Author's Note:

Now we're full bore into Harpstring Moon, the Interludes will be occurring once every week instead of 5 days. I needed 3 interludes that occurred within the Great Tree Moon to fit in all the ones I had planned. If we went by the in-game weeks, I'd only have two. Hope the change isn't too abrupt. It'll continue that way for the remainder of White Clouds.

Cheers.


In the stormy fugue state that I staggered through after stabbing myself to sleep, Sothis seethes silently, sitting astride her stone throne. I suspect we're overdue for a conversation about knowing my limits and whatnot, but she's clearly having none of it at the moment… and I can't say I blame her.

At some indiscriminate point later, I wake up inside my tent to the smell of bergamot tea. Even though raising my head prompts a sensation of light-headedness, I'm able to lift the rest of my body from the sleeping mat without issue. The events of the previous afternoon hitting me in full force, I realize that I must have passed out from blood loss shortly after attempting to finish the lesson with Dimtiri and Edelgard.

Checking my hand, I can see that it's been healed with magic. Giving the rest of my body a once-over, I unhook the front flap of the tent and step outside in the cool morning without putting my breastplate on. The rest of the day and night of the sixth must have passed in my slumber.

A gust bites at me, and I sense myself to be rather frail in its wake. I suppose I haven't quite recovered from the blood loss yet. Diving back into the tent, I unclasp my cloak from the breastplate and put it on the way Edelgard demanded that night before she left for Arundel. The carnation still rests on it, having been protected against the elements by the fact that the collar of the jacket usually falls inside the "cape" fashion in which I usually wear it.

Was she cute that night she clasped it on my collar? I suppose that's something I should give some thought to in the future, now that I consider her to be cute more generally.

Edelgard is also probably terribly angry at me at the moment, of course. I should probably think of a way to apologize, but that animalistic part of my mind drives me relentlessly towards the smell of tea. Half-expecting her to be there waiting for me with a frown and those fiery purple orbs of hers, I realize shortly after that the campfire is unoccupied. The teapot – though quite unmistakably my father's – is sitting on a log nearby the dying embers.

The sun has barely peaked over the horizon and the tea is still emitting steam, so the two must have set off rather recently. My immediate assumption is that Edelgard must have sent for my father after I passed out in the infirmary, and he had found himself busy in the interim. It would be natural for him to show up at dawn the next morning, no?

Shrugging at no one in particular, I take a swig of the tea directly from the kettle. And another, for good measure.

The jolt of caffeine gets my mind working almost immediately.

They must have set off the infirmary. Knowing my father, he'd want to see the scene of the crime, so to speak. Without further ado, I walk northwestward.


The Adrestian and my father were indeed at the field infirmary. After confirming their presence, I find myself peeping through a side window as the two stare at the operating room table, covered in dried blood blackened from exposure to the air and clumped from coagulation. The whole affair looks rather grisly now. Perhaps it looked rather grisly then as well, and I was just too foolhardy to notice.

They must have arrived rather recently, as they were both holding white mugs that emanated steam. At this moment, I lean closely to the window's edge to hear them.

My father takes a long gulp of his drink before clearing his throat.

"...Goddess above, all this for a fucking first aid lesson…"

Edelgard takes a sip as well, and then does the thing where she reflexively retreats from the heat of the drink. This is also something that I'm beginning to find rather cute.

"Ah, it's still quite hot…"

My father turns to face her and puts a hand to his hair.

"Princess, you were there – just how many times did that idiot knife himself?"

Edelgard fidgets in place and stays silent, clearly trying to recall.

"...Truly, Captain… it must have been at least twelve times, at least…" she says after lengthy pauses – doubtlessly to replay the event in that clever mind of hers.

Shaking his head, my father lets out a weary sigh.

"At least…? Aren't there only eight of you brats?"

"...We had students from other houses participate as well. That was my decision, I'm afraid."

He shakes his head again – more vigorously this time – and then laughs. After recovering, he offers:

"Damn… Must have been quite the show, then."

In spite of my father's chuckle, Edelgard still seems mortified.

