the situation seem all the more present and immediate. These are the words of a man stricken with perpetual grief at the loss of his wife, and he cannot spare very many of them. It's a very strange thing to read as a fellow writer. Could I call myself such a thing now?

This man clearly feels quite a lot but writes so sparsely.

I feel so little but write five-thousand-word diary entries with minimal consideration.

It's rather strange, isn't it?

Retreating again from my thoughts, I consider what Mauricius presents as his casus belli. At the outset, such a union certainly didn't portend such a romantic - or even tragic - outcome for the two nations. Mauricius states repeatedly that he wanted nothing more than peace with Faerghus. His daughter carried Loog's blood in her veins, and he claims to have loved her as deeply as his late wife.

From what I can gather, the marriage itself was only ever understood to be political by everyone save Mauricius and Zoe. The emperor characterizes its initiation as a last-ditch effort by the Empire's Regent, his elderly aunt, to stave off a coalition war. Faerghus, embroiled in a conflict with Sreng, was more than happy to comply with the proposal, and for the first time in history - the two hostile powers became allies.

Shortly after Zoe died, Mauricius received a proposal from the King of Faerghus to marry a distant relative in an effort to continue the alliance. Mauricius refused the offer, stating that a man could only truly love once in his life, and that the daughter he had with Zoe would be proof of goodwill between the two nations as long as he lived. This struck me as bizarre. A popular line of mercenaries was to say that a particularly attractive waitress could "join the Imperial Harem". I can only gather that Mauricius had no taste for such a thing.

The King of Faerghus, who also apparently had a harem, was not convinced. Following the rejection and a peace treaty with Sreng that granted him the county Fraldarius, he opted to join the anti-Imperial coalition alongside Dagda, Brigid, and Albinea. Mauricius, seeing the writing on the wall, gathered his army and marched on Faerghus first.

That war was Mauricius's longest and last. The author of the preface had noted that the emperor completed the Tacticon shortly before his death. The emperor died of a fever inside his tent outside the fortress city of Arianrhod, which his army was investing in a siege. Four days earlier, he had celebrated his twenty-seventh birthday. The only ones in attendance to celebrate that evening were the mercenary captains that he favored for his campaigns. Apparently, he had long since alienated the rest of the Empire's nobility.

Following his death, the only thing that spared Adrestia from complete dissolution was the rebellion of the Leicester Alliance. Faerghus quickly accepted a stalemate to fight an unsuccessful civil war with the band of upstart nobles. A group of competent courtier powerbrokers handled the remainder of the war effort and began what the preface writer claims was a "re-balancing of Imperial power" away from the emperor himself, and towards the privy cabinet. The writer spares few words on the daughter left to inherit his title, which strikes me as strange.

It's quite the story, even if it's rather bleak and overly political. Needless to say, I was sufficiently hooked.

I spent the remainder of the daylight hours devouring the book in the darkness of my dorm.


My stomach finally chastised me for ignoring it, patiently waiting until 8PM. Last call at the dining hall was at 8:30PM, so I rather quickly gathered myself and made for the door.

It was at that moment that I realized, rather belatedly, that Edelgard never returned my cloak after I handed it to her at the training grounds the day before. Not that it mattered - I could easily grab the official professorial wardrobe that had been left in the dresser. It has been sitting in there, untouched, since my arrival at Garegg Mach. The ensemble also included a cloak, along with a rather gauche looking field cap. The material was a bit lighter, but due to the onset of summer next month, I feel as if it might be more appropriate for the weather.

I cut through to the dining hall shortly after hybridizing my outfit. It's one of those quintessential nights of the later weeks of the Great Tree Moon. There's a stiff breeze, but when the air is still, it's downright balmy. Well, balmy for a mountaintop, at least.

The dining hall is almost entirely empty.

There are only two figures that I can make out in the entire cafeteria, and they're a tiny girl with a flash of long white hair, and the Head Chef. Initially, I thought that the girl might be Edelgard with her hair down, but I quickly noticed that she's too short to be her, even from this distance. This is of course quite the statement given how short Edelgard already is.

I'm able to shuffle over to the buffet table without attracting their attention. Most of what's left are desserts and other sorts of carbohydrate-rich foods. I suppose the chef must have already cleared the main courses and was just leaving the desserts out.

Beggars can't be choosers.

My eyes drift over to the little white-haired girl, who is trying to maneuver three-fourths of a complete triple-chocolate layer cake onto a paper plate. She looks to be about fourteen or fifteen. The Head Chef watches her try and finesse the collapsing cake with quiet bemusement.

