30th of the Month (Rivalry of the Houses) -v- Byleth -v-
Nine on nine on nine. The numbers were small, and the field accommodating. His students of the Blue Lions congregated on the southern edge of the field, flanked by a lonely copse of trees that the lazier students lounged under while waiting for him to summon them. They had arrived early at his instruction. An hour ahead of the next class, Black Eagles, which trudged onto the battlefield following the sharp-eyed Edelgard an hour early to the starting time.
He ignored the muttered groans and conversation as he surveyed the battlefield. The battle was to begin at noon. There was no rule stating he could not have a pre-inspection. As established professors at the Officer's Academy, both Manuela and Hanneman had seen this field before, directed their students on it numerous times. He had only the map scavenged from the previous professor's belongings, and several hours of eyes-on experience to devise a plan. He had resolved to make the most of that. To that end, he had arrived to walk the field at dawn, long before even his own students. He walked the battlefield's length, noting the marked boundaries and memorizing a mental image of the terrain. Natural chokepoints, advantageous rises. It was a good test battlefield, almost like a much larger area had been shrunk down to fit their needs. The small clusters of trees could easily represent forests. The magical healing stones dug into the ground near each starting point, placed for emergency medical use should a student be severely injured, as campsites. It was a grand training ground, one he decided he would make ready use throughout the year. Being so close to Garreg Mach, less than an hour's march from the foot of the mountain, made it all the more welcoming.
"Are you hungry, Professor?" The ever industrious prince of Faerghus held up half a loaf of bread. It had been taken straight from the ovens, and though cold now, was soft and inviting. He accepted the loaf in silence and tore off a bite-sized piece before pointing to the narrow gap ahead to their left. The Golden Deer were beyond the trees there, or would be once the battle began.
"They have emplacements," he noted. "Archers will be positioned there."
"Claude does brag about his class's archery skills," Dimitri agreed. "Assaulting that position will cost us."
As it was a training battle, the students wielded wooden weapons. Arrows were tipped with wax, and the spellcasters made do with fist-sized colored bags of rice. All of these received a heavy coating of chalk, so any strikes would be clearly seen on students. A small detachment of Knights of Seiros would oversee the mock battle, calling out 'dead' students and ensuring none were badly hurt. The magic-inclined students had voiced their disappointment at being reduced to tossing bags of rice, but when Byleth had questioned which of them felt comfortable striking a fellow student with a fireball, they had gone silent.
Better to be as safe as possible in this training battle. After all, it was more of a celebration to the start of the year and a posturing match than anything. Manuela and Hanneman had confided in him that there was a long-running tradition among professors that the losers would assist the winner with the first week of paperwork. He was uncertain if that was true or not, but he knew for certain that either professor would not hesitate to dump their paperwork on him if given the opportunity.
"How quickly can Ashe shoot?"
"Ashe? Fairly quickly, though I would not think he could hold a rapid-fire pace for long."
"If he can lay down cover fire long enough for the rest of the class to reach those trees ahead," Byleth used the loaf as a pointer. "We can bypass Golden Deer entirely. Take Black Eagle head-on. With the layout and terrain Claude will be keener to engage Edelgard first and use archers to hold us at bay. We catch Black Eagle in a vice, crush them, then roll over Golden Deer. Use the tree line for cover."
"Why fight a war on two fronts when you can single out one foe at a time. I see." Dimitri nodded, his serious grimace showing his assent.
"Ashe will be left behind, but that same field which deters us will deter Golden Deer from going after him. And if they do, that means an easier battle for us."
"I am not sure I am comfortable leaving Ashe out and alone like that, Professor."
"It is not a sacrifice, Dimitri. Every person, every unit, has its role to play in battle. Though it may not be glamorous, if Ashe can pin down even two of the Golden Deer, it will make victory that much more realizable. He will be fine as long as he does not catch an arrow, but that is a danger anywhere on the battlefield."
"Yes, of course." A dark shadow covered the prince's face, regardless of his agreement. "So we will advance on Black Eagle. I am eager to cross blade with Edelgard."
"She is a canny opponent. They have a strong core of fighters. We should take care to not become overwhelmed. To that end, we will advance in a wedge. Yourself and Dedue in the lead, with Sylvain and Ingrid on one flank and Felix on the other. Annette and Mercedes will remain inside the advance, ready to assist and support as needed."
The Golden Deer contingent appeared on the far end of the battlefield, emerging from the small road that ended at their start point. A black-haired knight in form-fitting leather and a soft green jacket accompanied them. Byleth studied the group for a moment, counting the heads and seeing which he could identify. The large one was Raphael. It was impossible to mistake his size. Claude, of course, he knew. A few others he had seen around the monastery grounds. Towards the rear of the group was a slim figure with blue…
His brows knit together in a pensive frown. Blue hair. At this distance it was hard to make out details. A rare coloring, and one that he had seen before, a long time ago…
"Professor Eisner!"
Byleth blinked, using the action to reorient himself, and glanced past Dimitri at the Blue Lions attaché for the mock battle. Sir Catherine, also known as Thunder Catherine. A boisterous and confident woman who wielded one of the more famous relic swords in Fodlan. He had heard her name from the lips of mercenaries many times in his youth. They had not yet exchanged words since his arrival at Garreg Mach, though he had seen her about the monastery's grounds. The knight saw herself as Archbishop Rhea's personal protector and had made her displeasure at his closeness to Lady Rhea known. Closeness was not the proper word for it, though. He was uncertain if there even was a word for it, because he simply did not see what Catherine insisted existed. He had no connection to or with Lady Rhea. Despite this, she decided that he was someone worthy of stalking, and Byleth suffered her shadow without a word of complaint.
To be fair, he could not fault her for her caution. His sudden appointment had left everyone surprised,and no doubt scrambling to determine who he was and where his intentions lay. It made sense that Catherine would take precautions. He would too.
"Sir Catherine." He nodded curtly.
"Just Catherine, please." She grinned at Dimitri, and the gesture did not continue on to Byleth. "The others are here. I would get your classmates ready. It's going to be an eye-opener."
"Certainly. Dimitri, if you would."
The young prince moved away to gather the others. Left alone with the knight for a few moments, Byleth eyed the stern-faced Catherine.
"Something to say?"
"Just interested to see how you handle yourself. You are entrusted with these kids' lives." She grimaced. "You damn well better take care of them."
