Author's Note: Hubert/Byleth buddy comedy arc - commence!


Seteth is staring me down from an elevated stone lectern in the Archbishop's drawing room. There are some aspects of that lectern that vaguely remind me of Sothis's stone throne – but I should qualify this statement by stating that I have less than zero expertise in architecture or interior design. I just kill people for a living - or did rather recently. Now, I protect noble brats for a living.

That lectern, though...

"My throne is much nicer than that!"

"It is…?"

The other green-haired fellow appears to be talking to himself too, or at least mumbling under his breath. He finally meets my gaze after completing his own internal dialogue:

"Lady Rhea was most saddened that you were unable to make yesterday's audience. She wished to express her congratulations on winning the mock battle."

"..." I reply.

"I see what you are doing. You intend to rile me up again with your nonchalant, cavalier attitude. Rest assured that it will not work this time."

"..."

"If only I could fire you, I suspect that you would be singing a different tune. For now, in spite of your disastrous timekeeping, corruption of children towards the path of alcoholism, and sacrilegious display with that terror weapon, you still have Lady Rhea's faith. Do understand that you will not have such faith for much longer if you continue to tread down this current path."

Hubert clears his throat and says:

"Cardinal Seteth, apart from a dressing down of the Black Eagles' esteemed and respected Professor, is there a reason why you summoned us here?"

Seteth narrows his eyes.

"I don't recall summoning you at all, Sir Vestra. Yesterday, I requested the presence of Princess Edelgard and her Professor alone. There were… additional… matters that needed to be discussed with the two of them regarding certain matters of on-campus etiquette, yet it appears she has mysteriously disappeared."

Hubert shoots a glare at me before continuing.

"You have been informed that I stand in her stead. Lady Edelgard has been summoned by the Imperial Regent to preside over the opening of the Brionac-Magdred Canal."

This information just seemed to incense Seteth further.

"An engineering project, I should remind you, that was not sanctioned by the church before it was begun by Lord Arundel."

"I fail to see how that is any responsibility of Lady Edelgard's, given that it is not her demesne."

Seteth seethes in a stumped silence before continuing:

"I would normally explain, but your esteemed and respected Professor's tardiness has left us no time to waste in such bickering. As I'm sure you're aware, those affiliated with Garreg Mach Monastery have a moral obligation to help those in need, regardless of social standing. It is the custom of the officers' academy to assign missions to their students."

Neither I or Hubert offer anything, so he continues.

"Each month, before the newly birthed moon departs, each house of students must complete their assigned mission. You shall work to complete the task at hand alongside your students and report back to the archbishop before the deadline. Understood, Professor?"

"..."

Seteth appears about ready to pop off in righteous fury before Hubert interjects.

"If I may translate for our laconic Professor: we understand and are awaiting orders."

Seteth grimaces slightly and then leaves the lectern, walking towards a table in the center of the room which showcases a large map of Fodlan. He beckons, so me and my student follow. He directs our attention with his finger to the area marked as "Zanado".

"At present, the Knights are currently besieging a company of bandits that are held out in the Red Canyon, located here. The bandits have had their access to supply and forage cut, and we are starving them out in order to provide an easier enemy for you to contest. Our current estimate is that they have about a week's worth of food remaining. If they are smart, they will try to ration that and thus weaken their own fighting ability when the day of the assault comes."

Hubert and I do not offer anything in response, although I do detect a bit of squinting on Hubert's part. Seteth continues his monologue.

"Over the next four weeks, Lady Rhea and I would ask that you focus your lessons on four areas in particular: survival training, combat arts, siege tactics, and field reconnaissance. I believe Professor Hanneman has already suggested a text that would be suitable for that curriculum. You may pursue those tasks in any order you see fit – but for the latter component of those four, I would also specify that you only bring the house leader along. Our own logistical situation at the forward camp is still delicate at present, so we may not be able to provision your entire class until the day of the attack."

My stand-in House Leader looks to me as if he has something to say, but I stare at him as blankly. Seteth seems to be off in his own little world while he analyzes the map, so he prattles on unabated.

"...The final week of the month will be solely dedicated to execution of the mission, because we mandate that travel to and from said missions must be on foot. It is important for officers to know the rigors of the march. Since you yourself were a mercenary, I would imagine you would be a better teacher of that topic than most."

"..."

