Today is Raphael Kirsten's funeral.
Which means I failed at saving him last night.
Waking up with a splitting headache, I reach for my brow, and feel out the two new scars up there, deftly hidden under my hair. Sitting up – I then notice the blood all over the bedsheets. At some point, I should consider investing in an extra set. The envelope with this month's salary inside is sitting on my night-table, along with a fresher set of mail whose envelopes have clearly been opened-and-resealed… which means that Edelgard must have joined Linhardt in my room sometime after I passed out.
I'm guessing it's not Claude who read them – the only other confirmed mail-reader that I know of… given that Hubert only confirmed that he only would read my mail if he wanted to. If Hubert and I are to become best friends, we're going to need to start trusting one another, and I'll take the first step today. I'm also doubting it's Claude, particularly because he seemed rather angry at the meeting last night.
I suspect he'll not read my mail ever again, at least until I figure out why he's angry at me.
From what I can recall – which is hazy given my general light-headedness – My House Leader finked him out for reading the classified message from Cardinal Seteth the night before. His reply to that – hammered home through those green eyes that flickered through a pink, bloodshot sea… was as bitter as I've ever heard him:
"Why don't you get fucked, Edel…? And not by Teach, if you catch my drift."
He left the drawing room shortly thereafter.
That query of his implied that he's angry at me as well. Either because I'm fucking Edelgard too much, or should be allowing Edelgard to fuck other people. Why he doesn't trust My Student to make those decisions herself is beyond me.
I don't think I've made any demands that Edelgard not fuck anyone other than me, either. In point of fact, she admitted to the fact that I've more or less single-handedly added "fuck" to her vocabulary over the past month – and curiously enough, hasn't fucked me at all.
Anyway, the Dutiful Cleric also got very angry at this statement – but not at Claude.
I – as per usual – was the object of Seteth's ire, and shortly after The Heir to the Alliance's outburst, the fellow who must be Heir to the Church(?) attempted to have me fired from the academy. Edelgard went ramrod straight at this, and I distinctly recall a white glove moving towards her belt to grab a handaxe that wasn't actually there. Does Edelgard feel defensive about me, I wonder?
Dimitri was certainly defensive. When Seteth first proposed the motion to dismiss me from the Professorship, The Heir to the Kingdom immediately got between myself and the Cardinal, in spite of neither myself or Seteth really making any aggressive, physical moves towards each other. Dimitri then offered me refuge in the Kingdom as the Royal Tutor – which I later learned was currently an available job for someone of my skills.
I had always thought Tutors needed to have read books before – or at least more than two.
A bit overwhelmed, I wasn't really sure what to say in the face of all that. My mind was very torn, because Dimitri was not my House Leader – but his very earnest support of my career without regard for consequences activated a highly protective instinct within me. Realizing that I could assuage Dimitri's fears by strangling Seteth to death – I chose to take the middle path of just threatening to kill the Cardinal instead. I thought Edelgard, who seems to take her prestige at the academy very seriously, would have some reservations about a move that bold.
To paraphrase, I said that if he continued to make Dimitri or Edelgard worried – I'd kill him slowly. One of the Knights called Catherine then drew her sword, and then I drew my sword at her. We had a short dialogue that I do recall quite vividly, that went something like this:
"Drop your sword and keep your distance from Lady Rhea and Seteth, or I'll cut you down."
I thought this quite amusing, even though I could not really make an amused face – so I just raised my eyebrow – stared very blankly into her sky blue eyes and said:
"I dare you to try."
Because of that – or in spite of it – I'm not really sure, things got very tense at that moment.
Archbishop Rhea apparently found this display very amusing – or at least roughly as amusing as I did – and after hearing her very soft, amused chuckling, everyone seemed to calm down slightly. Much to my shame, the laughter felt eerily familiar – even though I should not be familiar with it – and this sense of intense – painful familiarity – prompted me to lower my sword slightly.
After everything settled down, Rhea insisted that the stenographer strike any evidence of my threat and subsequent confrontation with Catherine from the meeting minutes, on account of the fact that I was just attempting to protect the students.
I was, of course – and still am thankful the Archbishop understood this.