"Captain, it was my fault for letting him continue, I–"

Thrusting up a hand, my father cuts her off.

"-Listen, Princess – don't try and take responsibility for my kid hacking himself half to death on an operating table. I'm not gonna hear that shit. He knows better than that."

Edelgard's chin droops down.

"No, really… I am his house leader."

"Princess, he's your Professor… Anyway, it's clear enough you tried to stop him."

Edelgard's eyes jump so far open that even I can see her silent shock from this rather remote distance. My father tugs the back-sleeve of her academy uniform.

"His blood's all over your schoolcothes. I can put two and two together."

"Captain–"

My father holds up a finger and grabs two wooden chairs from Manuela's workstation. After offering the first to Edelgard, which she sits in – he takes a seat himself, leaning forward.

"Call me Jeralt, Princess. I haven't been a proper Knight for twenty years. Right now, just consider me a consultant."

She does that little habit of hers – whispering my father's name silently before saying it aloud.

"Jeralt… Is he always like this?'

He takes another long gulp of the tea.

"I should be asking you that question, I figure."

His statement blindsides her – and me, of course – but my interest in her predominates at the moment. She squirms in the seat, and seems to chew on my father's words. At last, she says:

"Even so… are you not his father? You surely know him best. I've only had him as my teacher for a few weeks."

"Your teacher, huh?"

Edelgard blushes. She's so pale that even at this distance, I can see her cheeks brighten up. My father shakes his head with an apologetic look on his face.

"Forget it. To answer your other question – since that night in Remire, he's been completely different. You probably know more about his state of mind at this point, I'm ashamed to say."

Edelgard shakes her head.

"...I've only known him as he is."

"And I've only known him as he was."

A silence pervades for a time.

"I'm… not sure what you mean...?"

"Don't lie girly, you haven't got the face for it. Those big doe eyes of yours tell the whole story."

Edelgard seems to shove her white gloves to her brow as if driven by an otherworldly power.

"...D-do you truly think that I am so easy to read?"

He shakes his head and chuckles.

"I'm just teasing. I've been married before, you know. Men don't typically get that far unless they've got a sense of humor."

My student shuts her eyes and attempts to collect herself. I guess my father has a certain charisma with women that I failed to inherit.

"...To the Professor's mother?" she asks at last.

"Yup. Not for very long, unfortunately. But it's time I wouldn't have traded for anything in the world now."

"I see…"

"...I take it my Lieutenant was probably blathering about all that at the gate, wasn't he?"

Edelgard's eyes shot wide open. I have to admit, I was a bit surprised at my father broaching this topic as well. Perhaps it's been on his mind since assigning Falstaff's platoon to the gate.

"Falstaff…?"

"The one and only." my father replies – with more than a hint of ambivalence.

"He may have said a few things…"

"Did he tell you the one about my kid?"

The Adrestian pauses to consider her words.

"...About him not having a mother's love?"

He brings his free hand to his forehead and crunches his brows together.

"I told that bastard that if he ever mouthed off like that about my wife again, I'd throttle him. Good to know he's as insubordinate as ever."

I suspect Edelgard realizes that she has a window of opportunity to press him about Fallstaff. She, unsurprisingly, takes it.

"...Jeralt, were you aware that Falstaff is a former noble of the Empire?"

"I gathered that much… Not that he ever told me straight out."

"Is that so…? Can you remember when he joined your mercenary company?"

My father raises an eyebrow in suspicion, but he seems to relax it quite suddenly.

"I'm losing track of the years, girly. Fifteen years ago, maybe? Sixteen? My kid probably can't remember a time without him in the company, so that's about right."

"...He mentioned twenty."

"My kid, or Fallstaff?"

"Fallstaff."

He shakes his head and smiles bitterly.

"He's lying. I didn't have a mercenary company twenty years ago. I was busy trying to raise a certain infant you know without his mother around. Just, don't mention that to my kid, alright?"

Edelgard seems to recoil a bit at this. I also recoil at this.

