The Dustbin
Day 27: Joint Session Part 1
27th of Blue Sea Moon, Morning
"I cannot thank you enough for defeating those invaders in the Holy Mausoleum," spoke the Archbishop, "and especially for protecting the Sword of the Creator."
Oh, so that's what this thing's called, Byleth thought as she looked at her replacement sword sheathed around her hip, ... looks a little bony. Kinda impractical. Might wanna put some tape around the grip so it won't slip off with my own sweat or I get a splinter, she shuttered at the latter.
"That sword is one of the Heroes' Relics," Rhea pointed out, "it's one of the most precious artifacts in in the Church's possession."
"Whoa whoa, time out," Byleth replied, "you said that this is one of your most highly valued items in your inventory, and you're just okay giving it to me?" the ex-sellsword pointed out, "I mean, sure, I expected a reward, but not the very thing that I was trying to protect!"
"No one does, Miss Eisner," Seteth replied with mild skepticism, "no one really does. Perhaps it may be fate that you've been chosen?"
"For now, I will entrust the sword to you," Rhea told Byleth, "please use it wisely."
"No pressure..." Byleth blinked and smacked her lips, familiarizing herself with the sword as she drew it and took a few practice swings with it.
However, to her surprise, upon swinging it for the fourth time, the blade itself extended in length and arc, transforming into a bladed whip that cut through the door of the Audience Chamber in two.
"MY HOOD!" a familiar voice rang out, the collapsing door revealing Professor Karna Yuga, who was now suffering from a mild wardrobe malfunction, "also, my hair!"
"Sorry about that," Byleth apologized, "I knew you were listening in on the whole thing, but I did not know that the sword would actually do that. Could've been much worse."
"Like how?!" Karna barked back as he collected his cut strands of snow-white hair from the ground with his bare hands.
"For one, my grip could've slipped and the sword would've ended up in your gut instead," Byleth replied before she turned towards the Archbishop, "speaking of which, Lady Rhea, permission to put some tape around the sword's grip?" she asked with utmost seriousness, "I don't do well with smooth grips, even if they're hourglass."
Rhea looks at Seteth before he looked back at the Archbishop, both nodding in agreement. "We'll allow it," she stated.
"What about me?!" Karna barked out.
"Go get a haircut," Seteth deadpanned, "you're looking more like a hobo than usual without that hood of yours."
"It ain't just hood, desk-jockey!" Karna remarked, "this is a custom-tailored multilayered all-environment cloak that has watched over me for over 15 years of nonstop travel! It was durable enough to stop blades and arrows alike! It can be set on fire and still come out whole!" he ranted, "and now, some lucky upstart with a Heroes' Relic just happens to cut through the very thing that has kept me alive all this time in one swing?! Inconceivable!"
"Wait," Byleth remarked, "you go to a tailor?"
"I tailored it myself!" Karna replied before he let out a defeated sigh, "... you know what, last night a lot happened."
"Understatement of the century, Professor Yuga," Seteth scowled.
"Yeah yeah, I get the message," he brushed off as he headed downstairs before he ran back, "also, may I ask, but where's the barber?"
"Do it yourself!" the adherent replied, sending the Professor packing.
Rhea lets out a wry chuckle before facing Byleth. "You are dismissed," she spoke, "now off you go."
"Sorry about the door," said the ex-sellsword as she stepped over the wrecked doors.
As soon as it was just the two of them left, Rhea and Seteth began speaking in private.
"Shouldn't we've told the Professor about the King of Liberation and befell of him?" Seteth remarked, "I felt like that was something very important we've missed."
"Have faith in her," Rhea replied, "and besides, I think Karna's presence may serve as a motivation for her."
"How so?" he asked.
Rhea smiles. "Karna may thrash and flail against the tide as much as he wants. In fact, let him," she suggested, "all those ripples he's stirring will make the Professor better herself and surpass all of our expectations. That's what a teacher does for her students, and what the principal does for her staff, no?"
"Dubious wording aside, I agree with your stance," Seteth nodded, "very well. I shall monitor both of their progresses with the utmost of diligence."
"Thank you," Rhea smiled, "she's our champion now. And we will not repeat history."