"I shall choose to interpret that silence in the most positive light possible. One final topic of note is that you will also be given temporary command over students from the Golden Deer House in addition to your own Black Eagles. Lady Rhea cited their performance in the mock battle as particularly poor, and wishes to allow the students to observe actual combat from a safe distance. Manuela will handle their lessons until you are ready to march. They will be escorted by Knights-Captain Alois and Jeralt, so their safety will be in capable hands. Lastly, you may draw on students from that house for mission support if you wish, although I am not sure any would be particularly useful at this stage."

"..."

The cardinal shakes his head in unrestrained frustration

"...That is all. You are dismissed."


The Heir to the Marquisate of Vestra and I exit the drawing room and audience hall at a brisk pace. Both sets of our legs appeared to carry us in lockstep towards the Black Eagles' classroom for a strategy meeting. I'd say that Hubert also looks perturbed at the chat we just had with Seteth, but Hubert always looks perturbed – so it's hard to say if meeting with the Cardinal really moved him at all.

He begins by clearing his throat.

"Professor… As much as I would like to discuss the particulars of that accused breach of on-campus etiquette with Lady Edelgard, we do have a mission to fulfill. I am willing to table such a discussion at present… at least until her return."

That's probably for the best. Edelgard is much more likely to know about on-campus etiquette than I am. Appreciative, I nod.

"We should reconnoiter the enemy position as soon as possible. Meet me at the stables in an hour. I'll grab a tent and some provisions." I say.

Hubert's expression sits somewhere in a twilight between annoyed and interested.

"Is that so?"

I turn back to him and note:

"It's a day's ride by horse, we'd be able to finish by Sunday evening if we leave immediately."

Hubert still seems unmoved by that logic.

"Intriguing that you would not wait for Lady Edelgard's return, Professor."

A cheeky retort crosses my mind. He does get awfully defensive about her. That said, I also get awfully defensive about Edelgard to the point where I throw my life away for her on a regular basis. So maybe this is just a case of the Byleth calling the Hubert black.

Still, it's worth getting this one-liner in:

"Would you prefer me to share a tent with her instead?" I ask matter-of-factly, asking this with my blankest expression possible.

After processing my inquiry, Hubert looks as if he's just stepped in manure.

"...Don't be flippant. I shall join you by the appointed hour."


Using the time that I granted Hubert to prepare, I head over to the Knights' Hall and acquire a field tent and some basic camping supplies. After gathering the necessary equipment, I arrive at the stables only to find His Deceitfulness and Hilda.

Claude swaggers up to me and gives me a gentle tap on the breastplate with a loosened fist.

"Yo, Teach! You're eager to check out the Canyon too?"

Hilda is next to close the distance, putting her hands behind her back, she leans in and asks:

"Oh hey, Professor… where's Princess Edelgard? Maybe the two of us could tent together on the trip." Hilda asks.

Hubert emerges from the stables with two steeds.

"Lady Edelgard is indisposed. I will be joining the reconnaissance mission in her stead."

Hilda looks deflated once she receives this tidbit of news.

"Aw, yuck. Now I'm stuck with Claude, I guess."

Claude turns to his retainer and points to himself in an animated fashion.

"Don't worry your little head, Hildie. You'll always be safe with me around!"

Somehow I doubt that, but I do understand Hilda taking her chances with Claude in that situation. The Marquis of soggy sausages and beet juice probably doesn't exactly look like enjoyable company on a camping excursion.

That said, do I look like enjoyable company on a camping excursion? Probably not, right?

Then again, I suspect Hubert's so loyal to his Lady that he'd be less likely to try anything funny in a situation like that.

This probably isn't worth dwelling on.

Still… I can't shake the foreboding knowledge that I am sticking my sleeping bag next to Hubert's for the weekend. I can only hope it doesn't reek. All said, however – the mission comes first. I wouldn't be a proper mercenary if I didn't acknowledge appropriate reconnaissance of an enemy position in anticipation of a siege to be of the utmost importance.

I've learned too many times the alternative – for every hero that Holst attracted, he'd also attract a fool. And those fools often failed to take sieges seriously, usually at the cost of their own lives when the Almyrans sallied. The most regular area of slippage was due diligence in reconnaissance of enemy positions.

Shaking my head, I mount up.