"That is my job," he agreed.
"Job? You aren't a mercenary anymore, Byleth. You are a professor. Fodlan's future leaders are right there." She pointed at the students, who were pulling themselves to their feet and gathering up to head over and join them. "You need to understand that."
"I am fully aware of my charges and the weight of my position."
She might have had something to say on that, but the students were approaching. Hiding her distrust behind a bawdy grin, she greeted the Blue Lions class with a perfect smile. Her voice returned to a blustery cheer.
"Look at you kids, all geared up and ready to beat each other senseless. You know I was in Blue Lions, back in the day. You'd better not lose or I won't let you hear the end of it."
"You were in the Blue Lions?" Sylvain eyed the blonde knight with interest. Then again, he eyed every female that crossed his path with interest. It was a vice that fortunately lacked the depth to be dangerous, but could easily rile nuisance and misfortune.
Byleth shut down the students' questions before they could be voiced. That was not why they were here. "Weapons ready, class. You are about to have your first training battle. The first of many. I would tell you this is the easiest, but you will be competing with your fellow students, and they are eager to humiliate you all. My impressions of you all are currently theoretical. It is time to make them practical. First order of business, can someone tell me why I had you arrive early?"
Ingrid raised her lance. "To gain a vantage of the battlefield before we commit our forces?"
"Partially correct." Byleth tipped his head in acknowledgement. When they had first arrived, the students had spent some time viewing the battlefield before retreating to the shade. Ingrid had been one of the last to join the others. She had a studious mind and an overwhelming desire to succeed. He appreciated both qualities in a student. "Another reason?"
They remained silent, eyeing each other in hopes that someone knew the answer. It was understandable that they would not know, and that they were afraid of not having the answer. With any new teacher or instructor, first impressions were important. This could be their first impression of battle for him. No one wanted to disappoint.
"Want me to take this one," Catherine asked.
He gestured for her to speak. As a veteran of the battlefield and campaign, she knew what he was looking for.
"Rest," she stated, drawing raised eyebrows from the students. Pointing over at the distant starting point for the Golden Deer house, she continued. "Those students just arrived on time, which means they are coming off a march. Their legs are going to be sore, and that puts them at a disadvantage. Now, a real soldier is not going to be bothered by a short march like that. After a good year of training you won't even notice it. But you kids, I can promise you their legs are burning."
"I never would have thought of that," Dimitri admitted, his shoulders tensing at the realization he had missed such a strategy.
"As she said, it is unique to this situation. Now, cutting off an army after a day's march with a prepared battlefield is the same, but at a larger scale. Positioning is just as crucial in war as the actual battle. A good general considers not just the enemy, but the terrain and the conditions and a thousand factors. By the time you take the field, you should have full confidence of victory."
A sea of bobbing heads followed his explanation. Several appeared intimidated by his pronouncement. Acceptance would come in time with experience. For now, they had a mock battle to win. He walked through the strategy, assigning positions and ensuring they knew how to position themselves. Once he finished, he opened the floor to discussion, keenly aware of Catherine's hawk-eyed stare. It was an annoyance, but hardly detrimental.
"Stretch your legs, warm up your limbs. We have a few minutes before we begin," he ordered at the end of the briefing. The students returned to the shade to gather their weapons and apply last-minute preparations. The knight continued watching him.
"If you keep staring, the students might start rumors," he muttered, knowing full well she could hear.
Catherine grunted and turned away. A loud popping sound accompanied a roll of her neck, and she swung her own arms in a slow circle to loosen her shoulders. He used the rare opportunity where her back was turned to study the infamous Thunder Catherine. Tall, muscular, and blessed with striking features, she was an impressive woman. He could not lie that she was also an incredibly attractive woman. Had she not been intent on proving him a… he was not sure what she wanted to prove he was, then they might have become solid comrades. He certainly would not mind sharing a campfire with her generous smile and husky laughter. And she was undoubtedly a good warrior. The light armor she wore, obscured by her thick tabard and half-cape, was made of the finest materials, and she maintained them to an excellent degree. Though she carried Thunderbrand on her hip, even when not entering battle, she also had a regular, unblessed sword in a paired scabbard on her other hip. From what he knew of Relic weapons, he understood why. His fingers itched at the thought of crossing blades with her. It would be interesting to see who would win in a fight. It would be close.
A small crowd of students began trickling into the perimeter of the training field. Though only the select classes participated in the battle, any student was free to come and watch. It was not just students from the officer's academy that came, he saw, but also some of the priests, townsfolk, and an assortment of mercenaries and soldiers that were passing by or stationed in the nearby villages. The latter he knew had a distant investment in the battle. The students might someday become their commanders on the field of battle.
A horn sounded from the center of the field. Moments later a timid-looking student rushed out of the trees, sprinting frantically for the sidelines lest he be caught up in the battle. Byleth turned to his students, who had formed up on a line, gripping their weapons and rice bags with determination.
"Here we go," he announced.
"Let's do our best, everyone," Mercedes called out, pumping her fist in the air. In her enthusiasm she squeezed one of her green-colored healing bags too tightly. Rice burst from the bag, showering her and Annette with a rain of white pellets. A surprised squeak came from both girls as they frantically combed their hair to dislodge the rice.
"You want to heal someone after they've been hurt," Byleth chided. The students laughed, as he had intended. The tension drained a little from their postures. He was not one for grand speeches and inspiring theatrics, especially in a battle where the only stake was pride. "Advance."
They cheered as they rushed after him, aiming for the sheltering tree line halfway between their starting point and the Black Eagle position. Detaching from the group, Ashe hurried to the cover of the nearest trees, nocking an arrow and scanning in the Golden Deer direction. They reached the trees without coming under fire, and Byleth wondered if he had overestimated Manuela's class.
"Step one is complete," he muttered, giving the students a second to position themselves behind cover.
"Whoo, I'm trembling," Annette giggled, holding up a hand for the others to see. "This is exciting!"
"Only a fool thinks of war as entertainment," Felix snapped. The lively girl flinched, drawing her hand back to her chest. "Concentrate on the battle."
Only half-listening to the exchange, Byleth kept his attention split between the approach that led to the Black Eagles and the expected Golden Deer tree line. He saw the faint shuffling of movement among the trees.
"There they-"
A wax-tipped arrow sliced past his face, smashing into the tree Dimitri was standing behind. The Faerghus prince did not flinch but shifted smoothly over to put the tree between himself and the archer.
