As I see the tenth tray of Saghert and Cream exit the oven and then be brought down to the dining hall's ice-cellar by Caspar's surprisingly steady hands, I find myself wondering:

What exactly does Bernadetta do when she's shut up in that dorm of hers?

Because if it's anything like what she's getting up in the kitchen… she must be one of the most dedicated, productive people I've ever met in the world – and I've seen a fair number of those in my travels throughout the continent.

Right now, she is cutting into another warm tray of the crumbly dessert with a serrated knife and spatula, ready to dish up Edelgard's tenth taste-test, which my House Leader has renamed a quality assurance assessment.

And baking that much – we could probably serve at least a hundred of these tomorrow – in a single evening… Well, it takes dedication and productivity to persevere in an effort like that, doesn't it?

Although – on second thought, I have killed with my own bare hands many, many people who struck me as dedicated and productive, so maybe my own actions helped to thin the herd. But… if that's the case, all I was doing was helping her climb to the top, right? That's my job, as her teacher. And naturally, if her intent was to become the most dedicated and productive baker in the world, and she needed to murder every single last other dedicated and productive baker in the world to do it… I would of course endeavor to help as best as I could.

And since Bernadetta seems very uncomfortable at even the thought of violence, I would naturally murder those people for her, perhaps after wrapping my hands around their throat and gathering every worthwhile tidbit of information that gave them a competitive advantage over her – in order that she could achieve her dreams.

Because I'm her Professor.

Anyway, I can't help but congratulate her. Placing a teacherly hand on her unpadded yet still soft shoulder – perhaps from her hoodie underneath – I say:

"Excellent work, Bernie. Your battle ends here."

She stiffens ramrod straight at this.

"...A-are you going to kill me now, Professor…?" she asks, terrified.

I shake my head without a moment's hesitation and reply:

"Never. I would only kill for you."

I would. If anyone were to molest this gentle soul, I would certainly… disembowel them and feed their own innards to them as their final meal, maybe after feeding Bernadetta's Saghert and Cream to then as their penultimate meal, to demonstrate what a great student and talented confectioner she is. Or something demonstrative like that, at least.

But it's not that bad of an idea, I suppose. I've had worse.

Naturally, I can disembowel people that quickly, and am able to do so with such precision that they generally have a forty-five to fifty second window of painful shock before finally expiring. You just need to cut around the largest arteries, and to do that, you have to pick a side and not drift too close to the aorta or the carotid in the process. I could never teach my students this of course – it is one of those things that you only learn after killing ceaselessly for half a decade, and finding yourself bored with each passing murder – your unfeeling mind occupies itself with new and innovative ways to take lives that seem so committed to clinging on.

And now… of course, I want to cling onto mine to protect Edelgard and the Eagles.

But also to sacrifice it at a moment's notice to do the same.

Feelings are a terrible thing… if only because they are so contradictory.

It is good that I can never – and hopefully will never – express them.

Anyway, If I was ever in a situation where I had to disembowel someone on Bernadetta's behalf – or of any of my students' behalf – I know what I would do.

I would make my incision with my dagger straight above their appendix, reach in with my hand to yank it out along with the rest of their colon, and then shove that little nippy organ between their lips and squeeze out the foul gunk that resides inside, with the intent to make every last sensation and stimulus so deeply painful and humiliating that they would do nothing but regret hurting Bernadetta von Varley, my ward, until the life faded from their eyes… perhaps as I stared blankly into them and took note of every last emotion.

Did I feel that way when Claude bullied her? Was I even aware of my feelings until just last night?

That's an overreaction over something as minor verbal taunting, maybe. Strangulation seems appropriate for him, though, because Claude is another one of those guys who likes to plan. And oh, how that kid would talk if I ever got my hands around his neck and just pushed ever so slightly.

Maybe someday…

But no, I've never felt the drive to do that until Caspar punched her.

Perhaps if Caspar did that again, I would– but I certainly would not kill Caspar, who is also my responsibility and thus needs to be protected against other Caspar-like individuals. Maybe I would kill his parents or legal guardian in that fashion instead, for never teaching him to respect the value of the lives that have been entrusted to me. And then I would have Caspar watch me do this, so he could understand how he had been misled into not understanding how resolute my promise to Edelgard was – to protect her particularly – but also him and the rest of the Black Eagles until my dying breath.