"I didn't mean to…"

"...Don't worry about it. It took me a couple of years to get my feet back on the ground. I had a retirement fund, so I wasn't in a rush. They pay well over here. Nothing like an Emperor's purse, but well enough."

"So I've seen…"

My father must find that quip of hers amusing, because he leans back in his chair with a hand rushing to his hair.

"No doubt. I've heard the rumors about the Adrestian Alcoholics' Club at Celica's. Imagine my surprise when I heard from Seteth that my son was hosting it."

The Adrestian stiffens up in surprise.

"It's too late now, Princess. Might as well just lean into the reputation and move at your pace. Everyone likes the idea of living fast and dying young… all those Dagdan Romance novels play out like that. My wife used to read them in the library here, go figure – right…?"

My father trails off with a grimace, as if a lump is caught in his throat. Edelgard rankles a bit at the term "dying young" as well. It seems as if the two of them are sharing a moment that I'll forever be on the outside of.

"You're wearing that carnation like they do, too." My father says.

"I… just happen to like this flower."

"Yup… my son just happens to like that flower, too." he notes sarcastically.

Edelgard shakes her head.

"...I haven't seen him wear it since..."

And then my student catches herself in another undesired admission. That aspect of her is also starting to grow on me, I think. My father realizes the implication there as quickly as I do, and his grimace morphs into a grin.

"Heh...You're the one who pinned it on him? Guess I should've figured!"

My student melts into her seat in total embarrassment. Taking his cue, my father taps his back with his index finger.

"...It's on the inside of his cloak. I saw him hook it off when we went to eat on Sunday. When he wears it like a cape, the collar folds into the back. Damn stupid look if you ask me, but you can't tell him otherwise– right?"

He delivers that point home by yanking his thumb towards the bloody mess behind him. Edelgard laughs silently with a hand over her mouth. I don't think it's very funny at all.

Personally, I think the cloak is very functional. Clearly that opinion isn't shared by these two.

"I'm surprised you didn't notice at the bar on Sunday. You and your butler were watching the whole time, weren't you?"

…They were?

"J-Jeralt, I assure you Hubert and I were just–"

"I know. That said, it's not gonna kill you to trust him, you know. I don't think he's trying to jump ship to the Deer or anything like that."

For the record, I am not trying to jump ship to the Deer.

"I was a bit unsure at that point…"

Her gaze falls from him.

"So was I, but he seems pretty set on you and your Eagles. I'll be honest, Princess – I thought he was gonna choose the class from Faerghus. I probably would've… to be completely honest. No offense, of course."

The Adrestian has visibly taken offense at this.

"W-What's that supposed to mean, precisely?" she spits out.

"On your best day, I'm figuring you're a tough cookie. Your classmates look like real pieces of work too."

"I'll have you know that I can be just as pleasant to converse with as Prince Dimitri!"

"Heh. Sure, sure. But that's just it, right– he sees that, and I don't. Him and I aren't on the same page anymore."

"...Is that so…?"

"Might be. There's definitely some of his mother in play there, too – I think. She liked taking the scenic route, if you catch my drift… I prefer cutting through."

The two sit in silence for a time. Edelgard's head falls back to her mug. My father, noticing the swing in mood, clears his throat.

"Tell you what, Princess – I'll tell you one last story while you finish that tea. Then we can head back."

She looks back up at him.

"I promise It's a good one. Embarrasses the kid to this day. Feel free to use it as a reminder if he does something to piss you off..."

At this, I turn and leave them to the rest of their conversation. I already know what my father is going to say – and the idea of him telling it to Edelgard is just too cringeworthy for me to stick around.


Edelgard alone returns to the campfire about a half-hour later. I suppose my father must have cut directly South from the infirmary and past the woods in order to leave. That's his habit, after all. The particular Edelgard that returns to me seems to be Angry Edelgard, which I suppose is a bit unfortunate. I was hoping she might have cooled down a bit after the chat with my father, but that was probably too much to expect.

I crane my neck around the rest of the campsite. The rest of the Eagles are still asleep – even Hubert – as I can see two shadows inside the tent he shares with Ferdinand.

