"T-There are way too many people in here, Professor! I'll just head back to my dorm…"
Those were the words that began the night of the thirtieth of Great Tree Moon, one that carried me and my Black Eagles ceaselessly to the dawn of the first of Harpstring Moon.
Those words also prompted a question.
Should I have brought Bernadetta to a bar?
I suppose it's too late to really assess the pros and cons of such a decision now that the two of us – along with the rest of the class – have already taken our first step into Celica's. Bernie did come along voluntarily, though – so I mean, there was at least some degree of curiosity in play, right?
Looking out into the establishment's first floor, I immediately take note that the place actually isn't even as packed as it was on the twenty-third. There's maybe about a dozen Knights and various other Garegg Mach employees spread out along barstools all enjoying light fare and drinking beer from frosted mugs. It's not even all that loud as the ones I visited with my father on the Throat.
The bar serves clientele who work at a monastery, after all.
It is also a weeknight.
I turn back to Bernadetta. Edelgard has already put an encouraging hand on her shoulder. I wonder if this is Edelgard starting to grow into a leader? Or – perhaps she already was, and this was her growing into the leader I wanted her to be. Did I want her to be like this? For the first time in my life, I am overwhelmed with questions like these. But most pressing:
Should I wait for my student to say something?
I look at the Eagles' House Leader – the girl who calls me her teacher- and find myself wondering what my eyes say to her when my mouth doesn't move.
Taking whatever cue I offer seamlessly, she says:
"We're going to the second floor, Bernadetta. It's reserved just for us."
My archer seems to shake herself out of her funk ever so slightly. Looking up at me, she says:
"O-oh, well… I guess that's better…"
Dorothea is the next to approach Bernadetta.
"They have authentic Peach Sorbet here, Bernie! The peaches come straight from Dagda, I think… They keep them on ice downstairs."
That's new information for me. Although my last trip here with Claude, Edelgard and Hilda was strictly for drinks, I suppose.
"R-really? I love Sorbet!" Bernadetta exclaims.
Are the Eaglettes getting supportive with one another now?
They seemed more than argumentative just five days ago. Little islands of their own, bouncing off one another in the sargasso sea of that dark classroom. Bernadetta in particular looked like she was ready to hide under a rock. I still think she'd generally prefer doing so, but maybe less so tonight. Perhaps this is a first step towards progress. Towards camaraderie.
A natural question follows: did I have something to do with that, or is this just the first step of their natural growth? Too many questions follow that one in particular to write down. I simply nod after feeling a warm sensation in my chest. Perhaps this is what it means to be a teacher.
So far, no one's told what it all means, so this is probably my best chance at figuring it out.
It then occurs to me that I'm assisting my wards engage in underage drinking according to the laws of most secular states in Fodlan. I shake my head.
It doesn't matter.
A victory is a victory.
On top of it, it's Ferdinand's birthday.
I look towards my Red Lancer. He's busy scrutinizing the specials on a blackboard menu along with Caspar. I suppose everyone's hungry. Bar food is an excellent salve for any bruises endured in a hard fight. Amusingly, Ferdinand has probably earned the most of those while fighting the least.
Hubert seems to be busy scoping out the bar's various libations. Twenty is the drinking age in Adrestia, so I suspect he's probably already sampled some already. Lindhardt, surprisingly, has joined him in this quest of discovery. He did mention his interest in booze as a sleeping aid. I should probably warn him about getting too ahead of himself there.
Petra taps me on the shoulder.
"Professor, observe over there! This bar is serving the Haggis! It is the most popular dish of Brigid!"
No – there's no time for hesitation.
Damn politics – let's drink.
The Dagdan waitress approaches me.
"Oh, Mr. Professor! Your party of Black Eagles has arrived?"
I nod.
"Follow me upstairs, Mr. Professor!"
I lead the way. My Eagles follow.
A great circular table has been laid out for us on that scenic second-floor veranda overlooking the monastery viaduct. The table itself is already adorned with bowls of various bar snacks. I guess slipping that 5000G note the other day convinced them that we were VIPs of some sort. I'm not complaining.
