Author's Note

Thanks so much to Akosii, Bunun, Sky, and TehKai for the recent reviews!

As far as El's characterization, TehKai you gave me some good food for thought. I'll vibe on it here, but feel free to skip to the good(?) stuff below the next line break.

Story Time: My first job out of college was working with people experiencing C-PTSD (I am not an expert, though!), and I'm always intrigued by how fanfic writers' approach Edelgard's trauma.

Love in the Dark & The Emperor and the Goddess w/ F!Byleth manage this in a detached way that works, I think - but I kind of wanted this to be a more subjective, observational take on it from Byleth's view. My task is to see if I can draw out the story through interaction, rather than exposition – because that's inevitably a more human way of relating. And Crimson Flower is about Byleth claiming their humanity against the will of fate, after all.

Additionally, intense attachment to "new" positive experiences is a huge component of C-PTSD, especially when a person first tries to move forward from it. If Edelgard was not already attached to Byleth, she would not be saying things in-game like "You and I are rather similar" when the player is told by Rhea to chat up the leaders. That's an awfully bold statement to make when you've known the person in question for 3 whole days. Hilariously, when Byleth asks around - she's the most open to you out of all the Lords - she's already reaching out IMHO. Dimitri just goes "my life sux, don't ask" and Claude outright nopes you the fuck out when you inquire.

Contradictory behavior like this is a huge part of the condition, too. If the plan is to fight without remorse, the best way to do that is not get so emotionally close to Byleth so early, I agree. But then, people who experience trauma rarely do this. She "wanted to walk with you", even after you shatter her dream in Silver Snow.

As far as her openness here – I'd argue that she's basically said a lot while saying nothing, which is basically her White Clouds Arc in-game. All we've gotten is:

- "I won't murder my agnostic teacher as Emperor just for being a non-believer." (thanks?) 4/23

- "My predecessors were weak and bad because they were bleeding heart sentimentalists" (um…) 4/29

- "My Teacher is a bleeding-heart sentimentalist though and actually I really like that" (huh?) 05/8 & 9

These are all sentiments she carries in-game, too, because she's kind of inherently a goofball. Even the devs said that the Flame Emperor costume was meant to be adolescent edge. I'd encourage you guys to check out the JP-original "There Was a Rat" scene transcript for more evidence of this if you haven't already. They make it a little puzzle game - she wants you first to ask if she's unharmed (+) to which she goes very ~dere, and then crack a joke at her expense (+) where she goes ~tsun, but gives you support points anyway. She wants you to troll her, just very gently. The NA version is very unfortunate because it just makes you her Twitch Mod (to steal Winter's verbiage) in so many interactions like that.

She's also outright rebuffed Byleth's attempts to get closer better multiple times:

- "Who taught you how to fight?" Reply: I'm going to try murdering you & Dimitri now. (Actual answer: TWSITD) 4/28

- "What's your problem with Fallstaff?" Reply: I don't like him. (Actual answer: He works for TWSITD and I didn't even tell Hubert about that) 5/6, second part proven on 5/11

- "Why are you cuddling me?" Reply: read your book and ignore me! (Actual answer: I need your physical and emotional support right now) 5/8

All that said TehKai - I really appreciate your take on it, and it is something to keep in mind as I power through the rest of my edits. The pacing critique is loud and clear too, but I think you'll be presently surprised when the paralogues start. Travel will burn a lot days.

As always, I'm curious to get everyone else's take on this too.

Finally, Cheers and Happy New Year!


Ishtar was a terrible story. Although it successfully drove my attention away from those equally terrible thoughts about my students taking up arms against each other in cold blood, I found myself feeling nothing but contempt for so many of the characters who inhabited the fictional world laid out before me. Perhaps that is why I spent all night devouring it ceaselessly until the sun rose. As I read through it, I was consumed by questions:

Why had Dorothea recommended it?

Why had this Countess Bias written such a thing?

And why was this book provoking such frustration in me?

The Songstress's assessment of the writer's concern at the bookshop was clear enough – it undoubtedly was a tale about the wickedness of nobility, and the cruelty of Lords who inhabited Fodlan, particularly in ancient times.

The epic, in its introductory chorus, presents a sorry backdrop, replete with harrowing stories of child-sacrifice, blood feuds and petty wars that occurred during the era of the Goddess's active participation in human affairs. Eventually the behavior of the ruling classes of humankind became too much for the Goddess and her Saints to bear, and they set about carving out a new order for Fodlan with the assistance of a figure named Nemesis.