"That was Claude," Dimitri announced.
"I'm sure it was," Byleth agreed. He watched another shape appear beside the first. A short, boyish haircut. As his students huddled behind cover, the two archers stepped into view, using the emplacement for cover. Arrows whistled through the trees around them. "Any day, Ashe."
As if his words had carried across the clearing, the Blue Lions archer eased out from behind the tree he had hidden behind and loosed an arrow. Claude's form staggered back a step, and Ashe ducked behind the tree with a little hop of excitement. The other archer shifted its aim, and in moments the two were in a daring game of hide-and-shoot.
With that flank covered, he motioned for the rest of the Blue Lions to advance. They moved up through the trees, relying on the cover provided to obscure their movements. Halfway through they caught sight of distant Black Eagle students. Edelgard led the way, with her loyal hound Hubert at her side. The skinny green-haired noble was there as well, providing healing if the green bags hooked on his belt were a hint.
Only three. Either Edelgard and Hanneman severely underestimated the Blue Lions, or there was a trap in play. He assumed the latter. Issuing a curt warning, he told the Blue Lions to break the cover of the trees and advance on the much smaller force ahead.
If Edelgard was surprised, she did not show it. Surely she had not expected to face seven of the Blue Lions all at once. Raising her shield defensively, the white-haired empress-in-training ceased her advance and had gave an order that sent Hubert and Lindhardt walking backwards. As one, the Black Eagles began to retreat.
"Don't get cocky," Byleth warned. He ordered his students to advance at a steady pace. Dimitri was straining at the leash, he noted, a hungry gleam in his eyes at the prospect of battling the leader of the Black Eagles. "Stay in line. She is baiting you. Don't let yourself get pulled out of position."
They closed in on the three students, drawing in but avoiding getting too close together. He kept his eyes on the heavy brush on Edelgard's flank. He fully expected her to have-
There! A slight figure doing its best to not be noticed. Noting the student's location, he gave the order the Blue Lions were waiting for.
"Charge!"
With a furious shout, Dimitri shot out of the line as if hurled. Dimitri rushed after him, then Sylvain and Ingrid, chasing their prince into battle. Felix started after them as well, but Byleth called him back.
"Annette, Mercedes, provide support to Dimitri. Felix, watch the trees. They have at least one student in there."
"I saw her. The recluse," Felix scoffed. "She's hardly a threat."
"Where there is one, there are many. Watch your comrades' backs."
"Understood."
Keeping his sword held low, Felix jogged off to screen the flank.
Returning his attention to Edelgard's position, he watched as the six Blue Lions converged on the three Black Eagles. There was no way that Edelgard's tactical wit had been entirely dumbfounded. His caution proved warranted when the brush exploded to Dimitir's left. A howling student with islander tattoos leapt out, only to be intercepted almost instantly by Felix. His wooden sword caught her wooden axe high above their heads, and they eyed each other for a moment before separating to clear space.
Carrying on past the ambush, Dimitir threw a powerful lunge into Edelgard's shield, which she batted aside with practiced ease. Using the prince's own momentum against him, she spun on her heel and brought her own axe in line with his now-unprotected back. Her strike was intercepted by a powerful shield blow from Dedue, and the three fighters squared off against each other, with Edelgard now surrounded by a fighter on each side.
Using a similar approach, Sylvain and Ingrid struck at Hubert from both sides. They lacked the honed tandem fighting that Dimitri and Dedue possessed, but made up for it with speed as their lances battered at the student from both sides. Driving him back with a flurry of blows, the pair slapped his sword aside and went straight for the kill.
"Kill, Sylvain," a voice cried out, one of the knights overseeing the mock battle.
What?
Staggering back a step, Sylvain looked down at his shirt in disbelief. A round chalk imprint showed on his chest. He obediently walked away from the fight, through an indignant snarl built in his eyes. It emerged as a muted growl, and he shrugged at Byleth before replacing the irritation with an easy-going grin.
"See you back at the start point, Professor."
Having lost the advantage of her companion, Ingrid battled Hubert one-on-one. Byleth had to admit, Edelgard's brute was a skilled swordsman. He parried her lance with clinical precision, and the chalk coating his hand revealed how he had taken Sylvain down. Dual-wielding spells and sword. Byleth knew with absolute certainty that the sullen-faced student did not have the skill for such an attack. It took years of concentration to master that ability. He made a mental note to revisit that fact later. Bullshitting training could be dangerous later on.
"Kill, Hubert!"
Regardless of his questionable talent, nothing could be done about the red-colored rice bag that struck him square in the side of the head, launched by a furious Annette. He stumbled to the side, stunned by the blow, and Ingrid landed another smack across his knees which toppled the student and sent him sprawling in the grass. There was a hint of a vindictive grin on Ingrid's face as she stood over her opponent.
"He's down," the knight shouted. "Ease off or you'll be disqualified."
Though he had the ability, and the right, to involve himself, Byleth held back. He allowed himself to stand and watch as Felix and the Brigid student squared off, their weapons striking and seeking with almost dance-like grace. The pair were well matched, and both had fantastic athletic ability. Past them, Edelgard continued to weather the paired assault of Dimitri and Dedue. Chalk coated her shield, and a glancing blow had marred her shoulder. But she was not the only one who had taken hits. Despite being outnumbered, she had marked Dedue's axe arm, and the stalwart student had dropped his axe and continued on with just his shield, an unnecessary but interesting development that Byleth would not have expected. The only blows that mattered were kills. The reality of a training battle was too complex to worry about faking injured limbs or other wounds. For Dedue to handicap himself meant he was taking this seriously, moreso perhaps then some of the other students.
Of course, it helped that their healer stood by with a green bag. The green-haired healer drew back to toss an underhanded healing bag at Edelgard. Seeing the threat, Ingrid charged at him. The bag was already sailing by the time she reached the student, and he lifted his hands in surrender as she slowed to a stop and merely tapped him with her lance.
"Kill, Lindhart," the knight called out. "Heal, Edelgard."
"Mercie! Dedue's arm."
Annette grabbed her friend and pointed, drawing the distracted blonde's attention. Mercedes had been watching the fight between Felix and the Black Eagle student, a green bag at the ready. Voicing her understanding, Mercedes cocked back her arm and hurled her healing bag.
