To: Professor Eisner

This boxed lunch is compliments of Lady Edelgard. I expect you to eat it, preferably in a scenic and quiet location of your choice - at your leisure - today. A considerable amount of time was spent preparing this yesterday evening - entirely on your behalf. My Lady wished this information and the sender to remain anonymous, but I firmly believe that defeats the point of such a gesture.

The contents of this box are as follows:

-Gronder Skewers (x4 in wrapping) {Hors d'oeuvres}

-Garegg Mach Meat Pie (x2) {Entrée}

-Saghert and Cream (x2 in containers) {Dessert}

-Bergamot-Infused Black Tea (x2 Mugs, Beverage in Tumbler) {Digestif, Non-Alcoholic}

Take particular note regarding the numerical values of each item. Parenthetically, I've included the order in which you should eat these foods if in polite company. Expect polite company. With this in mind, I would strongly suggest against inviting anyone else to this meal.

It is also worth noting that these dishes are all Lady Edelgard's favorites. It would behoove you to mention your enjoyment of each dish upon seeing her next. As I cannot replicate your uniquely terse manner of speaking, I will refrain from making specific suggestions about how to express your thankfulness for her extraordinary endeavors.

Additionally, I would ask you to accept my genuine appreciation for your timely intervention at the training grounds. Decisive action on your part prevented a diplomatic incident that would have severely impacted Lady Edelgard's ability to assume the Imperial Crown. Rest assured that she has been reminded of her duty.

That said, do not interpret this gratitude as an endorsement of your barbaric method of reprimanding her - in point of fact, this will be the first and last time that I shall excuse it.

I would submit to you the following fact: that in spite of Lady Edelgard's overly familiar rapport with you, she is still the heir to the largest political and military entity on the continent. Lèse-majesté is a capital offense in Adrestia - and soon, I shall be the man who takes the mantle in enforcing punishments for that crime.

My preferred method will be to flay the guilty alive with hooked whips in the stocks of Enbarr. Consider this the next time before you dare to lay a hand on Lady Edelgard.

Finally, a warning: I am forever vigilant.

Cordially,

Hubert v. Vestra


Waking up to the sound of a door-knock, I dragged myself out of bed with a splitting headache. Awaiting me when I answered the door was not a person, but a picnic basket with the above letter attached.

Since I had already planned on running some errands and checking out the mock battle site before the match tomorrow, I figured that the area was as scenic as any for whatever polite company Hubert was hinting at. I had heard second hand through Sylvain and Lorenz that the mock battlefield on the outskirts also happened to be a spot where they brought townswomen to engage in dangerous liaisons. I supposed if the place offered enough natural beauty to attract the tastes of those two upstanding gentlemen, then it would certainly be suitable for an afternoon meal.

After removing the old stiches from my head wound and adding fresh ones that were stolen from Manuela's infirmary last night (one can access Manuela's infirmary by window-hopping from my father's office) I was able to make a start towards the viaduct at 10am. Thankfully, my sorry state is somewhat hidden by my bangs. It's clear enough that there's a swollen pink welt on my forehead, but the stitches themselves are not so visible to the naked eye.

At least I won't be scaring any children I encounter. Hopefully.

On my way out, I noticed two figures tailing behind me as soon as I nodded goodbye to Gatekeeper. Both were wearing robes and plague masks that hid most of their features. One was quite shorter than the other. Naturally, my immediate suspicion was that Seteth has agents of his tailing me.


My first stop was that infamous Dagdan bar. Now that I could see the establishment in daytime, I noticed that it had a name: "Celica's". I've heard that it was a rather popular girl's name in Dagda. I stepped in and caught a glance at my two stalkers. They would doubtlessly be reporting to the green-haired fellow that I was some sort of alcoholic or day-drinker now, but I suppose that rumors like that couldn't be avoided if I wanted to handle tomorrow properly.

