Both Edelgard and I were dripping sweat shortly after our arrival at the training grounds.

From the very moment we stepped into that sand pit, she charged me relentlessly, as if possessed with a desire to prove something to me anew. A fire burned behind her eyes with each and every assault.

Looking at the gravel below us, I took a quick account of the tools we destroyed in the opening stages of our practice duel:

Six training hafted axes.

Four training hand axes.

Three training swords.

One training halberd.

Between the two of us, we must have traded well over four hundred blows.

But she does not grow tired.

And neither do I.

Over the course of the afternoon, we had been attracting small crowds.

Our first spectator was Professor Jeritza.

Regarding Jeritza, I noticed that he was altogether less interested in watching Edelgard and I spar as much as he was interested in watching me. At first, I found this to be strange, given how his main parochial duty here was to assist students at the training grounds, but then it occured to me that I did in fact leapfrog over this fellow's promotion.

And according to Hubert in that clandestine chat I overheard on the twenty-third, directly interfered with a convoluted-sounding plan to finagle him as the teacher of the Black Eagles.

Tangentially, I'm not sure if there is a pay difference between teaching faculty and training faculty. Even if there isn't, I did take it that he'd naturally want to see if my ability matched the commission I was granted by the Archbishop.

I endeavored to show him that nepotism was not in play.

And he seemed satisfied. Perversely satisfied, even.

One particular moment sticks out in my mind: after a particularly sloppy strike on Edelgard's part with a hafted poleaxe, I shattered the training axe's wooden blade with a single thrust of my sword. This is not exactly a hard thing to do. It takes a fair bit of finesse, and naturally your opponent has to give you the opportunity to do so through error. Axes always possess natural pressure points in their designs. For the Srengian hafted axe, it's usually where the lug meets the shoulder.

Taking note of Edelgard's rather desperate maneuver, I simply drive the training sword directly into the pressure point. The center does not hold, the wood shatters into a hundred pieces, and Edelgard is left with a shocked expression.

I consider saying something profound at this moment, but then I realize that I'm not really a profound person.

I shrug instead.

Upon seeing this, Jeritza began to laugh. Slowly and haltingly, but he laughed nonetheless. It was an approach to laughing that I never really heard before, as if the humor he was finding in something was happening in a sort of fragmented, disjointed manner. When I finally brought my eyes up to him, he simply said:

"You... look capable of giving me a decent challenge... yet I'm unable to fight you for now... How maddening."

The polearm he was clutching in his ever-clenching-and-releasing hands indicated to me that he was certainly able to fight me.

Edelgard's expression when Jeritza said these words was one of frustration. Although, her look throughout the entirety of this practice session was also one of frustration - so it may very well be that Jeritza's comment didn't provoke her much at all. I'm just guessing. Nevertheless, she turned to him and said:

"Correct. You cannot, Professor Jeritza."

Jeritza bowed deeply.

"Of course... student... I cannot..."

That sounded awfully possessive. Of both me and Jeritza. She is a noble, though. There tends to be a fair bit of entitlement baked into that cake.

I brought my hand to my chin. Edelgard took note of this with wild eyes and a stiff stance.

"Do you have something to say too, my teacher?!" She snapped.

This is my just reward for thinking on her behalf, I suppose. It's as Sothis said, I can't find myself tiring of her abuse.

"Have you always trained with a hafted axe?" I ask.

Her eyes widened at this query. It struck me as a really bizarre question to get worked up about.

Jeritza also raised an eyebrow from behind that Enbarr Carnivale-Mask of his. My guess was that he was hiding a pretty nasty scar under there.

"Hmph. I don't see how that's very relevant at all!" As she said this, she used her sleeve to wipe her forehead in a rather unladylike manner.

"It's just an observation. You handle it like a scythe." I reply matter-of-factly.

"Indeed she does… I attempted to instruct her in such..." Jeritza confirmed.

Her eyes then shot to Jeritza.

I look to the other professor and raise an eyebrow. He returns it with a shaking head.