She manages to pile most of it on, to her credit, and seems to be quite pleased with herself until she notices that I'm watching her, too. Her eyes, a bright pink, narrow in realization.

"Um, do you mind...?"

"Mind what?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Just leave me alone, then." She commanded, turning up her nose.

I returned my gaze to analyzing what was left on the buffet table.

Apparently, this did not satisfy her.

"You think I'm some sort of... child... for wanting to take this cake back with me. Is that it?!"

I turn back to the agitated little adolescent. Is this actually Sothis doing her best impression of Edelgard, I wonder?

"Phooey! How dare you compare me to either of those children!"

I'm mere seconds away from bringing my hand to my hair before I notice the girl's plate dangerously shifting to one side. Leaving her alone now is just going to result in her losing her entire, massive dessert. In a flash, I extend my hand to balance the plate.

"Honestly, what do you take me for- oh!"

I can appreciate the depth of her feelings - how I was a being worthy of only derision even in the midst of me attempting to balance her plate. She must be nobility, too. It only becomes apparent to her shortly afterward that had I not intervened, the dessert she spent so much effort heaping would've ended up all over her clothes.

To her credit, she takes stock of the situation quite quickly for someone who's at such a tender age.

"Oh- I see now that the plate was starting to fold over rather dangerously..."

She takes a moment to take stock of me now.

"Wait, are you the new Professor…?"

I nod.

"...The one who saved Claude?"

"Unfortunately."

This prompts a sudden laugh from the girl, and she nearly loses the cake again. I use my other hand to buttress the flimsy thing as she giggles uncontrollably. It's a childlike laugh, but one that betrays a great deal of pain. I'm beginning to suspect that many people at the academy this year have had difficult upbringings. Such behaviors always manifest when people are vulnerable like this. Perhaps it is for the best that I cannot feel as deeply as these children.

Losing yourself in front of the wrong person is a dangerous thing indeed.

"Professor... you shouldn't make me laugh with cake in my hands!"

"Maybe you should put it on a tray." I offer.

"How I wish I could! But we can't take the trays back with us!"

An idea comes to mind.

"Could I trouble you to place this dessert down for a moment?" I ask.

She nods and complies.

I begin to unclasp my breastplate.

The girl's pink eyes go alight. She looks at me as if I've gone mad, but it's hard not to consider it a kind of childish overreaction on her part. There's a very thick tunic between the breastplate and my chest, so it's not like I'm exposing myself to this minor.

"You can use this as a tray, if you'd like."

The girl looks at me as if I've grown a second head. I suppose this particular reaction is a bit more justified.

"It's clean, I washed it down this afternoon. Smell it if you don't believe me."

Much to my surprise, she leans in.

"Oh! So this is what smells like lavender!"

"I used some dish soap to wash it. That's probably why."

The girl nodded.

"I see what you mean, Professor. That's a clever idea!"

She eagerly grabbed the plate and placed it on our ersatz tray. It nestled quite neatly in the slight depression of the breastplate, although the previously rough treatment was causing the cake to lose a bit of its shape and hold. Fodlan cakes tended to be quite spongy, and the sheer mass of chocolate on the cake was no doubt weighing the pastry down quite considerably.

"Since you have a free hand.."

Hearing the Head Chef say those words, I notice them handing Lysithea two large wicker baskets full of pastries.

The Head Chef then turns to me.

"Lysithea loves her sweets."

I turn to Lysithea.

"Nice to meet you, Lysithea. My name is Byleth."

"Ah, Professor! I didn't introduce myself. That was rude, wasn't it? My name is Lysithea von Ordelia, my parents are the Counts of Ordelia in the Alliance." she says with a bow.

"You're a Golden Deer, I take it?" I ask.

"Unfortunately!" She replies, mimicking my own.

Perhaps Lysithea is quicker on the uptake than I gave her credit for.

The two of us make our way towards the exit. Using my free hand, I open the door and hold it for her. She looks outside and then freezes quite suddenly.

"Um…" she begins.

I tilt my head.

"Professor, could you go outside first… and maybe… lead the way?"

Now I'm extremely confused.

"Sure, but why?" I ask.

"The sun has gone down." she said, her eyes darting away from mine.

"...And?"

"You haven't heard the rumors?"

I shake my head.

"L-Leonie, a girl in my class, she said that there were… g-guh-ghosts…"

At this moment, I to remind myself that the girl standing before me is quite young. I suppose it's natural for girls like her to believe in ghosts until right around this age. When I was fifteen, I still had many misconceptions about battle. Those were corrected shortly after joining my father on campaign.

