To: Professor Eisner

Attached to this letter is the form you will need to submit to Cardinal Seteth regarding my leave of absence. I've been informed through my network here that you are expected to attend a faculty meeting tomorrow regarding the St. Macuil's Day event, with the Cardinal overseeing developments. I would suggest offering it to him then.

Additionally, Ms. Arnault has informed me that she was not paying a nightcall to your dormitory last Monday for a casual encounter of the carnal variety – as I've heard common-folk are wont to do. She also asked me to inform Lady Edelgard that you were not carrying on an affair of that sort with her – "at present".

There seems to be a misunderstanding between the four of us "at present" – so allow me to clear the air:

At no point did I report to Lady Edelgard that you were engaging in relations with that woman. I merely identified the loitering of Ms. Arnault outside your dormitory door at 11:14PM that evening, and the fact that your candles were still burning. Before I could finish the report, Her Highness stormed off in an extremely agitated fashion, doubtless convinced that you were a playboy of some sort.

Because I find this matter to be excessively infantile, I did not endeavor to finish the briefing.

However, given the rapid deterioration of relations between Her Highness and Ms. Arnault as a result of your obsequiousness to the latter's intrigue – I made an effort to conclude the briefing of your activities on that night following Lady Edelgard's scolding by Professor Hanneman.

Given my observations, you were engaged for most of the evening and into the morning in the reading of an ancient folk epic titled "Ishtar" – which is currently on a banned book list in Adrestia. Curious that you would be reading a text of such provenance, but I will not comment further on that matter.

Allow me to repeat the warning I gave to Ms. Arnault: if you continue to involve me in this petty drama, I will be forced to take decisive action against you.

Do not reply to this message.

Your Student,

Hubert v. Vestra


Professor Eisner,

You are expected to provide a combat seminar on fencing this morning during the hours of 8:30-1:30pm at the training grounds. The attendees are listed as follows, in order of first registry:

Observers:

1. Edelgard von Hresvelg, Black Eagles

2. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Blue Lions

3. Claude von Riegan, Golden Deer

Participants:

1. Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Blue Lions

2. Petra Macneary, Black Eagles

3. Marianne von Edmund, Golden Deer

Please arrive promptly and do not leave your students waiting.

Dutifully,

Seteth


Felix Fraldarius is a force of nature.

For the past two-and-half hours, the Lion has monopolized my time and energy by charging at me relentlessly with an heirloom rapier that he snuck into the building by shoving it down the inside of his pant-leg. Due to Edelgard's incident on the twenty-eighth of Great Tree Moon, the iron and steel weaponry has been kept under lock-and-key since.

And the keyholder for all of this hardware – Professor Jeritza, is nowhere to be found – having taken a personal day. How many of those am I entitled to, I wonder? I never received a labor contract of any sort.

Anyway, the principal issue I'm having here is that I've been left to defend myself with wooden training blades against some of the finest tempered steel I've ever come across. No one has deigned to give me a key to the training ground armory in spite of ostensibly being a faculty member, apparently with a higher pay grade than Manuela.

I also still lack an office of my own.

To add insult to injury, my own iron sword broke about an hour and ten minutes ago under the constant barrage of strikes from this troubled youth.

This was also not my goal for the seminar.

While walking over to the training grounds, I was struck by inspiration – and thought the students and I could occupy the morning with a primer on the basic principles of the wind-sweep riposte. It's a fine technique for regaining the tempo of battle by robbing your opponent of the ability of a follow-up strike. The "wind-sweep" component mostly revolves around taking advantage of an armored opponent's narrowed battlefield vision and parrying blows upward, past the view of a helmeted head. Most experienced soldiers won't attempt to drive home blows under such circumstances, particularly because both their weapon and the weapon of their enemy would be inaccessible to their peripherals. That gives a more lightly armored opponent, particularly a swordsman – an ability to dictate the pace of battle from that point on, pending their ability to execute the maneuver properly.

At first, I tried to demonstrate this by asking if Felix would act as a sparring partner. He took this quite literally, and immediately responded to my first wind-sweep demonstration by informing me that he was ready to "start fucking fighting already".

To demonstrate his sincerity, he unbuttoned his drawers, sending poor Marianne running from the sandpit and into the shade where the three House Leaders were sitting some distance away from each other. The matter seemed to wash over Petra, who seemed more amused than anything else – with her going so far to inform me that this manner of "weapon carrying" is favored by Brigid's duelists-for-hire, who will often rent out their services in order to murder love rivals, competing merchants, or other such business. Interestingly, she mentions that as long as the person challenged accepts the duel, the challenger is completely within their rights to kill them.

Brigid seems like a very ordered society compared to what I've seen in Fodlan. I could imagine myself quite enjoying life there someday.

