Chapter 33: Back at Home

30th day of the Ethereal Moon 1180. Garreg Mach, Audience Chamber of the Archbishop.

The Professors of the Academy, Yuri, Seteth and Jeralt were currently gathered in the audience chamber. All of them had returned from successful missions, much to the joy of Rhea. There was a pleasant smile on her face that was, for those who had known her for a long time, shockingly genuine. She looked at each of them and inclined her head.

"I am overjoyed to see you all return unharmed," she said.

"It was touch and go in a few spots, but we managed," replied Yuri.

Manuela added, "After the final assault on Count Hevring's position, stamping out the last pockets of resistance was easy by comparison."

Hanneman agreed. "Indeed. We had a few tricky encounters with an army and a few bandits, but we accomplished our mission with low casualties."

"I'm just happy the students survived," said Byleth.

That put a dampener on the exuberant mood. There was a grimace or two. The casualty numbers from the Alliance front were alarming. The final tally was at above 100'000, which was slightly less than the Agarthan losses. That was not sustainable in the long run. In pure manpower alone, Fodlan would eventually overwhelm Agartha, but nobody was willing to tolerate millions of deaths. Considering what the Agarthans were doing in the territories they held, however, that was likely what the future would hold in store.

"That is indeed fortunate," said Rhea diplomatically. "Did the two temporary additions to your class perform well?"

Byleth nodded. "Linhardt and Constance did good work. We did not talk as much as I had hoped, though."

"Why is that?" asked Rhea.

"They are not Alliance citizens. They were excluded from several gatherings because of that," answered Byleth.

"That is lamentable," said the Archbishop. She went on, "Regardless, we must skip further pleasantries. What is the state of the Alliance front?"

Byleth began his report by reading from his notebook, which he had taken out at the beginning of the meeting. "The great Agarthan host is defeated. The overall loss ratio is roughly 6:5 in favour of the Alliance. Gloucester and Ordelia territories remain occupied as well as several smaller territories. The occupied territories will be systematically liberated while remaining on alert for a renewed Agarthan attack. It appears the enemy wishes to bait the Alliance into committing to reckless offensives by engaging in increasingly severe atrocities against the local populations. The combined forces of the Alliance and Almyra now number roughly 70'000, excluding soldiers in training, making their leadership too cautious to conduct such operations. Overall, the loss of life and the resulting economic decline will take a long time to recover from if the war drags on. It is already a humanitarian catastrophe, and these issues will make it even worse."

A sharp look made its way onto Rhea's face. "What atrocities?" she asked.

The young Professor turned the page. He said, "In-depth interrogation of the Agarthan General Haran, who surrendered his forces and is cooperating willingly, has revealed that the Agarthan forces run wild in the Alliance. According to his knowledge, more than forty villages and at least one town have been put to the torch and their populations massacred almost entirely. The rest have been abducted for the purposes of experiments and… entertainment. Noteworthy among those are the so-called 'fun houses,' which serve as training facilities for torture and interrogation techniques while doubling as extremely morbid brothels for their elite."

More than one face went green at that revelation. "That's disgusting," said Manuela, "Infuriating, too."

"Do you have any suggestions on how to solve this problem?" asked Rhea. "We cannot afford to let the army dissolve in a mad dash to liberate everything. As your report said, it would be too risky."

Byleth nodded. "Yes. I've asked Hyperion to send his followers," he said.

Rhea stared at him in disbelief. "And he agreed?" she asked.

"No," answered Byleth. "He said they aren't well-trained enough yet."

"Are they not trained infiltrators?" asked Hanneman.

His younger colleague shook his head. "His exact words were: 'I'm not sending my people into a meat grinder which could lead to them getting captured and subjected to unspeakable horrors before they know Rescue, Warp, Ward, Heal and Physic. That is the bare minimum. The first rule of rescues is to not become the next victim. I want my people safe and whole.' I agree with him."

"Makes sense," said Yuri. "There are moral and pragmatic reasons that make that decision sensible. Infiltrators are rare and valuable assets. Losing them is bad. Pragmatics aside, it's also always a hit to the gut when you lose people, especially if you knew them well." He grimaced at that. "I hate that."

Rhea inclined her head. "It is a sensible decision indeed," she admitted. "Since we cannot progress any further on this matter, let us discuss the other operations." She turned to Hanneman and Seteth. "Please report," she asked despite already knowing the majority of what had happened. The others had to be brought up to speed as well.

Hanneman took that as his cue to speak. "We encountered a battle between Baron Ochs and an unknown commander under Lord Arundel as soon as we left the Oghma mountains. Seteth and Flayn parted from us at the designated point later. After that, we followed our mission parameters and hunted bandits. We raided five camps in total. We left after newly trained Nuvelle soldiers started taking over the task of hunting down these criminals. Seteth and Flayn re-joined us on the way back."

