"In all of my travels, I've never seen one person that bore white hair that wasn't elderly," Byleth sat on one of the benches in the reception hall. Hanneman sat across from him. "And yet, there are two here at this very monastery."
"I don't know what to tell you," Hanneman spoke from under his thick mustache. "I wouldn't imagine it would have anything to do with the crests they possess. Lady Edelgard bears the Minor Crest of Seiros while Lysithea was gifted the Major Crest of House Gloucester."
Byleth blinked several times. His eyes burned and yearned for sleep. He had spent the past three nights reading until daylight. "In all your research, you've never seen anything that could cause someone to lose pigment within their hair?"
"I can't say that I have," Hanneman shook his head. "Nothing concrete, anyhow."
Byleth focused on his words, "nothing concrete?"
"Well, nothing any self-respecting person of academia would dare write about."
"Why not?" Byleth knew a hook when he heard one and he intended to pry everything he could from his colleague.
"Because it's rumors, just baseless rumors," Hanneman waved his hand dismissively. "The world of academia doesn't revolve around rumors, but rather hard facts."
"Can you tell me about these rumors?" Byleth's elbows rested on the table between them and brought his intertwined hands to his face.
"Well," Hanneman gingerly sipped his tea. "There have been stories circulating that probably predate myself. Horrible experimentations, just horrible. Mostly conducted on children."
"What types of experiments?" Byleth's interest had been piqued.
Hanneman hesitated, his mustache twitched.
Byleth noticed the subject appeared to have struck a chord with Hanneman. The older man carefully placed his teacup back on its saucer and brought his gaze to meet Byleth's eyes, "the obsession with crests is quite strong across Fodlan, you see."
Byleth nodded, "I've noticed."
"Someone such as you," Hanneman laughed. "Quite a rarity, indeed. Having been born with a crest and not in line to inherit a great house. Not even being aware of their crest."
"My strength doesn't come from my crest," Byleth stated.
"Well, a lot of people don't feel the same," Hanneman frowned. Byleth almost found it comical how much his mustache drooped. "When you're powerful enough, and crazed enough… Some people might do anything to ensure their house remained within a crest-bearing line of inheritance. Even if none of their children were born with one."
"Are you saying they would force crests upon their own children?" Byleth's chest tightened. Even there was even a scrap of truth to these rumors, that would mean-
"Potentially yes," Hanneman nodded. "The descriptions of these experiments were quite horrifying. Blood transfusions, cutting into the flesh of children, pure torture I tell you. Nothing you'd want to dwell on. But I remind you, there hasn't been a speck of proof found to substantiate these claims."
"Rumors are often rooted in some truth," Byleth quipped.
Hanneman raised a single brow, "let's hope in this instance that isn't the case."
"Agreed," Byleth knew the gentle man would not want to believe such horrifying stories. "What happened to the children in these… stories?"
"Well," Hanneman brought his hands together as he pondered his words. "I imagine they all would have died."
"No survivors?" Byleth pushed.
"Not with the things that were done to them," he shook his head solemnly. "If any had, I would think it would not be just a baseless rumor, but rather a new routine practice."
The thought sickened Byleth. He tried to imagine what kind of parents would subject their own children to such barbaric experiments. And Hanneman's words stung as well. Given the chance, more houses across Fodlan would gladly use the same methods all for the sake of crests.
But something nagged at him, Edelgard's nightmare. It was of her siblings that had died in the dark, leaving her the sole heir to the Adrestian throne despite being eighth in line.
Rumors were valuable in the mercenary business. No matter how many times villagers would try to emphasize that they were baseless, they usually contained enough truth for them to locate their targets.
Byleth's chest hurt. He placed a hand across it and tried to quell the feeling by rubbing his sternum.
If Edelgard and Lysithea were both subjects in those experiments, it would-
"Hanneman," Manuela approached. Her heels clicked against the sleek floor. "I figured I'd find you lounging about as usual."