And then naturally, I would have to take on Count Bergliez's household forces, and then later the entire Imperial Army. Perhaps if I murdered Count Bergliez – whose relationship to Caspar is unknown to me, my little punch-drunk pugilist could inherit that title and raise his own children to respect Bernadetta. Maybe even with Bernadetta… on second thought though, that seems unlikely.

Caspar and Bernadetta often argue, and people who argue that much shouldn't have children together, should they?

Not that I would know, but I can imagine not liking that.

I resolve at this moment to never have children with a woman who I argue with.

In any event, I figure I could last about five years against Adrestia, perhaps living in the wilderness and becoming a hardened killer like I once was (I've become too soft now, I suspect. Edelgard makes me more gentle with each passing day)… but after that I would probably need some type of intervention from an ally… perhaps Dimitri? He owes me favor at least. I also suppose Caspar could marry a woman and produce a child in that timeframe, as five years seems like a long time. How long does it take to make a baby, I wonder?

What does one have to do to make a baby to begin with?

Would Edelgard help?

With the intervention I mean, not the baby.

On second thought, she'd probably just scold me.

For both of those things, probably. We certainly argue too much, and thus would never be good parents.

But I would murder Caspar's family all the same, especially if they ever threatened him.

It's my job to shield them from all the cruelty this world will throw at them, after all.

If that requires cruelty to be done by myself – well, I realize now, after living in such an unfeeling way my entire life… that I was indeed quite cruel, and earned that title of Ashen Demon, even though that pseudonym written in blood by Holst and Fallstaff seemed so strange at the time.

But it's good that I'm a… dangerous, malevolent sociopath, or whatever Edelgard said, because I can use that as their teacher to demonstrate how that's not really what life is all about. They deserve better, and I find myself knowing that if they can feel what I have this month someday… that I'd be very proud. And I'm starting to understand that after arriving here at Garegg Mach – it's really all thanks to them, and particularly Edelgard.

I can carry that weight for them, because after all of the lives that I've taken…

Tears in rain are insufficient as an analogy, I suppose – maybe…

The flame inside me has long since burned any guilt into ashes...?

I'll work on that one later.

In any event, Bernadetta seems to have finally processed my statement.

"...P-Professor, I-I really don't know what that means, b-but thank you…?!"

"He's trying to say that he intends to protect you, Bernadetta." Edelgard informs her.

While she says this, My Student also fashions those stunning lavender irises, wrinkly forehead furrows and curled-down mouth of hers into a don't respond face. So I nod, because I defer to her. And if I could, I'd snicker at the bread crumbs all over her upper lip, giving the Heir to Adrestia a caramel-colored mustache.

This is her tenth quality assurance assessment of Bernadetta's work, by the way – they've all passed with flying colors, as well. Edelgard would be quite cute as a brunette, I think, if the mustache is any evidence – but I appreciate her white hair all the same.

"Thanks, Professor! It's quite a relief to hear you say that…" comes Bernie's clear reply.

Was that the first statement from Bernie that didn't come out as a stammer?

To use Ferdinand's quote – I am overcome. Sadly, my version of "overcome" is just a blank stare. So I will use my words to express the depth of feeling behind them:

"If Caspar hurts you again…" I begin.

Edelgard gives me the eyes of death more intensely as I do… But I am Bernadetta's Professor as well, and the Heir to House Varley deserves an individualized lecture to express that she is eternally safe in my hands, as long as I breathe.

"...I will murder his entire–" I attempt to continue before I'm cut off by my blue-haired brawler who appears out of nowhere and sucker punches me in the rib in a comradely fashion.

"Hah! Gotcha back, Professor!"

At this, and with the ginger gentleman on my mind as well, I bring Caspar into a Ferdinandian bear hug. He is at first stunned, but then returns it in reciprocal measure.

"Excellent work. Grapple me, not Bernie." I whisper.

The Younger Bergliez breaks it and obliges eagerly, attempting to throw a couple of fierce haymakers into my face which I catch with open palms at ease.