"My teacher…"

Turning back to Edelgard, I notice that she's closed the distance, and she's standing right next in front of me as I sit on the log. I turn my neck up to meet her glowering glare.

"You're terrible. Totally irresponsible, in fact." She informs me.

I shrug.

"How long was my father here for?" I ask.

"After you collapsed, I asked the guard to fetch him last night. He then sent a message by owl asking if you were dead, to which I replied no. His next reply was that he'd visit in the morning."

"That sounds like him." I grant with a nod.

We both stare silently at each other for a time.

"...Were you up all night?" I ask, noticing dark circles under her eyes.

"Hmph. It certainly isn't my first sleepless night. I would say that it was my most distasteful and pointless one in recent memory, however."

I guess it's time for me to eat shit and apologize.

"Sorry. I got carried away."

Edelgard's look of concern begins to seep through after my apology, but she shakes it off.

"Your father suggested that I slap you."

I nod. That does sound like a rather Jeraltian suggestion. Can I say that now that Edelgard is addressing him on a first-name basis?

"I deserve it." I say, flipping back her words the day of our picnic.

She seems to recognize this immediately, and turns up her nose in an attempt to hide a blush. My student holds that pose for a comically long amount of time, waiting in complete futility for her cheeks to cool down.

"Are you actually going to slap me?" I ask.

She closes her eyes and clears her throat.

"...Yes, I think I will, but…"

"But what?"

"...Could I ask you to take your jacket off?"

It's still kind of breezy, so I'd rather not.

"Why?" I ask.

"Because… well, I'm rather surprised that you still have that carnation on… and I'd rather not see it crushed."

How hard does she plan on slapping me, exactly?

"Why are you surprised?" I ask.

"...I may have thought you took it off in an attempt to pursue Ms. Goneril…"

I shake my head.

"I'm not pursuing Hilda."

"W-well, it's not my place to tell you what you can and can't do… it's just–"

This is turning into another argument about nothing, and I'd rather get slapped than argue about nothing again. I slip the coat off as she stammers out her reply.

"-Edelgard."

She seems to snap back to reality at the sound of her name.

"Let's just get it over with." I say.

She nods. Since I know what's about to come, I can just kind of lose myself in her face for a time, as she considers her approach and wheels her arm back – much the same way I did on the training ground.

This is the determined Edelgard face. Brave Edelgard, perhaps. It's a rather brave thing to strike your professor across the face, right? Anyway, I find myself finding this expression of hers rather cute now as well. I'm starting to think my general ambivalence was that this face of hers was usually joined by a mask – something making any assessment beyond her physical features totally inaccessible to me. I remembered this face of hers when she closed herself off in the conversation with Jeritza, and just before the mock battle in those verbal ripostes with the other house leaders.

Right now, there's no mask. Just those fiery eyes of hers looking rather conflicted about what she's about to do.

And it occurs to me – if I'm the only one in the world who gets to see this face of hers in its genuine aspect – naked to the world – I might be able to find myself happy someday.

A whoosh of air followed by Edelgard's palm across my face prevents me from further assessment. She hits me with such force I fall off the log and into the cool dirt behind it.

When I look up at her, lying with my back on the ground, I realize that she's petrified herself a bit with the force of her strike. I'm usually quick to get back up on my feet though, even in a reduced condition such as this.

"My teacher… Was that too hard?"

Brushing myself off, I say:

"...Not hard enough, probably."

This gets her nose turned up again at me again.

"I see what you're doing, you're being terse again...! Stop trying to ruin the moment!"

"Moment…?"

Her gaze returns to me in an animated frown. Hands take their position on her hips as if to admonish me.

"Hmph. Do you think Dimitri or Claude would be so gracious about you abandoning your responsibilities like this? You should be glad that I'm your student..."

I'm certainly not going to pass up an opportunity like that.

If I could smirk, I'd smirk.

"I am, and always will be."

Edelgard blinks her wild, lavender orbs a few times after I say those words – probably in total shock. Then, her entire face flashes the brightest crimson I've ever seen. She turns and runs off back to her tent shortly after, leaving me standing in the morning sun with a massive welt beginning forming on my cheek.