31st of Blue Sea Moon, Afternoon
3 failed attempts. 3000 gold wasted. 3 straight days of spending inside the hellish exam halls and hearing the bars clang themselves shut 3 times in a row.
Such repetition would've driven a normal student insane to the point of absolute surrender. But Cyrus Iskandar, even if he hasn't reached the 70% threshold to pass, refuses to give in.
He has his own honor at stake, along with his fellow students and Professor that believes in him.
"You sir, are certifiably mad," Catherine remarked as she saw the same face again, striding up towards the building where she was waiting at, "tell me, what drives you for so long? What is it that make you think that you can still do this despite everything?"
Cyrus smirks a dry smile of resignation yet resolve. "Because every time I go in there, I always think of something that is monumentally more terrifying than my own lack of freedom."
"Like what?" Catherine asked.
"I'm looking at it right now," he replied as Cyrus walks past her to take his test for his promotion, leaving her utterly flabbergasted at the Battuian boy's words.
"... I'm not that scary," the Knight of Seiros looked at the Dustbin who came to see their fellow student off (and hopefully that he doesn't flunk), "... right?"
The Dusbin leave her in complete silence as soon as the clanging of the bars was heard from inside the building.
"... Come on, guys!" she begged, "don't leave me hanging!"
Cyrus then passed his exam that day, with a 70% score. And Catherine took until the morning after to realize that she herself was the reason why Cyrus passed, albeit in the worst way possible.
Ever since then, the Knight of Seiros has been more self-conscious of her reputation. Indeed, she finds being feared to a respected degree a desirable outcome as an enforcer of the Goddess' order, but Cyrus seeing her as some sort of monster out of a child's nightmares was taking it a little too far.
"Shamir?" asked Catherine as she entered into her workplace.
"I have one minute left of my daily break," the Sniper replied as she sat in the dimly-lit room, "make it quick."
"Am I scary?" the now-self-conscious Knight of Seiros asked her closest workplace friend.
"If the Dustbin itself fear your presence, then you are valid in your own claim," she remarked, much to the Swordmaster's dismay over the revealed implications.
Now every night that she went to bed, her nightmares now basically became what if she became like the Dustbin, but that's a story for another time.
3rd of Verdant Rain Moon, Evening
"Okay..." Karna checked himself before a mirror as he took off his now-half hood, revealing the self-cut hair that he'd done to himself after Seteth's suggestion, looking more like a contemporary male's short-cut than his default puff of white that he'd actually liked, "... hopefully, she recognizes me with shorter hair and destroyed hood..." he grumbled to himself before grasping at his own face in embarrassment, "oh what am I? Some sort of tenderfoot stable boy asking out a nun?" the Professor cursed himself of this embarrassment, "you're a grown man, Karna! Act like one!"
In truth, Karna knew today was Manuela's birthday. And normally, he doesn't believe in celebrating birthdays, likely due to never having to celebrate any sort of birthdays when one is always on the run from danger and targeted vandalism. But now, things were different, enough so to make Karna deviate from his initial beliefs, albeit, only a little.
In truth, Karna himself found Manuela's company to be pleasant. Sure most of the time's he's the one ending up in her lap as a half-broken mess of a human being (the boils around his body from the wildfire last month aren't fully healed just yet), but the fact that she'd tolerated his existence rather than simply bearing with it, well, one would must think of finding a way to return the favor for her bedside manners.
"So why in the actual hell did I buy her a bouquet of daffodils the size of an entire bush?!" Karna cursed himself as he looked at his panic-purchase (of 1000 gold) next to him, "... you know what, I'm going to at least try to get drunk today. At least that way, the pains around my body will fade away soon enough."
He then enters through the tavern doors, spotting Manuela and Byleth sitting next to each other, having a night of drinking on the bar counter.
Oh brilliant, Karna deadpanned internally upon spotting his (admittedly one-sided) archnemesis, it's her.
Nevertheless, he chose to press on, seating himself next Manuela.
"Oh!" Manuela exclaimed as she saw the bouquet of daffodils brushed against her face, "didn't take you for the sentimental type."
"Happy birthday, Manuela," Karna civilly gestured, trying not to let his rancor towards the ex-sellsword across from him, "... I see you brought company."
"Sup," Byleth greeted, "asking her out?"