"...Ugh – you two are unbelievable... Can you not do this in the kitchen?" caterwauls my catlike class captain with crumb-crust under her cute, celestial nose.

I then notice that Ferdinand von Aegir and Dorothea Arnault have just returned from their final "acquisition" of the evening – to the town greengrocer in search of more sugar. Bernadetta uses a lot of sugar in her baking – and that's just how Bernadetta is, right? Sweet? I've heard the Songstress use the term before, and it feels appropriate.

"Ah, Professor–! I see that you were engaged in a display of noble brotherhood. May I join you?" The Noblest of Nobles inquires.

What a relief it is to be a commoner while still bearing the responsibilities of a noble like this. I don't even need to worry about producing heirs, living on a great estate, or… any of those stupid noble things. Is this because of my Crest, or in spite of it? I still don't understand those things, but Hanneman ambushed me today asking for another test. I told him that I needed to disengage per the mission brief. He looked at me as if I had two heads.

Right now I must resemble a being with two heads, as I have just received my fourth hug in as many weeks from the Heir to the House Aegir.

When it finally breaks after several minutes and a great deal of swaying – accompanied by eye rolls from the Songstress and the Princess, He presents to me a brown cylinder.

"While Dorothea and I were shopping, I happened to acquire an ever-elusive cinnamon stick! It only cost 5000G, and I must insist we sample it with tea this evening in order to appreciate its full freshness."

Again, I am overcome – even though I cannot look overcome... but endeavor to accept his gesture with both palms open.

In my periphery, I notice a possessive glare.

"My Teacher and I prefer Bergamot, actually…!" notes My Student.

I do of course, and hope that I can exert every energy I can to keep her agitatedly enjoying bergamot with me for as long as we share this path of ours.

Ferdinand looks into my blank stare with such enthusiasm and says:

"Professor, you must know that cinnamon is a far more refined spice to infuse with tea then the Bergamot fruit, which is typically enjoyed only by the elderly and infirm. Although it is less noble than my personal favorite – the Southern Fruit Blend – I must insist that you take all your black tea with cinnamon in the future to prepare your palette, as I still intend to formally ennoble you with a title from the Emperor's demesne, after which I intend to appoint you chancellor of Adrestia… following my inheritance of the Aegir portfolio."

He only needed two short breaths to say all that.

After a third, he asks:

"...How do you feel about the Barony of Morgaine? It is the finest spa town of the Empire, and the one which Emperor Ionius used to take his consorts on–"

Edelgard shoots up like a lightning rod.

"...Ferdinand, cease this brown-nosing at once!" she yells.

Linhardt, Bernadetta, and Caspar – who were carrying on with their own conversation, suddenly stop as well.

"My Father's…" she starts.

Her eyes dart guiltily over to me, and then angrily back to the Ginger Lancer's.

"...Cottage… is no particular concern of yours, Ferdinand… nor of My Teacher's at this moment."

Is Ferdinand offering me Fallstaff's old barony? From Edelgard's probably-unwilling Father…?

There's no way I could accept that.

…I wonder what Edelgard's father is like? A foolish question to ask of course – anyone who raised Edelgard is likely to be as bull-headed as she is. But he must also be a brilliant man to create such a brilliant daughter – so why is Ferdinand acting like he's politically powerless? Maybe being politically powerless is brilliant – because Edelgard thinks I'm brilliant, and I have no political power, or even interest.

Does Edelgard have political power?

...Politics tends to make my head hurt as much as Edelgard makes my chest hurt. So I assume he must have been a fellow of the army.

Or… perhaps Ionius was really busy being an involved father like mine? At least – I think my father is an involved one, as I've never discussed any other examples. Manuela did mention a mistake he made though… something about a talk. No– Manuela must be making the mistake, as her mind is clouded with lust, and my father had eyes only for my mother, as he said once.

Obviously if you love someone like my father did, you make a baby from that – right?

Is that not chivalrous?

I'll ask Edelgard sometime, as she seems like an expert.

She certainly reads many books to that effect.

Anyway…

Ferdinand seems quite intent to change my teatime preferences, and I find myself torn.