"Ghosts?" I ask.

"Yes… the monastery has become quite unnerving to me, especially at night... Leonie said that three days ago, there was some sort of demon walking around with four arms, four legs, and two heads. It was also trailing blood, and we even saw the stains the following morning - right near the dorms!"

Four arms.

Four legs.

Two heads.

Trailing blood.

Three Days Ago.

This is sounding awfully familiar.

"I'll protect you." I reply.

She seems to find some resolve in this. Her pink eyes blaze passionately.

"T-Thank you! I know you're very good at protecting people."

I nod and lead the way out into the darkness.

After a short while, we're able make our way down the dining hall steps, past the lake, and clear the Greenhouse. The walk is vaguely familiar to me, as I recall hauling Edelgard's sleeping body in this direction before. This must be where that student named Leonie saw our little caravan of delinquent drunkards. I suppose that in the darkness, we may have looked like ghosts. That said, I question how anyone misses Hilda's hair even in this light.

"Professor…" Lysithea calls out to me in a kind of panting whisper.

I turn to face and realize she's some distance away, dragging the bags of pastries on the ground along with her. Is she tired?

"Are you alright, Lysithea?"

"I-I'll be fine, Professor. I'm… sorry to say, but my constitution is a bit weak…"

I notice that there's a porch swing just by the entrance to the student dormitories.

"Let's take a breather." I reply, and slip the pastry baskets out from her hands. They're not particularly heavy to me - but I also don't possess what I would characterize as a weak constitution.

It occurred to me now that I may be teaching some students with disabilities. I had assumed, perhaps foolishly, that everyone attending a war college would be in relatively robust health. I'm able to guide Lysithea over to the porch swing with minimal difficulty.

"Do you live on the second floor?" I ask.

She looks up at me with a conflicted expression.

"All… nobles do… Professor."

"I see. So let's sit out here awhile so you can regain your strength."

She nods rather meekly at this.

"The weather is… nice tonight, Professor." Lysithea notes as her breathing calms a bit.

As if on cue, one of those bitter winds that the Great Tree Moon sometimes shelters decides to dance around us. Lysithea seems to immediately regret that statement and breaks out into a shiver.

"Don't jinx us, Lysithea." I say, unclasping my cloak. I toss it over her.

She turns to me with a big pout on her face.

"P-professor, you don't need to do this… I'm not a child, you know."

I raise an eyebrow at her.

"Adults get cold, too."

With that, she brings her legs up, and tucks herself into the ersatz blanket. For a time, my vision glides away from the little white-haired head above the blanket and out onto the promenade. It's not exactly late in the evening, but the area seems completely devoid of students. I suppose that's not abnormal, as there's probably less than fifty students total attending the academy this year, but I still find it curious that there aren't more night owls among that group.

Although, I suppose those sorts of kids aren't spending much time around the dorms. They're probably out on the town like Sylvain, Claude, Lorenz and Hilda.

My eyes drift back towards the pale, frail little girl under my cloak. I notice that her big, pink eyes are greedily eyeing the cake that's been sitting on my breastplate-turned-dessertplate.

"I'm not going to stop you if you want a bite." I say to her, sliding the breastplate closer.

"There's no fork." She says with a giant frown forming across her face.

"So?" I ask, quite genuinely. Most meals I ate on campaign were eaten without forks. Generally speaking, I just stabbed things with my dagger and shoved them in my mouth. If my dagger was fresh with blood, then my hands would do.

"Only children eat with their fingers, Professor."

I proceeded to shove my index finger into one of the frosting layers and dragged it across the length of the cake. I held up the massive dollop of chocolate directly at Lysithea, whose eyes went wide as I did so.

I then shoved that finger in my mouth rather unceremoniously.

The frosting was a bit too heavy and sweet for my own personal preference, but my stomach didn't complain, as I had been neglecting it for the entire day. I savor it for a time and swallow it with an audible gulp. It needs a fair bit of saliva to drag down.

"Not bad." I say to her with a nod.

She then proceeds to do the exact same, even going so far as to pick the next layer down. As she does, the spongy parts crumble around my breastplate into bite-sized chunks.

After sticking the finger in her mouth, her eyes go wide.

"Pofessoh- ish so goo!"

I nod. Grabbing a piece of spongy cake next, I pop it into my mouth. I'm not huge on sponge cake either, but it's definitely more my speed than the frosting.