"Our mission was a success as well," said Seteth. "Flayn and I met with… our contact. He agreed to fulfil our request. The item in question will be retrieved. I believe I should talk about the details of the mission in private."

The Archbishop nodded. "Agreed. Now then, how did your mission go, Manuela?" she asked while switching the focus of her attention.

"We succeeded in assisting the loyalist forced with the capture of Count Hevring and his lands," reported the female Professor. "With the assistance of Yuri's group, we managed to inspire a revolt and control it. We encountered no major difficulties on our campaign and received an offer of surrender after a siege of several weeks."

"Were there any problems with the Ashen Wolves?" asked Rhea.

"No," answered Manuela, "The Black Eagles and the Ashen Wolves got along well. Caspar and Balthus in particular seem to have forged a bond."

Rhea smiled. "I am glad to hear that." She then turned to Yuri. "Since the attack on the Church outpost in Aillel is of no further strategic consequence for now, we will skip it. Yuri, please report on your operations instead."

"Certainly, Your Grace," he said in his smooth, half-joking manner. "With the defeat of Count Hevring, the original mission has been fulfilled. Thanks to some trickery, the whole thing was even a net gain for our coffers. For now, I've left a counter-intelligence network in place."

"I see," said the Archbishop. "Have you already made preparations for the next phase of the war?"

Yuri answered, "In terms of finance and equipment, yes. However, I currently lack the manpower necessary for big espionage operations in Faerghus, but I'll have more informants in the region soon. My current assessment, in case you want it, is that we can't inspire a revolt in the western part of the Kingdom. The only current weak point is likely to be Dominic territory. As such, we should wait until more information is available."

Rhea inclined her head. "Very well. In that case, we are finished with the reports for now. Please give your written reports to Seteth by tomorrow. Dismissed."

The same day. Garreg Mach, student quarters.

"It's good to be back," sighed Bernadetta. She had just settled down in the bed and wrapped herself in the blanket. She knew it was a bit childish, but she didn't really care. She'd always been safe in her bed. Her father had never shouted at her or hurt her when she was asleep. And so, she enjoyed the warmth and comfort of her bed on this cold winter day.

"Greetings, Bernie!" said a soft but firm voice.

"Ah!" shrieked the girl in the bed. She instinctively flailed her arms, only for the blanket to prevent it. She fell out of the bed and onto the floor in a tangle of limbs. "Ow," she groaned, "Please don't do that, Petra. You frightened me."

"My apologies," said the Princess of Brigid, who bowed down and helped Bernadetta get up. "Your door was unlocked. I was having the thought you were expecting visitors."

Bernadetta sat back down on the bed, blankets still wrapped around her. "I was just so happy to be back that I forgot," she muttered.

Petra thought about that. Bernadetta most certainly did not have the heart of a hunter, even though she was very skilled with her bow. No, the older girl was timid and easily frightened. There was steel in her spirit nonetheless, but it was… rusty. The way she portrayed herself made her appear helpless and weak. It tugged at Petra's heartstrings to see someone with such a gentle disposition be so afraid of everything around her. The urge to protect Bernadetta until her inner strength came forth was strong in her.

"You must be more aware of dangerousness… danger," said Petra. She still sometimes fumbled with the spoken language, though it was getting better.

"I'm sorry!" half-shouted Bernadetta.

Petra just smiled and turned around. She closed the door and locked it. "There. No more danger," she said with a warm smile.

"Have you locked the door so I can't escape? I'm onto you!" exclaimed Bernadetta with a racing heart.

The younger of the two giggled. "What if I did? I am not wanting Bernie to run away."

A few months ago, that would have set off a panic attack in Bernadetta. Even now, if anyone but Petra, Professor Byleth, Alois or Seteth had said something like that, she would have started hyperventilating. Petra had gained her trust, however. The girl from Brigid had never insulted her or gotten angry with her. Instead, there were words of encouragement when something went wrong, and honest praise when she did something right. As a consequence, she was merely agitated instead of panicked.

"Why is that?" she asked.

"Because I wish to talk," said Petra. "I have a desire of knowing how you are."

Bernadetta took a few moments to process that. Eventually, she replied, "Like I said, I'm happy to be back. I'm safe here. I have my bed, my plants and my embroidery. The Professor is here as well."

Petra tilted her head in confusion. "But Professor Manuela is being with us all the time," she said.

The dishevelled girl blushed. She murmured, "I meant Professor Byleth. I don't know why, but I'm calmer around him. I feel like he'll always protect me; kind of like having a kind older brother. We haven't really talked much at all, but he seems to always make sure that I'm alright and unbothered. And… and he's told me that he'd protect me if I ever needed it, even from my father."