"Do not… interpret my words unduly… she does not learn… her instincts merely seek..."

"Jeritza!" Edelgard shouts.

"She… is rather like a moth to a flame. And… I am not a flame. I am… cold, like death."

I see no reason to protest Jeritza's self-assessment. I find myself agreeing with it. In fact, I get the impression of him as a rather sincere, direct and honest person. Much like Sylvain, he strikes me as an individual who does not wrap himself in the chains of etiquette to get what he wants. But unlike Claude, he doesn't need to veil himself in deceit, either. In effect, he's as naked to the wind as I am. Emotionally speaking, I mean.

Edelgard looks horrified, however.

"Professor Jeritza, I would ask you to leave us!"

He bows.

"I will… return to my office. Goodbye, moth…"

He then turns to me. His blue eyes bore through the mask with pure intensity.

"Goodbye, flame..."

Edelgard's cheeks turn bright red at his appellation of me.

"...Do not listen to him… I for one am glad that you were promoted, instead."

Now that I think of it, that's the first complement of that type I've received. All three of the house leaders were lobbying for me, but Edelgard is the first student who expressed genuine approval in my teaching ability.

"Thanks, Edelgard."

"For what, my teacher?"

"I'm glad that I'm your teacher."

Our eyes meet. It's another one of those situations where Edelgard is assessing me. Assessing my honesty. I wonder how many of these checks I'll have to clear before she finally accepts my words for what they are. Will she ever?

To me, it's just bizarre that she insists on doing this. As far as I'm concerned, it is as if I couldn't hide a thing from her even if I tried.

And she seems to read that in my eyes after a time, and blushes again.

I mean those words, Edelgard. So... let's see if you'll be honest with me in kind.

"You didn't answer my question, Edelgard." I say.

"...About what?"

"When did you start practicing with the axe?"

"...I'm not sure why you're so insistent on pursuing this topic..." She said at last, her eyes falling away from me.

"You grip short-axes like a sword, too."

Those purple orbs returned to me in an instant after saying those words.

"My father was once the finest swordsman in all the Empire, I'll have you know."

Was her father the Emperor or something? That would make logical sense, I suppose. My father had mentioned that roughly a decade ago, the Empire had vassalized Brigid and salted the fields of Dagda. Those two actions certainly seem like they'd be on the agenda of a sword-wielding soldier-king. But that's also just my extrapolation. I don't really "get" politics, and have no desire to. I'll leave that to Edelgard.

I just want to know the background of her training, not her family situation.

And she is being awfully reluctant in providing what should be a simple explanation.

"Your father didn't train you, though." I say as I start walking over to the weapons rack.

"...No, but he did give me a great deal of practical advice."

I turn and nod, then return to my inspection of the rack.

"But my teacher… just... how did you know that?" she asks.

Grabbing a training sword from the weapons rack, I toss it to her.

"You don't have any of Petra's mechanical issues."

She seemed to lose herself for a moment, presumably flashing back to our last excursion here with the rest of the Eagles in tow.

I step back into the pit.

"Humor me, Edelgard. Attack when ready."

Quite suddenly, she charges at me with renewed vigor, and brings the training sword over her head. As I bring my own to bear in order to meet it, my eyes glance down and take note of the deft footwork she flashes, particularly noticing how she shifts herself towards my right, all the while angling her arms in the opposite direction in order to extend a touch of length on her first blow.

I think now that I may have overestimated Petra. When the blow comes down, I need to summon my reserve of strength quite unexpectedly to keep her from simply overpowering my block. Realizing this, she withdraws the blow and then brings her arms downward, withdrawing her elbow in a similar motion to how I instructed her how to unhorse a rider with the throwing axe.

At this moment I realize she's actually synthesized this axe technique into her swordplay. Now I'm beyond impressed. The swing comes, and I am forced to dodge her blow by jumping backwards. Copying my motion from two days ago, Edelgard leaps forward to pursue me in a lunging strike. It's a quite a lunge too, particularly because she had only used her elbow as the locus of movement in that previous sweep, allowing herself to prepare physically for the follow-up strike.