Edelgard immediately rushes ahead of me and turns around.
"As House Leader, it falls upon me to assign seats in situations like these." she informs me.
Does it? I guess I'm not going to protest her taking the initiative.
"Sure, Edelgard."
A slight smirk takes shape along the contours of the Princess's lips. Her eyes go alight as well. They're a little devilish right now, in fact. She nods and then turns, walking over to the chair that gives the most picturesque view of Garegg Mach in the distance.
"Sit here, my teacher."
Am I receiving the seat of honor? I follow her directions and take my seat, and crane my neck to watch her lead the rest of the arrangements.
Ferdinand swaggers forward as soon as I sit.
"Edelgard! As the heir of the Duchy of Aegir, the Empire's foremost house, it is my duty to sit at our Professor's left."
Edelgard turns back to me and rolls her eyes. Looking back at Ferdinand, she says:
"Well, it is your birthday, I suppose. Fine."
Ferdinand takes his seat next to me and immediately begins to dig into some of the pretzels sitting in a bowl nearby. Is that the noble way, too?
Dorothea is next to chime in.
"And I guess that means Edie is sitting to our Professor's right, right?"
I can sense her blushing at this, even though only the back of her head is visible.
"W-well, naturally – I am the House Leader, after all."
"And I will be sitting at Lady Edelgard's right." Hubert says after clearing his throat.
He takes the corresponding seat, leaving an empty chair in between himself and I. He nods at me. Reaching into a nearby bowl, he says:
"I trust you do not mind if I happen to sample some of these pickled shrimp, Professor. Executing that gambit of yours against the Lions has left me famished."
Edelgard turns back with a frustrated visage.
"Hubert, leave the seating arrangements to me!"
Dorothea clears past Edelgard as her back is turned. Taking the seat across from me at the other end of the table, she says:
"Well, this tends to be the least prestigious seat. But… there are some benefits to being common, I guess. It means we can make eyes at each other like this all night, right Professor?"
"Dorothea, I am not deciding the seats on the basis of status!"
The Eagles' songstress gives the Princess an "OK" sign with her left hand, while never breaking eye contact with me.
"I like the view where I'm seated, Edie, don't worry about me!"
Edelgard appears quite worried about her. Then, Lindhardt appears suddenly in the seat next to Ferdinand. Does he know how to use warp spells? I guess that wouldn't be surprising.
"Professor, I have heard some rumors that you possess a crest of unknown origin. Might I pick your brain from here tonight? I feel as if I've hit a second wind lately."
I'm about to reply in the negative, but a thud on my lap proves most distracting. I turn to its source and find Petra sitting on top of me.
"Professor, when we feast in Brigid I often sit upon my grandfather's lap. I shall sit here tonight as well!"
I glance at Edelgard. She's got bloodlust in her eyes.
"Petra, I must insist that you get off of my teacher! Please sit to the right of Hubert!"
Dorothea chimes in from across the table.
"Hey Caspar, there's a bowl of jerky here!"
Caspar hustles over into the seat next to Dorothea and begins stuffing his face.
"Awww yeah, my favorite!" he shouts before diving headfirst.
"I-I'll just sit next to Lindhardt…" Bernadetta whispers, slinking next to the not-so-sleepy sage.
Edelgard slumps a bit, realizing that her efforts have mostly gone to naught. She walks over to me, glaring at Petra. Realizing that Edelgard can't even sit because of Petra's position, I whisper in the Brigidian's ear:
"Petra, tha do chasan a 'bacadh a' chathair."
Petra giggles. It's very childlike, but much like the rest of her personality, seems to be pining towards something more complex behind an impermeable wall of cultural mores.
"You are sounding as like my grandfather when you say chathair, Professor! I shall sit next to Hubert, then!"
I nod. Turning back to Edelgard, who is still standing, I tap the seat cushion. She falls into the seat with a thud and bores down into my eyes with an intense expression.