It's a name that I've heard so many times – Nemesis. And yet I know not what to think of this man who fell under the blade of that green-haired woman. Was this the very same man mentioned in that letter by Fallstaff – or in this text here?

In this story – Nemesis, Seiros and the Goddess were arrayed against a Mage named Ishtar and a coalition of old nobility led by her brother, Duke Julian. The Chorus endeavors to tell both Ishtar and the reader that to resist the judgment of the Goddess is beyond evil, an act which condemns many to death over a pointless act of defiance.

But Ishtar herself struck me as a character altogether different, unfit for the animosity and bloodshed that surrounded her, driven by a desire to protect those close to her – no matter the cost, no matter the collective harm inflicted to others in her effort to do so. On the opposing side of the Goddess, she oversaw an increasingly futile war effort with calm composure and an unflagging sense of duty.

And in that, she was unrepentant.

Her justification for this was that her life would be too short to live her life by any other virtue. The Chorus endeavors to lament a curse of hers – the ability to manipulate dark magic, particularly the casting of Miasma – a spell whose use brought on tuberculosis in those primitive days of mankind's relationship with the magical arts. Even today, of course – dark arts carry such a risk, but the magisterial science of managing them has increased with the passage of time.

Still, it is an art few pursue willingly.

Even then, however – Ishtar chose to practice it in order to hold onto those that were precious to her. After a particularly brutal campaign on the behalf of Julian, however, the disease began to tip the scales of her life. In spite of this, however– her motivations did not waver.

I found myself appreciating her views, perhaps because the story insisted on remaining so close to her throughout its telling. Any perspectives of the Goddess and her Saints were presented as detached moralizations from people unconnected to the persons and ideals that Ishtar concerned herself with. Although she acknowledged their justice, the mage could not bring herself to abandon those she had strong feelings for – particularly her brother Julian.

To my surprise, Duke Julian was perhaps the most wicked of all the Lords that had arrayed themselves against the Goddess. Still, it was clear that with her help, he was able to tame his worst impulses and thus drive himself ever closer toward her own views. Sadly, due to a prolonged period of separation which she mourns bitterly, inevitably found herself unable to protect him until the end.

After the death of Julian on the battlefield, the forces against the Goddess and Nemesis rapidly dissolved with peace being achieved shortly thereafter. But even then, Ishtar – nearing the end of her days – could not find rest. This was because one of the Saints of the Goddess – Seiros – declared that the bodies of the Lord and his soldiers be left to rot on the field of battle without burial as a price for their sin of resistance.

A death without burial is still what many believe to be a non-revocable invitation to the Fires of Eternity. And so Ishtar, in the final act of her life, led the last of her loyal forces in an effort to bury her dead sibling. In doing so, the band was stopped by the Saints, who demanded that she turn her force round and accept the judgment of the Goddess.

She refused, and in the climatic monologue of the epic, stated in verse that I'll reproduce here in response to Saint Seiros:


"Yes, for these laws were ordained of the Goddess,

And Her King, who sits enthroned with you Saints below.

That is precisely why I revolt against this judgment.

Nor did I deem that you, a representative of Her

Could by a breath annul and override,

The immutable unwritten laws of kinship.

They were not born today nor yesterday;

They die not; and none know from where they sprang.

I am a woman who fears not the frown of the immortals.

To disobey these laws and so challenge the wrath of the Goddess…

I know that I must die.

Even if you had not proclaimed it;

and if death is thereby hastened,

I shall count it as a boon,

For death is a boon to those whose life, like mine,

Is destined to be short and full of misery.

Thus my lot appears…

Not sad, but blissful; for had I endured

To leave my family unburied, unfulfilled

I should have only been left to grieve without recourse.

But today, the judgment of my heart carries a firmer writ than yours.

And that judgment carries me towards him."


The epic ends with a much longer condemnation of Ishtar by the Saint – and as predicted, the battle ends in defeat for Ishtar. She, like her brother, suffers the same fate of being left to decompose above ground and is never given a proper burial. The Chorus then informs the reader that the rotting flesh of Ishtar and Julian poisoned the ground under their bones and desertified the land.

As I said, it's a terrible story.