Unfortunately for her, however, I'm able to dig my heels and wheel at the last moment, bringing my crossguard to bear and driving a stab of hers upward. This breaks her blade.

As we both watch the splinters fly, I quickly take notice that my own training sword is also beginning to come apart, only just realizing that the sheer force of Edelgard's strike caused the bolts that hold the guard to the blade to come loose. Shortly after the splinters of her blade strike the sand, I find myself holding only the hilt of my own.

In effect, we've disarmed each other.

We both stare at each other after realizing it. For quite a while, in fact. The grounds are so silent, you could only hear the sounds of our panting.

"I'm impressed." I offer, after a time.

"...Truly?" she asks, excitement creeping onto her face.

"Two years..." I say.

"What was that, my teacher?"

"It's been two years since someone disarmed me like that."

The three other training swords on the ground were ones that I either disposed of myself, or were broken by my own blows.

Strolling back to the weapons rack, my mind races. This girl was born for sword-play. So then… why the axe? I scan over the remaining weapons in the rack. There is a weapon that I want her to try, but I do not see its equivalent in wood. Merely iron.

I withdraw the axe.

"Edelgard."

She approaches.

"Try this." I command.

"A double-bladed axe...?" Edelgard asks in a voice that seems almost too quiet.

"The Labrys." I correct.

This particular axe is one of the most ancient weapons in Fodlan. On the Throat, when our company was retreating from the most brutal sandstorms - we often took refuge in caves. When holding a lantern to those cave walls, one can occasionally find paintings. Ancient paintings, drawn with the finger and not the brush. These paintings are generally quite consistent in style and theme– and almost exclusively depict humanity fighting dragons. Uniformly, the men wield swords and the women wield the labrys. On my first trip to the throat with my father, fourteen sandstorms ravaged us that summer. I spent a great deal of time staring at those cave paintings.

My father did, too.

"Is it acceptable for us to spar with iron?" I asked.

I should probably have reviewed the rules of the grounds before bringing students here. After asking this question, Edelgard wears the expression of a child who is about to get away with stealing a cookie from a jar.

"I believe so... As long as a professor is present." she replied.

Well Jeritza is here, he's just in his office.

And then it occurs to me that I am also a professor.

Content with that, I draw my iron sword.

"Attack me in the manner you did with the hafted axe."

She does so. That giant sweeping undercut of hers carries with it the weight of iron this time, making it just a touch slower. I deftly leap back. Her face betrays a surprised expression at my unwillingness to contest her strike.

"I've dodged. Now what can you do?" I ask.

Edelgard blinks, and her eyes shoot up to axehead.

And then the labrys starts to swing back downward, as if on a pendulum. Much like her attack with the sword just a few moments before.

It's a maneuver she can make fluidly with the weapon due to its double-blade.

And that maneuver… Well, she does it magnificently.

I bring up my blade to block it, and am floored with the force that it takes me to absorb her strike. As I look into Edelgard's eyes – I start to see that she's just as impressed with her newfound feel for the tool as I am.

So we spar like this for a time, clanging iron on iron for at least an hour.


Dimitri, Duedue, and Felix were the next to happen upon us.

From where I'm standing, it's not hard to notice from my periphery a sort of pained expression creeping over the Prince's face as Edelgard and I relentlessly trade blows with each other. It occurred to me that I've never had the chance to speak to him, or any of the Blue Lions since the classes were assigned. I wonder what became of that manifesto of his?

After Edelgard loses her footing in the midst of blocking one of my strikes, Felix takes a step into the pit, roughly equidistant from me and Edelgard, who had to take a breather while regaining her footing.

He stares at her with total disregard and waits impatiently for her eyes to rise from her feet to his face.

"You... I'll duel him next… It's almost pathetic, watching you flail."

Contempt drips from every syllable. Something itches in my chest as he says those words. I wonder why?

"...Excuse me?!"

"I would also appreciate the opportunity to challenge you, Professor." Dimitri says.

