Of Course I am a Good Influence!
Wyvern Moon
Things weren't quite in place for Seteth to step in as the Black Eagle's Professor in the first week of the next moon, so Hanneman and Manuela continued to do their best by all the students, assuring them the situation would be resolved by the end of the next week in plenty of time for them to seriously train for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.
In the meanwhile, there was a fishing competition.
The Laundresses had practiced their sorcery on Byleth's armour and Manuela's coat (and there had to be sorcery involved, to return that to pristine condition) and the doctor had cleared Byleth to return to her usual habits, provided she agreed to a few check-up appointments, but Byleth knew better than to jump straight into a spar after so much inactivity. So she went to the pond hoping that some of the fish might pose a challenge.
The woman overseeing the contest delivered her instructions plainly, with as few words as possible and seemed to approve of Byleth's answering nod. She found a spot (as far from where Alois was shouting challenges to the fish as possible) and cast her line. Her wrist twinged a little as she reeled her first catch in (a white trout, little more than the size of her palm and immediately donated to a nearby Almyran Longhair who came to investigate.) and she frowned at the reminder.
"Careful now, that expression may scare off the fish." Sothis commented, watching her reflection in the water "Or, did you think I would be praising you for showing your feelings more?"
"No…" Byleth thought back, scanning the water for the shadows beneath "I don't know why it's happening, I just am, recently."
"Clearly it is my good influence."
"Clearly."
"Was that sarcasm? At me!? Young Lady you ought to show better respect to your elders!" Sothis began a lecture in mock-affront, her enjoyment of the banter bubbling through them both.
The reflection in the water smiled.
~o~*~o~
Rhea might have entertained some doubt at the start of the year, but that was all done away with the moment she had seen the child. Obfuscate though he might, Jeralt could not hide that Byleth was clearly Sitri's daughter. The girl with Her heart.
The hope that had sprouted now flourished. The despair she had felt twenty odd years ago, when they lost not only the child but any chance of further attempts, was nothing against it. All was possible again.
And yet, Jeralt had snuck the child in under her nose. Had she known sooner, she might have pressed to put the child in a position nearer her; Jeritza's replacement perhaps, or simply a combat instructor. A position within the Academy where she might have some influence over her. Rhea's only interactions with the battalions that worked at Garreg Mach were through the Guildmaster or the Captain of the Knights. Jeralt. He had placed himself quite firmly between them; as though she were an enemy. In her own monastery!
For now, she must satisfy herself with watching from a distance.
At no point did it occur to her that open honesty with her old friend, either now or two decades prior, might have saved them all a world of grief.
~o~*~o~
It was still odd for Byleth to have so much time to herself. Even accounting for her lightened training regime as she worked back to full health, she had many more hours in a day to fill than she ever had before whilst awaiting marching orders from the Guildmaster.
Her men were, well; men. They didn't need to be cajoled into their own training and knew well enough the difference between well-kept equipment and death. A lot of the busywork of running a company was handled simply by being stationed at the monastery; she didn't need to arrange jobs or seek out food and shelter. The limited expenditures they had to account for, for repair and upkeep, were easily managed.
And since they'd discovered tournaments in the training grounds, along with the sauna and the rest of Garreg Mach's amenities, both in town and within the Monastery, the troop were well entertained. She joined them at times, watching the competitions and deigning to enter the Bishop's Regret for a drink with them. She even admitted to Sanderson that they had a good line in ciders; his response was to nod wisely and tell her to avoid the swill they served in the Wilted Rose –she hadn't been aware there was a third pub in the area, let alone one even her men would spurn, until he explained that part of Abyss to her.