Claude, Hilda, and Hubert are all pretty proficient riders, much to my surprise. Although, I wonder if I should actually be surprised, given that all three are nobles. Equestrianism tends to be the "noble standard" after all, to steal Ferdinand's term. We take off towards Garegg Mach at a gallop, and are even able to make use of a pony express station that's situated roughly halfway between the monastery and the siege camp. With fresh mounts under us, we're able to reach the forward camp by sundown – moderately ahead of schedule.

Much to my surprise, Gatekeeper has apparently been seconded to the siege party. He greets us at what appears to be a hastily constructed roadblock along the Arundel highway.

"Hello, Professor! Nothing to report."

I considered inquiring about the company of bandits in the nearby valley, but he was quite unequivocal in his statement. If the situation had changed since the audience I had with Seteth earlier this morning, I feel as if I could trust the Gatekeeper quite implicitly to keep me abreast of any new information.

"I'm taking these students to scout out the valley tomorrow." I reply.

"Of course, Professor. If there's anything to report, I'll let you know!"

With Gatekeeper's reassuring words, I led the trio of students to a nearby clearing to set up camp. Within a few minutes, I begin to go through the usual motions: setting stakes into level ground and clearing the interior of the staked perimeter from debris like fallen branches and rocks.

As I do this, Hubert analyzes my method with a cool eye. Is this another evaluation of his, or do nobles just not want to set up their own tent with a commoner around?

A voice from behind me interrupts my musings.

"Yo, Teach! You've been living the merc life right? …How does one pitch a tent?"

I turn to Claude with a raised eyebrow.

At first I thought that the leader of the Antler'd House was being a bit untoward, but then I noticed the complete disrepair he had left his field supplies in.

"Not like that." I say at last.

"Professor, can you, like – maybe – help us out? Pretty please?" Hilda asks.

Staring at His Deceitfulness and his retainer, I find myself stewing in mild disbelief. Did it ever once cross this pair of adolescent minds that they should learn how to set up camp before riding off on a recon mission into uncivilized territory? Perhaps the Archbishop was right about the Deer – they needed help.

What the fuck was Manuela doing, anyway? She never poked her head out of the infirmary during the mock battle, either.

I turn to my brevet-House-Leader.

"Hubert, can you continue setting up ours while I assist Claude?"

The Vestra's eyes drifted away from mine before stating:

"I… must count myself unfamiliar with the procedure as well, Professor."

Right. What did I expect from the heir to House Vestra?

I suppose this is what Seteth meant by survival training. No doubt their parents had trained them to ride – but when the day in the saddle was over, these kids could look forward to a night spent sleeping in a freshly dressed bed.

As I finish setting up Claude's tent, it occurs to me that it might be worthwhile incorporating a campout for the Black Eagles into the first week of lessons. If Hubert is unfamiliar with the process, then I seriously doubt Ferdinand, Caspar, Lindhardt, Edelgard, or Bernadetta are, either. They're all Imperial blue-bloods, after all. Dorothea, although a commoner, apparently spent her entire life in the city of Enbarr given the discussion she had with Edelgard during the party… so she was probably a lost cause as well.

Petra, however, strikes me as someone who might be roughly familiar with spending some time in the woods, given the natural inclinations of all Brigidans – so I may lean on her as my assistant for the week.

After assembling and buttoning together the two front flaps, I've completed the von Riegan and Goneril Residence for the evening. For all this effort, I've apparently earned a slow clap from Claude, who along with Hubert has been watching the whole process in cool, analytic detachment.

I got the impression that Hilda quickly was growing bored with the whole affair, so I sent her off to gather firewood shortly after starting.

"Lookin' good, Teach. I'll be sawing logs tonight, no doubt."

A pitiful statement given that I doubt he'd ever cut actual logs in his life.

"What would you have done if I hadn't been here, Claude?" I ask with a grimace.

"Improvise, probably. I'm not opposed to sleeping under the stars!"

It's impossible to argue with naivete like that.

Looking over to Hilda, I see that she's struggling with lighting the campfire. Shaking my head vigorously, I point Hubert in her general direction.

"Drop a fire spell, Hubert. I'd like to eat sometime before midnight."

Hubert, who has spent the past hour just generally looking out of sorts, takes a few moments to get the message.

"...Ah, yes... As you wish, Professor."


The meal that follows is nothing special to write about. It's a typical camp-cake recipe that I've had to thin out considerably due to Claude and Hilda's exceptionally poor planning. As it turns out, they just ended up raiding the dining hall for the breakfast special, a BLT sandwich, and made a mad dash for the stables. It's lucky the pony express was there, otherwise we'd be eating half-rations the entire trip. I am able to utilize the bacon, however.