"Manuela," Hanneman turned in his seat to face her. "You must be feeling well enough to pull out your verbal dagger. Pun very much intended."
"Oh hush, you old coot," she did not seem to be in the mood for their usual verbal match of wits.
"Come now, Manuela," Hanneman poked. "You can do better than that. Or are you reserving your energy for the coming class battle?"
"Oh, I'll have plenty to say on the sidelines when the Golden Deer emerge victorious," she hissed.
"The sidelines?" Byleth queried.
"Yes, unfortunately due to my condition," Manuela released a deep sigh. "I won't be participating directly. But I have faith in my students."
"I will also be excusing myself," Hanneman added. "If Manuela's not on the battlefield, then there is no further satisfaction to be gained when she falls."
"As will I," Byleth nodded. "It's only fair."
"Oh, you don't have to, dear," Manuela winced as she placed a hand over her stomach.
"I insist," Byleth removed his hands from in front of his face to reveal a smile. "How are you feeling?"
"Better! You're such a sweetheart for asking," her voice sang. "Someone could use a lesson from you in the art of being a gentleman."
"And I suppose that someone is me," Hanneman scoffed. "Once again, your legendary wit and originality precedes you."
"Your words, not mine," Manuela quipped. "Speaking of lessons, are we ready to go? Our students have gathered in front of their homerooms and have been waiting for quite awhile."
"Lessons?" Byleth lifted an eyebrow. "Today is their free day, is it not?"
"It is," Hanneman hesitated. "But they were quite enthusiastic about today."
"You haven't told him, have you?" Manuela chuckled. "Well, perhaps it's better that way."
"Me?" Her words caught Byleth by surprise.
Hanneman stood from the bench and motioned for Byleth to follow. He did so with great reluctance. The fact that they wouldn't tell him what he should expect made him uneasy.
The sounds of their combined footsteps echoed through the reception hall. Maybe there was some assembly that he wasn't informed of? He had been preoccupied lately. It was entirely possible the messenger didn't know where to find him.
It was a short walk before they were outside. The sun hung in the middle of the sky and shone down upon them.
Even before they turned the corner, he could hear a myriad of overlapping voices. There were so many that Byleth couldn't pick out a single familiar voice.
Then their homerooms were in sight. On the grass out front, stood every student from each class. They each held a training weapon of their choice.
"What's happening?" It had been a long time since Byleth had been around such a cluster of people. He was unable to peer at each of the students that stood in groups, loudly talking with one another. There were too many. He did not like knowing what each person was doing around him.
"Our students were so enamored as they watched your class performing your dance training," Manuela beamed. "Each volunteered their free day in hopes to practice themselves and to learn from the source."
"Me?" Byleth repeated. His eyes darted frantically from student to student. "You want me to teach all of them?"
"We thought you wouldn't mind," Hanneman added. "After all, we've heard so much about your enthusiasm for teaching."
"Professors!" A deep voice boomed, attempting to be overheard over the chaotic swarm of voices. Dimitri separated from his group, a quarterstaff in his hand.
As if on cue, the crowd quieted down. There was barely a whisper to be heard.
Byleth was finally able to pick out familiar faces from the large crowd. Petra. Dorothea. Leonie.
His eye caught Ashe. The young man waved vigorously at him with a large smile, "hi, professor!"
Byleth returned his smile and added a nod.
For some reason, this put his nerves a little more at ease. Edelgard caught his eye, she was standing next to the new girl, Monica. A weak smile formed from her lips as her eyes met his.
"So you finally convinced 'im!" Claude separated from his own group to stand beside Dimitri.
"'Convince' is such a strong word, Claude," Manuela threw a wink in his direction.
"Ah!" He nodded in understanding. "So I'm guessing he's finding out about all this right now. Sorry to throw this on you so suddenly, Teach!"
"Yes, my apologies," Dimitri gave him a bow. "But we do hope you would still demonstrate for us."
"The Dance of Water?" Byleth furrowed his brow. "There isn't much room for this many people."