Anyway, for the next ninety minutes or so, Felix continues to assault me. Although he's clearly tiring with each strike, he has a significant advantage on me in terms of material. Steel beats iron, iron beats wood.

For the most part, anyway.

And I'm only mentioning this because I get quite lucky.

I happen to notice – as Felix breaks another wooden sword of mine in half with a swift thrust – that the hilt of his sword begins to wobble. It's a common enough weakness for rapiers, of course, a sort of given when you realize how the force of each blow is displaced along the weapon.

As I grab another wooden sword lazily sticking in the sand, I realize that driving the point of my sword into his guard would probably separate the entire grip, sending the key point of counterbalance flying off and rendering the blade unwieldable.

So, after Felix delivers another wild thrust, I use the wind-sweep technique to riposte his strike, driving his sword upward. Much to benefit, Felix uses the reserve of his strength to keep his forearms from following his wrists too far up - and soon finds himself stuck, resisting the kinetic energy of his own body. Taking that opportunity as it comes, I drive my point into his loosened rainguard, and separate that from the sword entirely. Following in its wake is the rest of the weapon – with the blade spinning across the length of the atrium rather dangerously and only just stopping short of the House Leaders sitting on their stools.

Amusingly, the Deer's Alpha Buck is the only one really to react.

Taking stock of them, I see the aforementioned Claude, totally freaked out by what he just witnessed. Dimitri, unperturbed by the events that transpired – glares obsessively at Edelgard, who seems to be totally immersed in a book. I wonder if it's the one I purchased for her?

Unfortunately, all leather-bound books are rather similar from this distance. Perhaps one day, someone will innovate the process of bookbinding and put distinctive covers on them. Maybe Bernadetta's embroidery skills could be put to use in such an effort.

This all strikes me as rather absurd, of course. What do I know about books? I've only read three in my entire life.

Claude shakes himself from the surprise of the combat, and strolls over to Dimitri, saying:

"Prince Party-Pooper, check under your toes."

Dimitri snaps out of his sullen funk, and suddenly notices the ornamental blade under his feet.

"Wait… is this Lord Rodrigue's…"

Felix doesn't even bother to look at him, and merely stares at the naked hilt in his hand.

"Yeah, so…?"

The Crown Prince of Faerghus picks up the blade, finally rises to his feet, and walks into the pit, holding the killing edge of the ornamental sword flat in his palms, his blue eyes staring at the blade, almost entranced by its sorry state.

"Felix… You wasted such a gift from your father on a training bout?"

The Heir to House Fraldarius couldn't be less interested and begins to stretch his shoulders back and crack his neck.

"...Don't lecture me, Boar."

Dimitri halts some distance from Felix with the fragment in his palms.

"Just consider how long this had been in your family's care…Your father and brother's care, when they too attended the academy…"

Felix then turns to me, looking like a guilty house-pet, as if his beady red eyes were searching for some sort of approval for the mess he made on the ground.

"It's just a blade… and I needed something to sneak in here for a real fight. The wooden weapon rule is bullshit."

Dimitri takes the grip out of Felix's rather loose palm and attempts to line the pieces back together. Unfortunately, I did a number on it – sending most of the guard shattering into fragments and ruining any attempt for him to distribute the weight of the parts evenly.

"...Professor, this is… or rather, was... a ceremonial blade of House Fraldarius. It's meant to be a decorative gift the nobility of Faerghus offer their children upon acceptance to the Officers' Academy. Every noble house grants it to their children upon their ascent to the Academy. When they return, this possession is kept for the next generation."

Trivia is always welcomed, although I doubt I'll ever make use of it.

And... Honestly, I'm kind of in Felix's camp on this one. I don't see much point in preserving weapons – given how they really just exist to kill – or at the very least – make you a better killer through training. Not that I'd have the narcissism to tell an entire country how to behave, but they should probably find something like a signet ring or brooch to commemorate something like this instead. You're less likely to have to slit a throat or gut someone with one of those things that people put so much emotion into.

"For a parent… to pass this to a child… It's meant to be a beautiful thing, Felix. Why…"

Dimtri wraps himself in a blanket of melancholy as a blizzard of angst begins to flurry on that head of his. Sometimes, I wonder just how fine the line on his self-control really is.

It may have been for the best that I never became Dimitri's teacher. I wonder if a female version of myself would be more equipped for such a constant torrent of emotion from the Prince? I doubt I could really fix whatever's broken there. The best I can do now is just be understanding when he's ready to piece himself back together again, I suppose.

His classmate seems to be ready to rake him over the coals, however. Taking a step towards me, Felix nods at Dimitri.

"The Boar is talking about aesthetics. How fucking rich."

I bring a hand to my hair. I need to tread carefully lest I trigger another mock battle event.

"You didn't need to challenge me with that." I say at last, using my free hand to point at the remnants of his ceremonial sword..