The rest is pretty simple. Cornmeal, sugar, salt, water and butter are all you need to fill your gut on the march. The popular phrase regarding the camp-cake is that it "sticks to your ribs" while generally approaching the bare minimum of palatability. Some of the grease from the bacon will provide a bit of extra savoriness to the affair.

Surprisingly, all three seem to enjoy it.

"Well… it's not exactly on par with the dining hall, but this is better than I had expected." Hubert grants in between bites.

"Incredible, Teach – I thought this was gonna taste like absolute wyvern shit. I was wrong!" Claude's already powered through his share, but he's not getting seconds.

"Wow, Professor… is there like anything you can't actually do?" Hilda asks with a grin that reveals a bunch of leftover cornmeal sitting in her pearly whites.

"...Stay up all night."

"Huh?" Hilda asks.

I get up and brush some of the crumbs off my breastplate.

"You asked if there was something I couldn't do. That's what I can't do." I reply.

Claude and Hilda look rather dejected. Hubert seems to ever-so-slightly appreciate the deadpan there. Undeterred by this statement, however, His Deceitfulness immediately rouses and makes for his horse. Unclasping his satchel on the saddle, he shouts:

"Ah come on – check out what I brought!"

I see what he pulls out. It's another bottle of that dreaded Almyran liquor. I shake my head.

"Not tonight, Claude. I'm beat."

Hilda looks rather dejected at my denial, but Claude doesn't miss a beat.

"Ah well – more for me and Hildie!"

Something tells me that's not actually a good thing, but I really just want to lay down.

I make my way into the tent shared by myself and Hubert and immediately collapse onto my sleeping bag. Hubert excuses himself shortly after as well, joining me inside the tent with a stiff nod and immediately climbing into his sleeping bag.

"You have my thanks regarding the tent, Professor." he tells me before applying a silken sleep mask to his eyes. Rather amusingly, he tucks the mask under his impressively long coiffure.

"Do you find that effective?" I ask genuinely. I suppose that's a rather stupid question, given that he clearly thought it was effective enough to bring with him on this mission.

"Professor… I often go without sleep in my efforts to protect Lady Edelgard's person. When I do get the rare chance at sleep, I make the most of it. Does that answer your question?"

I nod, but then realize he can't see me.

"Sure."

"You should be honored that I consider you enough of a comrade-in-arms to do this. I would encourage you not to do anything to damage that."

What precisely does he think I'll do?

"I'll take your word for it, Hubert."

"Sleep soundly, Professor." he says before sinking further into his sleeping bag. I then notice him making a rather massive rustle under those sheets.

"An additional warning, Professor: I sleep in the buff."

Unsure of how to really reply to that, I simply say:

"Noted."

Shaking my head, I reach under my breastplate and pull out a thin, paperback book that's been sitting under there for most of the trip. It's an annotated, hand-transcribed biography of Emperor Mauricius II compiled by one of the assistant librarians under a monk named Tomas, who runs the monastery's collection of books. After finishing the Tacticon, I was struck by curiosity and wanted to learn a little bit more about the fellow. Since I had made a habit of reading the Tacticon before falling asleep, I figured I could do the same with this little biography.

Thumbing to the first page, I begin.


About an hour into my survey of the biography, which seemed mostly concerned with the reign of his father, Emperor Mauricius I as a way to set the scene for the sudden ascension of the son, I notice the shadow of a two-headed, four legged-monster approach Hubert and I's tent before immediately cutting to the left and making towards the tent next to ours.

"Shhh…." one of the heads whispers.

My initial speculation was Claude has gotten drunk again and is relying on Hilda for support. Returning to the book with minimal concern, I then heard a great thud in the adjacent tent. The four legged monster had apparently collapsed.

"C-Claude… take it slower…!" the two-headed, four-legged monster whispers. This must be the Hilda component of it.

Claude's component doesn't reply.

I then realize that they're probably engaged in the heavy petting that Claude constantly accuses Edelgard and I of. I consider for a time whether or not I should be allowing them to do this. It's a political question, I suppose – and I'm terrible at those. It's also ethical, and I've never understood ethics worth a lick either.