Duedue extends his arm in front of him, taking note of the very real and potentially fatal blades Edelgard and I are bringing to bear on one another.

I can appreciate his retainer's caution, although I suspect Dimitri's no slouch, either.

"Prince Dimitri…" the Duscurian says at last.

I nod at Duedue, who I suspect can more or less figure out what I'm about to say next. After clearing my throat, I turn to Felix and say with a raised index finger:

"Water, first."

At first I detect some earnest surprise in his expression, but then he seems to realize that I'm completely soaked with sweat.

"Fine... Wet your throat before I wet my blade."

Following the slightest of nods, I step out of the pit and towards the water fountain, an imposing stone pool that jets out a cool stream from its apex. I dunk my entire head under the running stream, which prompts a laugh from Edelgard.

This wouldn't be cause for a remark if she didn't say the words that follow:

"Dimitri… while my teacher cools off, shall we spar?"

"I cannot deny such a challenge, Edelgard."

Initially, I try to tune out the adolescent drama by pulling my hair up and letting the water flow into my ears. I then realize that the two of them are probably going to be dueling with actual iron weapons because of the rather dangerous precedent I set with Edelgard not long ago.

And Jeritza… well, I can hear him from here in his little nook rambling to himself.

So, I should probably be watching.

After taking a few quick gulps of the rather refreshing mountain spring water, I turn back to the field. Dimitri and Edelgard are standing across from one another at about twenty paces, dead silent. I approach the field, where Duedue stands in an officiating pose.

"I asked the Prince to not engage until you arrived."

I trade glances with Dimitri and Edelgard, and then look back to Duedue.

"I trust you will intervene before the situation grows out of hand, Professor."

"I will." I reply.

"Understand that if you fail to, I will not hesitate to save the Prince's life."

"I understand."

"You have my thanks, Professor."

There is a voice deep within my chest that says I shouldn't be letting them do this.

"Yes! You shouldn't be letting them do this!" Sothis shouts.

"Will you…?" I ask.

"Of course, you stupid child! I'm not going to just sit here and let them kill each other!"

"If they overstep, I'll take care of it."

"You better!"

Felix punches my arm.

"Stop playing for time, already. You're lucky I let the Boar cut the line."

I turn to him. He looks exceptionally annoyed, as if he didn't set the bad example by cutting in on my spar with Edelgard. He's a unique sort of asshole.

He's starting to grow on me, I think.

I turn back to Edelgard and Dimitri. With a lump in my throat, I say:

"Attack when ready."

Both take off towards each other as fast as their legs can carry them. But in those few moments before contact, something immediately doesn't sit right with me. In Edelgard, I can see the narrowed purple orbs of someone ready to kill. In Dimitri… there exists quite a bit of conflict behind those blue eyes of his. He goes into combat with them just a bit too wide.

Dimitri is looking at this fight as if he's been asked to kill a puppy.

Edelgard is looking at this like an opportunity to take a life she truly despises.

They must have a history of sorts.

Dimitri is the first to make contact. The iron lance in his hands moves with absolute precision. He's clearly well-practiced. But I notice that he's not aiming for Edelgard as much as he's aiming for the labrys itself. That is always a fatal mistake to make on the field. With a lance, one must always strike for the wielder, not the weapon.

And I suspect he well and truly knows better.

Edelgard must notice this, too – but she certainly doesn't betray it. She easily powers through Dimitri's strike with that uppercut motion of hers. It's as if all the strength leaves Dimitri at that moment. He hesitates to reposition the lance and drive it into Edelgard, even though her swing has left a clear and present opening. If he struck now, he'd force her – at minimum, to bring down the pole of the axe to block it – or at worst, leap out of the way in a dodge.

Instead, he does nothing.

He merely says a single syllable

"El–"

With that downward swing I taught her, Edelgard brings the back-edge of the labrys falling onto Dimitri's head. The strength of the impact cleaves Dimitri into mush above the neck.

It's not the first time I've seen someone's brains spilling everywhere. Even though they're Dimitri's – who I rather quite like.