I completed the book's epilogue shortly before the owl arrived, who – while staring at me with its massive, round eyes – dropped both a posted letter and a putrid turd.


Professor Eisner,

I do hope that you'll be able to sit-in on my seminar today, if not otherwise indisposed.

The Black Eagles have a surfeit of offensive magic users, and I am concerned that your particular skill-set may not entirely fulfill their educational needs. Naturally, my own background as a mage makes my oversight of the Blue Lions' something of a mis-match, at times. Let's do our best to compliment each other's strengths and cover our weaknesses, shall we?

Respectfully,

Hanneman v. E.


After a scalding shower that does little to remove the circles under my eyes from the sleepless night, I make my way over to the training grounds, and occupy a stool overlooking the atrium. Dorothea, Hubert, Lysithea, and Annette are in attendance today – a surprise, because I had always taken Annette to be a healer. I suppose that's my fault for underestimating a girl like her who always seemed so polite and agreeable.

Reaching into my breastplate, I set about re-reading Ishtar, possessed by a feeling that I had missed something extremely important in my first reading of the text earlier.

Something in the deep recesses of my mind tells me that Ishtar was not meant to be the heroine of this story. Of course, the Chorus seems to do nothing but chastise her the entire time as well, which makes me more firmly believe this to be true.

At some point in the midst of the lesson, Edelgard appears at the training ground and takes a seat at a stool some distance from me. For a time, she appears to be watching Hubert – but from my periphery, I can see those lavender irises glancing over at me.

But I really don't want to talk to her at this moment. I suspect it'll just be endless haranguing over me not acknowledging her on the viaduct, or spending the day with Dorothea, or something to that effect.

As House Leader, one has to be willing to grant that she has at least some justifiable reasons to want control over the way her class interacts. But how can she expect to do that when she's bouncing back between Garegg Mach and her responsibilities in County Arundel so frequently? And perhaps most pressingly – what I do during my off-hours is no business of hers, is it?

When those thoughts tire of teasing themselves out, I take note that she's been slowly leap-frogging stools in an effort to get closer to me. Sometimes, when she does things like this – whatever discomfort I feel in regard to the situation just melts away. She's very disarming like that, at times.

Eventually she not-so-stealthily occupies the stool next to mine. I make no effort to acknowledge her, but I have to admit she eventually catches my eye as she shifts uncomfortably in the stool. Realizing that the initiative will ether be mine or hers in this conversation to come, I roll the dice and take fate in my own hands.

I turn to her and she assesses me with a look of somewhat pained surprise. Her purple orbs dance around, seeming to trace every detail of my face.

"Are you okay, Edelgard?" I ask.

The Adrestian makes that expression that I'm beginning to find myself entranced by, more and more with each passing day. How quickly does her resolve melt in the face of concern, I wonder? Does it have anything to do with that scarred hand of hers?

She seems to steel herself again after noticing how intensely I'm returning her gaze.

"...I'm fine, my Teacher… Thank you for asking."

She doesn't sound fine. But… she rarely sounds fine. Her eyes fall from my face and towards the book in my hands.

"What are you reading?" she asks, returning her vision expectantly to me.

"A book." I reply matter-of-factly.

I receive a furrowed brow and a squint in return.

"...I can see that."

Shrugging, I note:

"Dorothea recommended it."

At the mention of her classmate's name, my student sours even more. I can see her trying to hide her dissatisfaction, of course. And as she does – a question arises. Is it simply that she's bad at hiding such emotions – or am I simply getting better at recognizing them as each day passes? Does my constant record of them here have anything to do with that?

The Heir to an Empire fidgets.

"...Is that so?" she inquires absently.

I nod. She seems to have a riposte on the tip of her tongue, but hesitates in saying it. I stare at her blankly for a time before awkwardly returning to my re-reading of the book. As soon as my eyes focus on the beginning of the page, however – I'm torn away by her voice.

"What do you think of it?"

Returning my gaze to her, I shake my head.

"It's terrible."

My student looks at me with a speechless face, lips ever so slightly apart, as if she had some sort of canned reply waiting for some response she expected from me, and was totally unprepared for the two words that I just uttered.

Realizing I had the ability to continue on with my thoughts, I offer:

"...I'm having some difficulty understanding the intent of the writer."

That statement seems to activate her more academic instincts, which must be no small relief to her given how taken aback she just seemed.