"Hmph. What did you whisper to Petra, my teacher…?"
I bring a hand to my hair. What is she on about?
"I said her legs were blocking the chair."
The heir to an Empire fidgets.
"Then why did she laugh…?"
The hand falls down to my chin. I shrug.
"Well, chathair can mean either legs or ass. It's a double entendre, I guess."
Edelgard shakes her head.
"Since Brigid is our vassal, I should ask you to teach me some words of Brigidian, I suppose."
I find it strange that she'd ask me when there's a literal native speaker of the language currently sharing a bowl of pickled shrimp with Hubert less than five feet away from her. Regardless, I guess it's flattering.
"Let the lesson begin."
Edelgard stiffens and nods.
"Tha e gam fhàgail cho toilichte a bhith nad thidsear." I say, slowly.
Petra claps happily in the background.
"That was perfecting, Professor!"
Edelgard shoots a glance over at Petra, and then back to me. I get the impression that she's clearly overcome by the sheer amount of vocabulary. Brigidian, while generally a sparse language, tends to overdo what would be rather simple complimentary speech in Fodlan.
"What does that mean, my teacher?"
If I could smirk, I'd smirk.
"I'm glad that I'm your teacher."
Edelgard spends the next few minutes melting in her chair with purple orbs alight and a smile that beams brighter than the moonlight.
My chest starts aching again. It has hurt more than usual tonight.
The Dagdan waitress appears with the food and drink menus. Everyone receives one of their own, sans myself and Edelgard. It would appear that the woman still thinks that we are a couple. Hubert takes note of this with a raised eyebrow that quickly furrows into a frown as soon as His Lady leans in closer to me to get a look at the available entrees.
Before I can get a proper look myself, Ferdinand taps me on the shoulder.
"Professor, I have heard that you spent a great deal of your youth among international mercenaries. I am wondering if you have sampled international cuisine, as well?"
I gave his question some consideration.
"Just bar food like this. It wasn't fine dining."
Ferdinand nodded.
"Even if that is so, Professor – lobster, which is eaten in the Imperial court as a delicacy, was once a simple fisherman's food in Derdriu. With many things in life, the noble way of preparation is what makes it such an esteemed dish today."
I had no idea.
"Is that so?" I reply.
"It is! So I would ask you to help choose a dish for me among these Dagdan foods. Perhaps someday it could be prepared the noble way as well."
"There is also the Haggis from Brigid! We were introducing sheeps to Dagda!" Petra adds nationalistically from across the table.
Ferdinand nods enthusiastically.
"Incredible, Petra. I was not aware of that!"
"What's your favorite food, Ferdinand?" I ask after a pause.
"Hmm… if I were to choose just one, it would be pheasant's egg benedict. My father, the Prime Minister of the Empire, the current Duke Aegir, also counts that as his favorite as well. He has one delivered to his office in Enbarr each morning. It is a treat that I will look forward to upon assuming that duty someday."
Ferdinand can really yap someone's ear off. Tonight that someone is me, I guess.
In retrospect, it is probably a fine trait to have if you're due to take up the position of a hereditary diplomat. That's what most of these kids, sans Dorothea, will be doing when they leave me.
A part of me doesn't want them to leave.
"Try Ostrich Huevos Rancheros. It's a popular egg dish in Dagda." I offer.
Ferdinand glances down.
"Ah, Professor! It appears to be right at the top of the menu. Most interesting! I think I shall."
Next, I feel a tug at my arm.
Turning to the right, I notice that Edelgard has scooted closer to me in her chair.
She draws my attention to our menu.
"My teacher, look here…"
The menu item her thin, white-gloved finger points to is titled Fodlan Special: Onion Gratin Soup, Country Style.
In this case, Country Style just seems to designate that they're using pheasant meat as the protein. I suppose that's because it's cheaper and more locally available in the mountains than its usual complement of lamb.
"Do you like white meat?" I ask.
"Well, is it not true that white meat just takes on the character of whatever you cook with it?"
I shrug.