Those are my feelings, as primitive as they seem. They're also the first time I can recall having feelings about much of anything before.

As if to remind me of this, an invisible knife begins to stab at my chest. I wonder if I should've stabbed that empty space in there instead of my hand?

It would have made for a more interesting lesson, I'm sure.


I watch contentedly as a tree about twenty yards in the distance more or less de-materializes in a pillar of orange flames. The heat washes over me and provides no small comfort. In a moment of whimsy, I consider sticking my tongue out and catching a few embers on it – but then realize doing so would probably ruin the "cool teacher" impression that I've built up with Lysithea von Ordelia.

I've just taught her how to use a fire spell. In about five minutes, she's burned through the lesson… and roughly half what was once the mock battlefield's Western Forest. We had attracted a small crowd of villagers, guards, and Black Eagles to the lightshow, but after seeing the fortieth tree go up in flames, I can understand how pyrotechnics can lose their appeal after a while.

Speaking for myself, I never grow tired of it.

"See? I'm pushing myself to the limit, just like you did yesterday – Professor! Aren't you impressed?" Lysithea says after a few pants.

"I am impressed…" I confirm, bringing a hand to my chin. Are my patterns of speech really that predictable, or is Lysithea as talented at gaslighting as she is at tree-lighting?

"I knew you would say that! That's why I asked if you were impressed, get it?"

Thankfully she hasn't really figured out how to tell jokes yet. Against my better judgment, I give her a head-pat.

"Just don't overexert yourself." I say as I do.

"You're treating me like a child again!" She snaps, and withdraws her head.

"Adults get headpats." I say with a shrug.

I have no idea if this is true or not – but the expression that Lysithea gives me in return makes it clear that she doesn't have much of an idea, either.

"Then let me give you a head-pat." She commands.

Considering what I just told her, I suppose there's no harm in letting her do that. I squat down and Lysithea pink eyes seem to be carried to the top of my head. Her hand goes up and I receive what is a surprisingly gentle headpat from her. Looking into her face, I can clearly see she's excited about the opportunity to do this. Naturally as the "adult" in this situation, she's trying to play it off.

I suspect she's been on the receiving end of headpats so many times that she's probably quite eager to figure out what all the fuss is about from the giver's side.

Content with the first headpat, she begins to drive up the intensity of the following pats.

"Why do you look so surprised, Professor?" she asks.

…Since when do I look surprised?

"...Never mind." I say, shaking my head.

This does not please the scion of House Ordelia.

"It's because adult men don't actually get headpatted, right? I knew–"

Before she can follow through with that next statement, I notice Dimitri, Annette, and Mercedes approaching us from a short distance away. Mercedes is holding a massive wicker basket in her hands.

"-Oh my, Professor! I hope we're not interrupting!" the elder lioness says with a giggle.

"Professor – do you like headpats, too?" Annette chuckles.

"What brings you guys here?" I ask.

Dimitri steps forward and clears his throat. He looks rather angsty today. Or, rather – angstier than usual. At a baseline, he's always pretty angsty.

"Professor, I and the rest of the Lions were concerned about your condition following your practical demonstration. After Edelgard dismissed Felix, Sylvain, and I from the campground, we asked Mercedes and Annette for assistance in making some restorative food for you."

Mercedes chimes in next:

"I generally just bake sweets according to taste, Professor – but Annette informed me that peaches are good for people who've lost some blood. So the two of us collaborated on a cobbler! We made enough for twelve."

I'm always impressed with the Lions' ability to function as a group. From the first night I had sweets with them, to the mock battle, and even now. Even when they had their hiccups, they struck me as a more cohesive unit than my Eagles. And I needed to find a way to replicate that to succeed as a teacher, I think.

But how?

I can't really focus on this because of the constant thudding from Lysithea's headpats. She didn't bother to stop after the arrival of the three Lions.

Annette approaches me enthusiastically.

"Professor, can I try?"

I shrug.

