As they passed into the third month of their year at Garreg Mach, summer drew in and the rainy season continued. Claude spared a look out the window at the drizzle pattering against their classroom before his eyes wandered back to the empty seat next to Leonie.

He'd been doing that a lot. The Deer couldn't stop noticing Lysithea's absence. Whether it was at dinner or in the training yard, they saw her with the Black Eagles. And she was clearly enjoying her time there.

Claude wouldn't pretend to know how others took it. He had his suspicions, but all he knew best was his own anger. Anger that one of his herd had left over something so simple as a teacher.

Sure, Byleth wasn't perfect, but she had knowledge and secrets worth exploring. Someone so beloved by the Archbishop had access that Hanneman or Manuela didn't. Claude saw that.

He looked to her, speaking to his class. Claude's thoughts deafened whatever she had to say about their battalions. Here, she excelled.

They'd met their battalions last week. Each of them were in charge of a group students who would no doubt one day serve in the armies of Leicester. Some had taken to it immediately, like he, Lorenz, and Leonie. The rest struggled to come to the idea of leading. Particularly Marianne and Ignatz.

Claude sicced Hilda onto the former while he worked on the latter, each helping in their own way. He was confident they'd get there.

Two months into the academy and he was proud of his house. They weren't perfect, not at all. But they were working together more, a damn sight nicer than the mock battle. He'd caught Lorenz and Raphael sparring. Leonie and Ignatz had something of a competition between them with bullseyes during training. Marianne was showing Hilda horse riding tips. There were the sprouts of a community building.

And he and Teach…

Well, they continued to play their game a few times a week. It had evolved into more than that, now a way that she instructed him on how to manage an army. He picked her brain, prying information out that she didn't even seem to think relevant. How long does a bushel of apples last on the road? What are optimal strategies for packing supplies that will spoil? Best way to raise morale with as few supplies as possible? The kinds of things a mercenary who lacked funds was forced to learn and a ruler of a nation and leader of armies needed to learn.

Their promise still remained. Claude was pushing his cohort together with a vengeance with Lysithea's absence. If one of them tried to leave, he'd damn well make sure they were leaving behind friends rather than classmates.

Lysithea had betrayed them. She'd left. Had she been a person of no importance, Claude would be disappointed, but come to understand.

But she'd delivered House Ordelia to the Empire. Now a member of the Roundtable had direct interface with the future Emperor. A fifth of the Alliance's leadership was at risk of being sympathetic to the Empire and being compromised.

Claude and Lorenz had spoken about it in the late of night a few days ago. Duke Riegan had been most displeased when Claude informed him and Count Gloucester had written to Lorenz about how this could manifest into an opportunity. In one of the few times they agreed, both had decided that this issue transcended rivalry. Despite their disagreements, Leicester came first. A member of the Roundtable having undue influence from a foreign power only led to trouble.

Never mind that Claude was guilty of that just as much as Lysithea.

Byleth's influence was working on him. When he'd learned that it was Edelgard who planted the idea into Lysithea's mind, Claude got to work. With Hilda as his agent, he saw to it personally that she was poisoned before one of her practical examinations. The future Emperor, puking up her guts before an assessment. Word traveled from the monastery with merchants and pilgrims, it would reach back home for her. With luck, the people she'd one day lead would hear every sordid detail.

Hilda had slipped it to her, but he'd been the one to leave the note on her desk: "Don't fuck with my Deer."

There'd been a brief investigation. But Claude was busy with his battalion at the time, how could he have slipped it to her? He hid behind an alibi and innocent smile.

Byleth had sided with him at the time, berated him after, and begrudgingly approved of his methods. He thought she'd be happier. When he'd pressed, she admitted that she wished he'd let her in on the plan.

"Why?" he'd asked. "You'd be under suspicion if you were a part of it."

"I don't care about being under suspicion. My father is the head of the Knights. If I am reflected badly on, I don't want something untoward to come to him. There's tension between him and Rhea, and I'm worried. He won't tell me what it is."