Upon entering, I'm approached by the Dagdan waitress who complimented Edelgard for her flower. She must work exceptionally long shifts. Is that norm for the folk of Fodlan? It feels rather strange that I've never considered that question before. Perhaps I really was quite sheltered.

"Hello Mr. Professor, I am sorry to inform you that we do not open until two in the afternoon!"

I explain that I'm not trying to get my drink on but make reservations on the upstairs patio for a party of nine tomorrow evening instead.

"Oh! My misunderstanding, Mr. Professor. And what is the party's name?" she asks.

"The Black Eagles." I reply.

"Of course, Mr. Professor."

"I'd also like to open a tab."

She looks at me with a mildly impressed expression.

"And how much would you be putting on the tab, Mr. Professor?"

Reflexively, I must have frowned a bit in an attempt to consider the question, because I felt a sharp pain in my forehead after doing so. Without further consideration, I handed the waitress 5000Gs. Due to my inexperience with such matters, I had no idea if that's an appropriate tab to set, but given how wide her eyes go, I take it that it was at least moderately substantial.

That mildly impressed expression then morphed into an extremely impressed expression.

"We will make arrangements right away, Mr. Professor!"

Perhaps the faculty is indeed paid quite well here.

Or I'm just really bad with money.

On my way out, I'm handed another bottle of Arz Lubaniyya by the waitress. I try to decline, but she insists on placing it in the picnic basket. It just manages to fit inside.


The next errand needs to be completed at the monastery town's bookshop. As a general habit, I don't like to bother merchants with specific requests unless I can't find the item I'm looking for on the shelves. It just strikes me as rude to bother the owner of the establishment with a request that can just as easily be answered with one's own eyes.

Unfortunately, it's hard for me to find what I'm looking for in the small store, not least because the shelves are disorganized messes positively overflowing with ratty-covered, yellow-paged devotional texts. A pungent musk of mold hits me as I turn down each aisle. As browse the shelves, I also notice that the two plague doctors have entered the store. No doubt they're trying to see if I'm reading anything heretical.

Although why would a monastery bookshop sell anything heretical?

What precisely is heretical literature in Fodlan, anyway?

Too many questions follow these to recount in this entry.

Realizing that any further searching would be hindered by having to dodge them, I simply take my query to the merchant, who is eyeing me in a curious manner.

"Do you carry stationary?" I ask.

He nods brusquely and begins to pull out various notebooks and folders from under his counter. I suppose it must be rather natural to husband these sorts of things when students could theoretically steal them. But how much student theft goes on when the clientele is mostly the scions of Fodlan's noble houses? I can't imagine anyone in the Blue Lions stealing a notebook. This isn't even meant to be an endorsement of Felix's personality, either.

This question quickly becomes one that I sort away after I lay eyes on a very familiar looking leatherbound notebook. It is in fact the same style of journal given to me by my father just two weeks ago.

"How many of these do you have?" I ask.

"How many do you require?"

I consider his query carefully. I suppose I should've had a more concrete idea about this part of the trip in particular before crossing the viaduct, but perhaps my recently acquired head-wound was clouding my thinking a bit.

"Ten to start, but I'll need more."

"Quite the writer are we, Professor?"

"Most of them will be for my students."

Taking note of the picnic basket in my hands, he asks:

"Shall I arrange for these to be sent directly to the monastery?"

"You can do that?" I ask, surprised.

"Given your status as faculty, it can be arranged. I imagine we'll be doing business frequently."

I nod at his assessment.

"Do you have an office to send these to, Professor?"

I bring a hand to my chin.

How do I not have an office yet when my father does, I wonder? This will bother me incessantly until I get a proper response. At least give me a berth across from Jeritza in the training grounds, no? I suppose there are consequences for gaslighting the headmaster, though. Not having an office must be one of those.

"Can I have these sent to my dormitory instead?"

"A name, Professor?"

"Byleth Eisner."

An eyebrow of his is raised.

"Son of Jeralt, I take it?"

I nod.