Petra had also never interacted much with Professor Byleth, but she agreed with Bernadetta that there was something special about him. He had confidence and exuded an air of authority and power. He had the spirit of a warrior and the heart of a king. He honestly reminded her of the Flame Spirit in her people's tales. If he ever found his way to Brigid, he would likely be hard-pressed to avoid the attention of many women and quite a few men trying to court him. His qualities as a good leader and great warrior were considered very attractive to her people, after all.

The last thing Bernadetta had said made her seethe, however. Petra, like most students by now, had found out what the girl's father had done and tried to do to her. It made the Princess' blood boil with indignation. Brigid's people prided themselves with strong warriors, but they knew well that not everyone could be one. That was why they had clans and families. The strong warriors protected those in their clan and family who were weak, and tried their best to make them strong too. For a family member to intentionally instil weakness in, and to attempt to bring harm to one they were supposed to care for was anathema to Petra. It bordered on sacrilege.

"I have agreement," she said. "Professor Byleth is like the Flame Spirit."

Bernadetta looked at her with a clueless expression that she honestly thought of as cute. "Would you mind explaining that to me? You talk about the Flame Spirit from time to time, but I don't think you've ever explained what it is."

Petra blinked. No one had ever asked her about her people's faith since she had come to Garreg Mach. The Church was strongest here, after all, and nobody wanted to be accused of heresy. This didn't technically count since Petra was a heathen, but nobody cared about the distinction. Many didn't even know it. She smiled, happy that she could talk about a bit of her culture with the girl in front of her.

"My people are believing in the Flame Spirit who saved us, and many other spirits. It was a very long time ago that the world was dark. The Flame God was alive back then, and fought against the darkness. It made us have survival. It defeated the darkness and gave life to the Earth. Many spirits were being born from that life. The fight had made the Flame God too exhausted, however. It died and became the Flame Spirit," explained Petra.

"Whoa," said Bernadetta with wonder in her eyes. "But how does that remind you of the Professor?"

"There are being many more tales about the Flame Spirit," answered Petra, "It protecting the weak and makes them strong. It is helping good people attain victory. All of Brigid is trying… tries to follow the example."

"That does sound like the Professor," said Bernadetta.

Before she could say anything more, she noticed Petra shiver a bit. She remembered that it was winter now, and that the temperature was rather low, even with the little bit of heating that was in the dorms. The Princess of Brigid was dressed in her normal clothes despite that, wearing only her usual shirt and skirt combination. "You must be freezing," said Bernadetta, "You should put on some more clothes."

Petra shook her head. "Too many clothes are uncomfortable. I'm not becoming used to wearing so much."

"But you can't just stay in the cold wearing so little!" insisted Bernadetta.

"It is cold," admitted Petra. "It happens rarely in Brigid. The islands are tropical, but storms make it very cold sometimes."

The older girl looked at her strangely. "What do you do against the cold, then, if you're not putting on more clothes?"

Petra beamed. "When it is cold, we are having an exchange of body heat," she explained.

A bright blush crept its way on Bernadetta's face as she thought about that. "I-isn't that a bit too intimate?" she asked.

"You are right," answered Petra. "We share with family, close friends and lovers."

Bernadetta stayed silent for a few seconds before she spoke up. "W-well, you can't just… stay out in the cold. I guess we're close enough friends. C-come in," she stammered out and scooted to the side on her bed while opening up the blanket cocoon she was in.

Petra was pleasantly surprised, and her eyes widened a little. She had meant to tease the other girl a bit and then leave, having fulfilled her purpose here. That Bernadetta offered something like this made her happy. It also made her a tiny bit guilty. While the older girl was likely thinking of this being about friendship, Petra thought a bit differently. Bernadetta was just too adorable for Petra not to be interested. The Princess admitted to herself that she had developed a bit of a crush on the skittish girl.

It was a shame that as the Princess of Brigid, she would have to marry a man and continue her line at some point, but she promised to herself that she would make sure that he wouldn't mind her having a relationship with someone she loved instead of limiting herself to husband whom she didn't. She would allow him the same leeway. It was a fairly common thing with couples involving clan heads in Brigid, so she was hopeful.

Leaving that thought by the side for now, Petra smiled. "You have many thanks, Bernie," she said and climbed into the bed before more heat was lost. She then slowly wrapped her arms around the other girl.

Bernadetta's blush increased in its intensity. "You're w-welcome," she stuttered.

The sensation was strange to her. So few people had ever hugged her. Her uncle had, but her mother hadn't, and the less said about physical contact with her father, the better. Feeling the arms of her friend around her midsection was something completely new to her. The tenseness in her muscles she hadn't even noticed was there was slowly receding at the, dare she say, loving touch she was receiving. As she looked at Petra's expression, she could see something she couldn't quite place in those bright eyes and that smile. Her instincts were silent about it, however, so she didn't really mind not knowing exactly what it was.