"You're the chef."
She blushes.
"If the dish is as sweet as you say, then perhaps the white meat will be as well..."
"Let's get it, then."
She looks up at me with excited eyes.
The dishes are out within the hour – no small task given the amount of food ordered by my Eagles.
The rot-like stench of a plate of pickled vegetables and Nuvelle sausages is the first to arrive – Hubert's meal. Traditionally you just need to get them warmed up in a skillet, so they don't need much skill to prepare. I can also see the Dagdan influence – the reddish liquid that they're drowning in means they were pickled in beet juice, similar to the shrimp he was picking at earlier. The people of Fodlan usually choose less macabre pickling concentrates.
It's quite Hubertian.
Petra's Haggis arrives shortly after. When Petra hacks open the pinkish mountain goat bladder with her fork, a sound reminiscent of a fart erupts from within, causing the whole structure to shudder and the meat inside to slide out on the plate.
I can see Dorothea dry-heaving in the background as she stares at the two culinary monstrosities.
Even more to my surprise, I immediately notice Petra scooping some of the meat onto Hubert's plate. Hubert reciprocates the gesture by parting with one of his sausages. Those aren't exactly two people I expected to be so chummy.
"Huh." I say to no one in particular.
"Ugh… Professor, don't look so curious! That's totally disgusting!" Dorothea says to me, her green eyes swaying nauseously between the food and me.
Caspar's entree, a fatty hunk of meatloaf from Gronder is the next to come out. This type of meal is apparently popular with bar-crawlers because the fattiness is rumored to prevent hangovers. Sylvain is another appreciator of this dish – I learned this from one of our shower chats. Accompanying the steak is a bottle of Leicestershire Sauce. My grappler-of-girls proceeds to dump the entire bottle on top, prompting Dorothea's terrified expression to shift from the deflating haggis to the saturated loaf.
"Does anyone here know how to eat normally?!" She exclaims.
Lindhardt's order arrives next – Pheasant Manchego. It's another one of those types of hybridized dishes that the Dagdan bars sometimes have to make due with given local food conditions. The Manchego cheese of Dadga is subtle in flavor, making it go with everything, so they'll just put it on whatever meats are available and call it "Dagdan". I'm actually quite surprised Lindhardt is so familiar with Manchego. It's something I was only prompted to eat by that mercenary girl a couple years ago.
I bring a hand to my chin.
"Interesting choice, Lindhardt."
"Ah, yes Professor – I'm glad you agree. I read in a book that eating Manchego cheese can help you in the acquisition of lucid dreams. I couldn't help myself when I saw that on the menu. Haven't you always wondered how incredible it could be to be able to participate in your own dreams?"
Given how my dreams are mostly about that battle, I can't say that would be all that bad. I've seen it play out so many times that it'd be hard to find myself dead in it.
"Certainly."
This elicits a comradely nod from Lindhardt.
"Professor, from the very first day we met, I knew we were like minded."
He proceeds to cut his first slice off in a remarkably measured and genteel manner.
Bernadetta and Dorothea's dishes arrive next – heaping bowls of Peach Sorbet, adorned with whipped cream and cherries. I guess they're intent on doing dessert-for-dinner.
Then, Ferdinand's Huevos Rancheros make their appearance.
"All this…from a single egg? I am overcome! Professor, you sure know how to eat heartily!"
I'm wondering if Ferdinand has ever encountered an Ostrich before. They're not native to Fodlan. I would occasionally see the Almyrans bring them along in caravans – generally when Holst had us ambushing supply trains. The Almyrans like their dinner to have legs, so to speak.
Finally, the Onion Gratin soup is brought forward, still piping hot.
Edelgard's purple orbs fall onto the crust, where a spoon sticks out of her bowl.
"It kind of reminds of Saghert and Cream, if it were a soup." she says with wide eyes.
All I can do is really raise an eyebrow.
"Because it's literally cream soup."
Edelgard pokes at the layer of gratin like a child.
"And this crust… does it use Fhirdiad Sweet Bread crumbs?"