I feel as if my response here would drastically change any attempt these two would have to reconcile, perhaps leading to a confrontation in an underground cavern where I…

No, I cannot allow my Eagles to resemble those two on the viaduct.

"...Why not both?" I inquire with a shrug.

Both Ferdinand and Edelgard look at me with profoundly confused expressions.

At this moment, Linhardt, who has just returned from his watch at the confectionary oven with a fresh drum of roasted coffee beans, wanders in between the three of us.

He seems a bit antsy. Those cerulean irises of his also seem… smaller, more focused, more lucid. After popping a roasted bean in his mouth, he pontificates:

"Recently, in my crestological research… I happened upon mention of a curious hobby of Wilhelm, Emperor of Adrestia –! As you all know…he was the first human to bear the crest of Seiros like yours, Edelgard–"

He sounds too energetic, and I worry about this – as any out of character behavior by my students would naturally worry me. Two more beans enter his mouth, he shakes again, and everyone continues to stare at him.

"...Anyway, he apparently had a type of blended tea fashioned to… well – from what I can read, I suppose – he apparently knew that Saint Seiros enjoyed this sort of tea, and of course there were rumors that those two were courting and Edelgard's House, the Hresvelgs might be the children of…"

The cat looks like she's ready to pounce on the sleepy sage.

Four more beans enter his mouth with a jolt as six pairs of expectant eyes rest upon him.

"From what I can gather… he used this tea to gain her crest, a truly fascinating process, if I've ever heard one. Although the entirety of the recipe has been lost to time… I did locate a poetic fragment of Wilhelm's that I've been translating from proto-Cyrillic indicates that it involved both bergamot and cinnamon…! So given its relationship to the emergence of the Crest of Seiros, Professor, I must ask that you assist me in researching this as it as almost like–"

Before the jittering genius can deliver his usual analytic analogy to drive the point home, Ferdinand seems to have struck inspiration.

"Ah – yes, the long-lost Hresvelg Blend…! It is the goal of many who walk along the path of tea to recreate its recipe. Apparently, its origin and production was covered at length in the Imperial library, but was lost after the reign of Emperor Mauricius. Supposedly, the individual first who recreates this will be asked to teatime by the Goddess herself!"

"...Impossible." Edelgard notes with rolling eyes.

Linhardt gazes into the distance thoughtfully.

"...Hm… I suppose I will have to create it sometime, as I could ask the Goddess about the origin of Crests as well."

Seeing an opportunity to make amends between Ferdinand and Edelgard, I walk over to one of the kitchen's whistling kettles left over hot coals. It just takes the slightest bit of pressure, much like my hands around the throat of someone like… Claude, perhaps… to get that teapot to talk.

As it sings, I flip the latch, grab two nearby mugs and pour hot water into them.

When I return to the kitchen island that Edelgard is sitting at with Ferdinand, I notice that they're already back to bickering over my tea preferences.

I place the two mugs on the table as peace offerings, and reach into my satchel, where I have been keeping a box of bergamot tea bags in case Edelgard ever finds herself craving her favorite beverage. I remembered how useful it was to keep sweets for Lysithea on the camping trip, and realized that as another troublesome white-haired woman – "mine" as Sothis refers to her – Edelgard is certainly worthy of this same consideration.

But then… I started to realize that I wanted to do this regardless of incentive… because she cares about my well-being, and I wish to eventually learn how best to care for hers in return.

In any event, she looks genuinely surprised when I fetch the tea bags.

"...My Teacher, do you really always carry bags of bergamot tea around with you…?"

She asks this very cutely, and I can see her fidgeting in the chair – also quite cutely. In reply, I shake my head.

"Just recently." Just as of yesterday, actually.

But, she doesn't need to know that much.

"...A-are there not more important things to carry in your satchel...?" Is she henpecking me again?

"Not really." I reply, shrugging.

And… I think this is the first time that I've ever provoked a blush by my shrug. It's certainly the first time I can recall it and feel warm about it, so I will operate under that impression forever.

My chest also hurts terribly, but a good sort of terribly.

"...Did you go out of your way to select my favorite brand as well?" she asks.

Well, now she's extrapolating. I just selected the most expensive one, because she said that she didn't like cheap thrills at the bar.