"We'll squeeze together the best we can," Claude grinned widely.
"Alright," Byleth tried to gain his bearings. He felt as if there were hundreds of pairs of eyes on him. "We'll need to pair off."
"You'll need to speak up, dear," Manuela nudged him with her elbow. "And perhaps, get closer. They won't bite, unlike me."
He took several steps toward the crowd with his gaze plastered on the grass beneath his feet. Byleth breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, he tried to focus, just as he would on a battlefield.
"Okay," Byleth tried to raise his voice. It was counterintuitive for him to be so loud when all his life he strived to be silent. "There's a two to one ratio with my class. So get into groups of three, one Black Eagle to two from another house."
"Two against one?" Sylvain smiled cockily. "That hardly seems fair."
"You're right," Leonie interjected. "We'd need four against one to even the odds."
He shot her a scowl, "perhaps we should pair up, then."
"Gladly," Leonie accepted his challenge.
"My students have been practicing The Dance of Water for many ethereal moons now," Byleth assured them. "They could use the increase in challenge."
"You heard the professor," Hanneman bellowed. "Groups of three!"
The students dispersed from the tight bunches they were in and wandered and weaved in between one another as they began to form new, smaller groups.
"You'll regret those words," Sylvain pointed the tip of his training sword at Leonie. Lorenz had joined them.
"The point isn't to strike your opponent, but rather avoid their attacks," Byleth explained. He wanted to put an end to any intentional whelps or blisters that might occur. He knew his students would go easy on their opponents, but he was unsure of the other classes.
"Wouldn't it just be easier to block?" Felix threw his hands into the air. "Instead of all this… dancing as you call it."
"I do prefer the term dancing," Mercedes disagreed. "It sounds so much better than sparring, don't you think?"
"Blocking takes quite a bit of strength and effort," Byleth avoided calling Felix out by name. "Avoidance conserves energy and allows you to move around your opponent easier."
"Professor?" Raphael's deep voice called out as he raised his hand into the air. He towered above his peers.
"Yes?"
"Yes?"
Byleth refrained from answering as Manuela and Hanneman just did. It seemed redundant.
"You all might have to refer to us by our full titles, just for today," Manuela chuckled. "It'll prevent us from wasting valuable time trying to deduce which of us you mean."
"Yes, ma'am," Raphael nodded. "Professor Eisner, I have a question."
The name hit Byleth's ear wrong. He was not used to being addressed by his surname. Byleth was more accustomed to just 'professor' or…
My teacher, Edelgard's voice rang in his head.
"Yes?" Byleth tried to push her voice from his thoughts.
"So we're not supposed to hit our opponents?" Raphael scratched his head.
"We'll all be moving only at half speed, you will try to make contact with your partners, but only a fraction of your normal speed." He answered. "This will get you all used to the movements needed to avoid different strikes. For instance, you might sidestep an overhead strike but move backward, or duck a horizontal attack."
Raphael nodded his head vigorously, "I don't move too well, at least not… elegantly."
"This exercise will help improve that," Byleth assured him. "Non-Black Eagles, you will focus all your attacks on the Black Eagles, they need to practice dodging multiple enemies. Black Eagles, alternate your attacks between your opponents."
Byleth waved in Edelgard's direction. "Edelgard, would you mind demonstrating with me?"
She took a step forward before Monica placed her hand on Edelgard's arm, "sorry professor, with me being so new, I thought she might stick with me to show me the ropes."
Byleth wasn't fooled. Monica was keeping Edelgard from him. But he couldn't linger on such thoughts for long, as many pairs of eyes awaited his next move. He would have to sort this out later.
He pointed at Petra, "Petra, would you mind coming up."
"I will be doing so with honor," Petra bowed before she jogged up to him with her training sword in her hand.
"Can someone lend me their sword?" Byleth looked at the crowd.
Mercedes quickly lifted hers into the air as she approached him with a gentle smile, "you can borrow mine, professor." She backed away and allowed him and Petra space.