Her aim was not bad, but Dedue chose that moment to dive to the side, ducking under a swiping shield blow to roll into Edelgard's blindspot. The green healing bag caught Edelgard in the chest, exploding in a puff of chalk and rice. Undeterred by the surprise, Edelgard whirled after Dedue and found herself with both Dimitri and Dedue in her front arc.
"Heal… Edelgard" their observer announced, his confusion obvious.
"Oops, sorry" Mercedes called out. "Annette, get her!"
Annette threw another bag, which Edelgard nimbly dodged. Against two foes she could hold her ground. Against three, it was too much. Distracted by too many threats, she missed her footing and stumbled slightly on a soft patch of dirt. Dimitri threw out his lance, abandoning the weapon in his eagerness to score. The training lance scraped off her armored chest, leaving a long chalk mark.
"Kill, Edelgard," the knight called out.
"Woo!" Annette clapped her hands and rushed forwards, hefting another red bag with the Brigid student in her sights. She yelped a moment later when a wax-tipped arrow zipped out from the brush and struck her in stomach. Dropping her bag, she crumpled to the ground with a groan.
"Annie!" Mercedes rushed over to her friend, genuine concern on her face.
"Kill, Annette!"
Byleth started forward, his gaze riveted to the purple-haired sniper who stood frozen in the brush, her eyes wide as saucers as she gazed at her victim.
"Oooh, I'm okay," Annette said, rolling onto her back. A flicker of pain showed on her face, but she waved off her friend. "Took the wind out of my sails."
The sniper realized he was eyeing her. With a shriek the diminutive figure turned and fled deeper into the trees.
He marked her face in his mind. Taking a running target at that angle, it was an excellent shot. And on her first shot too. He would have to see who that panicky sniper was.
Felix's opponent battled gamely, but once Dimitri and Dedue and Ingrid arrived to assist, she was quickly overwhelmed and went down with a slap from Felix's sword that knocked her axe from her hand and left her clutching her wrist. Mercedes hurried over and applied a quick, real healing spell, exchanging a smile and a friendly congratulations as the Black Eagle student bowed and thanked Felix for the duel.
With no more opponents, the Blue Lions regrouped and Mercedes used one of her remaining healing bags to 'cure' Dedue's arm. Dimitri eyed Edelgard coolly, the pair radiating with an intensity he rarely saw outside of a real battlefield.
"You are quite formidable," Dimitri admitted, extending his hand. Edelgard glanced at it dismissively, but accepted his hand after a moment.
"I had not expected you to bring your whole class after us," she said. "A clever strategy."
With that short exchange they seemed to have run out of things to say. Edelgard called for her classmates to begin the trek back to their starting point. The purple-haired sniper was nowhere to be found. Byleth doubted she would be attacking them again here. The girl had looked truly terrified.
Once his students stood assembled, he confirmed the second part of the plan. They had taken light casualties, with just Annette and Sylvain down. Adjusting their formation was entirely unnecessary, so he told them to keep moving. They marched past the trees and to the din of clashing wooden blades that marked the battle between Golden Deer and the rest of the Black Eagle class.
The scrum appeared to be quite involved, and had seen remarkably few casualties. Though, it helped that the numbers were more evenly matched here. Three Black Eagle students and Hanneman faced off against four Golden Deer and Manuela. He found it remarkable that the two professors seemed to have started their own private fight on the side, and were hurling rice bags at each other with unbridled aggression. The sight might have been comical had it not been severely disappointing. Without their professors' guidance the two sides had engaged in a mindless melee. A small boy with leather gauntlets struggled valiantly against the towering Raphael. Another Black Eagle student armed with a lance and shield battled a skinny Golden Deer student with the worst haircut Byleth had ever seen. They struck and parried with excellence, but the calm, friendly banter between them showed they were not taking the bout as seriously as they should. Nearby, a pair of girls went after each other with playful smiles, blade slashing with just enough speed to appear fully invested in their attacks, but slow enough the other easily sidestepped. Finally, a small figure stood behind the Golden Deer lines, a pair of rice bags clenched in her small fists, her expression showing disdain and impatience.
Few, if any of them, were taking this seriously.
The Blue Lions charged into the scrum with excited battle cries. Catching their opponents by surprise, they scored a rapid-fire series of kills. Byleth allowed himself to join, only insofar as to sidle up beside the distracted Hanneman and tap him on the arm with his sword, then dodging past Manuela's frantic rice bags before bopping her on the forehead with a single finger. Both professors glared at him, more irritated that he had spoiled their fight than that they had lost. Turning away from them, he returned to the fray. Once this was over he would have to sit them down. And Catherine was worried about how he was looking after his students!
Both the Golden Deer and Black Eagle students retreated from the Blue Lions onslaught. Dedue fell before it was over, catching a dizzying punch from Raphael that was aimed at Dimitri. Even the hardened Duscur native had to sit down after a Raphael punch, and the brawler apologized profusely a moment later after Dimitri 'killed' him with a spear slash across the chest. The rest fell in quick succession. Even the white-haired mage could not manage to land a kill, as Ingrid dodged one ball and used a Golden Deer student as a shield to avoid the second. The end result was a foregone conclusion. Overwhelmed and unprepared, their opponents were routed.
The surviving four members of the Blue Lions force regrouped and looked to Byleth for answers. This was the part where the battle plan branched out into the unknown. There was likely the one Black Eagle student hiding in the trees, and at most three more Golden Deer. They would have to be cautious now.
"Split into pairs," he ordered. "Felix and Ingrid, Dimitri and Mercedes. Smoke them out, make noise once you engage. If you hear the other pair in combat, join them. Pack tactics."
While they may not have inherently understood what he meant by pack tactics, they accepted his orders and moved into the woods. Byleth remained behind for a moment, eyeing the Black Eagle and Golden Deer students and checking for hidden injuries. Manuela took care of that for him. Now that her wrathful altercation with Hanneman had calmed down, she adopted her role as the academy's primary physician and began inspecting the students carefully.
Taking a slightly different angle from the others, he stepped into the trees.
The woods were silent, the animals having fled the clatter of battle and humankind. Walking slowly, carefully, he strained his ears for any sounds. Breaking twigs, rustle of branches or brush being pushed aside. His students were to his right, hunting the rest of the Golden Deer class. Unless he had underestimated her retreat, the skittish archer would be somewhere ahead. He doubted she would have retreated into the Golden Deer. The odds were good she was nearby.