Shortly after everything cooled down, I then heard and can still vividly recall the distinct sound of the fellow named Lord Rodrigue exhaling laughs through his nose and whispering "That's His Highness for you" to my Father. Felix spit on the ground after hearing that.
It's a laugh I've heard before – and my father is clearly quite familiar with the man… but I find my memory too fogged and grogged to really needle that logical thread with any proper finesse. I'm guessing that this Lord Rodrigue fellow might be a previous client of my Father's… but if that's the case, why do I recall his laugh as familiar, too?
But that's an aside, if an uncomfortable one.
What I'm trying to get at here is that… for whatever reason, Edelgard and Dimitri seem to care for me, and I for them – and I appreciate that, even though I suspect that Dimitri may have just been overreacting a bit. The whole affair at Remire seemed to render him in that "stormcloud" state that he was in around the time of the mock battle, and that was… always distressing for me to see – even though I don't understand precisely why I feel that way.
The Heir to the Kingdom, another House Leader – is someone I cannot protect, and someone who will never be my student – so his esteem and my instincts are doubly curious.
The Heir to the Alliance, however – seems to hold me in zero esteem now – which I'm willing to grant seems more sensible now, after due consideration.
This is still rather frustrating, too – in spite of me wanting to kill him someday.
It should be noted that I carried von Riegan's sorry ass on my back to and fro during a rather fraught and dangerous mission – going so far as to intentionally plan last-minute stratagems to keep him out of harm's way. All in spite of feeling very strong primal urges of bloodlust against him.
Which just adds fuel to the fire that Claude von Riegan must be the antagonist of my life story. It's certainly not Dimitri, and I'm more or less sure that it's not Edelgard, either – even though seeing her appear at the meeting without her cute side-ponytail caused my chest the worst agony imaginable.
Ignatz Victor's paintings helped communicate what couldn't be said in words, I hope. He was certainly the only other Deer to have really communicated anything at the meeting, as Professor Manuela was a wreck. I've never seen a human cry as long as consistently as she did over Raphael's death – and she began weeping immediately after the moment of silence was observed.
After that moment of silence, of course – is when Claude decided to flip out over the very true fact that Edelgard had supplied Seteth about him reading my confidential mail.
Frankly, I'm not sure what else I could've done to avoid the message-reading situation Claude was so ass-pained about in the wee hours of the 2nd of Garland Moon except to have literally been dead. Deader than Raphael, at any rate – and for longer – because that way he could read some other Professor's mail, and Edelgard would have some other Professor she could get fucked by… whatever he meant by that… instead of me… and I don't want to follow that train of thought for much longer, because I feel a very strong urge to protect Edelgard from other Professors now.
This makes my head hurt.
What does get fucked even mean?
You don't "get fucked", do you?
You tell someone to "fuck off" to encourage them to leave.
You tell someone to "fuck you" so that they want to fight you – and then you can kill them.
"Getting fucked" implies that you would want them to stick around, and if you do want them to remain by your side… why would you send a mixed message like that? If I wanted to get fucked by Edelgard, I would just say something like: you're adorable and I want to protect you forever instead of asking her to fuck or get fucked by me.
My head really fucking hurts.
Bringing myself to my feet – I give a go at retracing my steps – and have my attention immediately drawn towards a saucer-sized bloodstain on the hardwood floor about two feet away from my bureau. There's just the slightest hint of a dragging trail along the edge facing the door, which means…
That's probably where I kicked Sothis against the wall after backhanding her…
Shuffling groggily towards the work-desk, I see a significantly larger splotch of dried blood with small little cheese-holes of unblemished wood inside its interior, probably caused by my knuckles pressing against the floor as my thumbs pressed into… fuck.
That's probably where I started strangling Sothis on the floor…
Staggering at last to the water-closet, I see what remains of the vanity mirror inside, which is really just a few frames of shattered glass hanging around the copper frame of the mirror-that-once-was. A fair few remnants remain on the toilet-room floor as well, but the principal reminder of what I did earlier is no doubt the throbbing sensation that I have all over my head and face.
And the blood in the sink, I guess. I never had time to clean it.
Last night, after the meeting with all the important monastery folks… I bashed my head into that mirror… fourteen times?
…Fifteen times, maybe.