Byleth lifted his sword above his head, "I repeat, you'll be starting at half speed."
He brought his sword down as Petra spun her body. He immediately brought the wooden weapon across his body. Petra deftly flattened herself above the grass, only standing once his blade was past her.
"Once you get a feel for the motions," Byleth continued as he thrusted his sword forward in slow motion. Petra darted backward. "You can move faster."
Byleth brought his sword diagonally across his body, at a much faster pace than before. She pivoted to his side and thrusted her own blade forward. He opted to sidestep as he brought his weapon down.
Their movements sped up, nearly mimicking the speed at which a real fight would occur. He often found himself spinning with Petra's body just before one of them would strike with their sword. Byleth hopped backward and sucked in his stomach.
"Look at them move!" Ashe seemed in awe.
"Faster! Faster!" That was definitely Leonie.
Byleth decided to entertain her wishes. After all, he knew Petra would be able to keep up.
He slashed his blade down faster than before. She sidestepped and followed up with an upward strike. He spun once again. She mirrored his movements. He could feel her hair graze against his neck before they both came to a simultaneous abrupt stop.
"I don't think I can move that fast," Mercedes's high voice chipped in.
"You will if you keep practicing," Ferdinand assured her.
The sounds of their wooden weapons began to whoosh through the air as neither slowed their pace. She would step right, he darted backward. He swung downward, she thrusted her blade forward.
Byleth held up his hand. Petra lowered her weapon. "Notice we never made contact. Our weapons never touched our skin, nor did they collide with each other though it wasn't for a lack of trying. We started slow, as you will. But with practice and commitment, you could very well end up like Petra."
"Thank you, professor," Petra gave him another bow. "For dancing with me."
He smiled and nodded. She promptly returned to stand beside Hilda and Ignatz. Both of which now looked intimated.
Byleth held out his training sword and Mercedes dutifully retrieved it, "go ahead. Everyone can get started."
He felt as if he should yell "Go!" really loudly or perhaps blow a whistle. But he didn't have one.
Hesitantly, the students began lifting their weapons above their heads or awkwardly swinging across their bodies.
"Well done," Hanneman grinned through his mustache. "Quite a demonstration!"
"I have to agree, for once," Manuela leaned closer to his shoulder. "You're quite… nimble, aren't you?"
"It kept me alive," Byleth answered. His eyes scanned the groups of students moving in slow motion in front of him. "Don't be afraid to move your feet, Mercedes."
He approached her and motioned for Bernadetta to swing her sword again. He placed his hands on either side of Mercedes and gently moved her sideways as Bernadetta's sword fell beside her, "just like that. Always keep your feet moving."
"Yes, professor!" Mercedes nodded as she awkwardly lifted her own training sword.
Byleth backed up as he continued to try to assess each group of students. As expected, most of his Black Eagles were quicker to dodge, even two weapons at a time.
Leonie appeared to have it the hardest. Sylvain didn't take his words to heart as he swung his blade much faster than half speed but she swiftly avoided his attacks before thrusting her lance toward Lorenz. Byleth decided against interjecting on her behalf. If anything, it would make her faster.
"Ow!" He recognized that "ow".
"Move faster Annette," Byleth called out without looking.
"Yes, professor," she yelled back.
"Ah!" Ashe pulled back and held his shoulder.
"You gotta sidestep an overhead attack, Ashe!" Caspar instructed. "I'll go a little slower."
Byleth only smiled as he listened to the increasing symphony of "ows," "ahs," and "args" and noted most of them did not come from his students.
"Your students have really… grown," Hanneman frowned as he watched his own students stumble over their feet. "A variety of teaching styles will do them good."
"Arg!" Claude limped backward.
"Walk it off, honey," Manuela yelled across the crowd.
"Don't be afraid to jump, Claude," Byleth added. "Don't let an enemy take out your legs. They're your most important asset."
"I thought it was our weapon arm," Claude hopped forward, still favoring his leg.