"We both like it." I confirm. It's one that I've been taking at the dormitory alone, at least.

I then notice that she's staring at me with the most placid expression I've seen in a very long time from her... as if she's finally found herself in a good mood.

Ten slices of Bernadetta's Saghert and Cream were all it took to get her there. After the past week, I feel as if that's nothing at all.

Involuntarily, perhaps because of this, we both lose ourselves in each other's eyes for a while, with the rest of the class probably looking on in awkward or bewildered silence.

...But Hubert's not here, so we can get away with this, right?

The Hubert of the Heart, is though.

Dorothea, attracted like a magnet to the future Emperor's blushes, saunters over – puts two reassuring hands over the Princess's padded shoulders – rather like a proud older sister, and then drives her jade irises into mine.

Why do I get the impression that I'm being scrutinized right now? Do all women scrutinize? I turn to Bernadetta, and realize she is also probably scrutinizing me, perhaps because I've lost whatever murderous air I was presenting when we first spoke. It's hard to tell with Bernie firmly though, because her eyes never stay in one place for too long. And so I give up.

I've also realized recently that some men do not scrutinize at all – Ferdinand seems to trust me without reservation. I would take on entire armies for that fellow, but I'm not sure he realizes that. Or maybe he does – and even realized it before I did. Ferdinand hugged me first, after his birthday when I was still feelingless, so perhaps he does.

And that was only twenty days ago.

When for the past twenty years… I had felt nothing at all.

And my first feeling… as I recall… was on the twentieth of the Great Tree Moon, 1180.

And it was about Edelgard.

Anyway, Dorothea asks with a pout:

"Professor – can't you carry around my favorite tea as well…? It's Sweet Apple Blend…"

I return the lack of interest she gave my pout yesterday. All she's getting is the blankest of stares. My Student takes the initiative from there:

"There is certainly not enough room in My Teacher's satchel for that…!"

There is of course, but I suppose I need to find a way to simultaneously not offend either of them, so I try to cut a middle path.

"I'll get some for your birthday…?" I offer to Dorothea.

Dorothea seems thrilled at the prospect of just getting a birthday gift. I wonder why that is?

"Awwww… you're not the Emperor, Professor… so you can only choose one of us… but well, it's only a week after yours, of course! 29th of Horsebow. We have the same Almyran astrological sign, you know – it means we're very compatible…!"

Edelgard seems torn. Maybe she wants to press Dorothea on the harem thing… but I guess her curiosity wins out – because she asks:

"...Dorothea, please inform me about the Almyran astrological sign for the twenty-second of the Garland Moon…"

The songstress shakes her head and shuts her eyelids with a dramatic flair.

"You wouldn't want to know, Edie – people with your sign tend to be very dishonest with honest folks like me and the Professor. There's lots of passion, but you're actually extremely incompatible with us for any… non-sensual interaction. Most people become bitter enemies, actually." Comes the unfortunate reply.

And I watch the Heir to an Empire drop her gaze to the floor.

"W-well, it is for the best that I do not put any stock at all in such superstitious nonsense…"

She definitely puts stock in it.

Dorothea removes herself from her Edie's shoulders and shuffles over towards me.

"Professor, did you ever see the Temples in Almyra? Supposedly they worship the stars there." my Elder Eaglette asks.

And a flash of white hair and lavender irises shoot up in excitement. For claiming a total disinterest in such things, Edelgard suddenly seems very interested, again.

"We used to camp in them." I reply matter-of-factly.

"...So is it true? Do they live their entire lives off star signs?" enquires Enbarr's Most Eligible.

What are star signs? I recall Claude saying that all women – without fail – are interested in them. My eyes drift over to Bernadetta to confirm this, and I realize that she has stopped cleaning her cooking utensils and is staring at me with… interest.

Claude can tell the truth…?

Bernie also seems quite sensitive to my gaze, though... so maybe I'm just freaking her out again.

"Their entire calendar is different." I reply distractedly.

"...Oh?" My Student is at the edge of her seat now.

Well, I guess I have to explain now, so I start:

"Their weeks are ten days, not seven – and their months are… if I remember correctly…"

And attempt to gather my thoughts. None of the usual females are rushing me along though, which is nice.