Annette reaches out her hand excitedly, only for it to be viciously swatted by Lysithea's free arm.

"...Ow!"

I turn to the owner of that swatting arm, and notice a rather entranced look in her eyes. Those eyes are bounded in furrows and a frown, but it's clear that something is going on deep behind those magenta eyes that is far beyond accessible to me right now.

"...Lissy, what was that for?!"

Wait, are they friends…? I guess that would make sense. I've seen them in the dining hall making off with sweets before.

"Get your own Professor." Lysithea snaps, still not breaking the succession of headpats.

Would it be wise to remind Lysithea that I'm technically not her Professor? Probably not.


Eventually, the Eagles, Deer, and three Lions settle in for cobbler around the campfire. A fine brunch – Mercedes's technique at confection is second to none that I've ever tasted before. I can't say I was eating a lot of sweets before – but it's certainly the best from the little I've had in the comparatively wide swath around Fodlan that I've cut with my father.

Bernadetta's rendition of Saghert and Cream that I had at the picnic with Edelgard is a close number two, though – but I get the impression that even she is in awe of the cobbler. She's gobbled down her share in about four bites. Looking at Lysithea, I notice that she's trying to "savor" it, against her more base impulses.

Most of the other Eagles are sitting to the left of me on the current log that I'm seated on, but I really can't see them, because Mercedes is busy brushing the blood clumps out of my hair with a fine-tooth comb. I feel as if I must be getting some kind of makeover in the process, because I'm getting "oohs" out of Annette who's assisting, and I can also feel the presence of some sort of product being applied to my hair by the redhead. I'm also receiving a profoundly nasty glare from Edelgard, who's seated across the firepit from me.

Under most circumstances, I wouldn't even care about her leering, but I suspect me getting pampered by the Lions right now is going to act as a prelude to another slap from her at an indeterminate point in the future.

Dimitri, who just returned from taking a leak by the smoldering remains of the Western Forest, takes his seat on the log just to my right.

"Professor, when might you be concluding your survival training here?" he inquires.

"Tomorrow will be the last full day. I'll have everyone break camp on the morning of the ninth." I reply.

"The ninth is my birthday!" Annette informs me with a yip.

"I will also be presenting my plan for Remire to the Archbishop that afternoon, Professor. I'd be honored if you attended with me."

"If you go with Dimitri, you can come to our party after, maybe!" Annette suggests, clearly a one-track mind about her birthday.

The mention of the party seems to drive Edelgard over the edge.

"Prince Dimitri, do the Lions have their own Professor or not?" she snaps.

Before the Prince can fly off the handle, Mercedes tactfully jumps in.

"Professor, do you have a mirror? I'd love to show you how nice your hair looks now!"

Dimitri glances down away from Edelgard. He's still wearing a look of bloodlust, but I can see him trying his best to shake it.

"It looks excellent, Professor. Mercedes has been helping me tame my bangs as of late." He replies.

I have no idea if it's working on you, Dimitri – but any help is probably beneficial. After a squint and a rapid attempt at a non-creepy assessment, I can grant that his hair actually has been cleaned up a little from what I recall from Remire.

"I don't have a mirror, unfortunately." I say, turning back to Mercedes.

"I-I do, Professor! I'll get it!" Bernadetta quickly pipes in, and she trots over to her tent. I had no idea Bernadetta was about self-care like that, but if she is – I'll do my best to support her endeavors as a teacher. That said, dragging these kids out into the woods for a week is probably not much help in that affair. It's good that I'm wrapping it up early, I guess.

Bernadetta arrives in just a few minutes with a hand mirror. I take a look into it, and detect absolutely no discernible change in my hair. I suspect quite a bit was done given the sheer amount of activity by the two Lionesses, but I just have zero capability of actually understanding what haircare is about or what I'm even supposed to be looking for.

I defer to my House Leader.

"What do you think, Edelgard?"

"I hate it." she says with fire behind her eyes.

This clearly wounds Mercedes and Annette, which is unfortunate.