I did this not because I'm a self-harm fetishist like Edelgard must think I am – but rather in an effort to wake Sothis up – and see if there wasn't a way to save Raphael. The relative privacy of the dorm room was the only place I could do that without looking like a completely unhinged maniac, though.
Unfortunately, and I do feel quite sorry about this fact – all the banging and bleeding and bashing must have woken up Linhardt, my next-door neighbor. He knocked on my door shortly after I started strangling Sothis and whispering into her ear…
"You're going to tell me how to save Raphael."
Just after that happened, he turned the doorknob, which I leave unlocked and… that's where my memory ends, more or less.
What I'm getting at here is that there was probably no way to save Raphael, because Sothis fucked off when I needed her not to fuck off.
I failed to save Raphael.
The rationale behind assuming a failure is that today is Raphael's funeral, obviously… but I haven't the slightest memory of what the conversation with Sothis entailed before I started battering her and strangling her.
What Sothis's reason behind not answering forty-eight hours of desperate pleas happened to be – or even if we had the ability to turn back time sufficiently to reach the Elder Kirsten before he met his end is a complete mystery to me.
Maybe… time had lurched back as well – but I don't recall what prompted it, or even why I started hurling my schizophrenic deity-god hallucination around my dormitory like a Claude von Riegan shaped ragdoll. Sothis looks nothing like Claude von Riegan – and I don't recall wanting to really murder Sothis until… just last night, actually.
I don't know why Raphael's death prompted me to do this, either.
Raphael is not my student.
He is Professor Manuela's student.
Moreover, he answers to Claude von Riegan – who is the antagonist of my life story.
I spent my entire life unconcerned about the death of my father's company troops, individuals who I served with, above, and under for all of my adult life.
The other Alliance troops, few of whom I ever really ever interacted with – were complete and utter nonfactors.
My paths had only crossed with the Elder Kirsten twice – once while he was making a delivery to my dormitory of Hubert's Brigidian coffee beans, and at St. Macuil's, when he was delivering the Espresso Machine that Hubert had imported from Albinea as a gift to Edelgard.
But still… I felt a kinship with Raphael.
And because of that, my chest hurts.
But it does not feel warm.
Desperate to not focus on that strange, new variation of an old sensation – I look to the letters on my bureau.
Professor Eisner,
Lady Edelgard and I have been summoned to Arundel City to present a report on our activities over the past week to the Lord of that county, Her Uncle. Since Remire was a former possession of the Arundel Lordship, and Zanado itself lies along the border of its territory with the Church – there are justifiable reasons for the fellow to be intrigued by the results of our campaign.
Every victory or defeat that we accumulate at the monastery will eventually seep its way into the gossip of the Imperial court in Enbarr and beyond. I expect you to keep accumulating victories in order to maintain the lofty reputation of Lady Edelgard as long as she is your student. Leave the propagandizing to me.
My Lady also ordered some new bedsheets for you. I believe her command to you is effectively "do not make any purchases in the meantime" – in a letter that is under this one. Frankly, I found that request to be a bit unreasonable for someone as profusely wounded as you are, so I've spoiled the surprise.
The blanket, comforter and pillow set that she is ordering are made from Ochs Cashmere, and happen to be quite expensive. I expect you to express your gratitude in a verbal fashion only – so that you are not making too much of a habit of exchanging gifts with one another. That sort of behavior can be easily misinterpreted by observant parties.
Know that this velvet-like material happens to be Lady's Edelgard's favorite form of bedding due to its exceptional – "fluffiness" – to use her term. If I ever find Lady Edelgard in yours, I will inflict the most unimaginable horrors upon you.
Do well to burn that previous sentence into your cognitive faculties.
In any event, I will endeavor to ensure our safe return as soon as possible – and would project our estimated arrival back at the Monastery to be no later than the afternoon of the Sixth of the Garland Moon.
When Lady Edelgard returns, I expect a truthful confirmation that I was not the reason you were found in a bloody heap by Linhardt von Hevring yesterday at 11:51PM. I was ordered to watch your front door unless you were visited by Prince Dimitri, which is an obsessive, mildly paranoiac fantasy of hers. You strike me as a person who prefers his own company more generally. Feel free to shoo Lady Edelgard away more frequently.