"What?!" Karna flustered, his pale cheeks in a blush, "no! No! Of course not!" he jittered in his response, the ex-sellsword destroying whatever facade of dignity he'd erected, "... I just wanted to thank her... for actually tolerating me and my existence... especially all those times where I ended wrapped in bandages from head to toe... yeah. That."
"Aw, you don't have to be so modest," Manuela beamed, "I mean... you can always try to be a bit more aggressive..."
"Manuela, I have to confess," Karna remarked, on the verge of going into a freak-out, "but this is all a first for me," he stammered, "... I, I mean, that... you know. Actually... talking to people... without anything bad happening to me constantly..." the Professor awkwardly spoke to himself, "... or for a whole week straight."
"Your words and face say one thing, but your intentions are all over the place," Byleth remarked, "are you actually here to ask her out or are you just being a pain in the butt?"
"Bartender! I need something strong!" Karna promptly ignored the ex-sellsword as the man behind the countertop poured a dark-brown liquid into a glass, to which the Professor downed the whole cup in a single go.
"Whoa!" Manuela's eyes widened at this sight, "never took you for someone who drinks like a fish!"
"Well," Karna sighed out as he placed the glass down, "... my life is so deep into turmoil that even the richest of spirits are but mere water to me now."
"I can relate..." Manuela sighed out, "... day after day of rejection..." she then drowned down a whole pint of mead before asking for a refill, "... tell me Karna, am I still... you know, desirable?"
As the conversation grew awkward, Byleth was extremely tempted to leave the two be, but her better conscience (and years of dragging Jeralt out of the bar every time when he had one too many), she ended up staying. After all, someone has to watch the two unless they make complete fools of themselves, right?
There is no shame in running away right now, you know, Sothis advised, didn't your father teach you that he or she who runs away lives to fight another day? Or at least come out with some semblance of dignity?
... Eh, Byleth mentally shrugged as she raised her hand for a pint of mead, I got nothing else better to do. Might as well get a few pints in just to not rub either of them the wrong way.
WHAT DID I JUST SAY- the spirits words were then tranquilized by her host drowning down her own spirits, ... huh. Suddenly I feel way more... relaxed.
Bottoms up? Byleth wryly suggested.
LIKE A WHALE!
And so, the three fellows from Garreg Mach drank like if there was no tomorrow. Pint after pint as the drinking went into the night. Inhibitions being loosened by the amount of alcohol ingested, the quantity rising higher and higher, further sensationalized as the bar patrons began gathering around the three Professors to see which one could hold down their drink the most.
"COME ON YOU WENCHES!" Karna taunted the other two women as glasses of whiskey were poured before them, "I'LL SHOW YE HOW YEAR OF TRAVELING GAVE ME AN IRON LIVER!"
"Do your worst, string bean!" Manuela slurred.
"I got the powers of the Goddess in me..!" Byleth slightly fumbled her tone of voice as the three began their celebratory drinking contest.
Glass after glass of whiskey were downed in an instant. Glass after glass were stack atop of each other like towers of light. Glass after glass were filled with liquid rye as if the three were completely bottomless in stomach capacity.
Meanwhile, Sothis, the incorporeal spirit that she is, but connected to a physical body, she herself was getting utterly wasted, stripping herself nude while giggling and dancing like a madwoman intoxicated beyond all mortal comprehension. Spirit or not, having a body/form of a prepubescent means that her tolerance wasn't exactly matching with Byleth's adult frame.
I CAN TASTE THE COSMOS THAT I HAVE BIRTHED OUT OF MY ARSE! Sothis madly giggled as her host continued drinking, floating about in nude as if the laws of the physical world were completely irrelevant to her.
"Give... up yet?!" Manuela slurred as she was on her next glass, "... it's my birthday today, and I... don't plan... losing!"
"... Battle ain't over," Byleth mumbled, "... until I say... it's... over..."
"Give it up..." Karna maintained his composure to the best of his abilities, "I'm practically drinking water at this point..." he then turned to the bartender, "... time to raise the stakes... get the strongest booze you can find. Right, here."
"Sorry," said the bartender, "but that's the strongest we got. Empire specialty and all."