"...You do look like that old flame of his."

Was he talking about my mother?

"I'll include a gift in the delivery. Your father was a great friend to me, once."

Offering his hand, we settle on 500Gs for the stationary. Given the amount of money I laid down at the bar, something tells me that either this fellow was giving me a significant discount, or I had vastly overpaid for a bar tab. Regardless, my next task awaits, and it is nearing noon. My pair of tails keep a slightly further distance away as I approach the mock battlefield. Perhaps they've seen enough.


Upon my arrival on the mock battlefield, I attempt to take some notes regarding terrain and potential deployment positions.

I've attached them to the journal below:

North-West: Field Infirmary.

I imagine this is where Professor Manuela will be conducting her defense from. The innermost position including the infirmary itself is already in a state of recent renovation and is surrounded by white flags, so I doubt much physical confrontation will happen within those boundaries, but the ground that surrounds the area strikes me as exceptionally defensible.

Bound by hedgerows to the south, and a sort of no-man's land of open terrain due East, one would have the luxury of conducting themselves at range in most engagements. Given Claude's preference for the bow, and the general abundance of ranged units that the Golden Deer possess (I may have snuck a look at her class files in the infirmary while waiting for the wound to sanitize) – I suspect Manuela will only make feints towards us while making no particular offensive maneuvers towards what I to assume to be Hannmeman's position in the–

North-East: Motte

If my assumption is right, Hanneman has a real winner here. He's got a clean fifty-plus yards of space between the forested ground due south from him and the front steps of his fortification. The same no-man's land that border's Manuela's position to the East occupies his West. It would be beyond foolish for either side to lead an attack across such a position.

In spite of Claude's superiority at range, leaving archers in such an exposed position would be feeding them right into the hungry jaws of the Blue Lions. Manuela included a note in her folder regarding Dimitri's passing of the cavalier early certification exam, allowing him to rent a horse for the engagement. I suspect she made note of that in order not to send her kids across that open field. That Prince on horseback would have a field day with the Deer's bowmen and mages.

Note: my colleagues haven't mentioned anything to me about certification exams yet. Explore further when opportune.

Dead-Center: Hillock

Just south of the no-man's land separating the positions of the Deer and Lions is a small rise in the land covered in underbrush. It's a rather commanding position because it offers clear firing lanes for ranged units on either the forward areas of the Infirmary or Motte. The nature of the terrain on the hill would also make cavalry maneuver difficult. From its crest, I suspect Bernadetta could probably just tag a shot at the first rise in the motte or the closest flag on the infirmary boundary.

It's also the most direct target of attack for anyone deploying in the-

South: Flatland, Flanked by Woods

Nothing much to say here, which is unfortunate given that this is likely the position the Black Eagles will be deploying from. A grassy knoll rests the center of the position, and while a fine setting for a picnic, there's nothing particularly advantageous about it tactically, especially given the fact that it is staring down the hillock, where a lone archer could wreak absolute havoc on us.

On the easterly side is a small patch of old-growth woods offers an approach to the Blue Lions' motte, but not a particularly good one. There's at least fifty, probably seventy-five yards of open ground before we can really get into a position to contest the motte properly. Plus, we'd be exposed by flanking fire if Hanneman sent Ashe up towards that dominating terrain feature. In short, no.

The western patch is no better, although it does offer moderate cover from the hedgerow, a likely firing position for the Deer. Curiously, there's a fair bit of open ground on the extreme western edge of the battlefield. That said, Claude's no fool, and I suspect he wouldn't just leave such an area undefended.


Unfortunately, I'm prevented from doing much more fieldwork by a familiar voice.

"Yo, Teach! How's the noggin'?"

I turn to face His Deceitfulness. Accompanying him is Hilda, naturally - along with two other surprise guests - Dimitri and Duedue.

"Fine, Claude." I reply noncommittally.

"You sure about that? Dimitri over here said that you got into a heavy petting session with the Princess and she may have... taken a bite."