The rest of the time she spent discovering things that interested her. The greenhouse was a pleasant space to occupy for an hour or so, but she'd spent too much time amongst nature to be particularly endeared to seeing it brought to order. She shunned the library for Sothis's comfort, perusing instead the lesser collection in the Knight's Hall. She fished, and became a favourite of the local cats. She listened to the choral practice almost as much for her own sake as for Sothis's amusement, but avoided the services where the Archbishop was more likely to be in attendance. She caught up on what was going on with the Gatekeeper, so she could pass on the news to Manuela at her check-up appointments, taking the physician's mind off her workload for a brief time.
Leonie seemed to have developed a sense for finding her, and often walked back with her from wherever she'd been that day so she could pester Sanderson for more stories. Byleth spent those evenings in amusement, exchanging glances with an increasingly frustrated Willard as Sanderson blatantly rewrote history to suit his narrative until he could take it no more. The resulting argument usually had Leonie crying with laughter against her shoulder, while Sothis jeered and cheered within.
Byleth's smiles grew more frequent.
~o~*~o~
Jeralt returned on the wings of the first cool breeze of autumn. He walked into the barracks one evening to many cheers and greetings from the men, stopping only long enough to return a few quick words before herding her up to her study.
"Doctor give you the all-clear then?" He started without preamble.
"Ready for missions starting next week." Byleth confirmed
"We'll see about that." Jeralt promised. Byleth didn't sigh exactly, but it was more frustrating than comforting that her Father would hand over responsibility for the company to her then still insist on sounding her out after an injury. She was not particularly looking forward to tomorrow's inevitable spar. "And then we'll see about getting you and the boys assigned to me for my next mission at the end of this moon. I know" he continued, in a different tone "that you'll have questions; I certainly gave you cause enough for them before I left. And I'll answer all of them that I can. Just… not in the monastery. Alright, Kid?"
Byleth regarded him coolly for a moment as she sorted through what was her own curiosity and what feelings belonged to Sothis before nodding slowly, her expression relaxing.
Jeralt grinned "Alright then. So, let your Old Man buy you a drink?"
"If we're going to the Pegasus."
"You drive a hard bargain, Kid."
~o~*~o~
When news that the Blade Breaker and the Ashen Demon were sparring had rocked through the dining hall at lunchtime the next day Professors Hanneman and Manuela hadn't even tried to get the students to return to class for the afternoon session. Lindhart snuck off for a nap, and Bernadetta to hide, but everyone else (and not a few of the knights) made their way up to that corner of the monastery immediately.
Felix, of course, hadn't even been in the dining hall and already had the best seat in the training grounds as he watched the pair face off against each other. The swordsman was almost vibrating in his seat, but, somehow, watching the match Claude felt disappointed. Spear against sword, Jeralt was taunting his daughter about her guard being out of place, and she wasn't pushing back-
"I had expected… more." Ferdinand verbalised what they were feeling.
Felix scoffed, his hand visibly twitching "One more minute, then you'll change your tune."
Claude scanned the room, and yes –there was a water clock, set to chime at three minute intervals. What was-
"Oh!" said Dimitri, suddenly sitting straighter eyes fixed sharply on the match, and frustratingly not sharing his epiphany with the rest of them.
"Alright, I'll bite" Claude said after a moment "What've you and his grouchiness seen that we haven't?"
"Miss Byleth is not left-handed."
Everyone was suddenly paying greater attention to the match. Sure enough, her sword was held in her offhand, and while she may not be pushing back, she wasn't letting Jeralt get any significant blows in either.
The clock chimed and with a flourish the sword swapped from left to right and the entire pace of the match changed. Byleth now stepped forward with her parries and made more than a few impressive thrusts of her own considering the unfavourable match between the length of her reach and Jeralt's.
"She is not taking the advantage of… of openness." Petra commented
"Against an opponent like Jeralt, you shouldn't trust an opening you didn't make yourself." Ingrid answered.
The clock chimed again and Jeralt reversed his grip, leading with his offhand. Suddenly, every lecture Professor Manuela had given about sword strikes flowing like water made sense. Byleth was constantly moving, the sword practically dancing in her hand. She didn't taunt her father as he had taunted her, preferring to fight in silence, but the flat of her blade punished a hand out of alignment once or twice.