Claude had filed that information away. Conflict between the most powerful woman in the world and one of the most respected knights in the world? That had the makings to be something.

And as Claude did his best to protect his herd, Byleth gave them antlers to protect themselves.

Lysithea had impacted her the most. She'd doubled down on her teaching, scheduling them extra time in the training yard and extra lessons. Her stories grew more gruesome. She told them about times when her soldiers hadn't trusted her command and acted different. Or the time her father had been betrayed by a member of their troupe. The stories changed, but the end was always the same. Death, often meted out by Byleth's own hands, be it traitors or the people who killed her people.

"—but since he hasn't been deigning to pay attention this entire time, let's turn to Claude for an answer," Byleth said, looking directly at him.

Crap. "Oh, wishing for my wisdom, Teach?" A mere distraction. His eyes wandered to the board, studying what she'd written.

Byleth sighed. "Yes. Got an answer?"

Ah, a tactical scenario. No wrong answer, so long as he had justification. Probably. "You want my answer or the textbook's?"

"I have a feeling there's a reason I ought to want yours as opposed to the book's?"

Claude reclined in his seat with a grin. "That book isn't useful on a practical application. That von Essar saw himself as a strategist, but he's no Hanneman. I looked into his history the other day, he saw three battles in his whole time in command. He knew a thing or two, but I highly doubt he'd have useful advice for dealing with that pincer maneuver on the board."

Byleth afforded something adjacent to a smile. She'd been doing that more lately. "Oh, and as the great Claude von Riegan, do share your analysis of what the correct approach is."

Claude sauntered to the front of the room and took the chalk from Byleth's hand. He began to draw arrows showing troop movement. "It's a pincer maneuver. In a textbook, you don't have a ton of individual humans who are marching on each side, it's just numbers. The risk of the pincer is that you divide your forces. You could retreat, but that lets them get back together and chase you. We've got cavalry here," he said, pointing with the chalk, "so we ought to just commit to one side. Ignore the right group and push with everything we have against the left. If that side begins to crumble, then the soldiers will flee. Scare tactics." He set the chalk down.

As he walked back to his seat, Byleth continued her lecture. "Well said, but not wholly correct. Your strategy works if you're not turning your back to a group of mages. They'd cook your soldiers alive if you tried that. But pushing against one side is one of the better ways to get out of a pincer."

Claude smirked and Hilda rolled her eyes at him.

"However, don't be so quick to dismiss Essar. People in the business of war don't often live as long as he did without learning something of value. You're right, he saw only three real instances of combat as a commanding officer, but he did serve as a battalion commander for over a decade."

The smirk shriveled on Claude's face. That hadn't been in the book he'd read.

"Pay attention to him when it comes to his chapter about battalions. You might all find it useful when instructing yours."

Teach looked at him with a raised eyebrow. A challenge, he realized. Had she expected that he would research Essar? Or was it something else?

His blinked. Oh, Hanneman had told her, of course. He'd know his family's history, even details that hadn't made the history books.

Clever, Teach. Very clever.

Hilda understood the need for a house meeting, she just didn't understand why it needed to be in her room. Ugh.

They were packed tightly, looking to Claude to speak. He leaned on her desk, careful not to disturb the mess she'd left on it. She supposed that she could forgive his choice of space so long as he didn't mess up her hairpin.

"We need to talk about Lysithea," he finally said.

Hilda bit her lip as the room lost some of its cheer. But she agreed, they did need to talk about it. No one had really said anything about her since Byleth had made the announcement in class.

"What's there to talk about? She left, end of story?" Leonie said, far too relaxed. Hilda knew the lie since she'd heard her and Raphael talking by the fishing pond recently about her.

"I want to make it clear," Claude said, "that it wasn't anyone's fault here. Lysithea didn't get along with Teach, that was no secret."