"I must admit to finding those sorts of books rather tedious, as well."

Thinking back to the Monarch Studies Book I gave her on the ninth, I ask:

"How was the other one?"

Her expression softens as she realizes what I'm referencing. That puts me at ease, as well.

"...Oh, might you mean the gift you gave me?"

I nod.

"I read it on the carriage back to Arundel. I found it… quite useful."

"I'm glad."

After what seems like an eternity of dodging frowns from her, I finally get the edge of a smile.

"...I'm glad you thought of me, my teacher."

Hearing her return the sentiment prompts me to say something rather unexpected. I feel a bit strange even recording it here, but… I distinctly recall saying, without a moment's hesitation:

"It's difficult not to."

My student does a routine that's becoming familiar to me – almost comfortable, in a way: those eyes of hers that I get so lost in dart down, then up – and then her chin follows – down, then up. And then her cheeks flush.

And we both stew in a warm silence for a time. An awkward silence, too – but warm all the same. I attempt to return to the book, but she pulls my attention away again with another question:

"There is something I would like to ask… might you reply honestly?"

The expression that my eyes return looks deathly serious. I nod tentatively.

"...Did you invite Dorothea to your room last night?"

A creeping sensation takes a hold of me and indicates that we're going to have an argument about nothing very soon.

"...What?"

The Adrestian squirms and leans in ever so slightly.

"After the three of us parted ways…?"

"No."

This reply gets her even worked up.

"Then why do you look so exhausted, my teacher? She said–"

What did Dorothea tell her, exactly? I suspect I'll never know, but now I need to answer for whatever the Songstress said to my student after I managed to extricate myself from the trouble that was brewing last night.

"I was reading." I stress, cutting her off.

In retrospect, I should not have cut her off, because she seems to take me doing so as some sort of admission of guilt. Wrinkles furrow her brow and her eyes dart back and forth to Hanneman's lesson on the training ground. From the corner of my eye, I can see them practicing meteor spells. None of the students can handle this accurately however – and just send large, flaming rocks dropping all over the open-air part of the training grounds instead of at the strawman targets.

Edelgard, after intimating how pissed she was at me in silence, then pipes up:

"...Why must you lie to me…? You just said the book was terrible!"

I shrug.

"It is."

"Then why say you were reading it? It simply doesn't make sense... I would rather you just explain what you were doing with Dorothea after I left."

"Dorothea…?"

"Yes! Why say that you were reading?! Hubert said that she went to your–!"

Before she can continue reaming me out, we both notice Claude appearing through the entryway.

"Yo – Teach, Edel – how's it hangin'?"

I nod, acknowledging his presence. Edelgard doesn't even offer that much. Undeterred, he continues:

"You look like you had a rough night… Is the Princess to blame?"

Here we go again.

"A-absolutely not…!" I hear from over my shoulder. Suddenly, I can also sense a convection current of hot air hitting the back of my neck.

"I was reading." I note.

"Heh, really? – You don't look like the type."

Point taken. From my periphery, I notice my student stand up from her stool.

"My Teacher is quite well read, actually!"

Correction: I am not well read. In fact, I've only read a grand total of two books from cover to cover in my entire life.

Chewing the scenery, Claude feigns being taken aback, and tilts his head in an effort to scrutinize the piece of literature in my hands.

"Oh yeah? Lemme borrow that then, Teach. I'm curious to see what you're reading."

Couldn't he just ask for the title?

"No."

An eyebrow of Claude's rises.

"Please allow me to borrow it."

"I can't allow it." I say with a shake of my head.

"Please, allow me to borrow it." he repeats.

Turning to the Adrestian, I raise an eyebrow expectantly. Maybe she can berate him or something... and at the very least, shift his attention. Needless to say, I've done it enough on her behalf over the past few weeks of encounters with Leicester's Alpha Buck.

Surprisingly, she clenches her white-gloved fist and looks at me with blazing passion behind those purple eyes.

"You mustn't give in, my Teacher!"

My neck returns – dejectedly – to its original Claude-facing position. There's a glint in his gaze.

"I can't allow it." I reply, bolstered only marginally by my student's resolve.

He strikes an animated pose, as if to let me know that victory is near.

"Please, allow me to borrow it…!"

Realizing that Claude is actually quite likely to just ask me in an endless loop if I refuse to give him the book from my hands, I offer it to him. I notice a massive frown form on Edelgard's face in the periphery. The one time I needed her to get flustered by Claude, she didn't.