Lowering his breathing to a near imperceptible level, he stalked through the trees, reducing his presence to a whisper in the wind, a dark shadow creeping. It was not a large cluster of trees, little more than a five-minute walk from edge to edge. A good place to rest, to take a break from the world and ponder. That was a favored pastime of Jeralt's. That, and fishing. Jeralt had always said that being surrounded by the trees made the world smaller, quieter. Byleth did not understand the notion, but he did appreciate how hard it was to be found in a forest. They made for excellent hiding places.
A distant, muffled commotion arose to his right, battle joined by the students. It was hard to hear it through the trees. Sound did not carry far, and when it came it had little direction or cadence. So very different from the soft, quiet whimpers that tickled his hearing. Harsh, frantic gasps drawn from aching lungs. Anxious, whispering laments. He listened in silence, body growing still as death while he tracked the origin of the sounds.
"Oh… why'd you have to take the shot. Stupid Bernie. They're probably searching the woods right now for you."
He walked closer, shifting between tree trunks to hide his approach. The girl was alone, that he knew for certain. But she was talking. Talking to herself. A nervous tic, he wondered?
"Can't fail at getting married if I get murdered first." Her voice went shrill for a second, then a crazed giggle interrupted her words. "Those eyes! Murder eyes. Horrible eyes. He saw me. He saw me and he's coming for me. He's going to kill me, I know it."
The first glimpse of the girl's purple hair appeared as he circled a fallen trunk. The Black Eagle student had found a small depression to hide in, flanked on two sides by thick brush and a tree on the third. One way in, one way out. She was fairly well hidden, he admitted. Had it not been for her vibrant hair she might have been passed by in a general search. One of the many troubles of such exotic hair. Fun to look at, impractical for utility.
She still had her bow strung, and a wax arrow nocked. Lying on her side, she peered through the brush and continued her muttering, adding in colorful and imaginative deaths that she was certain were coming her way. The girl had a… it was rather morbid. Byleth stepped up to the entrance of her hide-hole. Oblivious to her intruder, she continued scanning the forest where she was expecting Blue Lions to appear from.
"…gut poor Bernie like a fish and leave her to hang from a tree. Why, why, why did you not stay in bed? You could be sleeping, not waiting to get murdered! Tucked away in my nice little bed with no one out to- no, then Edelgard would be furious. Then she'd be hunting me. Oh! I just can't win!"
"Hey."
He spoke softly, as softly as his gruff voice allowed. His intention was to alert the girl without causing a panic. In hindsight, that was a bit of a lost cause. The instant the unassuming word left his lips the girl let out the loudest, shrillest scream he had ever experienced. Tumbling onto her back, she gaped at him with wide, horrified eyes and a wide, screaming mouth. The twang of her bowstring reached him a split-second after the wax-tipped arrow slammed into his chest. Even without a weaponized head, the blunt force impact of an arrow released at point blank range was tremendous.
When his vision un-blurred he was lying on his back, a throbbing ache spreading through his chest like a boulder had been dropped on it. He was fairly certain he had several broken ribs. The uncomfortable presence of something distinctly not him in his sternum alerted him that the arrow had pierced his chest. That meant splinters, which were an ass to remove. When he took a deep breath an awful stitching pain lanced across his stomach. Torn muscles too.
Hissing softly, he tested his lungs and found no issues there. The woods were silent again. He doubted the girl was still there for it to be so quiet, unless she had passed out in fear. Easing himself to a sitting position, he checked his immediate surroundings and saw no sign of her save a discarded bow and a ragged trail of spilled arrows pointed in the direction of the Black Eagles starting point. So, she had run.
Good. That meant no one would see him struggle to stand, the stub of an arrow rising from his chest. Collecting her fallen bow and arrows, he clutched them in one hand and gave himself a moment to orient himself. His chest ached abominably. Jeralt would never let him hear the end of it. Allowing himself to be so careless, to approach an armed opponent, however small and pitiable, without proper caution. He was lucky the girl's aim had not been higher. The arrow could have easily taken his heart, his lungs, or his throat. One did not need a weaponized tip to kill. A strong archer could put a simple wooden shaft through soft tissue with ease.
Having abandoned her hide-hole, the girl was most likely running for the surest escape she knew, to leave the battlefield. Without her weapon, she would be picked up by the knights and pulled to the side. That had been his chief concern; it would have been a pain to hunt her down after the mock battle. He had to admit he was curious too. To be able to turn and fire so smoothly, even in her panicked state, spoke volumes of her skill with the bow. It was hard enough to draw a bow while lying down. Drawing, firing, and hitting one's target even at such a short range was a professional's move.
Adrenaline worked wonders on the human body.
"Kill, Byleth," he muttered with a hint of pride. All other factors ignored, she had scored a kill on him. That was a celebratory achievement for any student.
While he decided whether to congratulate her for the kill or admonish her for abandoning her comrades, a new sound alerted him that he was soon to be not alone. Dropping into a crouch in the recently abandoned hide-hole, Byleth lowered himself gingerly to a knee and waited.
The blue-haired Golden Deer student was running through the woods, fleeing Dimitri. She had a training sword in her hand but seemed entirely uninterested in using it to challenge the Faerghus royal. Gasping for breath, her whole body heaving as she stumbled through the thick foliage. Her hair spilled freely around her face from her ragged bun, clinging to sweat-drenched skin. The girl's path would lead near his position, but not near enough he thought it worth intervening. Rather, he was curious to see what would occur.
His breathing slowed as he caught a clear glimpse of her face. A distant memory rose unbidden to his mind. The memory of a young girl standing in the road, her skirt bloodied and torn, her face smeared with gore. Haunted, empty eyes gazing at the corpses scattered about her feet. Eerie stillness in her poise, an unnatural apathy clouding her words.
Because I am a monster
Marianne. He remembered her name.
The girl tripped and went down in a tumble in the brush. Her training sword went one way, her ankle the other. A pained cry rent the air and he started to rise, but hesitated when Dimitri swept in. The fierce Faerghus royal skidded to a halt over the girl, his lance lowering. Concern played out on the young prince's face. Dropping to a knee, he reached out to the writhing Golden Deer student.
"Marianne, your ankle."
"I twisted it." Her small voice barely reached Byleth's ears.
"Here, let me help."