"...They're named after different human qualities. I think one is genius, one is honesty, another is… virtue, and… labor – I think. I cannot remember the others." I finish haltingly.

Much to my surprise – they are all quite impressed with that awful explanation.

"...Oh, so maybe you and Edie are compatible with theirs!" Dorthea quips.

…Compatible for what, exactly? I don't think it works the same way there.

Naturally, Edelgard needs to follow up on this at maximum intensity:

"My Teacher… I recall you telling von Riegan of the Deer that you could not read Almyran?"

Here comes the word-twisting… it's as if she remembers my words, and then always puts some sort of malicious interpretation behind them.

"I can't." I grant.

The darting purple orbs squint at this admission.

"...Then how are you so familiar with their calendar?" I'm asked.

Shaking my head, I suspect the assembled crowd won't particularly care for this story, but I suppose they deserve the honesty that Edelgard seems unwilling to grant to me:

"...When we would fight with Holst, I would… interrogate officers who could speak Fodlanese. Before I strangled them to death, they would ask me to make an offering on their birthday. It's religious, I think. I learned the calendar that way, sort of."

Dorothea grimaces.

"...Strangled them to death, Professor?" she asks with a gulp.

What does she think I'm going to do with the smartest bandit I see exactly ten days from now? Maybe she's not thinking about it.

Again – I'm this far already, so it can't hurt to detail it:

"Yeah, usually I–"

But before I can detail my usual citadel-clearing process, Ferdinand taps my shoulder.

"I have heard that the Almyrans have their own exquisite tea based on the needles of the pine! Do you prefer it over Fodlan or Morfian teas, Professor?"

"My teacher and I prefer Bergamot, Morfian style, actually…!" comes the immediate reply.

When she says this, my mind's eye travels back to the 23rd of Great Tree Moon – that afternoon where she stuffed her cheeks full of Bergamot tea made with loose leaves.

Perhaps I didn't find it cute then… but my heart twists in pain remembering it now. How close I was that day to choosing Dimitri's class over hers. How I thought she had no desire for me to be her teacher, and how I was alright with that until I chanced her conversation with Hubert at the door.

At that moment, I understand so acutely I would wish to never see the world in which I didn't stand in front of those closed double-doors. Whatever happens… Whatever disaster or tragedy or bitter triumph, I'll never regret choosing this band of idiots. Because they're brilliant in their own ways too, aren't they? All of them. And that Edelgard, the most brilliant of them all – also finds me brilliant. Among other things.

And that feeling, as primitive and as recent and as unknown as it is, makes me want to help make The Redhead and the Whitehead live peaceably with one another. Because in ten days, we'll be making war – and to win at war, you need to act cohesively. I can't have them bickering over the direction in which I'm slitting the Bandit King's throat when there will be other enemies afoot.

I was always my own force on the battlefield, but I never came into conflict with Holst, my father, or anyone but the enemy. If I did… I would be dead, like so many others.

And perhaps I'd be fertilizer for the pine trees those Almyrans make their disgusting tea from.

"I'm not a fan…" I reply distractedly to Ferdinand's earlier comment.

But they're expecting me to give my professional estimation, so I oblige:

"...It's… acidic. I used the teabags as a fuse for explosives." - the same type of "Goneril Cocktail" I threw at the Deer's barricade.

Speaking of fusion…

I break Ferdinand's cinnamon stick in half, and drop it into the two steeping mugs before me.

That smells delicious…! The Beginning informs me.

You like tea? I ask.

"My beloved made excellent tea, like this… but better, because they were better than you in every conceivable way."

Maybe I should invite Sothis to teatime.

"Phooey! Keep your eyes in front." she snaps.

In front of me is Ferdinand, who says:

"P-Professor, how could you be so cavalier with such a creation…?"

"...Your other front…!"

In my other front is – of course, knowing Sothis – Edelgard.

Who also looks rather surprised.

Is this really the first time anyone's ever stuck cinnamon and bergamot in the same teacup?

Although I ask this silently, my student seems to detect my bewilderment.

"...Imperial tea culture is very rigid, My Teacher. The creation and selling of blended tea is regulated by the Ministers of the Imperial Household."