That said, you should also grovel before My Lady the next time you see her and ask forgiveness for robbing her of a night's rest. She remained at your side until the Imperial Livery arrived to whisk her away at 6:10 this morning. Naturally, I was there as well and was silently wishing you'd exsanguinate the entire evening.
Understand that I could have killed you at any time. Do not make me regret my show of good faith. As I promised, I resolved not to murder you in your slumber. I'm cautious with my words, so do not read into that statement unduly.
Forever Vigilant,
Hubert v. Vestra
My Teacher,
I must insist that you keep Linhardt abreast of your health on a bi-hourly basis in my absence, and check-in with Professor Manuela if he cannot be reached.
Obviously, we need to discuss what happened when I return.
Hubert claims he had nothing to do with it, but I have certain… reservations in accepting his explanation of things. I requested him to keep watch over you in case you had visitors that evening, as I was very worried about you being harassed by… certain individuals.
In light of recent events, I suppose that one of those individuals could very well be Hubert.
Truthfully, I was quite insistent this morning on staying behind to look after your condition myself, but My Uncle had already arranged transportation for me – and Hubert was quite insistent.
And… I would remind you of our promise about not smoking any cigarillos. I searched your dresser for an extra pair of bedsheets… and the spare cloak that was inside that bureau rather smelled like them.
Even though I did not specifically request him to do so – Hubert did examine your room for a pack and while he did not locate any… I find myself worrying about you in the same manner that you worry about me – and that's acceptable, is it not?
As you said… we should communicate and collaborate more.
Perhaps I should mention that I have been reading a book about addiction recovery written by a notable physician who works at the Enbarr Court. As it happens, a common substitute for tobacco is sweets, and I happen to have some that we could share if you feel overcome. Naturally as your House Leader, your continued well-being shall be one of my utmost concerns…
Also… thank you for giving me your presentation last night – I scarcely had the time to explain that I was so wrapped up in other affairs that I had forgotten to write my own… Rest assured that had I known that Cardinal Seteth would have attempted to get you fired that evening, I would have taken responsibility for my own procrastination.
I wish to have you as the Black Eagles' Professor for as long as we are able, My Teacher – so please take care in my absence.
Yours Truly,
Edelgard
PS: I will return with a gift for you – so please do not make any purchases at all in the meantime~
Kid,
No time to chat about you and Princess's little adventure to the Red Canyon this week. Rhea's got me and Shamir Nevrand on a job making sure wagons full of cash can get to the various Kingdom Lords. Great way to win friends and influence people if your ward needs a lesson in that. Judging by last night's performance… I'm thinking she does.
Anyway, remember your first job? The one just before we started taking contracts from Holst?
Rodrigue was our employer for that gig, although I doubt you were paying attention back then. To be fair, he wasn't either – which is why he nearly got clipped by some bandit with a pike. You happened to kill that bandit, though – so I guess all's fair.
Anyway, it's good to see that you're getting on with the kid he's got left. Honestly though, I can't say I'm surprised. You're both fucking animals – while we were at Celica's earlier, I've never heard Rod try so hard so sound complimentary about the two of you. That's when you know you've got him squirming a bit.
We go back a ways. When you were a babe, and he was a hotshot knight in Faerghus, I may have taken a job or two to help out him and his friend Lambert. That's the Prince's Old Man, long gone too. I guess that's why I found myself thinking you'd take the Lions, but maybe that's just me forcing my nostalgia on you.
Feel free to tell me to get bent the next time I do that – because you're marching ahead, and I'm actually real proud of you for that. Something tells me the little Fraldarius is trying to, too.
Figure if past life experience is any measure – your Princess looked like he was gonna throttle Rod's kid too – which if you ask me, is a good sign. Your mother hated my old pal Aelfric, but she was just better at keeping a lid on it. You want to make sure they dislike your friends as intensely as possible. Keeps them possessive. Keep the King of Lions close, too.
And, well – I probably need to say this too, because everything got a bit derailed when you threatened to kill Seteth on Dimtiri's behalf: cut it out with the Almyran tactics.