After Claude drops his punch line, I detect bushes rustling in my periphery. Perhaps something to keep an eye on. There may be wildlife on the field come tomorrow.

My reply to Claude is a completely blank stare. Hilda seems to find my total lack of amusement amusing.

"Yeah, I agree, Professor! He's not as funny as he thinks he is."

"Ouch, Teach! You got me right here. Learn how to humor a guy!" he says feigning a head wound quite near the relative location of my stitches.

Dimitri is the next to approach. He places a hand on my shoulder.

"Professor, I can assure you that I said no such thing."

I nod.

"...And I must apologize for the second time in as many weeks. It seems my manners have taken leave of me. I failed to thank you for your intercession on my behalf yesterday."

"Don't worry about it, Dimtiri."

A profoundly pained expression overcomes him. I take note that he's also been without sleep, given the bags under his eyes.

"No, Professor. I hesitated against Edelgard, and that would've proved fatal had you not entered the fray. I cannot expect others to keep sacrificing themselves for..."

His eyes fall from mine.

"No one wants to fight an ally." I offer.

Dimitri shakes his head.

"After yesterday, Professor - I... I am not sure I can think of her in such a way ever again."

"...Probably for the best, friend!" Claude jumps back in to rub salt on what's clearly an open wound for him.

He turns back to me.

"Anyway, what are you doing here, Teach?"

"Surveying the field." I reply matter-of-factly.

"With a picnic basket?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

I shrug.

"Hubert left it at my doorstep."

Claude and Hilda both looked at each other with quizzical expressions.

Duedue's attention has been on that nearby bush that has been rustling for most of the conversation.

Dimitri is totally lost in a storm cloud of adolescent angst.

Much to my surprise, Claude flipped open the top lid of the basket and peered inside.

"Did he put the Arz Lubaniyya in there too?"

"No, that was the Dagdan waitress."

My reply has appeared to have stumped the avatar of distrust. After a few moments, he leans in close to me.

"...You know what Sylvain and Lorenz try to use this place for, right?"

I nod.

"They've explained it in some detail to me in the showers."

"And... Hubert sent you with that, here?"

"He said I should expect polite company."

Hilda and Claude trade glances.

"Polite company, yah? I wonder who that could be...!" Hilda snickered.

Claude struck an oddly contemplative posture.

"Look - if he's into that, who are we to criticize?"

"Huh...?" Hilda seems surprised by the sudden shift in mood.

Claude turns to me.

"Look Teach, Adrestia has a harem. Leicester doesn't. That's not a judgement, just a fact. Everyone in this world is different. And that's a good thing."

Because I have no idea where he's trying to lead the conversation, I simply stare.

Hilda also stares.

"Just... be careful you don't get stolen off one day, alright? You can't keep that promise we made if they lock you in a stud-stable somewhere." he continues.

Hilda then immediately gets activated at this statement.

"Oooooh, what promise did you make, Claude?"

He messes up her hair with his hand.

"Don't worry about it."

"Claude, what the fuck?! That took me forever this morning!" she yelps.

"Anyway, we just dropped by to check in. Hildie and I here were gonna treat ya to lunch but it looks like Edel booked you first."

"Hubert, you mean?" I ask.

"Goddess Above, Teach, you're as thick as a brick." Claude chuckled.

He then turns to Dimitri and claps loudly beside his ear.

"Yo, Prince Party-Pooper, we should clear out."

This seems to rouse Dimitri from his melancholic delirium.

"Ah. Yes, Professor. Do be careful with Edelgard."

"Woah, Dimitri, you can't bring those type of precautions on the monastery grounds. Rhea's got opinions about that!"

Dimitri stares at Claude as if he's morphed into a wyvern.

"Claude... I dare say that I haven't the slightest idea about what you're implying."

The Deer Leader shrugs and then starts to leave. Dimitri follows at a snail's pace. Turning one last time to me, von Riegan says.

"Good luck, Teach. You'll need it."