"So you would blame our professor?" Lorenz asked, unimpressed.

Claude shook his head. "No, that's on me. I should have tried to make this house more welcoming to her instead of teasing her relentlessly."

"I don't think you should blame yourself, Claude," Marianne's small voice interrupted. "You've been trying."

"Not enough." Claude shook his head. "I promised Teach something. I told her that if she could make you all into soldiers, I'd make you into a team. Lysithea leaving is my promise breaking."

"So what does that mean for us?" Ignatz said, raising his hand as if he were in class. "I mean, is there something you think we should do?"

Punch Edelgard, Hilda mused.

"I spoke with Dimitri a day or two ago. Edelgard has been approaching some of his house too. She's searching, trying to find loose pieces of thread that she can pull and tie to her house." A sliver of anger found its way into Claude's voice. "Her Empire dealt with that revolt all those years ago, she's set to inherit a lot less power than she could have. This might be her way of trying to bring some back to the imperial throne."

"Holst told me that a lot of times political alliances are forged at this academy. Students make friends and then inherit power and remember those friendships and debts," Hilda said.

Lorenz nodded. "It's true. When the powerful mingle, they scheme." No one missed the glance at Claude.

"I just want us all aware of what she's trying to do. She might come to convince some of you like she did with Lysithea." Claude looked every person in the eye. "I implore you not to do so. I believe in unity and working together, but Edelgard is trying to strip you away from the Deer. And I will not stand for that."

"Hear hear!" Raphael called out. "And how are we supposed to show everyone the Deer mean business if there aren't any Deer?"

"Do you think we have any chance of that, Claude? I mean, now we're one person down," Ignatz said.

When Claude smirked, Hilda got chills down her spine. He looked feral when he did that, like he saw his prey was weak and began to move in to kill.

"Why, Ignatz, I'm glad you asked. We're going to steal someone in return, of course."

Once she was satisfied that Byleth was asleep, Mercedes slowly closed the door behind her.

She'd visited Byleth most nights of the week since when she'd fallen asleep in her room. Not even Annette knew.

It wasn't like they did anything illicit behind closed doors. On the contrary, they usually just talked. A story for a story had become their deal. Mercedes had told her what growing up in the cold of Faerghus was like, Byleth about her father teaching her to hunt. Most of it was mundane.

Some wasn't. Mercedes in the cold trying to find medicine for her sick mother. Byleth earning the name Ashen Demon.

And since Lysithea had left the Deer, Byleth was in a worse state. Mercedes could admire how she held it up in front of her students, but it all came crashing down in front of her. The self-hatred flared, anger that she wasn't good enough, anger that she'd come to care about the students, anger that they'd die because of her.

Byleth had asked Mercedes if she'd switch houses. Mercedes had said she'd think about it.

And she was. It wasn't a non-answer, she really was considering it.

Mercedes just couldn't fathom why. The Lions had Annette. They had Manuela who was quite the teacher. They had a respectable leader in Dimitri. While she didn't feel like she was a member of the inner circle, she still felt kinship with them. Why would she walk away from that?

And why did Byleth feel like a sister? Was it just her compulsion to help other people? Did she see Byleth as a problem to fix?

Her feet had taken her to the bridge. The cathedral, illuminated in moonlight, loomed ahead of her. It was muscle memory to her, to go pray when she was confused.

"Hey, kid," a low rumbled called.

Kid? When was the last time someone had called her that? She turned and saw Jeralt leaning up against a wall, looking to the sky. He barely acknowledged her as she walked towards them.

"Sir Jeralt? Did you say something?"

"Why do you think the stars glow?" he asked, not looking down to her.

Mercedes spared a brief glance up. "Some say the light is the Goddess looking down on us at night, when the sun is gone and it's too dark for her to see without."

"I wasn't asking about some people." Now he looked to her. "I was asking what you think."

Unintimidated, she looked back up for longer. "I don't think the Goddess would need light to see us. I think they glow because that's just how she made them."

