It was an early Sunday morning at Garreg Mach, one week after the events of what happened in Magdred Forest. While some students within the Monastery had opted to sleep in or simply spend their free time relaxing in the gardens or catching up on personal studies, others were meanwhile attending the end-of-the-week seminars that were being hosted by various professors.

Each student, armed with a training weapon of their choice, had decided to try their luck in a one-on-one duel with their instructor; and one after the other, they were either quickly disarmed or knocked flat on their backs. As one challenger went down, another immediately took their place. Every strike was either heavily telegraphed for the man, allowing him to parry and counterattack with minimal effort, or a predictable feint was quickly exploited as Jeritza immediately went for the "killing blow" before his attacker even realized what happened. And it was soon becoming evident that the low and soft-spoken instructor was becoming incredibly bored very quickly.

Jeritza sighed, his voice carrying a hint of disdain. "Is this really the best any of you can do?" He said, lowering his weapons to his side. "I'm disappointed. But perhaps, I was expecting too much." The students exchanged weary glances, as if to see who would be foolish enough to take another shot at a clearly superior opponent when a voice called out from the entrance of the training grounds.

"Why don't we make it interesting for you, then?"

Everyone turned to see Felix approaching them and carrying his own training sword, his expression relaxed and confident as he locked eyes with the Monastery staff member. Jeritza's interest was piqued as he saw the young man, recognizing him to be from Kratos' class. He nodded slightly, acknowledging Felix's challenge. "Very well. Let's see if you can provide a challenge."

The students stepped back, giving the two combatants room. Felix assumed his stance, and Jeritza, still exuding an air of nonchalance, motioned for Felix to come at him.

Felix came at the instructor aggressively, yet he struck carefully at Jeritza who effortlessly parried his attacks. However, the older swordsman realized he was not in a position to easily counter his opponent, and they disengaged briefly. The instructor's eyes gleaming with a slight hint of approval.

"Certainly more skilled than the others," Jeritza remarked, though his bored expression and tone remained.

The second engagement was equally brief, with Felix trying to find an opening, and again, Jeritza deflected each strike. It was evident that young Fraldarius was determined to get an edge over his opponent, but it was clear that the older sword wielder was still in complete control.

As they squared off for the third engagement, Felix pushed himself harder, his strikes more aggressive and desperate. Jeritza, however, anticipated his every move. With a swift and decisive counter, he used the boy's own momentum against him by knocking his blade aside and struck him on the small of his back with the pommel of his sword, causing Felix to stumble and fall hard on his stomach; emitting choruses of "ooos" and "aaahs" from the students around him.

Jeritza looked down at him. "You have potential, but you still have much to learn. You are not ready."

From that moment as Felix pushed himself up to his elbows, he could see through the small crowd of students that his professor, Kratos, was watching him from the open entrance to the training ground, his face and expression completely unreadable. The young swordsman did not know how much he'd seen or why he was there in the first place, but allowing his own teacher to see him get bested so easily sparked something dangerously hot in Felix's guts.

He gritted his teeth, his frustration evident as he hurriedly pushed himself up to his feet and faced Jeritza. "Again!"

Jeritza, who also noticed Kratos watching, felt a surge of both curiosity and desire. From Kratos' perspective, The instructor's piercing gaze seemed to invite him to come and spar with him instead, either to show the students how it's done, or simply because Jeritza was imploring for someone to give him a worthwhile sparring match. Kratos, however, silently walked off, leaving Jeritza with a sigh of resignation.

"Fine," He said, turning his attention back to Felix. "If that is your wish."

Meanwhile, Kratos had been making his way to the courtyard just outside the Monastery gates where merchants and traders had begun to set up their stalls for the day. Upon learning that he would be allowed to use the Dining Hall's kitchen, provided that he bring his own ingredients and thoroughly clean up after himself, the Spartan decided to take this as an opportunity to share a meal with some of his students, as one of many suggestions Mimir has been giving him.

As he navigated through the bustling market, Kratos was acutely aware of the many pairs of eyes staring at the tall, white and tattooed brigand casually roaming the stalls, but he paid them no mind. But eventually, he happened to stumble across a particular merchant that sold something he did not expect to find.

Marching directly up to the merchant, whose back was facing the Spartan as he was stocking up his shelves, Kratos pulled a small pouch from his side and slapped three gold pieces down on the counter.

"I wish to buy your olives."

The merchant turned around, startled by the sudden presence of the imposing figure before him. "O-olives? Oh, you mean the moonberries?" he said, pointing to a basket of dark, glossy fruits.

Kratos frowned slightly but didn't bother correcting the man. "Yes, moonberries. I will take them."