Shortly after, I settle in for my lunch at the grassy knoll. Sitting in the cool, trimmed field facing the hillock, infirmary, and motte, I try my best to reason out a strategy.

Mauricius's words rattle in the back of my mind:

The longest route in distance is often the shortest route in time.

What if all the potential routes seem equidistant from the objective?

What is even the objective?

Perhaps I'll have to make a more snap judgement on Mauricius's advice tomorrow.

I peer around my periphery for the polite company that Hubert says that I should be expecting... but see no one. Unperturbed, I take out one of the Gronder skewers from the lunchbox and gently unfurl the paper that protects it. The meat appears to have been cooked well-done, with char-marks singed into the corners of the meat. The vegetables, consisting of baby corn and carrot, however, look as if they were more expertly handled. I peel one of the carrots off and take a bite. It's glazed with cane sugar. If Edelgard made these, I guess that's to be expected.

Nyan

A kitten has emerged from the bush in front of me. Small and black all over, he peers up at me with yellow eyes pained with hunger. That said, I do detect a bit of feral malice in his eyes as well. He must have been attracted by the smell of the food.

He was a creature who rather immediately reminded me of Hubert, if you had left Hubert tied up in a cave for a few days without food.

Was this little guy the polite company?

Sliding off a piece of meat from the skewer, I toss it a short distance towards him.

He pounces and eats it.

It occurs to me to repeat this with the next cut of meat on the stick after sampling the baby corn. The baby corn is also glazed in cane sugar.

With the third chunk, I'm able to get the kitten to eat out of my hand. Seemingly content, he settles into my lap.

Hearing the rustling of bushes from off to my side, I crane my neck.

"O-Oh, what a surprise to see you here, my teacher..."

Edelgard stands before me with cheeks beet red, eyes fallen away, and her academy uniform wet with sweat. She looks about as mangy as the kitten, really. Perhaps comparing it to Hubert was a bit unfair.

I invite her to sit down with me by poking the ground next to the picnic basket.

"D-did you have plans to eat with anyone else?"

I shake my head. Hubert implied there would be consequences if I did, after all.

She seems to regain her confidence after that confirmation.

"Well, I suppose I could join you..."

"I'd enjoy your company." I say at last.

This takes her by surprise.

"...Truly?"

I reach into the lunchbox and reach for the tumbler of tea. Sorry Hubert, but the digestif has been upgraded to an aperitif.

"There's bergamot tea, after all."

Her eyes light up at this statement.

"...I hope you don't mind that it's lukewarm..." She said, before catching herself and bringing a gloved hand to her mouth.

Did she accidentally just admit to making this? Why leave it for me anonymously, then?

Although, it seems like that slip was accidental.

I shrug as I pry off the lid and then open its drinking gate to allow for some airflow. A moment later, I drop into the top lid a handful of dry grass plucked from the ground next to me. Snapping my fingers, I light a fire spell on the kindling with and rest the tumbler on top. It's a little trick I learned on campaign from the Morfians.

"Give it a minute."

"That's quite ingenious, my teacher!"

I tap the ground again.

"Take a seat."

She complies this time, and then takes note of the kitten asleep in my lap.

"Oh, he's rather cute, don't you think?"

"He likes your cooking, too."

This prompts an unrestrained flood of red to her cheeks.

"W-well, it's not entirely my own. I received a fair bit of help from Bernadetta... she's actually quite studious when it comes to the culinary arts."

That tidbit of news was surprising to say the least.

"You got her out of the dorm?"

"Hubert... may have smoked her out."

I raise an eyebrow. She sighs.

"Bernadetta... well, she lives right under his dormitory, so Hubert... but I should say that I did not endorse that! I was working in the kitchen already."

The memory of an isolated event strikes me at this moment. Late last night, while I was en route to Manuela's infirmary last night to steal medical supplies, I noticed the head chef chasing a cloaked figure armed with an axe out of the students' communal kitchen.