"Tell me more about your spirits," she said.

"With joy," said Petra excitedly.

I think I can get used to this, thought Bernadetta as she sank into the other girl's embrace and closed her eyes while listening to the tales of Brigid's folklore.

31st day of the Ethereal Moon 1180. Garreg Mach, monastery town.

Ferdinand and Lorenz sat together in one of the town's many taverns. Normally, neither of them would be found in such an establishment, but circumstances had brought them to this place. They both had felt the need to come here and have a look at the comings and goings of the tavern. There was much to learn for them.

"I had never thought that the nobility's standing with the common people was so bad until I saw it with my own eyes. The people on Hevring lands really didn't like the Count," said Ferdinand.

Lorenz nodded. "Indeed. I observed many commoners among the soldiery of the Alliance shooting unpleasant looks at their nobles during the campaign," he replied. "The people in the villages and towns we passed through were surprised and confused when everything went smoothly. I talked to one of them who did not know who I was, and I was told that nobles and their soldiers passing through a village normally meant that several villagers' sons and daughters would… lose their virtue against their wills and that stores would be 'confiscated' by the nobles in question."

"I have heard much the same, only that people sometimes also get taken away by the nobles," said Ferdinand. "Considering what we encountered in Nuvelle, they were likely sold as slaves."

"Yes. The image of the nobility in the Alliance and the Empire is in tatters. It appears that many of our fellow nobles have lost touch with the commoners," commented Lorenz.

"It's sadly true," said Ferdinand. He swept his arm around as if to show off the people they were observing. "How long has it been since we last tried to understand them? I don't get half of what we've seen these people doing."

Lorenz spent a few moments looking at the patrons of the tavern. He spotted the drunkards among them rather easily, but he also saw all the regular people there. Farmers, woodsmen, craftsmen, small-time traders, merchants and so many more blended together irrespective of their occupation or wealth. These people had a vague understanding of what the other was doing. They talked about their work, the problems they faced and who was apparently responsible for it all. Complaints about magistrates, nobles and even a few members of the clergy were commonplace.

"This situation is untenable," he said eventually. "If we are to rule the commoners fairly, we must know them. We must know their struggles and what causes them. Only if we do this can we rule them like we are meant to."

"I couldn't agree more," said Ferdinand. "I intend to speak with Dorothea about this, though she seems oddly hostile towards me."

"Fortunately, I have a broader representation for the commoners within the Golden Deer, and I will see what I can find out from then," replied Lorenz. "As for Dorothea, I have heard rumours. They suggest that she is the bastard child of a noble who threw her and her mother out on the streets. I will have to say that I can't be sure of these rumours' credibility, but if they are true, it would explain her resentment."

Ferdinand scowled. Parents were supposed to be responsible for their children and take care of them, especially nobles, who were supposed to be an example to the common people. Yet, there were so many nobles who were horrible parents. Abandoning children, mistreating them, selling them; all of these things he knew noble parents to be doing. It disgusted him.

"We must be better than them," said Ferdinand.

"Better than who?" asked Lorenz.

"Better than our parents," answered Ferdinand, "Better than the other nobles. I can't stomach the thought of treating my own future children, or any children for that matter, like my father treated Bernard, Tanja and Hildegard."

"I concur. My father and I have had many differences and as I have come to learn when I spoke to him in the medical facilities in Derdriu, he has far less integrity than I hoped," said Lorenz with a frown.

"What do you mean?" asked Ferdinand.

Lorenz hesitated for a second or two before he answered, "He outright admitted to me that he had Claude's uncles and cousin assassinated. I'm appalled that he resorted to such tactics. He forsook his honour, House Gloucester's honour, to murder a child! The only reason I have not made a public accusation yet is because my father is unlikely to survive the next few weeks and I want his last days to be peaceful."

"Our blind faith in the order of the world has taken a beating, hasn't it?" asked Ferdinand.

The other boy nodded. "Indeed. I propose sweeping reforms as a measure to turn the nobility into what it is supposed to be."

"Agreed," said Ferdinand. "There has to be a way for us to regain the trust of the commoners. I can only see that happen if checks are put on the nobility in order to minimise abuses of power."

"You mean like Emperor Ionius was trying to do?" asked Lorenz.

That brought Ferdinand up short. The Insurrection of the Seven had happened because the Emperor had tried to centralise power in the Empire and reform it from the ground up. The people had loved his rousing speeches about his plans for the Imperial Inspectorate, an office with the task of observing the nobles and with the authority to arrest them if they broke the law. He had spoken of raising commoners to public offices and positions of authority. A large part of the nobility – Ferdinand suspected them to be the criminal part – had strongly objected to this. With these facts available to him, the scion of House Aegir came to the conclusion that the Emperor had seen the problem and had attempted to act for the betterment of his people.