"With Winnimere cheese." I add.
She looks back to me, smirking.
"My teacher… I didn't know you liked such a cute dinner! I expected it to be rather plain, in fact."
I stare at her blankly. What is that supposed to mean, I wonder? Dorothea cuts into my contemplation with a laugh from across the table.
"Hubie, check out Edie and the Professor… They look like an old married couple, don't they? Look at them with their cream soup!"
Hubie looks up from his meal without even glancing at us and says to the songstress:
"They assuredly do not."
He then turns back to Edelgard and eyes the soup.
"Be careful you do not curdle your stomach with such a dish, Lady Edelgard."
How does one curdle a stomach? Petra is next to interrupt my consideration.
"Hubert, might I be trying some of your blood vegetables?"
"You may, Petra – although I must admit that I am curious about the flavor of that goat bladder…"
Petra begins to tear off a chunk of the goat bladder with her bare hands, prompting a sort of stretching and squeaking sound that forces Dorothea to excuse herself to the toilet with yet another dry-heave and a hand covering her mouth. Bernadetta accompanies her.
Hubert chews on the bladder, his visible eye squinting in thought.
"It is gamey… but also exceptionally savory. What an intriguing flavor…"
Questioning if that was a genuine sentiment or one designed to gaslight Dorothea, I'm just left shaking my head. I can never be sure with him. I turn back to Edelgard. She's gathered a spoonful consisting of equal parts cream and crust. She blows on it.
"It's hot!" she exclaims.
I shrug.
"I'm not rushing you."
In spite of me not rushing her, she immediately puts the spoonful into her mouth. Much to my surprise, her face immediately relaxes. After swallowing it, she looks up at me with a contented expression.
"Ooooh, I love this dish. It's so sweet…"
Sliding my own bowl towards me, I take a rather undramatic spoonful and put it into my mouth. In my estimate, the only really predominantly sweet taste is from the winnemere and the pie crust. The broth is pretty neutral.
"What are your thoughts?" she asks with anticipation.
"Fine. It's better with heavy cream, though."
Edelgard's eyes widen in excitement.
"Where do they do that?"
"Remire. They call it a wedding soup."
As I say those words, I notice Edelgard look out towards Garegg Mach, losing herself in the view for a moment. It's the same look she had when we first approached this monastery from our night in that village.
I feel my chest tugging at me again, spurring my lips.
"I'll treat you to some the next time we're there." I say.
She looks back at me with an expression of surprise.
"...Is that a promise, my teacher?"
The Dagdan waitress arrives next to take our drink orders.
Edelgard already settled on a Dos Cravos without giving the menu as much as a second look.
Much to my surprise, Hubert has continued his streak of camaraderie with an offer to split a bottle of Arz Lubaniyya. I suppose it's not hard to be interested in such a drink after the pyrotechnics show that it put on during the mock battle.
But I wonder if there isn't some intent behind that selection as well. Hubert strikes me as a bit too calculating, almost as if the drink selection carries with it the deceit of someone like Claude. The difference between Hubert and Claude, of course, is that I can see Claude's intentions without paying much attention. With Hubert, I need to be looking for it.
Rousing me out of my thoughtfulness is a tap on my shoulder from Ferdinand.
"Professor, do you have any experience with beer?"
"Not really. Beer spoils on the Throat."
"Hey Ferdinand, they have Bergliezauer on here!" Caspar shouts from across the table.
I turn to Caspar.
"Your family's beer?" I ask.
"Well, kinda, Professor. Our name's on it, at least! I think they use wheat from our fields, too. I've never tried it, though."
I guess that makes sense. Caspar's sixteen.
"Bergliezauer is the national beer of the Empire, Professor. Past that, it is consumed in bars all across Fodlan!" Ferdinand informs me.
I nod. Dorothea waves me down from across the table and bats her eyes.
"Professor, have you tried the Cosmopolitan? I think it's a very appropriate cocktail for you!"