"Was that you last night with the handaxe...?" I ask, bringing my hand to my chin.

She straightens up in terror.

"W-wherever did you hear such a rumor?"

At last I shake my head.

"Nevermind. The skewers were still good."

"They were? Do you truly think so?"

I nod.

"The glaze on the vegetables, in particular." I say thoughtfully.

Edelgard squirms in her seiza position on the grass.

"What about the meat...?"

I point to the sleeping cat.

"Ask him."

She's clearly unsatisfied with the response.

"Please try another, my teacher!"

With some hesitation, I reach into the basket and grab another wrapped skewer.

Gently peeling away the paper, I feel in a tinge in my chest as I notice how intently Edelgard is watching me. I can't let her down. I shove the first chunk of meat in the skewer in my mouth.

It tastes horrific. I can taste charring on the deepest part of the meat, giving it the taste and texture of charcoal.

Nevertheless, I swallow it. I'm used to embers. One accidentally eats them quite often when you're racing to the top of smoldering Almyran citadel walls.

Turning back to Edelgard, I try to offer a blank expression. Or at least what could be interpreted as a blank expression.

"Ugh... it was terrible, wasn't it?" she asks.

"It's edible." I offer.

Edelgard shakes her head.

"...I never had the chance to cook in Enbarr, so my skills are a bit... underdeveloped."

"You made the vegetables, right?"

"Yes, but there is no real expertise or skill in that. You simply put them in the pan, put the sugar on and wait until they brown."

"Still, they were good."

"I suppose I will have to accept my limit in such skills."

I shrug.

"Give the vegetable a try."

In a huff, Edelgard lifts the lid of the picnic basket, only to find the bottle of Almyran Liquor right at the top. Her purple orbs go alight.

"Wait, did Hubert put this in...?"

"The Dagdan waitress did."

She turns back to me and seems to realize.

"Oh, from when you entered the bar?"

I nod with a raised eyebrow. Was it actually her and Hubert following me all day?

"How did you know that?"

"I-I may have noticed you in town while I was... shopping! I went shopping today, yes."

"Did you find the book you wanted?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

She more or less realizes that she's been discovered. Her purple eyes fall away from mine.

"...Well, Hubert did say you might notice. He's very good at hiding... I lack any training in stealth."

"It could've worked in a crowd." I offered.

"You think so as well? That was my opinion when we first started. But Garegg Mach seems very... empty, at times."

I nod and grant her that much. Still, a lingering question remains:

"Why bother?"

Edelgard fidgets in place, her brow furrowing a bit and her eyes falling from mine again.

"I just wanted this to go well, my teacher, because of yesterday. What happened on the training grounds... it was inexcusable of me."

The tea has come to a boil. I grab the two mugs from the basket and pour out the hot drink into the cups.

"That burden isn't yours to bear alone." I say.

She freezes as I say these words. Perhaps there's an expectation for me to explain further. I give it my best try:

"I put that iron labrys in your hands. The fault is mine as well."

The Adrestian is struck silent for a time.

"...Even so, I-"

Uninterested in further extrapolation along this route, I take her by the hand.

"-Edelgard."

Her eyes widen.

I place the mug inside her grasp. She stiffens in surprise.

"I-It's quite hot!"

This prompts me to shake my head.

"You have gloves on."

A smirk creeps across her lips.

"...As you're well aware, they're quite thin."

True enough.

Satisfied at getting the last word, she takes a sip of the tea, and lets out a contented sigh. We both relax for a time, my eyes drifting away from her and onto the battlefield. She must notice my attention shift away, because she prompts me a little while after with:

"Did you come here to strategize?"

I turn my gaze back to her. For the first time today, I notice that she looks quite haggard and tired. There are bags under her eyes, presumably from staying awake all night preparing this meal. I grab one of the meat pies and take it hand. After taking and swallowing a surprisingly tolerable bite, I say.

"I wanted to know what we'd be up against, yeah."