From her tone, she sounds as if she has taken issue with the facts that she's delivered in front of me.

"...Hubert's father?" I ask.

"Yes, the Marquis Vestra. He has one of the largest libraries of tea in the known world." she explains to me in very neutral terms.

She seems to get along with Hubert, but not his father? There must be a story there.

Ferdinand seems ready to tell me, though:

"Professor, I find myself fearing for the future of the Empire's tea culture when Hubert ascends to that role – he prefers coffee so nakedly."

Well, the Ratfucker Owl-Shitting Extraordinaire sleeps nakedly – so I guess he would prefer coffee that way as well. As I think this, Dorothea chimes back in and pokes at Edelgard's padded shoulder again, indenting her finger comically deeply under the epaulets, making eye contact with me while doing so.

What message is the Songstress trying to send me?

I already know that they're padded, but…

It's almost too amusing. Edelgard kills things with axes more efficiently than most men I've known, and she pads her shoulders like a baby brigand who is insecure in his gambeson.

"Maybe Edie can make Hubie Minister of Coffee Culture instead!" Our Hubert of the Heart suggests.

I'm sure Edelgard has already talked to Dorothea about her future role in the Empire. They seem very communicative with each other.

Anyway, Ferdinand is quick to swagger back over and correct her:

"Dorothea, Edelgard could not do such a thing without–"

Offering him the other mug before he can monologue about the Duchy of Aegir, I command:

"Try the tea."

His eyes go quite wide at this, and he backs a few steps away.

"...Professor, I am allergic to Bergamot…! It gives me terrible gonadal rashes."

I've seen Holst get those on campaign – that type of thing… well, you wouldn't wish it on your worst enemies. Although, he blames it on a barmaid in Derdriu rather than tea. Did the barmaid in Derdriu offer him bergamot tea, perhaps?

Still, the ginger gentleman deserves an apology for my impropriety.

"Ferdinand, I am truly sorry." and I mean it.

At this, he is overcome.

"Nonsense, Professor – you cannot have known! On my part, I am unsure why I troubled you with such a base detail that followed. Please accept my own apologies for my frankness!"

I bring him for another hug, and receive the kind of embrace that causes me to see a yellow arrow going up in my mind's eye. Our moment is interrupted, however by a familiar voice shouting:

"...It's quite hot…!" from you-know-who.

And we break off our embrace to see Edelgard's face analyzing the tea before her. She takes another sip, and I can see her move it about between her cheeks. Nodding – she reaches for the sugar, and heaps an Edelgardian serving of it into the beverage, making into a slurry.

Another sip is taken.

And then… the smile that I'm beginning to see more and more each day arrives…

The pain is unspeakable – as if an unknown agony inflicted centuries, millennia before strikes my chest – almost as if it's been rent open. Unfortunately, at least for whoever is doing this, they will be in for a nasty surprise – as I have no heart to slash apart.

But… to my great comfort, along with that pain… time seems to stand still.

And I find myself taking stock of Edelgard, and her smile – and how precious it's become to me. When I do, an uncomfortable nagging begins to overtake me.

What if I have to choose between her and the other Eagles?

Of course the obvious answer... is her.

It always was and will be, because I owe her these twisted, confused feelings of mine that I cannot part from…

But the less obvious answer is…

I never want to choose.

Because I want everyone here to care about one another.

And that… should be my priority, after this battle in Maid getup.

It occurs to me then, and I'm glad it does – that for her to fully open to me, I need to carry the rest of the Eagles with me.

I need Hubert to regale me about his coffee obsession and shrug off his threats on my life.

I need to trade poems with Dorothea and join her banned romantic book club.

I need to sample exotic teas with Ferdinand and explore the noble way of life.

I need to bake desserts with Bernadetta and encourage her to share her embroidery with others.

I need to learn more about Brigid with Petra, and maybe teach her more about Fodlan

I need to grapple with Caspar, so he learns how to channel that energy into something righteous

Those things are just as important as making sure some bandit doesn't cleave their face off.

Otherwise – as a teacher, I've failed them.

And failing them is the same as failing the brilliant young woman who stands before me.