You're on Church payroll, ya dimwit. That shit's beyond the pale – and if Rhea and I didn't go as far back as we did, I doubt you would've gotten off so easy. I'm not saying those fucks didn't deserve it, but… they really didn't – and while I can't say we'd have those kids alive if you didn't do that… you get what I'm trying to tell you, right?
Did the One-Eyed Butler put you up to it or something? Keep both eyes on him. I warned the white-haired troublemaker about him too.
To answer the question you sent me on the 24th: I remember your Mother's Birthday now:
It's the 22nd of Garland Moon.
My guess is that she'd like a grandkid as a present.
Don't worry if you can't manage it just yet – she was a very patient woman.
She married me, after all.
Professor Byleth,
If you're not otherwise occupied, could I trouble you to help me regarding the burial of Dorte – preferably tomorrow? If you do not wish to go yourself, which I would understand and expect given Raphael's passing…
…I would even appreciate your signature on a horse-rental form – as I am more than willing to attend to the matter myself. Unfortunately, the stable-master will not allow me to take out one from the stables myself… as I failed my cavalier certification exam before leaving on our mission.
Under most circumstances I would write a letter to ask Professor Manuela – but she does not wish any of the Deer to leave the Monastery right now.
Still, It feels so wrong to bury one friend only to leave another unattended.
Apologies for taking your time,
Marianne von Edmund
Those letters left me with even more to think about, though – as letters often do. I've very rarely received one that didn't leave me asking a million-and-one-questions, and this makes me rather desperate to just go outside for a walk and clear my head for even just a little while.
So I step outside, without my armor on again, and into the afternoon sun – which nearly blinds me with its intensity. When my vision finally adjusts, I see Maya Kirsten staring up at me from the promenade. She's wearing a trail of blackened tears that strike down her cheeks like a Brigidian tattoo.
"Huh..." she says, with a matter-of-factness that would successfully feign the truth of what today was if her face didn't add the necessary caveats.
"Not at the funeral?" I ask, a bit confused as to why she wouldn't be.
I should clarify that I've never attended a funeral before – but have seen enough of them on the Throat to know that they're rather long endeavors, even when conducted inside an army camp or in the mercenary guild at Derdriu. The families of the deceased usually stand by a coffin and a portrait, and receive well-wishes from friends and colleagues for most of the morning and afternoon before a night-time burial.
My father always attended the funerals of fallen comrades, and my lack of interest was sufficient for him to leave day-to-day management of affairs to me as his adjutant. When I thought about death and funerals back then, I would just take long walks – usually in the dead of night to clear my head… which is basically what I'm doing now, isn't it?
"...I needed some air." Maya replies.
That I can understand.
"Me too." I say – although that probably implies I was doing something other than recovering from a self-inflicted head-wound on the day of her brother's burial.
"...You got fucked up pretty badly, huh?" comes her inquiry after a tilt of her neck.
How does she know that? Bringing a hand to my face, I feel around for any additional scars but feel none.
"I can see the bedsheets." She states – but damn if that statement isn't stated like a very open-ended, prying question, too.
I can't say whose behalf I got fucked up, can I? I doubt Maya would want to hear about the strangling Sothis episode only for me to come up with snake-eyes on the diceroll of saving her brother's life.
"...From Remire." I lie, and it truly feels like shit when I do. But even then… I'm thinking I might have ended up at Remire… and now I'm wondering if anything has changed as a result of all that. And when I do, my head hurts.
"Yeah, heard you were there too…" She trails off. I'm not sure what kind of reply she wanted there – any one was likely to bring up that her brother was dead… and that I was powerless to stop it. Still, after identifying my presence there... I feel like I need to explain there was nothing that I could've done without divine intervention.
"It happened before–" I start.
"I know. Claude told me the timeline. You gassed those assholes, huh?" When Raph's sister verbally cuts me off asking that last question, she brings her arm behind her head, and the duster that she's wearing slides up, betraying a number of small physical cuts along her arms. Did she end up in a scrap, too?
The only thing that I can envision making cuts like hers are a razor blade, though – and I killed the only assassin-barber I'm aware of at Zanado. That certainly isn't a common spec for most people trained in assassination – although I'm willing to grant improvisation, my foremost art – might have informed that dead woman's efforts.