"Yes," said Ferdinand. "I think he had the right of it when he attempted his reforms. I can see that now."

"So do I," replied Lorenz. "I thought him a fool, but I now think that he was one of the few not taken by folly. He saw the problem long before any other. I guess it explains why so many nobles, even if they were minor ones, were willing to have their powers curtailed."

"Well then, it appears that we two were the fools and have finally seen the light," joked Ferdinand. He raised the cup of ale in front of him. "To the future, my friend."

"To the future," said Lorenz. He raised his own cup and the two drank together.

1st day of the Guardian Moon 1180. Private quarters of the Archbishop.

"It is decided then?" asked Rhea.

"Yes," answered Seteth.

"Very well," responded Rhea, "The White Heron Cup shall take place on the 18th of this month. It may be a month late, but the students will appreciate it."

"It is a splendid idea," said Flayn. "I've always wanted to go to a ball."

Seteth's brain short-circuited at that. He as well-aware that balls were seen as romantic occasions among the students of the Academy and in wider society. Putting the words "daughter" and "romantic" into one sentence conjured visions of boys trying to get under his precious girl's skirts. Logic failed him as his overprotective parental instincts went into overdrive.

"Flayn, that is-," he began.

"Father!" she cut him off before he could even properly begin. "I know so little about how people talk and think these days. I want to learn more about them, and I refuse to be hidden away, cut off from the world in some long-forgotten cave! Why won't you let me live my life?"

Seteth recoiled as if he had been struck. "How could you say that?" he asked, hurt by what she had said. "You know that I worry about you. If something happened to you, I don't know what I'd do."

That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Flayn's temper flared, and she was just about to respond when Rhea interjected. "Peace," she said. "I see that this has been a long time coming, but I will not have you shout insults at each other that you will regret later. Calm down, both of you."

The father-daughter duo looked to the side and grumbled. For all they were at each other's throats right now, they were very much alike, stubbornness included. That was also the reason for most of their spats. Each of them was convinced that they knew better. In the back of her mind, Rhea asked herself if that was a trait everyone in their extended family possessed.

"Now then," she said. "Cichol, I think it is time Cethleann learned to stand on her own. She will never grow if you coddle her like this."

"Lady Rhea! Please be considerate. We could be overheard," he replied.

"Not with Professor Hanneman's security spell. I would also appreciate it if you did not attempt to deflect," admonished Rhea. "And Cethleann, please see it from your father's perspective. Losing the only family member you have left can leave deep scars… incredibly deep scars. I do not mean from forbidding you to attend the White Heron Cup, but you should always have a trustworthy chaperone with you."

They both grumbled again. Cichol spoke up first. "Fine, Seiros, but if I must make concessions, then so do you."

The Archbishop's eyebrows rose in surprise. "What do you mean by that?" she asked.

"You usually spend festive activities like the White Heron Cup sulking in a corner," he answered. "That is no way to unwind."

"Unwind?" asked Seiros owlishly.

"Indeed!" interjected Cethleann. "I know that I do not have much of an understanding of current culture, but can you say you're any different in that regard? When was the last time you mingled with people and had fun? All that stress you're under can't be good for you."

Seiros hesitated. "I… am unsure," she said. "I usually do not have the time for such frivolities. Who would even dance with me? People are intimidated by me, and I have an image to uphold besides."

Cethleann shook her head. "Forget your image. Times are changing, and so should you. Leave the things you don't like about yourself behind. I also think that you will have plenty of dance partners if only you try."

"I have to agree with that assessment," said Cichol. "You are a beautiful woman. Intimidation or no, you will attract quite a few people as soon as they realise that you want to dance as well."

"I have no interest in people only lusting after my body or trying to curry favour with me," retorted Seiros.

Cichol scratched his chin in thought. "That does pose a problem, I admit," he said.

Cethleann just giggled. She said, "Now you're just being silly. There are quite a few candidates. Raphael comes to mind. He's a very simple young man and he doesn't have a malicious or manipulative bone in his body. I think you'd have fun dancing with him. Dimitri and Alois would also be good choices. If you're interested in dancing with women as well, then I'm sure you'd enjoy a dance or two with Ingrid, Mercedes or Dorothea."

Seiros took a moment to contemplate that. "Very well. I shall think about this."

"You won't regret it," said Cethleann with a beaming face. "I am looking forward to seeing you on the dance floor."

"Now wait a moment. We need to arrange a chaperone for you first," said Cichol much to her chagrin.