The merchant blinked, a bit taken aback by Kratos' abruptness but quickly recovered. "Of course, sir. Here you go," he said, placing a generous portion of the olives into a small bag and handing it over.

Accepting the bag and, out of curiosity, Kratos sampled one of the olives before he immediately spat it out in disgust. "These are spoiled," he growled.

"I- I beg your pardon!" The shorter man took offense. "Freshly picked not a month ago, I promise you!"

The brigand narrowed his eyes. "What about the seeds?"

"Seeds?" The merchant scratched his head. "I mean, sure, I've got them, but you'll have a hard time growing them in these parts."

Before he said anything else, Kratos tossed the small bag of coins at the man, who caught it in surprise. "That will be my problem to worry about."

The merchant weighed the bag before checking to see if the coin was genuine. "Alright, say no more. Here you are, sir, and thank you very much for your patronage!"

After being handed the small sack of "moonberry" seeds, the Ghost of Sparta was about to leave before speaking over his shoulder to the man, "And if I find out that these are no good either, you best pray that I never find you here again."

The merchant paled, nodding quickly. "Understood, sir. I assure you, the seeds are good. In any case, enjoy your… oh-lives."

With that, Kratos turned and made his way back toward the Monastery, seeds in hand. By this point, he now had a different goal in mind as he made his way straight for the Greenhouse inside Garreg Mach. Once he was through the glass doors, he noticed that one of his students, Dedue, was already there on one side of the room as he crouched over some of the plants with gardening tools in hand.

At first, the darker skinned man didn't seem to notice the brigand standing and watching him a few steps away from him as he worked. But eventually, he did speak.

"Professor Kratos." Dimitri's aide greeted flatly, without so much as glancing up. "Did you want something?"

Kratos, who actually appreciated the straightforward and bluntness in Dedue's question, answered in kind. "I am here to plant some seeds."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Hm. I see." Dedue stood up and faced Kratos. "And what is it you are attempting to grow?" The brigand held out the bag of seeds for him to see. "Ah," He said, a small hint of a smile appearing on his face. "Moonberries."

"You have grown them before?" Kratos asked genuinely.

Dedue shook his head. "No. Where I grew up, we were too far north for them to be harvested. Because of that, they are considered to be a delicacy in Duscar." He frowned, as though he were recalling a bad memory. "But even though we are not in Duscar, these mountains are not an ideal spot for growing moonberries. However, there are some methods we can try here in the greenhouse, since it is used to grow all sorts of plants."

"What do you suggest?" Asked Kratos.

"Follow me." Dedue led the Spartan to the back right corner of the greenhouse, where there was a small patch of open soil for them to use. "There are two things you can try: the first one is by infusing them with magic, while the other is burying them along with a scoop of Pegasus' Blessing."

"'Pegasus Blessing?'" Kratos responded as though expecting Dedue's stoic face to shatter in a fit of laughter.

However, the student remained dead serious. "Do not let the name fool you. It means exactly what you think it means." After digging two small holes in the ground with his fingers, Dedue took a pinch of seed from the pouch before dropping them in. "The bad news is that the Blessings are incredibly expensive. Anyone around here who happens to own a Pegasus is going to charge you a steep price for it." He looks up at Kratos with a certain glint in his eyes. "But the good news is that I can teach you how to infuse magic in them."

Kratos tilted his head. "You are sure that I am even capable of using this magic?"

"Of course. Not everyone is equally attuned to wielding magic, but the basic fundamentals remain the same. Though, you might not get the best results, it is still better than trying nothing at all." Dedue added, looking Kratos in the eye, "And, in return, I would ask for a share of the harvest when the time comes."

Kratos considered Dedue's offer as he held his now lighter pouch of olive seeds, then gave a brief nod. "Very well. Show me."

He knelt beside the darker-tanned man, and over the next half hour, Kratos listened as Dedue explained the process to him. Following Dedue's instructions, the Ghost of Sparta attempted the techniques as shown. Despite the process being new to him, Kratos was determined to succeed.

Finally, Dedue nodded approvingly before standing up. "That is sufficient, Professor. Now, we wait and see how they grow. With any luck, we'll have a successful harvest."

Kratos also stood, brushing the dirt from his hands. "Yes," He concurred. "Let us hope so."

Just as they were finishing, a Church staff member appeared at the entrance of the greenhouse.. "Professor Kratos," he huffed, slightly out of breath. "The Archbishop requests your presence. She wishes to speak with you immediately."

Kratos was silent for a moment before nodding. "Very well." Then to Dedue. "Thank you. I shall return some day to check on our progress."

Dedue responded with a nod. "Of course."

With that, Kratos followed the messenger towards the Archbishop's chambers, and the Ghost of Sparta couldn't help but feel rather curious as to what the woman in question could possibly want from him this time around.