And so for a time, I stare at Maya while thinking about Zanado – and I assume that Maya stares at me for a time thinking about Remire. It's at this time that I find myself taking her in a bit, and realize just how much she dresses like her brother – a half-buttoned collared shirt is under the trench-coat, and I see the suspender clips around her waist, clasped to tight black pants that themselves are tucked in brown, leather laced boots.
Maya seems to grow tired of all this staring first, however – and demands… in a rather Edelgardian way:
"Take me for a drink, Professor."
My gaze drifts towards the Church, remembering that Seteth and Rhea expected me to attend the funeral of this woman's brother. But Raphael is dead, and now his sister has no one to drink with, right?
Raph's sister gives me a pained look as she soaks in my silence, and then opens her mouth:
"...If I'm not too much of a drag–" she begins, and then I realize there's no time for hesitation.
I nod and join her.
Maya and I drank quite a bit at Celica's, but we didn't talk much at all. This is worth noting because it's one of the few times I've really been well and truly silent with someone at the Academy – although I suppose it's worth noting that Maya and I are technically outside the Monastery proper, and Maya is not a student at the Officers' Academy. I have no obligation to protect her with this knowledge firm in hand – so why am I here?
That question bothers me incessantly – only repeating itself in agitated intensity as I work through four Bergliezauers. For her part, Maya knocks back a fifth of Morfis rice wine, and looks about as sober as I can imagine one being after drinking such strong booze. Eventually, she asks me to join her on the patio upstairs for a smoke. I comply.
As I ascend the stairs, a rich pink twilight awaits me, and I realize that I've never watched the sun set behind Garegg Mach before. And in spite of all this blood and death that preceded my journey here – I find myself soaking in its beauty very earnestly. From the corner of my eye, I see Maya taking it in as well, until she reaches into the pocket of her duster for a pack of cigarillos.
"You want one?" she asks – and I note that she's got excellent peripherals, too. A warrior's peripherals.
Shaking my head, I remember the promise I made to Edelgard. I can't smoke anymore.
"I'm already light-headed." I say – and honestly, I am.
Maya looks me over with a raised eyebrow and something deep in the corner of my mind tells me that she's about to comment about my real reasoning behind declining her offer. She was there for the first half of my student's overreaction, after all.
Still, it shouldn't be embarrassing... because Edelgard and I care about each other – and that's a natural feeling for a House Leader and her Professor, right? She thinks so, at least. But even so…
"...The wound, huh? Yeah… guess I forgot about that."
For a moment there, I forgot about all the blood splattered over my floor, walls, and bed that Maya had a first-hand view of. I guess that would be what normal people would be guessing first, huh? Why does my mind always fall back to the Heir to Adrestia, then? Something tells me that a cigarillo might offer some clarity on that perspective… but I suppose I'll have to grope around in the dark until I can restore enough blood to properly supply my brain.
To Maya's credit, she gives me the space to think – though she grows sullen with each passing moment she grants me. Eventually, she fishes out a matchbook from one of her innumerable jacket pockets and lights a cigarillo herself. After a long drag, she turns to me with moist, goldenrod irises and asks:
"Do you think Raph thought dying was worth it?"
How the fuck can I even respond to that?
"He died protecting people." I note, recalling the after-action report. Innocent, wounded townsfolk, in fact.
"That ain't what I asked, Dr. Obvious." she notes with enough venom to make my heart stop – if I had a heart.
"...It's hard to say." comes my reply – and I realize that I've really just said nothing. Maya's expression, which is beginning to compress into a frown – confirms its insufficiency.
"Do they give you a bonus when you submit a thesis that long…?" she inquires with a bitterness that I could logically expect, given the circumstances.
And… I think I get it.
Raph died protecting people – but not the person he wanted to protect.
If that happened to me… would the people who I wanted to protect be angry, too?
Would Edelgard be angry?
"Is there anyone you want to protect, Maya?" I say, attempting to turn the question around and get her view on things.
But instead – I watch the woman before me clam up as tightly as Edelgard would at precisely this time last month. Turning away from me with fresh tears streaming down her cheeks, she utters:
"...Not anymore, Professor."
After she says that, the sunset doesn't seem quite as beautiful anymore.