She sighed. "Alright, Father. Whom do you have I mind?" she asked.

"I was thinking of Shamir," said Cichol. "She never dances. It is a form of mourning for her deceased partner from what she has told me. She still enjoys the atmosphere, however, and she is an excellent judge of skill. I think her sharp eyes will be observant enough for my tastes and distant enough for yours."

Cethleann thought about it for a moment before she replied, "I can live with that." She stepped forward and threw her arms around her father. "Thank you for letting me go, Father. I love you."

She let go after that and turned to Seiros, whom she also hugged tightly. "My thanks to you as well for convincing Father. I'm so excited!"

Seiros said nothing for a few seconds. She simply returned the hug she was receiving without thinking. The sensation was still quite unusual, seeing as Byleth and Sothis had been the only ones to embrace her in nearly twelve centuries. Cethleann had done so in the past, however. A certain sense of routine was returning to her in that regard. She smiled at the young Nabatean.

"You are most welcome," she said.

4th day of the Guardian Moon 1180. Garreg Mach, Byleth's quarters/office.

It was Sunday, which meant that Byleth would normally not be cooped up in his office, but it was the best place for a discreet conversation. That was not to say that whatever Edelgard wanted to talk about was sensitive information, but when Hubert accompanied her, it was usually better to err on the side of caution. Following that thought, Byleth had closed the door behind him once they had entered and had cast the security spell.

"We're free to speak now," he said.

"Thank you, my Teacher," said Edelgard.

He simply inclined his head in response and motioned for both Black Eagles to sit down. When they had done so, he spoke again. "What brings you here?"

"Well, I wanted to ask you something," said Edelgard. "It is a bit embarrassing, however."

Byleth considered that. He hadn't talked with Edelgard as much as he would have liked, but he knew her decently well. Few things embarrassed her. He knew that stereotypically girly things were a sort of guilty pleasure for her since she had been robbed of a normal upbringing during which she could have experienced some of those. The only other topic that could embarrass or fluster her was connected to that. She was a bit of a closet romantic.

Oh, he thought. This could be a bit troublesome.

He liked the girl, he really did, but there were problems. She was attractive and she had a powerful spirit. She was strong inside and out, and he admired her conviction, even if it was misplaced sometimes. He was also not that much older than her. A three-year age gap wasn't problematic at all. However, the problem lay in their respective positions. Edelgard was his student, never mind that he taught the Golden Deer. He'd taught her as well, so she was his student. His conscience gnawed at him whenever he thought of her in a romantic context.

Nevertheless, he chose to bite into the sour apple. "That's alright," he said.

She shook her head. "No, I shouldn't."

"Lady Edelgard," interrupted Hubert, "Much as I dislike doing so, you explicitly ordered me to remind you that you promised yourself that you would not back out."

That statement solved the mystery of Hubert's presence. He was an odd choice for this kind of thing, and he looked distinctly uncomfortable about it. It was kind of hilarious in that light, but Byleth showed no reaction. He was more focussed on Edelgard, who only sighed and took a lungful of air.

She stammered out, "W-well, I could have been joking!"

"You were not," said Hubert with finality.

The Princess blushed in response and looked away. "Alright," she murmured. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath before she turned to Byleth and said, "I was wondering if… if you would reserve a dance for me at the white Heron Cup."

There was more behind that question than Byleth knew. Edelgard had received a letter from her father detailing the changes to the laws he had made, and all the options this opened to her. A large part of Edelgard was ecstatic that her father seemed to approve of her interest in her Teacher. Another part of her was both terrified and somewhat angry at the part that implied that another woman would be needed to continue the Hresvelg line. Still, that part was not obligatory, and Edelgard first wanted to figure out where she stood with Byleth first. Anything more, if there would ever be anything more, would have to come later, and she didn't much like the thought of sharing, even if past Emperors, including her own father, had multiple spouses. It didn't disgust her, but she preferred to not have to resort to that. So, before she thought about multiple partners, she intended to see if there would even be one.

"I would love a dance or two with you," said Byleth before he could stop himself.

Edelgard had a hard time keeping herself from beaming. As it was, her heart skipped a beat. "Then I am looking forward to it," she said with a relieved voice. "In that case, I will take my leave."

She made to stand up, but Byleth held up a hand. "Wait, please," he said.

As Edelgard sank back onto the chair, Byleth thought about how to best say what he wanted to say. This was complicated. He now had a faint understanding of why people tended to be awkward around those they harboured feelings for. Sadly for him, this was going to be more awkward than the average.

"A dance is one thing," he finally said, "But there can't be more just yet."

The girl in front of him couldn't quite keep in the crestfallen look from her face. "What do you mean by that?" she asked warily.