Abandoning his weapon, and the mock battle, Dimitri leaned over her and scooped her up out of the brush. The girl protested, her face going white with horror as Dimitri adjusted his grip and carefully picked thorns and leaves from her skirt. Byleth could see the discolored mess that was Marianne's ankle. Twisted was an understatement. The ankle ligaments were at least torn, possibly worse. An unlucky accident.
"That looks pretty bad," Dimitri told her, his eyes fixed on her ankle. "Mercedes is out here, somewhere. She can fix it."
"No! I… I wouldn't want to be a bother." Marianne squirmed in his arms, clearly uneasy about being held. She made as if to push away, but the young prince stood, and she let out a soft yelp as she nearly succeeded in toppling to the ground. Her arms came up and wrapped around his neck, instinctively seeking something to hold onto.
"Nonsense. You are hurt. I'd be a poor leader if I didn't get you help."
"I'm… I'm sorry. I knew this would happen," she muttered glumly. "I knew I would just be in the way."
Her words echoed distantly in Byleth's thoughts. A grimace threatened to form; he had heard those words before, but from a small girl left in the ruin of a slaughtered caravan.
I knew this would happen. They did not listen. Why didn't they listen?
"It's no bother," Dimitri assured her. He glanced at the training weapons, contemplating whether he could pick them up, then decided against it. Time was of the essence, to get to Mercedes and her healing magic before the twisted ankle grew worse. Healing magic could only do so much after a wound set. He turned his head so he was not bellowing into her ear and called out for Mercedes. As a paired group, she should have been close to his side.
"Please, I can walk. I shouldn't trouble you like this."
The pain in her voice might have come from her ankle, or her unease with being carried. The girl was… strange. Most of the students were. Byleth remembered how he had found her, in the aftermath of a slaughter so long ago. The day he had killed his first man. A bandit attack on the road. He and Jeralt happened to come upon the massacre and dispatched a half-dozen bandits, only to find they were too late for everyone but the unnervingly calm girl standing in the middle of the charnel horror.
Dimitri glanced back at her to insist, but no words came out. The prince gazed at Marianne, her expression drawn and shadowed, equally pained and shamed, with those dark, distraught eyes that never seemed to brighten. Something about her struck the young man dumb. She was silent too, and though Byleth could not see her face, Marianne ceased squirming as the two held each other's gaze for some time.
"I… uh…" Dimitri's cheeks reddened, and he finally tore his gaze away. His grip on her tightened slightly, a subconscious reaction. Marianne meekly placed her head against his chest. "Mercedes!"
"Coming!"
The peach-blonde girl emerged slowly through the trees, picking her way carefully as she clutched her skirt close. A chalky line started at her left shoulder and smeared across her chest, a clear indicator of why she had not been next to her partner.
"Marianne's hurt." Ignoring her renewed squirming, Dimitri hurried over to meet his classmate.
"Oh, that's just terrible. Let me see."
Mercedes' attitude shifted in an instant, and she rushed carelessly over to join them. Left free, her skirt billowed after her, and caught on a branch with such force she nearly tumbled down herself. The fabric tore, and she frantically yanked it out of the thorns before stumbling the rest of the way to Dimitri's side.
Marianne's frantic apology was glossed over, and Mercedes inspected her ankle with total focus. A white glow spilled from her fingers, and the coloring faded, the bruising receded.
"Good as new," Mercedes crowed triumphantly. "You will want to be careful with it, though. That was a pretty nasty sprain. Dimitri, take her back to the others. Professor Manuela should give her a more thorough check."
"Of course, Mercedes." Dimitri shifted Marianne's weight, readjusting for a long walk, and started back the way they had come. The girl protested, mortified that he would carry her all the way back and insisting that she could walk. He would have none of it. Even if he had wanted to set her down, Mercedes traipsed along at his side, and Byleth had a feeling the peach-blonde student would be a terror if he ignored her order.
The thought of the prince submitting to the command of a commoner amused Byleth, for the brief second the emotion sparked in his thoughts. Then it was gone, and he stared after their departing backs with cold and clinical disinterest. That was a relationship worth investigating. Two relationships, he decided. The students of his own class were still a mystery each, and he would have to invest time in unpacking their wants and desires and fears. It was not like his time as a mercenary. Battle brought out the soul of a man. The campaign trail was a hard and bitter affair, and revealed many things. His battlefield was a classroom now, his campaign the weeks of instruction and training.
One thing was certain, however. Mercedes Martritz was a foundation stone in the Blue Lions class. Though soft-spoken and unassuming, the girl had a liveliness about her, a disarming nature that soothed tensions and drew people in. She was not enthusiastic and spunky like Annette, or bitter and angry like Felix. She simply was, and that alone made her unique among her peers. Byleth resolved to study the girl. Every company needed a heart, a core. It was very likely that Mercedes could be the core of the class.
Once the students were long gone, he strode out to the discarded training weapons and added them to his collection. Armed with a lance, sword, and bow, he might have cut a comical figure, the very embodiment of a mercenary joke passed endlessly around the campfires.
Of course, he was brutally reminded as he bent down to collect the lance, there was still the arrow in his chest. Seiros' breath! He leaned against a sturdy tree trunk for a moment, careful not to overbalance as he caught his breath. Manuela would likely have brought medical tools. He was less worried about removing the arrow than he was about digging out the splinters. A bottle of brandy would assist with the pain, but odds were good such an aid was at least an hour's march away.
Gathering the weapons, he started the lonely trek back to the field where his class had swept through the Golden Deer and Black Eagles. A whistle blew in the distance, joined by three more in cardinal directions as the mock battle was called to a close. The designated meeting point for all classes after was in that same field.
By the time he emerged from the trees, most of the students had assembled. Marianne, he saw, was sitting on the grass under Manuela's fussing care, while Dimitri stood a short distance away pretending to not watch. Most of his classmates lounged about within a stone's throw, and the rest were making their way up from the Blue Lions starting point. Ashe had a chalk mark square on his right thigh. The spry archer was limping slightly, but looked no worse for wear.
Edelgard had her class clustered around a slight figure, whose head was buried in another's lap. A pair of Knights of Seiros stood with them, and their faces were all somewhere between grim and amused. The Golden Deer had spread out, with some clustered around Claude and the others lying in the grass as they waited for something to do.
"Holy Seiros!"
The cry came from his right. Byleth shot a sidelong glance that way, and saw Catherine eyeing him with undisguised amazement. The knight rushed to his side, shouting for a physician and a healer as she did.