Speaking of, His Deceitfulness whistles when he realizes what I'm reading.

"Wow… Ishtar, huh? Who turned you on to this?"

"Dorothea."

"Yeah, I can see that! She seems like one of those sneaky-smart types! But Ishtar, huh…? A tale of kinship, written across the ages – a revolt against the Saints who've humiliated her family! An evil woman, condemned to eternal fires…!"

I stare at him blankly as he trails off.

"...It seems like your kinda story, Teach."

Bringing a hand to my chin, I consider what exactly he means by that. I feel as if I don't like the story at all – so why would it be my kind of story?

"Ishtar…" my student teases the name from her lips, as if she was vaguely reminded of something.

"There's no way you know about this, Edel. It's banned in the Empire!"

"...Banned?"

"Well I mean banned in the sense that you can't print it in Enbarr or anything. Not to say that people don't read it. Raph's family used to make a killing selling contraband like this to the Empire. You know, high society people – not necessarily noble, though."

Edelgard frowns at the notion of Claude's classmate making a quick G at her country's expense – although in fairness, it does seem like they're kind of inviting it. She considers her reply for a time, and then speculates:

"...Perhaps House Varley has something to do with that. Such an answer still fails to explain why this would be available at Garegg Mach, however..."

Von Riegan leans his shoulders back and makes a dramatic shrug.

"The Church seems to have a lot of loopholes in general, Edel."

"Even so… to have such a text available at a bookstore? Are they truly that complacent…?"

At the sound of the word complacent, the heir to the Alliance puts on a devilish smirk.

"I mean, it's not like you really need to worry about that here, anyway."

"What do you mean?" My student asks.

His Deceitfulness's smirk curls ever more. Animatedly crossing his arms, he quips:

"Basically everybody's either noble, a monk, or a Knight of Seiros, or at least wealthy enough to not upturn the apple cart, I figure. it's not like this place is harboring a group of dangerous revolutionaries trying to destroy the entire continent's sociopolitical order or something, right?"

Edelgard is curiously silent about this. But then again, so am I. Her forehead is also starting to produce beads of sweat, though – and mine isn't. The weather doesn't seem particularly warm out, either.

"Hey, Teach." Claude says after tapping me on the shoulder.

I look back up at him with the blankest stare possible.

"...You know, you're supposed to say something like absolutely not or burn the heretics!"

"That's all political stuff." I say.

My reply prompts his smirk to morph into a goofy grin.

"...Ain't that the best part?"

At this, I hear Edelgard return to her stool in a thump. Turning to her, I notice rather amusingly that her boots don't touch the ground when she's got her rear fully flush to the seat. Prior to this, she had been sort of leaning against the lip of the stools, never really quite relaxing in them. Is she self-conscious about her height, I find myself wondering?

"Hmph...Well, I share my Teacher's distaste for intrigue." she notes with an attitude.

The Deer shakes his head.

"I don't believe that for a second, Edel."

"...Why not?"

"You clearly intrigued Teach here, didn't you?"

"What could you possibly be implying…?!" she yells.

Just after this, the space echoes in an unusually loud and particularly guttural throat clearing. All three of our heads are drawn to the center of the arena, where Hanneman is glaring at us. In some respects, I'm kind of insulted that he's boring into my eyes, as well – I wasn't the one yelling or gaslighting the yeller.

Without further ado, he approaches our trio.

"Professor, I would request that you allow me to speak with the Princess after the conclusion of today's lesson. We need to have a discussion about being considerate to her fellow classmates."

I look at the Princess, who is sweating even more now.

"Inside voice, Edel – Inside Voice…" Claude whispers.

"You will be attending as well, Von Riegan." Hanneman informs him sharply.

In the background, Lysithea brings down a massive meteor, totally obliterating one of the target dummies. After she's done marveling at her own work, the first set of eyes who her pink irises look for are – strangely – my own.


The lesson actually ends quite soon thereafter. As Edelgard and Claude endure a verbal dressing-down from Hanneman, Dorothea approaches me.

"Hey, Professor… can this gal get some company for teatime?"

I bring a hand to my hair. Dorothea is a student of mine too, and even though I can imagine my agreement sending Edelgard (staring at me) up the nearest wall, I do have obligations to my other wards. Plus, given Hanneman's general long-windedness, I seriously doubt I'll be able to finish my conversation about Ishtar with the house leaders anytime soon.