Claude decided then and there to stick with axes, if he had to fight in melee, and to hell with "lordly poise". There was no hope of him ever replicating… this.
Another chime and the sword was back to her left, weakness against weakness. It was perhaps the most brilliant demonstration of technique any of them had ever seen as father and daughter relied more heavily on footwork, positioning and accuracy to continue the bout. Byleth was faster and more agile, but Jeralt had reach and leverage –and a stronger base.
Felix was almost levitating. Claude didn't think the boy had blinked since the rest of the students had arrived and waved a hand across his face –almost having it bitten off in response. Sylvain snickered and shot him a 'what can you do?' look over the top of Felix's head.
The clock chimed again before anyone was ready to hear it and the combatants sprang apart; weapons lowered, but still in stance. They regarded each other levelly for a moment.
"You're holding back." Byleth spoke, and there was something about her that suggested the statement wasn't just an observation, butan accusation.
"I'm an old man; I need to warm up a little first."
"You're hovering." She replied and Claude was now certain that that was an accusation, that there had been frustration in her voice. Was she letting more emotion through or had he learned to read her better? Was anyone else hearing this?
"You're still favouring that wrist." Jeralt replied, and as if in reflex Byleth rotated her right hand, the one that had been damaged by the Death Knight. "If you want me to take you seriously, then give me a proper challenge."
A moment passed.
Byleth shifted her sword to a two-handed grip.
Jeralt spun his weapon back upright and adjusted his stance.
The clock chimed.
Before it had finished ringing Byleth was on her back, spear tip at her throat. Her sword was extended up towards Jeralt's ribs but the Captain of the Knights just sighed "And what's that going to do against an opponent in mail? Tickle them? At least aim for where the gaps are going to be, Kid." He pulled his spear away and reached a hand out for her to grasp. "Still, that was almost your usual speed. Not bad for someone who's been taking it easy on bedrest for half a moon. I suppose we can tell the Guildmaster you're back in business."
"You're right," Byleth answered as he pulled her to her feet "I am still favouring my wrist… I'll do better."
Jeralt grinned and then turned his attention to everyone who had gathered to watch. "Alright you brats, this isn't a spectator sport, it's a spar not a joust, who's next?"
Felix and Leonie may well have teleported in front of him for how fast they left their seats. After a moment's hesitation, to everyone's surprise, Marianne followed them, but went to Byleth who stood leaning against a pillar, and in a further fit of boldness, took her hand in her own, already lit up with white magic.
With Byleth's wrist healed as much as possible without additional rest, Jeralt set Felix against her and took on Leonie.
"That was very kind of you." Dimitri commented as Marianne returned to them. The girl flushed red and sat down quickly.
"I-it was nothing." She demurred.
"It was very brave is what it was." Hilda advocated, leaning forward in her own seat to wrap a supportive hug around her friend's waist from behind, chin propped on her shoulder "Usually you're so shy, where did that come from?"
"I-I guess… when you heal someone that… that close to the -to the edge… you, um, become invested? She doesn't feel like… like a stranger to me anymore."
"Huh. Maybe that's why Lindhart's stuck around me for so long." Caspar mused "How close to the edge are we talking here anyway?"
"She didn't have a heartbeat" Marianne admitted quietly.
"Wow. That's practically over the edge. No wonder she lost just now."
"Against a well-matched opponent the outcome may be decided in a single instant." Edelgard spoke, eyes flicking between the fights happening before them "If you were to re-run that last bout a hundred times, Byleth would win fifty."
"Forty" Dimitri ventured "I don't think she quite matches Captain Jeralt in single-combat yet."
"Yet." Claude agreed, and a glance was shared between the house leaders.
The game was afoot once more.
~o~*~o~
It began, and ended, first thing the next morning. Dawn hadn't even broken.