…Because she is their leader, and when and if they take leave of me… or if I am forced to take leave of them for whatever reason.

She'll need to rely on their strength as well.

As that resolve cements, time lurches forward again… and fate rewards me for my effort:

"...This flavor is… quite comforting..." Edelgard says, as if it wasn't a caffeinated beverage designed to do the precise opposite of that.

But... I'm starting to understand that Edelgard is full of contradictions, and perhaps that is why she's so brilliant to me.

Any further logical thread melts away when I'm rewarded with that smile turned towards me in such a vulnerable way.

I'll need to start carrying cinnamon as well, won't I…?

Before I can reply to that compliment, Petra appears through the kitchen's backdoor, wheeling a rack full of maid and butler outfits. Those were supposed to go to the classroom, but whatever. Petra deserves some sweets, too.

The rest of our time together is occupied with their distribution – including mine… damned red leggings and all.

When I get back to my dormitory, the owl Danton is waiting for me rather eagerly. This morning, I went to go dig up some worms from the greenhouse, and Duedue looked at me as if I had gone insane. This guy ate well though, so any loss of esteem from that honorable fellow from Duscur is more than acceptable.

He didn't like the bird-food I got at the store, which makes me think he's skinny by choice, and not by Hubert making him that way. Perhaps Danton too is Hubertian.

Anyway, a familiar-looking envelope with a familiar looking seal chances to greet me.


Professor Eisner,

Please accept my thanks –on my behalf alone– for your compliance to the wish of Lady Edelgard. Know that Her Highness intended to put me in that dress that you will wear tomorrow, for a reason that she refused to disclose. I need not remind you that I am her spymaster –and have known her since she was a child– so I discovered her intentions easily. Still, I will leave any explanation of that reason to her, if you have not already ascertained it.

To my great shame, I could not participate in such a whimsy, knowing that it would compromise my own assets within Adrestia and House Vestra. Those assets are quite substantial, and I plan to deploy them in full to bring Lady Edelgard's dreams to fruition.

For better or for worse, I am at the age where it is expected that an eligible bachelor such as myself would be assessing candidates for marriage in the month of the Harpstring Moon. My father has insisted as such, and is currently exploring a candidate in Brigid, who will remain nameless. If I were to be… discovered in a female's maid outfit, there would be scandal at home and abroad.

Naturally, I make no plans of leaving my Lady's side, but I need to walk a fine line.

Unfortunately a "project" of Her Highness would lead to my discovery becoming quite apparent.

As you are the son of a Knight, there is no reason to fear scandal. As you are a rather public atheist, there is no reason to fear the finger-wagging of churchmen. You have my respect in the latter. I will make no comment on your sexual orientation, as in my rather exhaustive evaluation, you appear not to have one.

Since no one else will have the courage to explain this to you – I will simply state that the traditional mores of Fodlan frown on crossdressing. No doubt there will be a great many fluttering eyes from the female students (and some male ones), but there will in turn be a great many wary eyes cast upon you for your bit of indulgence.

Naturally, I cannot protect Lady Edelgard as well from the sunlight as I can from the shadows. For tomorrow – and only tomorrow – I will leave that to you. Do not ever identify her as the source of what you are doing.

…Not that you are particularly talkative, but the point remains.

Tangentially, I will also inform you - against my better judgement - that I have bribed the town's chamber of commerce quite substantially from my own personal funds. Short of burning the monastery down in a kitchen fire, you will win their prize tomorrow. Know that even in the shadows, I live to serve. Do not inform her of this, and if she is still reading your mail, which I suspect she is... burn this after reading it.

My intention in all of this is to make Her Highness's ascension scandal-free. To that end, I am forever vigilant. That vigilance has endeavored to explain to me that you are a creature of sentiment. In my view, that is the most reprehensible part about you, and far worse than any carnal lust. In a year's time, Lady Edelgard will take leave of you – and she will never have an opportunity for sentiment again on my watch.

So I will allow this, for tomorrow – within reason... as a token of my appreciation. If I begin to see sentiment weaken her resolve, know that I will not hesitate in killing you – although rest assured that I would do you the honor of making it painless. I owe you that much.

Gratefully,

Hubert