For most of my time with my father on the Throat, we've employed our mercenaries in a gender-blind fashion. The company values merit above all things – and I've seen plenty of evidence that the fairer sex can equal or surpass their male counterparts on the battlefield. Chauvinism often dies with its holder when an Almyran Lady Myrmidon gets in a good strike through the gut.

"O~ohhhhh…"

Naturally, having a company like that means that individuals within that company are going to pursue romantic endeavors. Personally, I've never taken part in such things – I've simply had no interest before, and still don't, I imagine. That said, I've often been in situations where my tent is pitched right next to two people who do – like tonight, clearly. Normally, I don't pay much heed to carnal matters like this.

"C-Claude, wait – you need to make it wet first…!"

But it occurs to me that these two are minors, and that I'm legally responsible for them.

In the same vein, they're both at the age of reason where they can make decisions about this stuff rather logically. They're also nobles, and it's not unheard of for bastards to appear from a servant boy or girl when an heir or heiress reaches puberty. "It's life, it happens" was my father's assessment of that sort of thing. We saw it enough when serving the nobles of Leicester to simply look the other way.

"Yuck, it's supposed to look like that all swelled up…?"

Another thing to consider is that the person who's about to have sexual relations in the tent next to me is the sister of a man who I've been on-and-off comrades with for the past half-decade. Would Holst be OK with this? It's hard to say. He was a fellow who struck me as a ladykiller in the vein of Sylvain or Lorenz – in the bars, Holst always had a woman under each arm. His noble companions even accused him of "slumming" – a term that denigrates nobles who carry on with common folk.

"...That really like fucking hurts, Claude! Slow down!"

But Holst also spoke very protectively and fondly of his little sister. If I had to answer for myself someday, what could I say?

I rue on this until Hilda starts yelling:

"Oh Goddess, right there – right there…!"

"Keep it down…!" His Deceitfulness whispers at a dull roar.

It's too late now, I suppose.

I return to the book, which is giving a general sketch of the court life that dominated the Empire at the time. It would seem that Imperial nobles on the whole were very good at wresting power from their Emperors as a result of failed campaigns, and that the rulers of Adrestia were really only as powerful as their last victory against Fearghus. During this period, much of the fighting was centered around the Great Bridge of Myrddin, as the Empire and Kingdom were in constant contestation for the fertility of the Gronder Fields.

"...You finished already…? Inside?! You finished inside?!"

I must admit some general naivete in sexual matters… but I've heard enough women in the company yell that to inconsiderate partners to know that they're not supposed to do whatever that was. That was usually the point in which they would run outside of the tent to clean themselves up, and then avail themselves of my father with a series of accusations of this or that kind. My father would then spend the next few days attempting to adjudicate matters. Most of the time, it resulted in the expulsion of the man from the company.

"Uhh… yeah, sorry Hildie… today's safe for you, right?" von Riegan asks, in much a similar manner I've heard before.

"How should I know? Ughhhhh….. You're such a tool!" Hilda replies.

Hilda then does exactly what I just described earlier – as I can hear the flap buttons unclasp and see her shadow exit the tent.

I suppose at this point, I'm effectively in the role that my father is usually. It's my responsibility to adjudicate and intervene. I turn to Hubert. He sleeps like a man put to final rest inside a coffin, and is currently snoring.

Taking a step out of the tent, I notice Claude poking his head out of his. His cheeks are rosy, but it's impossible to tell if that's from his sexual impropiety, the alcohol, or both.

"You might want to cool off." I suggest.

"...I kind of fucked up, Teach." he admits. Stepping out, he then paces around the perimeter of the tent looking for additional words to say. He fails to find any.

Reflexively, my right hand meets my chin.

"You probably did." I say, not really knowing how badly one of things really is, but getting the impression that it's a serious enough mistake to make to get people fired for.

"Can you go talk to her? She probably doesn't want to hear from me right now…"

"I think we're supposed to wait a minute." I reply.

His Deceitfulness frowns.

"You don't sound sure about that at all, Teach."

All I can do is shrug.

"Because I'm not."

He looks at me as if I've been the one up to no good in the dead of night.

"Really?"

"Really."

"So you and Edelgard haven't…"

Is that what he thinks? I shake my head – but it's a shake that's less of a reply and more of an expression of disbelief.

"No."

"...And you haven't been with anyone before?"

My head pivots from side to side slowly.

"I see… I really read you all wrong, Teach." Claude says.