"Actually my teacher prefers the Dos Cravos.." Edelgard snaps before I could even reply.
"Ohhhh, is that why you're ordering it, Edie?" Dorothea asks through a giggle. I don't even need to turn to know that her riposte has sent Edelgard's cheeks aflame.
Most of the class settles on drinks rapidly from there. By far the most popular choice appears to be Bergliezauer by the mug, chosen by Ferdinand, Lindhardt, and Caspar. Dorothea gets Bernadetta to order a "hard iced tea", misleading her into believing that it's non-alcoholic. I attempt to protest this, but the songstress shushes me as I do. That woman who apparently captivated all of the Empire picks the Cosmo for herself. Petra chooses a "Rusty Niall" which I only know is some sort of Brigidian thistle-spirit mixed with simple syrup and tonic water.
It also occurs to me that Petra is fifteen years old, and probably shouldn't be consuming that. Then Petra informs me:
"I will be loving this drink, Professor! When I was a child, my grandfather, the King of Brigid, would be making it for me every time I passed my Fodlan tutor's exams!"
When teaching a Brigidian, do as the Brigidians. I file that away in case I need it later – although Petra strikes me as quite studious and dedicated by nature.
The drinks have been out for a time. Edelgard immediately snatched the carnation off the Dos Cravos and has been sheltering it in her white-gloved hands, having to lean in to sip her drink by the reed-straw. If I could find things amusing, I imagine that I'd be amused.
She's currently immersed in conversation with Dorothea about the opera.
Ferdinand, Lindhardt, and Caspar are all pounding back beer enthusiastically. Particularly Lindhardt. I'm impressed.
Bernadetta has already powered through her hard iced tea and has gone to the bar to ask for a second. I should probably tell her that the second will also be her last to avoid any "socially compromising" situations, to use Hubertian parlance. I've never seen anyone not regret a bender brought on by spiked tea.
Speaking of, the Vestra appears to be watching the pair of Dorothea and Edelgard quite intently, but then his eye suddenly meets mine. Grabbing the half-drunk bottle of Almyran liquor, he cranes his neck towards the Eastern side of the veranda, which offers a better view on the monastery town.
"Care to join me in some people watching, Professor?"
I suspect I'll be the only person he watches in this excursion, but I don't protest.
I nod.
"Bring your shot glass." He commands.
I do.
Hubert and I stand overlooking the Monastery town. The streets, lit by dying lantern-light are mostly empty now, as the curfew has been in effect for well over an hour. I would've rushed the Eagles along had I not known that I had a more or less willing accomplice in Gatekeeper. Hubert takes a shot of the Arz Lubaniyya with a grimace.
"Disgusting, really... Professor – I appreciate your discretion in not attempting to festoon this upon Lady Edelgard during your excursion yesterday."
He says this after clearing his throat a few times.
"You stuck around?" I ask.
While it'd certainly make sense as a retainer, I wonder just what he happens to make himself hidden for.
"If and when I departed is none of your concern, Professor– unless you intend to make it a concern."
I shrug.
"I'd remind you to consider the consequences of such a shrug."
He receives that consideration in the form of a blank stare.
"In any event… I summoned you here to ask a question. Provided you answer it, we can return to the festivities."
A nod is offered.
"Lady Edelgard was quite intrigued by a statement you made after your intervention in Remire Village. While I can't say I was at the time, your behavior on the mock battlefield has… well, caused me to reconsider."
"Remind me what I said, Hubert."
"For a fellow who says as little as you do, what a pity it is that you cannot remember."
He rues thoughtfully for a few moments.
"...To paraphrase, I believe you stated to Lady Edelgard that you didn't possess any real knowledge regarding the Church that dominates the minds of millions who live on this continent. And that you were caught unawares by the revelation that your father was once a Knight of said Church."
"I did say that."
"Hmph. I've jogged your memory, then."
Bringing a hand to my hair, I nod.
"I should say for myself, upon first hearing that, Professor – I did not believe you at all. I was quite sure that you were lying to Lady Edelgard, in fact."