"You…"

The person, strangely, who takes the most offense is none other than the Crown Prince of Cyclones himself. I suppose that's justified, given how she just insulted two of his housemates – but if it was just her genuine opinion, she's entitled to it, isn't she?

I hate all this melodrama. Is this what the entire year is going to summon forth in an endless torrent, I wonder?

"You…hate everyone and everything, don't you? That's all you can do!" He yells.

Hubert, sensing a confrontation brewing, gets up from his log and begins to circle towards the prince, whose eyes are fixed squarely on my student.

He freaks out Bernadetta sufficiently to send her backwards. To her credit, she recovers quickly and then sprints back to her tent in terror. The Prince, after a pregnant pause, continues:

"...Edelgard… you are like some kind of twisted spirit who takes in the care and concern of others and spits out nothing but death and destruction in your wake!"

A hand of his slowly moves towards the dagger at his belt.

Edelgard's hand moves as well, but not with the same feigned indecisiveness that Dimitri's does. In fact, as she unsheathes it, Dimitri takes the opportunity to yell:

"Yes… draw that dagger that drew the blood of your own Professor. The poor fellow who endeavored to save you from the bandits. Show everyone what kind of monster you are!"

He realizes I stabbed myself, right? At this point I catch a look into Dimitri's eyes. Those blue irises of his have shrunk into tiny blips within the milky sea of his sclera. Red veins cut across them in bulging fury. This isn't him play fighting like he was in the training grounds not long ago. This is mock-battle Dimitri making another appearance.

This is the logical point to intervene, right? I step in between the two, and hold up a hand towards Hubert, who pauses in his attempt to stalk the Prince.

"Enough."

Silence prevails for a time. The rest of the Eagles – who were up until this point engrossed in conversation with each other, all have their eyes on me in anticipation. Faerghus's heir seems to be cooling off a bit again. I'm starting to realize why Hanneman keeps sending him my way. If he's had to deal with the kid everyday, he must be at wit's end.

"Dimitri, we'll talk again on the ninth. Don't return here tomorrow."

The Prince seems a bit wounded at me singling him out first, but I'm not about to have him try and kill my student. He's not even supposed to be here anyway.

"...Understood, Professor. I was just attempting to look out for your person… but you clearly have the situation under control, for now…"

"I appreciate the thought, Dimitri."

"H-He's not looking out for you, my teacher!" Edelgard yelps from the background, clearly exasperated.

"Do take care that she doesn't kill you before then. She's attempted it with everyone else I've been close to." He states bitterly.

What kind of history do these two have, exactly?

"Thanks for the heads-up." I say in my most patronizing voice.

The House Leader of the Lions returns to a place next to his female companions.

Turning to Annette and Mercedes, I say:

"Thank you for everything, Mercedes. I'll have a gift prepared on the ninth for you, Annette."

"Oh, Professor! There's no need! We'd just be happy to see you there." Mercedes replies, seemingly recovered from Edelgard's takedown of her efforts.

"Of course! Please come if you're free! Everyone would love to see you." Annette says as she turns with a wave.

I felt the sincerity there, but I'm starting to suspect that this whole event has scared them away more than anything else. And I'm in absolutely no state to really do anything about it.

After watching them clear the gate, I slump back onto the log, the remainder of my strength having left me for the day. I'm clearly still not one-hundred percent yet.

"I'm fucking exhausted." I say to no one in particular.

Suddenly, Lindhardt appears on what was formerly Dimitri's seat. Placing an arm on my shoulder, he says.

"Professor, might I suggest that you retire early this afternoon?"

I look up at Lindhardt. Knowing that he's an expert in the art of lazing, I suspect he has an innate ability to tell when someone's as checked-out as he is. As I stare blanky at him, he returns it in total, immovable passivity. It's the type of expression that could put you to sleep if you stared at it for long enough. His blue eyes remind me of the stillest waters in all of Fodlan – lake Teutates.

"Lindhardt, you're the wisest man I know."

He nods.

"As I said on the First, Professor – we're of like mind."

I head straight to bed without consulting Edelgard, Hubert, or the rest of the Eagles. What is there even to say, anyway?