"Sure, Dorothea."


Sitting at a small wooden table by the gazebo, The Eaglette and I took to enjoying our hot mugs of sweet apple tea. At first, the two of us seemed to enjoy the relative quiet of our seclusion. Dorothea was still glowing a bit from the exertion of Hanneman's seminar and seemed to genuinely appreciate the opportunity to take a load off her feet. When her emerald irises noticed my analysis, she must have immediately felt the need to jump into a conversation.

…I wonder why that is?

"Are you enjoying the book, Professor?" she asks, somewhat distractedly.

"...I'm still trying to figure that out."

My reply seems to pique her interest, though.

"Wow, I hadn't expected that response! That's a good thing, though – at least I think so. I felt the same way after reading it, actually."

Is that why she recommended the book – to gauge my own personal reaction to the text? I probably shouldn't take Claude quip about her being sneaky too far. He has a tendency to project his own behavior on everyone else around him. I'm best just cutting through and seeing what her opinion is before forming my own.

"You did?"

"Of course! I mean, Ishtar is serving evil, right? Or at least – an evil noble. But she has people that she wants to protect. Isn't that a good thing, too?"

That was probably the most unsettling part of the book, honestly. Was my own desire to protect the Eagles all that different from Ishtar's desire to protect her brother and her companions? Probably not, right?

"Sure."

"Right? So it makes you feel conflicted and kind of sad about her fate, doesn't it?"

"It does."

"Professor, I always swoon over stories like that. If some man or woman could sweep me off my feet with all those kinds of sentiments – I'd never leave them! I mean, how could you?"

What a strange sentiment that is. If someone offered me that kind of unconditional care, I'd probably doubt their sincerity. But maybe that's a natural thing to want from someone? The primitivity of my feelings fails me here. I simply cannot empathize – and choose to focus on the particulars instead.

"Julian seemed very dedicated to his sister." I note.

"You think so too, then! It kind of had forbidden love written all over it, don't you think?"

Not that I know very much about love – but it does seem strange to hear such a thing as forbidden. Why would someone make taboos on the feelings that people have for one another? Even as someone who feels comparatively little, it seems strange to boycott such a thing.

"Forbidden love?" I prod.

Dorothea frowns, but it seems like the frown of an actress rather than one of genuine displeasure.

"Well I mean, obviously Professor – you can't marry your sister..."

"I'm an only child." I reply with a shrug.

"Wow… so Edie wasn't kidding about you totally missing all this Church stuff, huh?"

At this moment, I find myself wondering how much my student has disclosed to her peers. Do any think less of me for my beliefs – or lack thereof? It strikes me that Bernadetta might, given how her father is in some kind of position of religious importance.

Still, my thoughts are what they are. I don't see how hiding them does anyone any good.

"More or less."

After this our conversation peters off for a time. It's one of those natural breaks in a conversation, I think – as my words seemed to have provoked some contemplation from the usually chatty songstress.

Eventually, she claims back the tempo. Those green irises of hers quickly dart up from her tea back to mine.

"Professor… I think I may have gotten you in hot water today."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Like… in trouble, in trouble."

Women do this "nothing" talk, and I'm always unsure what to make of it. Apart from that it's never a good thing. I'm about to ask in what regard specifically, but she beats me to the punch.

"See… Last night, Edie wanted to know what we were up to in town, because – you know, we passed by her in the carriage and we were walking together and all."

While I see how Edelgard would be bothered about her inability to micromanage everyone's activities, I don't see how that's enough to get Dorothea or me in trouble.

"So?" I ask.

Dorothea fidgets in the chair, in a way that reminds me ever so slightly of the woman she's complaining about.

"Well, it's complicated… I guess?" she offers.

This is absolutely another "nothing" talk, so I just stare blankly.

"Look, Professor… I wasn't trying to make your life difficult. I know you've got to be concerned for appearances and all, but…"

Concern for appearances is probably the lowest on my list of concerns, but I suppose I appreciate Dorothea giving me more credit than I deserve there.

"...Well, I was enjoying our time together and I dunno, I feel like I may have made you feel badly at the bar for some reason. And then I went and got our friend all angry… I was being selfish."