Karna lets out a disappointed sigh as he then snatches the bottle from the man's hands, pours himself a glass for the three of them, and takes out a small pouch from his cloak.
"... If you wanna do something right..." Karna sneered as he opened his sack, "then you do it yourself."
His fingers than sprinkle a dust of red-orange powder onto the drinks, turning the whiskey from a dull-clear brown to rusty, reddish-brown.
"This my friends, is called 'szechwan'," Karna boasted, "a mixture of Shangri-La's most volcanic of spices, guaranteed to either send you to heaven, or drag your behind back from the dead and into the world of the living."
"Hey... hey now," the bartender nervously stammered, "... you can't put outside food in this establishment!"
"Spice, is what you put on food," Karna pointed out, "therefore, it's not 'outside food'. Now with that said..." the cloaked Professor smirked as he handed out the glasses to the other two as the crowd around them reached a crescendo with their cheers, "... BOTTOMS UP!"
All three of them promptly blacked out upon drinking Karna's infernal concoction.
Somewhere in Conrad...
"You got what I requested?" spoke a husky male voice, revealing himself to be a heavily-scarred man with flaming-orange hair.
"Right here," spoke the Flame Emperor as he took out a bundled staff and revealed itself to be an ancient looking lance made of steel-like bone and twitching spines right below its spearhead.
The man lets out a laugh as he saw the peculiar-looking weapon before him. "At last..." he chuckled menacingly, "... it's mine! The [Lance of Ruin] is mine!" the man continued cackling madly.
"My compensation?" spoke the Flame Emperor.
"Hold on," the man then looked back at the muscle-bound Fighters behind him, 'two of you! Get the gold!"
The pair come back with a chest of 15,000 gold presented before the armored man.
"Thank you," the Flame Emperor spoke, "I won't let a single coin go to waste."
"Yeah yeah, whatever," spoke the scarred man, "as long you usher in the world where all the Crest-bearers go to hell like they deserve, I'm willing to forgo as much gold and weapons as you need."
"You're a good man, Miklan," the Flame Emperor spoke as his two own Warrior escorts carried the gold away, "your leadership and charisma to have gathered various men from all walks of life... truly, your future would've been much brighter, have not for this world's insular values that promotes legacy over merit."
"Nothing I can do about it for now," growled Miklan, "my only regret is that I didn't kill them myself sooner. Painfully, slowly."
"Learn to tame your rage," warned the Flame Emperor, "or the rage itself will tame you instead."
Miklan snorts. "You know, if I didn't know you any better, I've might've thought you were my mom or something," he snarked, "or at least, a mom that I never had."
The Flame Emperor walks out of tower occupied by bandits, waiting for him being the Black Mage and the Death Knight.
"No witnesses?" asked the Flame Emperor, to which the Death Knight tossed a pair of severed heads that rolled towards the Flame Emperor's feet, "excellent."
"Their screams were... tantalizing..." heaved the Death Knight, "... I never vowed to kill the weak... but such forbidden temptations of devouring the ones begging for their lives... truly, how sinful..."
"We will be sure to provide you with suitable fodder, Death Knight," spoke the Black Mage, "my liege, are you certain that Miklan will be any help for our cause?"
"Miklan is our only option left after the Western Church was compromised due to their sheer incompetence of handling the opportunity that we've given to them," the Flame Emperor pointed out, "all because they wouldn't shut their mouths long enough to keep themselves out of trouble."
"Piety and self-righteousness..." the Death Knight scoffed in disgust, "bah! What drivel."
"It's simply culture," spoke the Black Mage, "nothing more than the desperate ravings of confused weaklings trapped in a world that refuses to show any mercy to them."
"I will be their guiding light," declared the Flame Emperor as he and his subordinates walked away from the dark tower, "after I usurp the false shepherd."
4th of Verdant Sea Moon, Dawn
Karna shot his eyes open as he found himself slumped outside of the tavern that the three of them were celebrating at. The cold dawn air blew against his face, causing him to slowly regain his bearings as he found both Manuela and Byleth both slumped next to him.
He checks for both of their pulses, sighing in relief that they're both still alive. Karna then makes sure to check for their belongings, and finds that the latter's [Sword of the Creator] was missing from her sheathe.