He then references the bottle.
"But after watching you throw that improvised explosive at von Riegan's barricade, well… perhaps I am willing to suspend my disbelief, for a time."
My brow furrows reflexively.
"Does the church prohibit that?" I ask.
"Not explicitly, Professor. But the words of Saint Cichol state quite unequivocally that it is a sin to use what the Goddess gifted in peace for the purposes of war. Alcohol is one of those gifts, which is why it is so heavily regulated by religious authorities."
I nod.
"Anyone who keeps a running tab of their own salvation in these parts would consider the calculus of doing what you did on the mock battlefield today… rather reckless in the eyes of the Goddess. And yet, you, as an employee of the Archbishop no less… did just that."
"It's just an improvisation I learned while fighting the Almyrans."
"I do not doubt it was popular among Holst's band… But the enemy you were facing today was not carrying the banner of Almyra, spiritual and secular enemies of the Church. That bottle was directed at two co-religionists."
"It was directed at the barricade, Hubert. Claude and Hilda were a safe distance behind."
"Is that so? I suspect Cardinal Seteth will be as unconvinced with that reply as I am, Professor."
I return a raised eyebrow from Hubert in silence.
"In any event, given your parochial responsibilities here, I found it quite interesting that you'd commit a sacrilege on Lady Edelgard's behalf. Her desire is to win, at anything, at any cost. My duty is to clear the road of threats along that path. I'm sure you realize that much."
Did throwing that bottle make me more or less of a threat, I wonder?
"Regardless, I should say that you have more or less answered my question, for now."
He fills my shot glass.
"We can return whenever you're ready, or assess the view. I have nothing else to say."
Suddenly, I can hear the familiar tune of Happy Birthday being sung in the background. Hubert and I both turn to see that Dorothea and the Dagdan waitress have appeared behind Ferdinand holding a birthday cake.
As we walk back to the party, I can see Edelgard staring daggers into Hubert's eye.
My former Black Eagles – currently Buzzed Eagles – are now walking along the promenade en route to the dormitories. We left the bar at last call. Surprisingly, I've still got about 900G left on the bar tab, which goes to show how I've really got no proper understanding of how Fodlan's economy really works.
That's only 100G more than the price of ten wooden arrows purchased from Ignatz.
Because my dormitory is first on the promenade, I wheel right up the steps. I'm about to wish the Eagles goodbye when I feel a tug at my arm.
The hand that grips it is becoming awfully familiar. It's Edelgard.
"Wait, my teacher…"
I turn to her, a bit surprised. Those purple eyes of her look up to me, fall away, and then look up again with a pleading tone about them.
"Can we… walk together for a little while?" she asks in a whisper.
How could I say no?
So, the two of us tail behind the rest of the class until the gathering begins to dissolve. Bernadetta, Lindhardt, Petra, and Dorothea, who all live on the first floor of the Dormitories, exchange their goodnights with us. Finally, the belated birthday boy, Hubert, Edelgard, and I are all that remain.
Cheeks aflame from the four mugs of beer he downed after eating his birthday cake, Ferdinand stops at the stairs leading to the second-floor dormitories. He turns to me.
"Professor… I… am absolutely overjoyed! Thank you for this wonderful celebration!"
He then embraces me in a giant bear hug, nearly clipping Edelgard in the face with an outstretched arm in the process. I return the hug as best as I am able. Edelgard looks extremely agitated at this.
"Happy birthday, Ferdinand." I say.
"I shall count it as one of the warmest I have ever had!" He says, beginning to rock me slightly in the embrace.
Hubert takes this as a cue to start trying to pry him off me.
"Pull yourself together." He says with a spiteful tone after yanking him away by the shoulders. His eye meets mine.
"I would wish you a goodnight, Professor, but it's almost morning anyway."
That's probably the warmest goodbye that I can expect from him at this point.
After Ferdinand is hauled up the steps by Hubert, I turn back to Edelgard who is looking at me with darting purple eyes and cheeks that are paler than the waning moonlight. It seems as if there's something she wanted to talk about.