She nods.

"Well...? We deploy from this position, do we not?"

I consider her query for a time.

"The most direct point to contest would be the hillock, given that it's equidistant from all three deployment points and offers command of the terrain."

She looks out in the field and then turns back to me with a look of resolve.

"I agree, my teacher. If we could get Bernadetta and perhaps Hubert to the crest, they could dominate the battlefield."

I bring a hand to my chin after taking another bite of the meat pie.

"But... if we contest it, we get flanked. On either wing by both houses."

This seems to wash over her in stages, perhaps because she's envisioning her two rivals each getting the chance at beating her.

"That is certainly a possibility... but I wonder if that is simply a cost we must pay to win."

Those are awfully heavy words to hear at a picnic.

That said, since we are contemplating such heavy thoughts as strategy and the tolls of victory, I can't think of a much better time to ask the following question:

"Edelgard... are you familiar with Emperor Mauricius II?"

She looks at me as if I've left the land of the living before retaining her composure. I guess I did phrase that in a rather dumb way.

"Of course my teacher... he's an ancestor of mine. But why ask such a question?"

Not wanting to reveal next month's reading assignment so quickly, I opted to answer vaguely.

"Hanneman gave me a book about him."

Her eyes turn away from mine and out onto the field.

"And...?" she asks.

I decide to leave the question open-ended for now.

"What do you think about him?"

Without a moment's hesitation, she says.

"I think he was a fool."

She turns back to me. I must be wearing a blank stare at that moment, because she takes that as license to continue.

"...I'm familiar with the story about his wife, and how such a marriage was like a dream for him, a memory of a time he so deeply cherished. I'm... envious that he could live a life like that, personally. But he failed the Empire. He waited for his enemies to surround him before finally moving against them. By then, it was too late. And when he died, he left his daughter in a terrible position, alone and isolated. If my heart felt such a way, my teacher... I would not have sent such a foolish letter to Faerghus's King, pretending that all would be well. I would not let grief cause me to neglect my duty, and I would see through my resolve until the end..."

After saying those words, she trails off in thought, and I immediately suspect that she has not yet finished. She confirms this suspicion shortly after.

"I suppose what I mean to say is... had I been him... I would've declared war on Faerghus as soon as I lost that person I loved. There was no other option if he resolved to never remarry, and he was a fool for pretending that others could know his heart. I do not fault him for that dream he wished to protect, merely his unwillingness to achieve it by any means necessary."

As she completes that monologue, her eyes meet mine but do not seem to really look at me. They look behind me, towards the past - as if she is speaking not just to me but to someone else.

But the sentiment remains.

And it's clear enough to me.

"I understand."

She's not convinced.

"How could you possibly..."

I shrug.

"It did take an axe to the head to figure it out."

Her eyes widened as I said these words. I make a go at rescuing the moment:

"You're decisive. I get why you think Mauricius was doddering."

"My teacher, I..."

Her eyes take on that pleading expression from when she first realizing she had sunk that iron into my forehead instead of Dimitri's.

"It's only the second axe I've leapt in front of lately, anyway."

Her eyes widen again before realizing my meaning. I can sense her eyes flash back to Remire.

"...You were right to slap me, my teacher. I had meant to tell you that yesterday..."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Hubert disagrees."

Her expression goes blank for a moment, And then, the biggest smile I've ever seen beams across her face.

"Well, fuck Hubert."


Edelgard clears through the container of Saghert and Cream in four heaping spoonfuls. It takes me roughly eight.

"That was so much better than the dining hall version!" she exclaims at last.

The bags under her eyes still convince me she's quite tired, but perhaps she's on a second wind from the sheer amount of sugar and protein that we've consumed over the past hour.

"Bernadetta's recipe?" I asked.

"Yes! Her pastries are the best."

Edelgard laps of the rest of the fruit sauce with her spoon. I shake my head, thinking about the rather pitiful state of my other student. What is that recluse of a girl doing at a war college, I wonder?