Lysithea looks at me expectantly.

"The sponge cake is pretty good, too."

She immediately grabs two fistfuls of sponge cake and shoves it into her mouth greedily, creating a brown ring around her lips.

"Pofessoh-"

I bring the chocolate-stained index finger to her lips.

"Don't talk with your mouth full." I command.

She nods her head vigorously and chews with equal gusto.

As soon as she finishes that bite, she immediately dives in for two fistfuls more.

I never get her review on the sponge cake.


After gorging ourselves, the two of us take to digesting the cake on the porch swing like a pair of geriatrics, sitting in a pile of our own messy crumbs. I appreciate how Lysithea's big-girl act completely falls apart in the face of sweets. If I could find things endearing, I would probably find her endearing.

There's still roughly a quarter of the cake left in some moderately cohesive form, and Lysithea still occasionally picks at the frosting. Her hands are as brown as a redwolf's summer coat of fur. That said, so are mine.

For a time, it seems that us two slobs are the only beings still awake on the campus. The lights from the greenhouse and dining hall were shut an hour ago, and only a few dorms in the distance glow with only the softest hues of candlelight.

Finally, however - as it would have been bizarre otherwise - another human approaches, walking towards the entrance to the student dormitories.

It's a girl, and one that I haven't seen before. Her hair is blue, with two long bangs falling from either side. The back of her hair, from what I can see, is wrapped around in braid that's reminiscent of a crown.

Lysithea, who was existing in some sort of endorphin-fugue from the cake, finally rouses.

"Oh, hey- Marianne!"

It appears that Lysithea, while alert, hasn't gotten her self-awareness back.

Marianne, on her part, jumps at the sound of her name - and only seems to calm down after Lysithea leans forward and extends her neck from her blanket.

She approaches us with extreme caution.

"H-Hello, Lysithea." she says this while avoiding all eye contact with me.

"Um, we were eating cake!" Lysithea notes. I don't know how anyone could really assume otherwise.

"I-I see…"

"Oh- and this is Professor Byleth. He's teaching the Eagles... unfortunately!"

When she turns to me, I immediately take note of her eyes. Gray predominates - both in her irises, and below, where a ring of darkened skin lies under them. She clearly has been neglecting her sleep. I find her eyes rather difficult to read in comparison to someone like Edelgard or Lysithea. While those two girls hide things, they often are quite poor at concealing their true intentions.

Marianne seems quite practiced in obscuring hers.

"It's nice to meet you Marianne."

"A-and you... Professor…"

"I'd offer you my hand, but it's covered in chocolate."

"I-it's alright, Professor… my hands are dirty, too."

"Did you come from the cathedral, Marianne?" Lysithea asks before shoving another chunk of sponge cake into her mouth. I guess she's not eaten her fill yet.

"Oh… no, I went a bit earlier… Dorte seems sick, so I was attending to him at the stables."

"The horse?" Lysithea asks.

"Y-yes..."

Lysithea then turns to me.

"Marianne is really good with animals, Professor."

I nod.

"You seem like you have a gentle heart, Marianne." I say.

She recoils and blushes ever so slightly.

"Um… Professor, how can you say such things without knowing me…?"

"Hmmm… I think he's right, though...!" Lysithea says as she chews through the cake. I guess the impact of my directive about not talking with her mouth full has run its course.

"...Professor Byleth seems like a very observant man." Lysithea continues after swallowing.

I reflexively bring my hand to my chin, before realizing that it's covered in chocolate.

"Marianne, can I trouble you to help Lysithea with her pastries?" I ask.

Marianne's eyes fall to the two bags full of assorted sweets.

"Wow… so many…" she notes.

Lysithea seems to ignore her friend's assessment and looks right back at me.

"Oh yeah… we've been out here for awhile, haven't we?"

I nod and stand up, offering a chocolate covered hand to the girl swaddled in my cloak. She accepts with another chocolate covered hand, and I yank her up.

"If you're feeling frail again, don't push yourself too hard, alright?"

Lysithea takes offense at this.

"Hmph. If I don't push myself, how can I grow?"

I am beginning to grow tired of all these combative white-haired women.

"You missed an adjective there." I reply brusquely.

"Fine. Fine. Anyway… thank you for protecting me from the ghosts, Professor!"

I nod while brushing myself off.

She hands me my cape back. It's now covered in brown fingerprints.

I suppose I'll need to ask Edelgard for the other one back.

After seeing off Lysithea and Marianne, the rest of my waking hours are consumed with the project of finding a trash bin.