"Okay, we were mugged," he remarked as patted himself and Manuela down, "correction: only she was mugged."
Karna looked back at Byleth, simply content to leave her be fired for her "irresponsibility". Yet on the other hand, there would be a possibility that he would be implicated instead for letting this happen in the first place.
To Karna, neither of those options mattered. "... Fine, you owe me."
He then sniffs inside of the ex-sellsword's sheathe and begins sniffing the air around him. "Still fresh," he remarked, now finding a fresh track of muddy boot prints nearby, "... he couldn't have gone far!"
He then follows the trail, leading him into a maze-like formations of interconnected alleyways, the tracks slowly fading away with wear. Nevertheless, the scent still lingered. After all, the scent of szechwan spice was rather out of place in a nation that is closed off as Fodlan.
Karna picks up the scent leading to around a corner, to which then his ears pick up a conversation at the end of the alleyway.
"Hey, guess what I found?" a smarmy voice remarked, "check it, a Heroes' Relic!"
"You sure?" another, more skeptical voice remarked, "... I don't see a Crest on it."
"Bah, who cares?!" said the smarmy man, "if it looks like a Relic, then it is a Relic!" he protested, "I mean, it kinda looks like 'Thunderstrike' Cassandra's [Thunderbrand], just like how when a duck swims like a duck, quacks like a duck, and flies like a duck, then it is a duck!"
"You know that these things are so valuable that there's no set price for them, right?" spoke the more rational man.
"How about instead I mug ya?!" threatened the smarmy man as Karna peeked out and saw the pickpocket brandish the [Sword of the Creator] towards an older man, seemingly an underworld broker, "Crest or no Crest, this thing can cut through armor like paper!"
Having none of it anymore, Karna simply blasts a [Miasma Δ] at the ruffian's back. "And that's enough, you guttersnipes," snarled Karna, "I hate that woman you've robbed from more than you do, but the only one who's allowed to humiliate her is me!"
"... What the hell are you talking about?" asked the downed assailant before Karna stomped onto his groin. Repeatedly. Again and again as the old man watched in cringe-induced horror.
As soon as the man started foaming at his mouth, Karna kicks the [Sword of the Creator] out of the ruffian's grip and back into his hand.
"I... uh," stammered the old man as the Professor glared at him, "... thank you?"
"You tell no one of this," he threatened, to which the old broker nodded, "good."
Karna drags himself back to where the two woman were laying at previously. He then kneels down to sheath the Relic back into Byleth's possession without waking her up.
"Okay," Karna sighed out, "gonna have to explain myself when I get back..." he muttered as he picked up both Manuela and Byleth over his shoulders, "... at least it's better than the alternative..."
He then walks back to Garreg Mach Monestary, where he'd met Janus the Gatekeeper coming out to start his daily routine.
"Oh! Greetings Professor!" Janus saluted as he saw Karna with Byleth and Manuela slung over his shoulders, "... is this something that I have to report?"
"You tell no one of this," Karna deadpanned, "also, where're the nearest buckets of the coldest water available around here? Or do I have to dip both them into the fishing pond to sober them up?"
"Pump is near the stables," Janus informed, "buckets are also in close proximity."
"Noted," Karna acknowledged, "thanks."
Karna begins working the pump to fill two buckets of water before dumping both of them onto their heads to wake them up.
"Ah! Cold! COLD!" screeched Manuela before she woke up to see Karna splashing Byleth with another bucket sprayed over her head, "... is this how you treat a lady?!"
"This is how I treat everybody," Karna bluntly replied as Byleth woke up with a more muted response, "also, today is class day. We show up with a hangover, then the people will start asking questions aside from the subject matter."
"Damn it," Manuela grunted, "you already sound like Hanneman when you speak like that."
"Oh, morning," Byleth greeted, not knowing what had happened earlier, "... not the earliest I woke up, but sure as one hell of a way to wake drenched..."
Karna simply turns his back on her, quickly walking away.
"Wait," Manuela called out, "don't you need hangover medicine?"
As Byleth saw Manuela walk after Kanra, Sothis reappeared in Byleth's mind, but her hair being more frizzier and messier than usual.
... Please, the spirit grunted, half-embarrassed and half-agonized, don't ever drink with him... ever again...