"In Morfis, they'd tell you that each star is a ball of fire far, far away." Jeralt rubbed a hand through his beard. "Me, I'd tell you that it doesn't matter. You can't touch them, so there's no point worrying about them."

"I can see how that sentimentality passed on to Byleth," Mercedes chuckled.

Jeralt gave her a sidelong glance. "She's a good kid. Better yet, she's my child. So forgive me if I'm a bit suspicious of the student who comes out of her room each night and calls a professor by her first name."

Mercedes balked. "Why, we haven't—"

The distance closed between them. Where Jeralt had previously been aloof and relaxed, now he stood rigid six inches away from her. He was towering, broad, and stern. If he wanted, he could crush her windpipe with a single hand. Her breath caught in her throat.

"You're lucky Byleth has good things to say about you," he growled. "And you're lucky that faculty have vouched for you. I know my daughter better than anyone. If you lay a finger on her, I won't stop at breaking it."

Mercedes said nothing, taking a step back.

Jeralt stepped forward. "If I find out that you're reporting anything Byleth says to Rhea, then you're going to wish for the Eternal Flames by the time I'm done with you."

She sputtered, "Th-the Archbishop? I've never even spoken to her!"

A moment passed before Jeralt stepped back. The moon caught his face, the wrinkles relaxing into something closer to exhaustion than anger.

"I wish more of you religious types were like you. And like Sitri." He looked up to the stars one last time. "I believe you, kid. I just wanted to make sure. Had to make sure. Can't be too careful here…" His gaze turned towards the cathedral instead of the sky. Jeralt turned back to Mercedes. "I'm sorry, that was beneath me to treat you that way."

"I forgive you," Mercedes said, not breathing easy. Frankly, she hardly breathed at all.

"Can't be too careful with that woman involved," Jeralt said. "I won't lose my daughter here either." That part was said quieter, as if she weren't meant to hear.

And without saying another word, Jeralt turned and left.

Mercedes reached out a hand and steadied herself against the wall. A shaky gasp slipped from her with a tremor.

Why would he think that she was up to something? Up to something on Rhea's orders, no less?

Questions for another time. Mercedes slid to the ground, catching her breath. She whispered a quick prayer to the Goddess, asking for some sort of sign and guidance.

Mercedes looked up into the stars, but they only looked back.

Another week went by and Byleth sat at her desk, watching her students take their test. It wasn't often that things were quiet in their classroom. It felt wrong, Byleth thought. Some chaos brightened the place up, especially when the rain continued outside. A dull crack of thunder startled Hilda and sent Claude snickering. She smacked him.

It hadn't even been three months and Byleth felt like a mother hen. It helped that she now trained each individually on points she felt needed it.

Did that make them friends? Byleth wanted to think so. Some had begun to open up to her more while others came to her for advice. It felt like friendship even if she didn't reciprocate.

Though perhaps that's where Mercedes came in. Things were different with Mercedes. And Byleth had no idea how to explain what she felt.

Her eyes went to the empty spot in the room. Hopefully Mercedes would join them, but Byleth couldn't figure out a reason why she would.

Because she was there? Please, Byleth couldn't even teach magic well.

Maybe they didn't need someone to replace Lysithea. Now her attention wasn't as dispersed.

Only a little more than two months and she felt all her students were so different. Maybe she could take a little credit for that. After all, that was the point of a teacher.

She could feel Sothis grumble something amidst a yawn.

Byleth allowed a smile as she looked over her students.

Claude made eye contact with her and smiled back. She shot him a glare and his smile turned into a grin as he looked back down at his test.

Byleth decided she liked the Golden Deer house.

Author Notes: Short chapter because next one will be longer and the other scenes I thought about for this one will be better in the next. We're getting some Lonato action next time.

Editing Notes:
12/31/2020: Minor grammar adjustments. Shortened author notes.
7/28/2021: Minor grammar adjustments.