Dimitri was closing the door to his room just as Claude exited his own with a jaw-cracking yawn.
Their eyes met.
It transpired that Claude was not above sprinting through the halls like a madman where anyone could see him. Dimitri gave chase, taking the stairs at the end of the hall three and even four at a time to close in on Claude's lead.
They tumbled past the greenhouse just as the first light of day glinted off the ripples in the pond. Claude lost ground ducking round a squire bringing wood to the kitchens and Dimitri was on his heels, close enough to touch, as they rounded the pond to the alley leading to the market.
Neck-and-neck they all but jumped the stairs, stumbling at the bottom and were suddenly brought up short, gasping for air as Edelgard was revealed in the shadows, whirling round to fix them with a much more bleary-eyed version of her usual piercing stare.
"Unavailable." She snapped, the Guildmaster was beaming brightly behind her as his aides set up for the day.
Claude took a very obvious step behind Dimitri. The Prince drew himself up, glancing between Edelgard and the Guildmaster. "Who?" he managed
"Captain Jeralt." She ground out, frustrated.
"Well," said Claude, leaning heavily on the wall of the item shop and both heaving in air while fighting off another yawn –and losing "at least I won't have to scheme my way around deadly mercenaries on either of your sides at the battle."
~o~*~o~
There were three Cardinals trusted and capable enough to take over Seteth's ecclesial duties, but no-one else could stand in as Rhea's advisor. Anything would have been a compromise, but they had at last managed to light upon a compromise that at least offered some benefit to the students;
Wednesday and Friday were to become half-days at the academy, with a range of specialised seminars offered in the morning. Attendance would be recorded; it did not matter which seminar the students went to, so long as they made it to one of them. To encourage them to spend the latter half of the day in study, extra assignments were also to be issued.
All of the Knights were asked to consider putting themselves forward to the list of people on rotation to give seminars, and the offer even came down to Byleth. It was a significant amount of coin for a morning's work and the understanding that she would only be available at short notice when not on a mission.
She agreed provisionally; having not been formally schooled herself Byleth asked if she could first sit in on a couple to get a feel for what the expectations were.
That first Wednesday, listening to Manuela, she discovered a talent for white magic she would never have guessed at. On Friday she learned from the Knight, Catherine, about the differences to beware when fighting against or alongside a Relic and made a note to attend Hanneman's next seminar on Crestology, which seemed related and had so far been completely outside her sphere of knowledge as a commoner.
She put together a couple of talks on swordplay and tactics, ruling over Sothis's "helpful" commentary, and when they were done, she brought them to Willard and Sanderson.
They tore her delivery apart and she was sick of talking by the time they judged her "passable".
She dreaded to think how much work went into being a full-time Professor if her few pre-planned talks could take so much effort. From having almost too much time for herself now, a professor may have too little. No wonder Hanneman and Manuela were so enthusiastic in their personal pursuits; they had to be in order to carve any time out for them.
~o~*~o~
Flayn was… lovely, in a bright and overly enthusiastic way. Dorothea had made a sort of pet of her, Ferdinand took his role as shield more seriously when tasked with defending the girl, and Lindhart stayed awake whenever she spoke.
She fit in the classroom with them, sliding into place so easily.
Seteth- Professor Seteth- didn't overtly favour her in class, either. He called on each student evenly. Perhaps he was a little more effusive, a little quicker, in his praise of her than the rest, but that was nothing to complain of.
She had already known that he cared for the students of the academy, but seeing it up close, being the recipient, was another thing entirely. Could it simply be the relief of no longer secretly running the class herself? Edelgard considered the notion –perhaps it was a factor, but it was not all.
Flayn was lovely, and Seteth was a good man. Whatever their blood may be, they were not monsters. "Monica" suffered heavily in comparison.
But, she reminded herself, given the choice, they would side with the Immaculate One. She held on to that thought tightly.
The path beneath her feet had never seemed so uneven.