Is it just me, or is he even not drunk at all? Byleth pointed out as she noticed Karna's stature not showing any sway and dizziness that one would exhibit from post-alcoholism, I mean, considering how tall and lanky he is, you'd think that a stiff wind would knock him flat.
Also, I noticed something while you were knocked out, Sothis spoke, but apparently, someone stole the [Sword of the Creator] and Karna took it back.
Huh, really now? Byleth thought, guess I owe him one.
He's a... confusing man to judge, Sothis remarked, on one hand, I can sense nothing but rancor and resentment coming from him when he's looking towards you. But on the other hand, there is that some semblance of decency within him that is marred with a bloodlust that rivals both the Archbishop's and Catherine's combined, she pointed out, don't ask me how I picked that up, it's just a feeling I get every time that every time you end up in the same room with them.
So, the ex-sellsword mentally remarked, what you're saying is that he fits right in.
In a way, yes, Sothis admitted, the Church may dismiss Karna and his class of troublemakers as outliers, but I think they have their own share of a few skeletons in their closets.
Who doesn't? Byleth pointed out as she walked towards her room, "still though, I guess I'm not in a position to judge anyone, especially when really don't them as people."
Keep learning, Sothis remarked, it will serve you well in the future, child.
At the Audience Chambers...
"Wait wait wait," Karna remarked as he and the other house Professors were all pushed into the chambers by Alois' band of Brigands, "what the hell is going on?! Why are we pulled out of our classes all of the sudden?!"
"That, you and all of the house Professors will know shortly," the white-furred Brigand spoke, "for now, it's an emergency meeting!"
As soon as all of the Professors were pushed through the doors, all four of them land onto a heap before the Archbishop.
"Forgive me for the rough handling," spoke Rhea, "but you all need to know of this immediately."
"Eh, forget it," Karna scoffed from the bottom of the pile, "this is normal for me."
"That wasn't for you, Professor Karna," Seteth snarked as the other three got off of the cloaked Professor, "but still, we require your attendance."
"I feel honored," he deadpanned back as he got back up, standing between Byleth and Manuela, the latter being next to Hanneman, "so, what's so urgent that classes had to be canceled today?"
"I'll get to the point," Rhea spoke, "Margrave Mattias Raoul Gautier and Marquess Albertine Gautier were found murdered at their own estate," she spoke, "their residence were completely ransacked and looted, the latter of which includes one of the Heroes' Relics."
Everyone's eyes (including Karna's) widened in shock.
"Nobility? Murdered?" Hanneman found himself shocked to hear the two same words coming out in the same sentence come out of his mouth, "... what brought this upon them?"
"As of now, current evidence indicates that it was all unproved," Seteth revealed, "an absurdly powerful bandit, for sure, but nevertheless, a grave crime has been committed."
"Such instrument of great power is now in unworthy hands," Rhea continued to speak, "we're still in the middle of investigating of where it went, but for now, I'm placing all monastery hands on high alert," she declared, "until we find our culprit who's stolen the [Lance of Ruin], I want your classes to prepare for the worst. Train yourselves as much as you need to, for these bandits will not go gentle if their actions against the Gautier house has been any of indication."
Manuela let out a frustrated sigh. "Can't have a peaceful month with all of this chaos happening out of the woodwork..." she bemoaned.
"Job's a job," Byleth pointed out as she patted the pommel of her [Sword of the Creator], "worry about dying until we actually arrive at their doorsteps."
"Agreed," Hanneman collected his bearings, "... now how will I break the news to Mr. Sylvain Jose Gautier in person..." he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, "... and so early into the year too."
"Uh, quick question," Karna raised his hand, "what happens if someone without a Crest gets their hands on a Heroes' Relic for a prolonged periods of time?"
Rhea lets out a deep sigh before she answered the question. "The Heroes' Relics are instruments of great power, with the Crests themselves acting as the counterbalance for said powers to not go completely berserk," the Archbishop explained, "hence, should the wielder be lacking a Crest... I'll leave it up to your imagination."
Karna's imagination all pointed towards "big, ugly and scary monster the size of a barn". "Hm, neat," he grinned at the upcoming challenge ahead, "guess it's field work every weekend since someone left us behind the dust..."