"I'm fine," he grunted, biting back the pain that speaking placed on his aching chest. He did drop the training weapons, however, and shifted slightly to give Catherine a better view of the arrow. Better that than have her try and awkwardly turn him about. Her cry had drawn nearly every eye, and the students were all gaping at the sight. Byleth was unsure what to say, so he chose to ignore them all.
The knight put her hands carefully on either side of the arrow, probing for damage. She was not wearing gloves, and her tough and calloused fingers played havoc as they set pinpricks of agony lancing through his chest.
"Get me a bottle of alcohol and a knife," he told her. "Just need the splinters dug out."
"Sit down," she ordered.
He complied, but only because Manuela was practically sprinting over to join them, a bag of medical supplies in hand. Within seconds he was swarmed, and both women were insistently pushing at his shoulders to force him to lie down. For all their urgency, they were professionals, and they got the arrow out and dug out the splinters with clean, crisp speed. A dose of Manuela's healing magic reduced the throbbing to a dull discomfort, and Byleth was back on his feet in minutes.
By that point the students had all gathered around their house leaders. Most of the observers had left, heading back to Garreg Mach, but a small crowd of students and staff stood in a loose ring, lingering out of desire to hear the results or speak to the participants.
Byleth joined his fellow professors to give the final report. Catherine stood with them, and eyed the assembly with an easy grin on her lips.
Felix, Dimitri, and Ingrid were the last students standing. Casualties had been horrific, from a strategic view, but as it was a mock training battle he did not mind. In more realistic conditions, they would likely have fared better. The restraint necessary to conduct a training battle meant that many skills and tactics could not be utilized, so in effect they were fighting hamstrung.
The news that the Blue Lions won received no surprise, but cheering erupted from both his class and the Blue Lions students in the crowd. The final report of casualties presented how lopsided the battle truly had been, and how expertly Byleth's class had swept the field.
"Blue Lions: Six casualties, three survivors. Eliminated seven Black Eagles and six Golden Deer. Golden Deer: Eight casualties, one prisoner. Eliminated three Blue Lions and one Black Eagle. Black Eagles: Eight casualties, one prisoner. Eliminated three Blue Lions and two Golden Deer." Catherine indicated the professors. "You guys chose an MVP?"
"EmVeePee?" Byleth stared at her, uncomprehending.
"Most Valuable Participant. I did," Manuela said, eager to be first. She cleared her throat and glanced at the students, settling her gaze after a moment. "Leonie. Two kills, one from each house."
The student gave a serious nod, and received a small round of applause. Byleth might have imagined it, but he thought he saw her eyes flick over in his direction, a burning challenge present there. She had introduced herself as Jeralt's former apprentice. He did not remember the girl, but there had been a period where Byleth had separated from Jeralt. A year's time, when Jeralt insisted he learn how to fend for himself. The brutal year fighting Almyrans on the border. Nights spent half-buried in snow drifts, the air so cold that cuts did not even hurt. Where the blood froze in men's mouths, and corpses were blue as ice. He had not been fond of that winter. Why the Almyrans had chosen to fight in such horrid weather still mystified him.
"Hanneman?"
"Hm… ah, yes." The scholarly professor turned to Byleth and tipped his head. "I must say that I would choose my comrade, Professor Eisner. He trounced us, and I have no shame in admitting it. Brilliant maneuvering. Daring, Bold. Took us completely by surprise."
A few clenched jaws in the Black Eagles showed they disagreed with the exact words Professor Hanneman used, but they nodded grudgingly. After all, one could not argue with the results. Though they had inflicted casualties, their class had been thoroughly routed. Edelgard herself offered a gracious nod to Byleth in recognition of his strategic decision.
"And you, Professor Eisner?"
He looked over his students, pondering their expressions. Some were hopeful, others rueful. Some gave little indication of caring. Dimitri was standing stiffly, his eyes flicking every so often in the direction of the blue-haired Golden Deer girl. She was standing, slightly apart from the others, and favoring her other foot. Otherwise she appeared no worse for wear.
"Well, since you are so gracious as to cross the aisle." Byleth scanned the Black Eagles students and found the one he had chosen. It was an obvious choice, really. In a war, killing soldiers was important. Killing leaders infinitely more so. He lifted his arm and gestured into the Black Eagles class, indicating the white-faced sniper as she tried in vain to hide behind the others. "Only one student brought a professor down, and then was smart enough to get out 'alive.' Eliminating the opposition's leadership will cripple their armies, leave them aimless and vulnerable. It may have only been one kill, but that was the most important kill of the mock battle."
"Well done indeed, Bernadetta." Hanneman clapped his hands, and the Black Eagles turned to the terrified girl to congratulate her. Overcome by the sudden attention, the girl squeaked in fright and disappeared behind Edelgard's cloak. Byleth's own students were crestfallen at his announcement, but took the announcement as a sign that he was fine, and joined in after a slight delay in applauding their classmate from a different house.
"A clever salve on their honor, I wonder," Hanneman whispered, nodding conspiratorially towards Byleth.
"She deserved it," Byleth insisted. "That, and she pulled off a maneuver I would not have expected to see in anyone short of a well-experienced soldier."
"Did she now? Wh-"
"She fired a bow from on her back. The damn bow is as big as she is, and she managed to draw it enough to put an arrow halfway through my ribs in the blink of an eye." Byleth touched his chest, feeling the hole in his shirt that would have to be patched up.
"Ah… I see."
The applause died down. Catherine had listened to their exchange, he noted. Though she made a show of obliviousness, her shoulders had stiffened faintly at his description of Bernadetta's shot. A veteran such as herself would know how difficult that kind of shot was. In truth, he was underselling how spectacular it had been.
"Right then, Blue Lions won the mock battle. That means you get a feast back at the monastery. All of you are off-duty as of right now. Follow your professors back to Garreg Mach, then enjoy your afternoon. Excellent battle, students. You fought hard, you walloped each other, and no one has any serious injuries. That's a win in my book regardless of who took the field. Use this experience to grow, and for goddess' sake clean yourselves up. You all look filthy."
-v- Sylvain -v-
"I have to say, this is a great start to the school year." Sylvain clinked his mug against Ashe's. "I hadn't thought we'd be doing any fighting this early."