Perhaps I'd feel different if it was Edelgard. I promised to protect her, though. So I guess someday I'll have to get brained myself in order to see that promise through.

I can keep rather calm and collected about these sorts of things, although my chest is screaming incoherently at me right now. My eyes turn over to Duedue. The look on his face is one of violent bloodlust with a bit of terror sprinkled in. I suspect in another second, he's going to cleave Edelgard to pieces in reply with the hand axe resting at his belt.

Felix and Edelgard though…

Yeah, this is their first time. The two of them look positively stunned. Particularly Edelgard – but I guess that's natural, right?

"I-I…" she manages as Duedue charges at her with the narrowed eyes of an assassin.

"Are you just going to continue to stand there, you fool?!"

"Whenever you're ready, Sothis."


I've rewound time twice now, and I can't manage to get a good angle on Edelgard without getting my own scalp torn to shreds. It's quite troublesome. And rather painful, as well – although I'm quite used to pain – and to her credit, the drive is powerful enough to send me back to the stone throne of Sothis rather quickly. I take this as a personal credit to my own teaching.

Unfortunately, my green-haired preteen partner in time travel is looking a bit exhausted.

She told me in rather short order that this was going to be my last try at saving Dimitri without killing myself, for better or for worse.

"Just kill the girl already! She's always lying to you, anyway."

That's a bit out-of-character for her, but I guess she's gotten a bit nauseated by watching Edelgard brain Dimitri over and over. It's rather strange. She claims to be a part of me, but I've never been that bothered by death before.

Still, I don't have to really think twice about her suggestion.

"That won't be happening."

I'm not going to kill someone that I want to protect.

And I seriously doubt that would really stop the blow from falling, anyway. Sothis is only able to get me about three seconds removed from the moment in which Edelgard brings the blade down on Dimtiri's head. My dagger wouldn't be sufficient force at range to knock her down, and the blade would already be matting Prince Blayddid's blonde mop before I could even kill her anyway.

All that said, something tells me that I may have found a decent approach vector after all. Maybe I was just a bit afraid to use it.

But... with only one shot left, I should probably take it.

"Turn back the hands of time."


The blade's definitely in my forehead, but not deeply. Blood's flowing, but not too much of it.

Neither I or Dimitri are dead because I did something a bit cheeky.

Right now, I'm holding Edelgard's hand on the labrys. I made a sort of dangerous, mortal bet just a moment ago.

The bet was that if I touched her hand, she'd recoil.

I get the impression that she's quite sensitive about her hands. Given how many gloves she's gone through in the past week, there must be a very specific reason why she guards them so - one even apart from her sleeping tic. In effect, I believe they're her weak spot, of sorts.

So I made a little wager with myself, or Sothis, I guess – that by touching her hand, I would be able to get her to jerk upwards at the last moment with the axe and prevent the completion of a motion that kept separating my and Dimitri's brains from our skull cavities.

Turns out, it worked.

"Just barely!" Sothis yells

So here I am, my left hand gently wrapped around her right hand as she's planted the tip of an axeblade into my forehead, creating a rather messy, rather painful, but ultimately demonstrative flesh wound and nothing else.

Those purple orbs simply stare at me when she realizes what she's done. Her lips quiver. Her eyebrows shift from a frown to a raised look of concern.

"M-my teacher…?!"

With my left hand still wrapped around hers, I gently guide it backwards, withdrawing the axe from my forehead with that indescribable sound that accompanies when withdrawing metal from flesh. This process is rather painful, and perhaps I betray a grimace. This prompts her to yell even louder.

"...No…My teacher…!"

Dimitri's the next to pick up on what just occurred. He has a good had about him. What a shame it would be if he were to lose it, right?

"Professor?!"

Generally speaking, I tend to glance from left to right. But because blood is pouring from my forehead into my left eye, I can't really make that sweep at the moment. My right eye darts in the direction of Duedue and Felix, who are both wearing totally stunned expressions. When my eye meets the Duscurian, the hand that was reaching for the handaxe withdraws.