That said, I really can't have her beating herself up about this. If she can't enjoy her time without the idea of Edelgard interfering, that will probably create problems down the line. At the very least, she should feel like there's not an executioner's blade over her head anytime she spends time with me.

"I don't think so."

"Wait... you don't?" she asks, clearly taken aback.

"I had a good time as well."

Maybe "a good time" is overstating it, but it was a new experience. And new experiences are valuable.

"...Are you sure?"

"I just wasn't feeling well. Maybe it was the vodka."

"Oh Goddess – are you allergic, Professor? I'm sorry for making you down it!"

That might be worth exploring. I've never been particularly fond of vodka, but I've certainly never considered an allergy to be the source of my distaste for it.

"I have no idea."

"I should've known… I always noticed you and Edie with your gin drinks, too."

This raises a rather mindless follow-up question:

"Is Edelgard allergic?"

Dorothea shrugs. I guess it was kind of silly to expect her to know the answer.

"To potatoes…? I don't think so, Professor…"

After that, the two of us nurse our drinks for a time. It occurs to me at this moment that I should take the opportunity to have teatime with all of my students individually at some point in the future. I sense that I've gained some insight into things through our chat today. Maybe nothing particularly useful – but progress is progress.

Then, Dorothea then clears her throat.

"Um… this is going to be a hard thing to say, I guess… but last night… I may have stood outside your door for a little while, and maybe almost knocked. What I mean is… I wanted to apologize – of course – which is kind of silly now I guess. But, um… Hubie may have seen me and gotten the wrong idea. So…"

Things are beginning to make sense now. If she thought Dorothea and I had fun last night, that would explain why she was henpecking. But I don't desire Dorothea. So I suppose I'm due to have a nothing conversation with Edelgard soon, about this nothing conversation I'm having with Dorothea right now.

"She gets worked up about nothing." I say with a shrug.

This prompts a sensible chuckle from the songstress.

"You guys are too much when you start talking like that! Sometimes I think you two are like the old couples who used to come in at the Opera."

I stare blankly, waiting for her to tease out the concept she's laying in front of me. Twirling her wavy hair around her right index finger, she continues:

"When I was singing, Professor – you know, old men were always gawking at me. Because I'm so beautiful and all, right…?"

She's conventionally attractive. Does she want confirmation of that?

"Sure." I offer.

"Oh – was that a compliment, old man…?"

I bring a hand to my chin.

"...Aren't we the same age?"

"Well, I guess I can't outdo Edie there…"

Our conversation trails off again here, with the Eaglette trading her crossed left leg with her crossed right leg gracefully in her chair. A question that's been nagging at the back of my mind finally decides to spur me into asking it aloud:

"What do you want out of the Academy, Dorothea?"

She recoils.

"Huh?"

"Everyone comes here for a reason. What's yours?"

Shaking her head, she says with a uncharacteristic hesitancy:

"T-that's… awfully forward, don't you think, Professor?"

"You're pretty forward." I reply with a shrug.

This prompts a giggle.

"You've got me there…!"

I wait for her to collect her thoughts, and she obliges them a few moments later:

"If I had to answer, Professor… I'd say that I'm trying to find someone… or something.. that I really want. And I think I've got a decent shot of finding that person or thing here."

"I see."

"You do?"

I do, I think. And I'd like to help her in whatever way I can. That desire of mine manages to squeeze out another reply from me that leaves my lips without a moment's hesitation:

"I'll keep you safe until you can find it, Dorothea."

"Professor... Don't make a girl a promise you can't keep. You'll get a reputation as a heartbreaker!"

That image of her striking down Ferdinand crosses my mind again – and it makes me realize how quickly those roles could be reversed… the pain that I'd feel if such a thing occurred on my watch, with those two as my wards – my responsibilities. It's at that moment that I realize I can't let such a thing come to pass. I owe them a better future than that.

"I intend to keep it."

This seems to disarm her quite a bit, as if the confirmation cut through the air like an axe.

"...And what would Edie think if she heard you say that, huh?"

What else can I do but stare?

"You know Professor, you've got kind of a powerful gaze. If I didn't know any better… I'd think you might mean it…"

Would it be too cavalier right now repeat myself?

I choose to say nothing at all at that moment, and after it passes, we conclude our teatime. Returning to my dormitory in silence, I reach for Ishtar once more. The pages fly by into the night as I pore over each word, again and again.