"I do not understand matters of love very well, but I'm not blind," he answered. At Edelgard's mortified expression, he added, "I have seen people with crushes look at each other. You direct the same looks at me."

"My Teacher, I-," began Edelgard.

"The feeling might be mutual," said Byleth.

That took the wind out of the Princess' sails. "What?" she asked, "Might be?"

"As I said, I do not understand matters of love," said Byleth. "That is one more reason to wait."

"Oh," said Edelgard. Her gaze was downcast.

Hubert was watching from the side. He had little time for romance and saw little importance in it for now, but he understood that his Lady thought differently. It was a matter of her emotional well-being, and so Hubert took the discomfort the topic brought with itself in stride. As such, he was taking meticulous mental notes of everything that was being said. So, when his Lady started being distressed, he chose to speak up.

"He said wait, Lady Edelgard," he said, "Perhaps it would be prudent to ask the Professor for an explanation."

His plan worked and Edelgard relaxed. She composed herself and said, "I think you're right, Hubert. Thank you." She turned to Byleth. "What did you mean with 'wait?'"

"You are a student, Edelgard, and I'm a Professor. So long as that remains the same, I can't consent to more than a bit of dancing and conversations over tea," answered Byleth. That earned him a look from Hubert that looked like a vague approximation of respect.

"But I will graduate in a few months!" said Edelgard.

"I think that was what the Professor was implying," remarked Hubert. "He obviously feels that it would be an abuse of his authority over you to engage in any sort of courtship."

Byleth nodded. "That is correct," he said. "Edelgard, there will be plenty of time to figure out what we mean to each other once you've graduated. Until then, we should stay student and Professor, and friends."

Edelgard sat still for a bit. "You may be right," she conceded. "There is much for me to think about as well." Then, she stood up. "I think it would be best if we left for now. I promised Dorothea to invite her to a cup of tea. Farewell, my Teacher. Come along, Hubert."

The dark-haired Black Eagle vacated his seat as well and followed Edelgard, who had already opened the door. He turned around and bowed to Byleth. "I thank you for making a sensible decision while avoiding hurt to Lady Edelgard's feelings. I believe I misjudged you initially. Farewell."

"Farewell," said Byleth.

When the room was empty and the door closed again, Byleth contemplated what had happened. In spite of what he had said about figuring out what they felt, he was curious about how he felt, and also a bit nervous. He closed his eyes to concentrate on what he wanted to happen. When he opened them again, there was a band of fire around his wrist. He hesitated for a moment before he pulled on it.

8th day of the Guardian Moon 1180, early evening. Garreg Mach, Blue Lions classroom.

Mercedes felt nervous as she looked at the towering figure of her younger brother. She didn't think she would have had the nerves for it if not for Annette sitting beside her. It had been so long since she'd last seen him, and his letter had unnerved her a great deal. She desperately wanted to be there for her little brother, but she had no idea if he would accept her support.

"Emile," she greeted him.

"Hello, Mercedes," he said in response.

Unsure of what to do, Mercedes approached him. She noticed him backing off. At her look, he said, "I have… violent impulses. I do not want you to suffer because of them."

She shook her head and stepped closer regardless. Before Jeritza knew it, he had his sister's arms around him. "I'd deserve it," she said. "Mother and I left you behind. Whether it was done at your behest doesn't matter."

Jeritza simply stood there, unsure what to do, but he knew what to say. "It does matter. I did it to protect you. Don't feel guilty."

"See? I told you so!" said Annette, inserting herself into the conversation.

There was a slight twitch in Jeritza's arm at the sound. He took a deep breath and focussed on the spot of calmness Hyperion had helped manifest within him. He would not have agreed to this meeting without it and it was proving its worth under stress. The Death Knight showed no signs of coming out anymore. He was calm again.

"Please do not startle me. I am volatile," he said, "But thank you nonetheless."

Annette took on a slightly nervous expression, though some sheepishness was mixed in with it. "Oh, sorry. And you're welcome," she said.

"My goodness," said Mercedes, letting go of her brother, "I don't think I've introduced you yet. Emile, this is my best friend, Anette."

Jeritza inclined his head. "I already know who you are from combat instruction, but I did not know that you were Mercedes' best friend. I am pleased to meet you outside of class."

"Likewise," said Annette.

"How did you get to know each other?" asked Jeritza.

Mercedes smiled. "We went to the School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad together," she said. "We became friends there and had a lot of fun together. If I had been there a year earlier, I would have met Constance."

"I'm glad that life has been good to you," commented Jeritza. He hummed and added, "Maybe I should reconnect with Constance as well. It would be… nice to have friends once my mental state is a bit more stable."

"You seem fairly stable to me," said Annette.