"It was something," the adopted noble's son agreed. Ashe nursed his mug carefully, eyeing it as if afraid it might disappear. It very well could, Sylvain mused. The monastery staff had prepared a simple, but delicious feast for the whole house, and they had been swarmed with their fellow housemates from other classes since arriving in victory. In the hubbub and confusion it would be understandable if mugs were picked up on accident or a plate of food disappeared.
Their half of the dining hall was packed with students chatting, eating and generally enjoying themselves. A steady stream of well-wishers and fans pressed in waves, sometimes offering a simple slap on the back, other times demanding to shake a hand or ask for tutoring.
"As the first casualties of the fray, I think we should have a toast." Sylvain lifted his mug, and Ashe slowly did as well. The pair exchanged grins, and knocked back a good portion of their drinks. Wiping his mouth with a kerchief, Sylvain suppressed a belch and glanced around. There were some gorgeous young women in their house. A few of them were making eyes at him, batting their eyelids furiously and making coy glances hoping he would catch them. His grin faded slightly at that. Resentment threatened to mellow his celebration, and he hurriedly looked away, eager for a distraction.
"Did I hear you were toasting to the casualties?" Annette appeared through the mob, dragging Mercedes behind her. The pair of lovely classmates were red-cheeked, as if they had just run across the whole monastery grounds. It was like that every time they appeared anywhere, he recalled. Perhaps they truly did spend their time running here and there.
"Commiserating, perhaps," Sylvain corrected.
"Aw, that's no good. You can't focus on something sad like that. I thought you performed wonderfully" Mercedes assured them both. Her voice was so genuine, her expression so innocent, that Sylvain's grin returned in full force, and he shifted over to give them room at his table. They piled in beside him, and dug into their plates stacked with freshly baked sweet bread and chicken.
"You were great too, Mercedes. Now, Ashe, here. We didn't even get to see him hold off half the Golden Deer house by himself."
"It was only two of them," Ashe murmured, hiding his embarrassment behind his drink.
"Well, that was two we didn't have to deal with." Sylvain accepted a slap on the back from one of the Blue Lions students, a minor son of a merchant family he had never met before. It had gone without saying that the 'elite class' would be popular, even before this mock battle. After all, they had some powerful bloodlines represented. Mercedes was unique, even. She was perhaps the only active holder of a Crest of Lamine. That fact alone would bring all sorts of suitors, in time.
He eyed the blonde for a moment as she and Annette picked at each other's plates, fishing out little treats they had split from the banquet table. In the short time they had known each other, Sylvain was certain he had developed an accurate assessment of most of his classmates. Mercedes, that sweet and loving girl, was as innocent and pure as any creature he had ever met. A bit of an airhead, but her intentions were always so wholesome he could not help but look at her as a big sister. Certainly she treated the class as siblings, and doted selflessly on them.
More importantly, she seemed utterly unconcerned with his status and Crest. That alone made her presence soothing.
"Dih oo see th' pluff'sr 'fter th' bah'ahl?" Annette asked, her mouth filled with a leg of chicken. It amazed Sylvain that such a small girl could pack away so much food. Her throat bulged when she swallowed. "Sorry, did you see the professor after the battle? It looked like he actually got shot."
"Didn't he say that Bernadetta scored a kill on him?" Ashe glanced around. Non-Blue Lions students occupied the other half of the dining hall. A few daring students had crossed over and insinuated themselves with the victorious Blue Lions. Honestly, there was no bad blood between the students, and a fair amount were being invited to join the banquet line.
"Bernadetta? Right, she's that tiny thing." Sylvan held up his hand to simulate her height. "Purple hair, nervous as a mouse in a cat's path."
"I haven't really seen her around," Mercedes added. Dorothea said she spends most of her time in her room. The poor thing. I don't think she has many friends yet."
"Well, to get one over on the Professor, she must be something." Sylvain laughed heartily. "I'm just impressed Professor Eisner was still walking after taking that arrow."
"He must be indestructible," Ashe ventured.
Mercedes looked like she wanted to say something, but was interrupted by Annette turning and unceremoniously shoving a spoonful of something in her mouth. The girl went still for a moment, then waved her arms in delight and gave a little leap in her seat. The resulting motion offered a spectacular view, and Sylvain was glad no one was looking his way. He felt the heat brush his cheeks as Mercedes eased the spoon from her mouth.
"Oh, that is delicious! What was that, Annie?"
"Dedue made it. He says it's a Duscur desert."
The girls were instantly distracted, clamoring over the treat as they dissected a piece and tried to guess how it had been made. Sylvain chuckled softly at their interactions. They were adorable together. He had seen siblings that were less connected than those two. He had a sibling that was…
"Sylvain? What's wrong?"
Ashe was watching him curiously. Smoothing the grimace from his face, Sylvain forced a short laugh. "Nothing, Ashe. It just hit me how tired I am. I'm going to turn in for the night."
Excusing himself from the table, Sylvain snuck through the crowd and stepped out into the quieter outside. The weather was still cool this time of year, and he spent a moment enjoying the wind on his face. The dining hall could become quite warm with everyone packed inside. When he opened his eyes, he spotted a lone figure standing at the small pier of the monastery pond. His curiosity got the better of him, and Sylvain ambled down the stairs and strode over to see what their mysterious professor was up to.
"Not a fan of the banquet, then?"
Professor Eisner tilted his head slightly, the only indication of his acknowledgement. With his back to Sylvain, it was easy to mistake him for a statue. His cloak did not move despite the mountain air currents. His body was still, as if he was not even breathing.
"It is for the students to enjoy."
"Professors too," he admonished.
The professor did not respond to that. In truth, Sylvan had an idea why the professor had chosen to abstain. Despite not giving his age to the class, there was no mistaking that the professor was close. It was possible Mercedes was even older than he was. The lack of an age-gap meant it would be easy to blur the professional distance between him and the class. By not partaking in the banquet, he was preventing any chance of over-familiarity. This early in the year, it could be disastrous to the classroom to blur that line.
"Well, you should sneak in there and get leftovers when you can. They made some excel-"
"Why are you here, Sylvain?"
The bluntness of the question left him wrong-footed. "Sorry?"
"You should be celebrating with your class."
"I needed some air. It gets stuffy in the dining hall."
"And yet you chose to find someone else to talk to."
"Well, you have to admit, you're interesting." Sylvain rubbed the back of his neck. "There's a lot of mystery about you, whether you like it or not."
"Perhaps there is," the professor agreed.