Felix is just standing there in a stupor.

"Dimitri, Duedue, Felix. You should leave now." I say calmly.

"B-But P-Professor…!" He's as intransigent about directions as Edelgard, I guess.

I crane my neck towards the Prince.

"Dimitri, its just a flesh wound."

This gives him absolutely no solace.

"E-even so…! I will fetch Manuela!"

I shake my head, splattering blood all over the poor kid's face. Better mine than his, I suppose.

"Do not fetch Manuela." I reply.

The Prince seems more contemplative after Duedue places a hand on his shoulder.

"We shall leave. Seek treatment soon, Professor."

Even Felix more or less takes the hint. Spitting into the sand he meets my bloody gaze.

"Mock Battle. Find me. Don't die before that." He mutters before storming off.

My neck turns back to Edelgard, who is shaking. She can't take her eyes off the wound. It's a rather strange thing. She seemed altogether less worked up about killing Dimitri.

"You said you would discipline her, you know! Do something!" Sothis yells.

"Aren't you supposed to be exhausted?"

"I am!"

"My teacher… I didn't…"

No, I'm thinking you did intend to kill Dimitri, Edelgard.

The problem here is that I don't really know any proper ways to discipline someone for a casual attempt at murder. That's what I have to do as a teacher, right? I don't think fifteen percent off her final grade or a delay on her certification exams really makes much sense here.

I don't have much I can draw on from my own life, either. Really and truly, I wasn't a kid that needed much discipline. Looking back, there was scarce reason for me to consider disobeying my father. His expectations for me were quite loose anyway.

In fact, I can only recall one day where he ever chastised me at all, really.

It was the day I killed that myrmidon with my bare hands.

And, as I learned from my father just yesterday, the day I ignored the death of that Dagdan girl.

After the battle, for no apparent reason at the time, he slapped me clear across the face. Vividly, I can remember his look of disgust as I absent-mindedly twirled my newest trophy in silence. Then the approach. And then him wheeling his arm backwards. And finally, the welt that followed.

Was that the right thing to do in this situation?

To Edelgard?

I suppose it's impossible to know if you don't try it.

So, while her widened, terrified eyes pleaded into mine, I brought my left forearm back…

…And drove my palm right into her cheek with what I'd consider moderate force.

Perhaps this was too much force however, as it ended up sending her to the ground on her knees.

And at that moment, our final spectator arrived - Hubert. His expression was firm, but altogether placid for what I just did to the girl he sees himself as so responsible for. That said, I've also been told that I kill with a placid look, but I'm not entirely sure I detect that intent from Hubert at the moment. Perhaps he's just very good at seeming restrained, though.

"Lady Edelgard. Professor."

I nod. He trades glances with what I assume must be Edelgard, and then levels his gaze back to me.

"Perhaps it would be best for me to escort Lady Edelgard back to the dormitory. Wouldn't you agree, Professor?"

He asks this question, but it is clear that he will only accept one answer.

One that I don't feel particularly conflicted about giving him.

Nodding again, I send more blood falling to the sand. I'm feeling a bit light-headed at this point.

From just behind me, I can hear Edelgard start to rise to her feet, shifting the sand from under her. I can also hear the sound of her lifting the labrys from its place in the pit.

At this moment, it would be eminently justifiable for me to turn around and make sure that I wasn't about to receive that blade in my back. But I don't do that.

Because, in spite of all that's happened, I still find myself trusting her.

This prompts a bemused expression from Hubert, who must have been figuring that I'd turn round.

When I hear the labrys return to the weapons rack, I am rewarded for that trust, ever so slightly. The blood is now beginning to seep into my collar.

Edelgard passes by me with her head sunk and her shoulders slumped. I can't see her face because my right eye is currently saturated with blood.

When she reaches Hubert, I feel a sudden urge to speak.

"Edelgard."

Moistened purple orbs turn back to me. Her fight isn't over yet, it seems.

"I'm glad that I'm your teacher."