Jeritza shook his head and said, "It may seem that way, but it takes effort to keep myself calm. Lord Hyperion has been a great help, but he says that it will take some time before my issues are resolved or at least treated sufficiently."

Mercedes' eyes were filled with worry for her little brother as she asked, "Do you mind telling me what those are?"

Jeritza looked uncomfortable, but he answered nevertheless. "When I destroyed House Bartels, something in me broke. When I get agitated or when it has been too long since my last kill, he wakes up. He is a bloodthirsty monster who won't calm down without killing something or someone. Lord Hyperion calls it multiple personality disorder. Apparently, it is not unheard of in whatever place he comes from."

"That's horrible," said Annette. "I can't imagine how it must be to live like this."

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you," said Mercedes. "Who took care of you afterwards? It can't have been House Hrym. I can't imagine them picking up a child with suspicions of murder hanging onto him, Crest or no Crest."

"You are correct," replied Jeritza. "Her Highness, Lady Edelgard, found me. She understood my plight, sympathised with me. She arranged for everything, including my adoption into House Hrym. She has also granted me hunting grounds where he can satisfy his bloodlust without killing people."

"That's good to hear," said Mercedes. "I'm glad you've found a way to deal with this problem and that you have people who have your back."

Jeritza adopted a thoughtful frown. "I have not thought of it like that before. I also did not think you would be so calm about this."

"I'm upset that you were hurt. I'm sad that Mother and I weren't there for you. I'm angry at myself for not doing anything about it. But I can't be angry with you, Emile. I love you, no mater how damaged, broken or hurt you are. That is what love is about, isn't it?" replied his sister.

The corners of Jeritza's mouth lifted a tiny bit. "That is so much like you to say that," he said. "Even when we were children, you used to say things like that with such certainty."

"My conviction has stayed the same," said Mercedes.

"It really has," commented Annette. "Mercie is the most caring person I know."

"That does sound like her," mused Jeritza.

His moment of inattention "cost" him. Just like before, his sister's arms found their way around his body again. "You've received far too little affection for me to be comfortable without doing this," she said, disregarding the protests that died on his lips. "I have a lot of catching up to do with you. You'd better prepare yourself for a lot of this going forward."

"I… am unsure how to respond to this," said Jeritza in confusion.

Annette giggled. "Just accept it. There's no stopping her now."

"You remember that I can be quite stubborn, don't you?" asked Mercedes.

"I do," said Jeritza. "It might clash with him, however."

The blonde young woman was undeterred, however. "Well, he is part of you, and if there has ever been anything that can convince you to listen, it's ice-cream. We can always get some if he needs to cool down," she said.

Jeritza thought about it for a moment. No one had ever tried that particular approach, but he did have a sweet tooth, so the idea had merit. The Death Knight seemed to be oddly calm as he thought about it. It was probably worth an attempt.

"Very well," he said.

"Wonderful," said Mercedes. "I wonder if they have some at the dining hall right now. We should go look in a bit."

"In a bit?" asked Annette.

Mercedes laughed. "I am quite busy right now," she said as she shot a look at her arms.

"In a bit it is," said Annette while chuckling.

Jeritza said nothing, but he was content to bask in his sister's display of affection despite his previous protests. He fondly remembered the times when such things were frequent, and he thought that maybe it wasn't too bad an idea to get used to it again.

AN: Greetings, my dear readers

As promised in the last chapter, this one has been more about characters than action. Naturally, the Agarthans are still up to their shenanigans, and the Church won't remain unresponsive, but the students have some R&R to look forward to. The scene with Bernadetta and Petra has probably come as a surprise for quite a few of you, mainly because I haven't done much with either of them yet, especially Petra, but I'll hopefully find more time and space to develop those two a bit more in the future. There was a brief heart-to-heart with the noblest duo of them all as well, and how their perspective has shifted since the beginning. Then, we had a brief talk between our resident Nabateans and some changes to their behaviour as a result of our characters' meddling. We've also had some development with Edelgard and Byleth, especially considering the implications of their respective positions and the morality of such. And lastly, Mercedes has begun to reconnect with her brother. I hope you all enjoyed these developments, and if not, please tell me what I should think of going forward.

In any case, I would like to thank everyone for the veritable flood of favourites and follows this story has received since the last chapter was released. Of course, there's also a thank you for those who reviewed. It's great motivation.

This time's recommended story is Overlord: The One Who Stayed by springpoweredtoaster. As the name would imply, it's a Overlord fanfiction, wherein Ainz gets hit by a surprise from the Sunlight Scripture, and he now has to deal with the consequences of being human again. As s standard fare for Overlord, there are some hard to stomach scenes, but the story is great. I can only recommend it to anyone who is familiar with the original.

Until next time, my dear readers. Stay happy and healthy, everyone!