Staring at him blankly, I wondered what his exact reading was on me back when we first met at Remire. Did I strike him as the same sort of fellow with a great deal of experience with women? As my father had told me, apparently the only time I came close to attending bed with a woman, I totally shrugged off whatever social cues she threw my way. And then I didn't even bother paying her attention as she died right next to me.

What precisely was Claude reading from me now, in fact – now that his first reading was proven so wrong?

"H-hey… don't look at me like that, now." he stammers out.

I let him stew in that for a few moments.

"I should probably go talk to Hilda now." I say at last.

"Yeah, tell her I'm sorry."

"I'm not going to do that."

"Yeah… I guess that's something I've got to say for myself."

As I turn away, I add:

"You love to talk, it shouldn't be hard."

Claude smiles bitterly.

"...Ouch, Teach."


I escort Hilda in silence to a nearby stream where she can clean herself up. With my back turned, I keep an eye out for a particular sort of fennel plant. It was something my father would have me do in an event like the one that just transpired occurred within the company.

I eventually found one. They tend to grow near riverbeds. After contemplating the best way to introduce it I feel a tap on my shoulder.

"You don't need to wait here, Professor."

I turn to her with a blank expression. Hilda's slipped out of the academy uniform and into a pink silk negligee.

It's a shame I can't really find any wellspring of emotion to empathize with. I suspect she needs it now, and I'm beyond incapable of providing it.

"Are you alright?" I ask.

"I mean… I guess, right? As much as I can be…?"

What a bizarre world this is – one where she's asking me for affirmation on that. I suppose the right-minded thing to do is to offer whatever support I can.

"Did you want me to report any of this?"

Hilda's jaw drops. She stares up at me with tired-pink eyes. A day ago, I probably would have said that those eyes were innocent, but it's hard to say that now, I suppose. She's seen more of that side of life than I have, at least.

"Oh Goddess, like – absolutely not, Professor! Please please please don't tell Cardinal Seteth or Archbishop Rhea about this!"

I shrug.

"If that's what you want."

Frankly, I'm not even sure where I'd start with Seteth – so I'm kind of relieved that she's not asking me to do this. Although I know logically that I shouldn't be.

"I need you to totally promise me not to tell my classmates, either, Professor. Really. Not Lysithea. Not Marianne. Not Leonie. Definitely not Lorenz. And definitely definitely NOT my Big Bro."

I take a deep breath. I had totally forgotten about Holst.

"I promise."

Hilda's pink eyes fall from mine. We both stew in the silence of the moonlight for a time. I am, at this moment, extremely exhausted.

"...It's a real pain, Professor… Claude's an idiot… Like, what was he thinking? What if I get pregnant?"

"He never struck me as much of a thinker." I reply in total honesty.

This prompts a big belly laugh from Hilda.

"You're so deadpan, Professor. That's, like, the best part about you. My big bro must've thought you were a real comedian!"

Taking advantage of the levity, I offer her the plant.

"Oh… Professor, this is…"

I clear my throat and consider my next words carefully.

"It's Silphium. My father used to have me fetch for the girls in our company when… that happened. He said that it didn't matter what you decided, just that you should have the option if you wanted to."

Hilda puts two and two together.

"Oh, to…"

I nod. Hilda and I are silent for a time.

"...You know you, like, work for the Church, right, Professor?" she says with an almost bitter smirk.

A hand makes its way to my hair reflexively.

"There's a rule against that?"

"Professor… Saint Cethleann said that all life is a blessing, and that we shouldn't… use this kind of stuff." she says with her gaze glued to the grass.

At this point, all I can do is shrug. I couldn't have known that.

"I didn't know that."

Hilda looks rather surprised at this admission, but then seems to jog her memory. Her pink irises jump back up to bore into my own.

"Oh… yeah, Claude mentioned that you had like, pretty much no idea how the Church works. I guess that makes sense, Professor."

Feeling a sense of awkwardness seep in, I opt to excuse myself.

"If you want to finish up here, I'll go back to my tent."

"Maybe… I have a couple of things to think about..." Her eyes fell from me to the fennel.

As I turn and walk away, Holst's little sister calls out to me again.

"Professor…?"

I stop.

"Can you switch with Claude tonight? In the tent, I mean…"

How can I say no to something like that? So I nod. It then occurs to me that Hubert is going to be in for a rather strange surprise when he wakes up tomorrow.