"My teacher… Later today, I will have to leave for the weekend. I intend to be back for the first day of classes, however." she says at last.
"Sure."
My immediate reply seems to take her by surprise.
"A-are you sure that you're alright with that?"
"I trust you."
I'm saying that, but I'm not sure I do. But it doesn't matter.
"...Even without me even telling you why?"
I shrug. I'm sure she has her reasons.
"I have to meet my uncle in the Lordship of Arundel. He's just completed a major engineering project… a canal to connect the rivers Brionac and Magdred, and wishes me to preside at its opening ceremony."
The way she used that word "uncle" implied that she probably wasn't especially fond of him.
"That's fine. As long as you're back for the first day."
A feeling of relief washes over her, that's plain to see. But there's something else behind that relief that seems to leave a bitter expression on her face. Could it be guilt?
"Could I… impose myself onto you one more time with a favor?" she asks.
"You're not imposing, Edelgard."
"If you're expected to attend a meeting with the House Leader during that time, could you bring Hubert in my stead?"
I had guessed that Hubert would be attending her on the journey.
"He's not going?"
"Hubert and my uncle have a somewhat… strained relationship."
Nodding, it occurs to me that Hubert probably doesn't have many friends in the Empire's nobility, given his attitude to his own peers – their children.
A silence fills the air for a time. Edelgard's eyes fall back on the dormitory's staircase.
"Can… you wait here for just a moment, my teacher? I will return shortly."
I nod.
She then takes off up the steps.
My eyes fall back onto the very empty campus. Most of the lanterns, save the ones by the entranceways to the buildings, have long since burned through their oil. The candles in the dormitory windows have long since devoured their wicks. So much of Garegg Mach is bathed in darkness at the moment. My path through that darkness tonight with the Eagles resembled ones that I've walked through many times before in the remains of fortresses on the throat, or along caves in one of the Throat's ceaseless sandstorms.
The main difference between those walks and tonight is that I was never checking my rear. When I walked along with Edelgard, I experienced – for better or for worse – a voice in the recesses of my mind that told me that I didn't need to watch my back for now. That maybe she'd do it for me. I knew what a foolish impression that was to have.
She was still lying to me about something, of course.
But that was my impression in spite of it all.
As if a part of myself was telling my logical mind that it was worth waiting to see if I could trust her with my life, when push came to shove.
I suppose I'd have to contend with that feeling eventually. But doing so half-cocked on hard liquor at nearly three in the morning was probably quite foolish.
Edelgard comes down the steps shortly a few moments after this crosses my mind, carrying my cloak in her hands. She finally remembered.
"I-I'm sorry for keeping this for so long..."
When she hands it to me, I notice her hand trembling. I take the cloak from her hand, and start to apply it my usual way before she clears her throat. She feigns agitation.
"Hmph… could I ask you to just put it on normally, just this once?"
I stare at her blankly, surprised. After a moment of doing this, I find myself reflexively following her directions. I usually never bother actually putting my arms through the sleeves, preferring to just clip it to my breastplate and wear it as a cape.
When I finish putting it on, she smiles weakly, and reveals the carnation from the Dos Cravos.
"Oh, you saved that." I said, surprised.
"Of course I did..."
Before I can formulate a reply to that, Edelgard closes the distance between us and sticks the pointed stem of that flower into the collar of my jacket. At the same time, I feel like a knife is stabbing itself directly into my chest. A strange feeling, because I know that there's a very thick breastplate in between that stem and my skin.
She finishes tying the knot of the stem with her deft, dainty, gloved fingers that in spite of her station and pride, still shake.
When she's done, she brings both hands across each fold of my collar to flatten it out. She looks up at me with those burning purple orbs of hers and a smile that suddenly illuminates the whole of Garegg Mach.
"Congratulations on your victory, my teacher."
When I return to my dormitory, I hit the bedsheets with my cloak still on, and sleep so soundly that I miss a supposedly urgent meeting with Seteth.