"I did. You said you didn't have keys to the armory."

Honestly, I don't understand why these kids are so hellbent on not using the training weapons for training. That's precisely why they're both abundant and available. When my father and I were on the Throat, even a noble like Holst wasn't above a friendly spar with a training hatchet. And Holst was a fellow who went into real combat with some sort of glowing battleaxe.

"We can just spar another time with Jeritza present." I offer, realizing that it probably wasn't worth selling them on the merits of wood.

My reply provokes a furrowed brow from Felix.

"How? You're not my Professor, and I have no idea where you are half the time."

A familiar laugh is heard from my left. Edelgard, who just a moment ago seemed engrossed in her book, suddenly appears by my side, attempting to do her domineering routine with her white gloved right hand resting just under her chin.

When did she get involved in this, I wonder?

"Ha...Well! I suppose he speaks truly there." She says with a very conceited tone.

What's that supposed to mean, my student?

You're the one sending Hubert to surveille me all the time, aren't you?

Those are things that I would say if I felt like arguing about nothing. But I don't feel like arguing about nothing, so I just raise an eyebrow at her. She doesn't even notice and continues her attempt at mogging the two Lions with those pretty purple orbs of hers.

"What's the Bitch barking about…?" Felix asks, looking at me. My eyes dart to him, wondering why he wants to tempt fate, and then return to my student, hoping she doesn't do something reckless.

When my gaze returns to her, I realize those lavender irises have turned their attention to me expectantly.

"...I refuse to be baited by such a bumpkin." she informs me.

Is this progress? I'm starting to feel rather proud of Edelgard right now, to the point where I'm willing to jump to her defense a bit more vigorously than I normally would.

With a bit of resolve, I turn back to Felix.

"Try not to call her that." I command my erstwhile sparring partner. As I say this, Edelgard has a very excited expression on her face.

I turn to her with a tilted head and she blushes bright red.

Felix spits into the sand, returning my attention to him – and I notice him staring down my student with squinted eyes.

"Tell her to stop panting like a dog in heat, then. It's disgusting."

The blush quickly turns into fiery rage. She steps forward.

"... I wish to spar against this man for the honor of House Hresvelg!"

Realizing that I haven't tagged him out yet, I pre-empt her by poking Felix's nose with the pommel of my training sword. As he clearly wasn't expecting such a reaction, he recoils and nearly loses his footing, prompting laughs from the peanut gallery.

Edelgard turns to me, surprised.

"You lost." I inform Felix matter-of-factly.

The Lion regains his land legs and tries to get in my face.

"You think that's a win or something? Fuck that!"

Shrugging, I reply:

"Neither of us tapped each other out, so the spar wasn't over."

Acknowledging the previously unconcluded combat, Felix silently seethes as I stare at him blankly for a few moments.

Turning back to my student, I say:

"He's beaten. Is your honor restored now?"

Although those lavender irises of hers remain fixed on me, her chin tilts downward, those cheeks of hers flash red and she tries to hide a smile through pursed lips. After an interminable silence only punctuated by Felix tapping his feet against the stone barrier, she finally says:

"Well, since it's you beating him, I suppose I could accept it, my teacher..."

The sound of a loogie being hock'd brings my eyes back to my vanquished opponent.

"...Of course she would. I can see her drool from here." Felix informs me.

I get the impression that the Heir to House Fraldarius has a deep distaste for camaraderie. Just a month ago, I would feel a certain kinship with him in that – but now, my mind is full of entangled thoughts about such things. Particularly whenever Edelgard or another Eagle is around.

"Cool off." I reply.

Turning his back to me, he offers:

"Be grateful I consider you a worthy opponent."

A pithy reply comes to mind, but before I can state it, a familiar hand takes up the watch on my shoulder.

"Professor… you have my apologies for allowing Felix to disrupt your lesson." Dimitri says at last.

"It was a fine demonstration." I say after shaking my head.

Felix seems to realize that he's being complimented, and strolls back over. When he notices that both myself and his House Leader have taken note of this particular behavior, he immediately tries to play it off.

"The Boar thinks he can beat you - and he'll oink like a piglet at the trough to get his chance."

"Enough, Felix." Dimitri commands, clearly frustrated.

"Hmph. I thought you'd be capable enough to keep your house members on a tighter leash, Prince Dimitri. Perhaps I was wrong." Thanks for escalating, Edelgard.

That jab… seemed uncalled for– and I get the impression this is about to send the poor kid into a very bad mood.

"You…"

Yup.

Claude suddenly appears to save the day, placing two hands on Dimitri's shoulders – forming a sort of bizarre human centipede between the three of us.

"Yeah, Dimitri – check out the leash Edel has on Teach, right?!"

Before anyone can comment on that statement, Petra then appears and puts her hand on my other shoulder, giving her house leader a shock.