After finishing, Edelgard looks up at me while still wearing a few crumbs around her lips. My chest starts aching again. This must provoke some sort of grimace, as Edelgard immediately takes note of it. Her brow shifts upward and those fiery purple eyes immediately bore into my mine with a look of concern.

"My teacher... does it hurt?"

She must be talking about my forehead.

"It's fine."

She's beyond unsatisfied with that reply.

"Let me see."

"No."

She does the pouty-face thing that dissatisfied women do. It doesn't move me because I can tell how practiced it is. She realizes this, and then cranes her neck to my right.

"...Is that Hubert?" she asks.

My eyes shift in an attempt to meet her butler, but I don't see him.

Instead, in my periphery, I see Edelgard's hand meet my forehead and lift up my front bangs. She notices the stiches and grimaces in turn.

"That was sly." I remark, perturbed.

"Why didn't you just have Manuela heal it with magic?" she asks.

"That would require me to see Manuela."

"...So...?"

I let the question sit in the air until I notice Edelgard fidgeting again. She's clearly not going to let this go.

"I don't enjoy her company." I reply at last.

"But you enjoy mine, right?" she asks with a smirk, exceptionally quick on the uptake.

"I did say that." I concede.

"Well, let me heal it!"

Before I can really protest, she's pressing her gloved hand against my head and doing the basic healing incantation. She's also doing this healing incantation in what I recall is some rather clever shorthand Lindhardt developed out of what must the inherent innovation of laziness.

I see the stiches fall before my eyes and feel the wound close with the assistance of channeled magical energy.

Edelgard leans back, and I can see her blush a bit when she meets my eyes.

"How was that, my teacher?"

Nonchalantly, I bring my right hand up to my forehead and feel around the perimeter of what was once the head-wound she inflicted. To her credit, she closed it up quite well.

"That was excellent. Did Lindhart show you that?"

"I just copied him, more or less. He has the Crest of Cethleann, so I can't really save anyone from a fatal wound like he can."

More of that crest mumbo-jumbo.

"Still, that must have taken practice."

Edelgard smirked a bit.

"I may have practiced on my face last night."

My eyebrow shot up.

"Did I leave a mark?" I ask.

"Yes, my teacher! That was a hard slap, and I was not expecting it."

"Sorry."

"Hmph. I wouldn't be opposed to you being gentler with me."

Before I can reply, a yawn overtakes her.

"You look exhausted." I reply.

"I... can't hide that well, I suppose." she concedes.

"Take a nap and then we can walk back." I command.

"...A nap?"

"There's no point walking back when you're that tired."

"I can certainly manage walking, my teacher."

"Did you want me to be gentler or not?"

She rolls her eyes. I unclasp the academy uniform's cape and begin folding it in my lap.

"It seems I did just say that... Will you nap with me, my teacher?" she asks through another yawn, perhaps too tired to realize any alternative implications there.

"I'm not the tired one." I reply.

"It would be strange for me to be the only one to sleep."

I shrug.

"Fine."

She smiles.

I put my cape beside her.

"Your pillow. I need this one back, though." I say with a raised eyebrow.

She blushes beet red again. Lying down on the cool grass, she nestles in on my cape in a side-sleeper's position, facing me.

"Thank you. I... will return your other cape tomorrow..."

I place the kitten still sleeping in my lap a comfortable distance between the two of us, and lay down on my side as well, with my elbow up and resting my head in my palm.

"You're a side sleeper too...?" she asks drowsily.

I nod.

"That's good to know..."

Is it?

A gloved hand of hers extends to pet the slumbering cat.

"He's still sleeping..." She comments matter-of-factly.

"They sleep for most of the day, I think." I reply.

Her face relaxes in a moment of childlike wonder.

"My teacher, wouldn't that be nice... to be..."

She doesn't finish her thought before the curtains in front of those purple orbs of hers fall forward. It's not long after that I fall asleep as well.