"Wait," Hanneman remarked, "if both heads of the Gautier family are gone, then that must mean-!"
"Unfortunately, should the investigation take too long," Seteth broke the news, "then I'm afraid Mr. Sylvain Jose Gautier's familial obligations must take priority."
Hanneman's expression fell into a complete defeat, cornered from all sides of not being able to find any way out to allow one of his students to continue with their education from this tragic twist of fate.
Karna couldn't ignore this. As a fellow educator, it was his job to make sure that his students surpass others through their own merits. He won't let his competition get disqualified before he has any chance to prove that his class are better than other classes.
"I'll help," Karna blurted out, much to everyone's surprise, "listen, before any of you say that this has nothing to do with me personally, allow me to make my case," he spoke, "I am not a great person, by any means necessary. However, my pride as an academic comes before my own pride as a human being. If something happens to one of the students being expelled due to any sort of outside interference, then it's my job to make sure that issue gets completely resolves if it means that student is allowed to continue with his academic pursuit," the Professor continued making his case, "because the only ones who are allowed to make fools out of other students are me and the Dustbin! And I won't let any two-bit bandit raid steal my claim and honor that my students deserve!"
Everyone falls completely silent at the Professor's contradictory and selfishly-paradoxical statement.
"... Dubious motives aside," Rhea sighed out, "I admire your desire to... help, a fellow Professor."
"You really would?" Hanneman remarked, "well in that case, may I-"
"Back off!" Karna hissed as he crouched his towering and lanky body behind Manuela, "you do not deserve my blood!"
"And he ruined a good moment," Seteth sighed as he walked towards the doors behind the Professors and opened them.
"Hm?" Byleth noticed the other two backing off, "what's going on?"
"Professor Karna Yuga?" Rhea requested, "would you mind coming towards the front?"
"Hmm..." the Professor scratched his chin in wonder, "... against my better judgment, I shall."
"Thank you," smiled Rhea as the Professor came up towards her face-to-face.
The next second, the Archbishop sends Karna flying out of the entrance with a powerful straight punch to his groin.
Author's Notes: Funny story about this chapter, I accidentally planned the chapter revolving around the Battle of the Eagle and Lion event until I realized that "Tower of Black Winds" came after the "The Goddess's Rite of Rebirth" chapter, so the former is moved up to the next arc. Close call on my part.
Second, this chapter itself is a prelude to everything that I promised on the previous chapter, but due to the sudden oopsie that I had to correct, I had to push it aside for the next chapter. Apologizes.
And finally, regarding Sylvain's parents now missing their heads, it's for two reasons. One, they really didn't add much to the plot aside from the event when the [Lance of Ruin] got involved and Sylvain and Miklan's backstories, and two, I did it to raise the stakes after the last arc went a little too well for the Dustbin, not only with Sylvain going the way of the historical Karl I (look him up, the last Austrian Emperor), but now with Flame Emperor directly involved in the heist/smash-and-grab, let's just say that the reinforcements will be the least of . Now instead of them being the only class to suffer, everyone now gets to suffer. Oh yeah, Karna's luck is gradually gonna keep getting worse until everyone starts feeling a little "unlucky".
With all that said, I shall see you readers at the fic's take on the "Tower of Black Winds" chapter, when instead of just one class, all three (four counting the Dustbin) houses now have to tackle the new (unofficial) wielder of the [Lance of Ruin].
References:
- Karna's new haircut went from Karna's to Arjuna's (Archer and/or 3rd Stage Ascension Berserker) from Fate/Grand Order, albeit, still white as usual.
- Karna's mini-investigation/pursuit to retrieve the stolen [Sword of the Creator] is partially based off Kaito's Primal Focus mechanic from Lost Judgement's KAito Files DLC.
- As for Sylvain's parents' names, the father is named after Napoleon Bonaparte while the mother's name is the female version of "Albert", which means "noble and bright". If you know Sylvain's supports and his relations with his parents, you know the irony (ADDENDUM: AS OF JUNE 24, 2022, THE GAUTIER PATRIARCH'S NAME HAS BEEN RELEASED AS "MATTIAS RAOUL GAUTIER", "NAPOLEON DANTES GAUTIER" WILL NOW BE LEFT INVALID).