"Professor! I wish to be joining this friendship exchange and perhaps becoming your challenger next!"

Looking into her enthusiastic and accepting auburn irises, I realize that not everyone in the world wanders around at an emotional knife-edge. I can scarcely overstate what a relief that is to me.


Petra, to my surprise, took to the wind-sweep quickly. She's been practicing, I suspect – as her footwork seems much more fleet as of late. Marianne, even more to my surprise, actually picked up the technique faster than Petra – although she has yet to find a true grace for any pose but one of riposte. Still, I suspect deep down that she's got a hidden talent for swordplay. I certainly never expected it, but allow myself to take a bit of pride on her behalf in its discovery.

The two of them are dueling now, trading combat arts with another as wooden sword after wooden sword breaks in the sand. Dimitri, Felix, and Claude have long since left – with the third in that group suggesting the idea of heading over to the blacksmith's – perhaps in an effort to repair Felix's heirloom.

My student, meanwhile, remains by my side in body – if not in mind. Her eyes are glued to the book, which I find myself suddenly curious about.

"What are you reading?" I ask her.

"A book." she replies with a familiar matter-of-factness.

Is she doing what I think she's doing? She must be. I suppose that's only fair, isn't it? I'm always throwing back her words at her, after all. Curious to see how much she recalls from our back-and-forth yesterday, I play out the scene:

"...I can see that." I confirm with a raised eyebrow.

When she realizes that I'm on board, that smile that I find myself forever searching for makes its appearance again. And that all-too familiar warmth and stabbing pain arrives in equal measures, as if waiting for their turns on a metronome. First the warmth, then the agony.

"Dorothea recommended it." she notes, doing her best impression of my shrugging. It looks downright comical with those padded shoulders in her academy jacket.

Was she being half-serious here, I wonder? Was the book in her hands Ishtar?

But I cannot look at her any longer.

I take a deep breath to compose myself, and return my eyes to the battlefield lest I make a stink of the whole affair by grimacing from the shooting pain that slowly subsides as long as I don't have my eyes on that impossibly cute curl of her lips. I focus on the dance of blades happening between Petra and Marianne and attempt to lose myself in their contest.

Perhaps Edelgard realizes that, and so endeavors to pull my attention back to her.

"The Eagles will have to do an activity for St. Macuil's Day next week." she informs me.

Turning back to her, I notice that her expression has soured a bit. I suppose turning away from those pleading lavender irises was just as bad a reaction as a grimace, after all. Nodding at her statement, I say:

"The faculty meeting is tomorrow."

The Heir to an Empire fidgets.

"...Might you have any ideas?"

Precisely how am I supposed to have ideas when there's no clear directive for what we're supposed to do? I have no idea what the festival even is, apart from that line about garlands on the calendar – and I'm guessing that's not what Seteth is going to have us do. This is an Officer's Academy, after all.

Then again, it occurs to me that Edelgard probably is far more knowledgeable about this than I am. She's the heir to Wilhelm's legacy or something – a big, important Church guy.

"Not really." I say after a pregnant pause.

Edelgard seems to treat my reply with some poignancy, because she too doesn't fire back with her own quickly at all. Instead, she just stares back at me with those purple orbs of hers – which seem to be simultaneously accosting me for some unknown grievance and begging me for some sort of attention as of yet unpaid.

"...Can we meet tomorrow after and talk about it?"

That would be the logical thing to do, wouldn't it?

"I was going to gather the Eagles anyway." I reply.

Her lips part ever so slightly at this reply – as if she had a reply ready and waiting, but I somehow foiled it. I notice her irises dart back and forth to Petra and Marianne's duel – and then towards the exit

"In that case… Would it be possible for you and I to discuss it before that, then? Alone, perhaps?"

As she asks this question I feel as if she's just made herself quite vulnerable, and I don't know why. Her body language seems to communicate it, as well – which makes it all the stranger. She suddenly grows small on her stool, and shifts all her weight towards her arms which support her on the seat. Although I'm sure she's quite strong – strong enough to wield a labrys, of course – everything about her now exudes weakness.

And with that in mind, how can I say anything other than:

"Of course, Edelgard."

Suddenly, the weight that was pressing down on her petite frame seems to release its hold over her. Those eyes flutter at my affirmation, and then that chin of hers starts pointing to the ground. I find myself soaking in that view for a time, wondering what exactly I was confirming to put her at such ease.

Because if I could repeat that silent confirmation any time she needed it, I would without hesitation – just to see her like this again.

"Thank you, my Teacher."

My gaze returns to the duel between the Eagle and Deer, and hers upon her book. But it feels as if we've reached a comfortable accord – her and I. It's an accord that I'll endeavor to keep for as long as I can – because lately, a thought has crept into my mind:

What if Ishtar was right?