"You can always retreat from battle with a missing arm," Byleth shook his head. "It would take time, but you could always switch which hand you wield your weapon. The same can't be said for a leg."
As he scanned the various groups, his eyes rested on Edelgard. She did not move as quickly as he knew she could. Edelgard's movements were half-hearted, at best. And she did not wear a smile as she did when they danced together.
"It wasn't even an insinuation, Hubert," Edelgard sat at her desk in her quarters. Hubert stood before her, his arms behind his back. "She practically boasted about what they would do to our professor."
"They are flexing their muscles," Hubert coldly stated. "In an attempt to garner your support once again. They must have sensed your growing hesitation."
"Please, don't try to talk me into allowing myself to be controlled once again," Edelgard leaned her forehead into her palm.
"I had no intentions of doing so, Lady Edelgard," Hubert shook his head. "You've made your wishes clear and I said I would stand by you and so I shall."
"You still think I can manage to break ties?" Edelgard couldn't muster the strength to lift her head. "How would I even begin? With 'Monica' watching so closely, I can't tell the professor anything now. And the closer she insists on being in public, the more she ensures that whatever actions she takes will reflect upon me."
"Whatever those actions may be," Hubert released a rare sigh, "may drive the professor further away. I understand your predicament."
"And if I even tried to rebel against them," Edelgard could feel tears begin to swell, but she wouldn't allow them to pass her eyes, "they would only kill him."
"Lady Edelgard…." He swallowed hard, "you've opened my eyes to a new means of ridding this world of the notion of nobility and being held higher than others because of the crest you bear. If it is your desire to walk that path… with him. Then that is also what I desire."
"Then what do I do, Hubert," Edelgard sighed. Her chest was tight and screamed for relief.
"Perhaps, you give him too little credit," Hubert clenched his jaw. She could tell he wished to keep those thoughts to himself.
"What do you mean?"
"Our professor is a keen specimen," Hubert shook his head and let out a soft chuckle. "I can see what you see in him."
"As happy as I am about you no longer wishing to kill him," Edelgard rubbed her temples, "I fail to see how this helps our current situation."
"When was the last time you refused to participate in a demonstration?" He continued. "He surely has begun to see the signs."
"Do you believe so?" Edelgard didn't necessarily believe him. In her heart, it felt as if a great stone wall had been erected between her and her teacher. It was as if she could no longer peer into his eyes to see what he was thinking. There was so sure way to tell if he had grown suspicious.
"I do," Hubert reassured her. "I'm sure of it, Lady Edelgard. We just need to ensure he knows of your reluctance before they do anything to further sully your name in his eyes."
"How do we-"
A knock on the door.
And then another, as if someone was trying to create a melody.
Edelgard swallowed hard. She didn't need to guess who was on the other side. She exchanged glances with Hubert as he took several steps backward. "Come in, Monica."
Edelgard cleared her throat and straightened her posture before the door swung open.
"There you guys are!" Her disingenuous tone was grating against Edelgard's last nerve. "What'cha up to?"
"We're devising methods to locate the crest stone for the Sword of the Creator," Hubert coldly replied.
Edelgard had to give him credit. He could think on the fly.
"That would be… great!" Monica's wide smile grew from ear to ear. "Tomas has been trying for years now, but wouldn't you know, it wasn't where it was supposed to be."
"An unforeseen hiccup," Edelgard added. "But if Tomas continues to be so incapable, I suppose the job will fall into our laps."
"There's been a lot of 'hiccups' lately," Monica used her fingers to create quotes. "I heard you denied the Death Knight his kill. Well, I didn't have to hear it through the grapevine, I was there."
"Kill the professor and risk losing the Sword of the Creator forever," Hubert narrowed his gaze.
Within Hubert's words, Edelgard felt a glimmer of hope. She was no longer alone in trying to protect her teacher.
"How?" Monica scoffed. "It's not like he can take it with him to the afterlife."
"Perhaps not," Hubert craned his neck, "but he manages to wield it without a crest stone. An impressive feat, wouldn't you say?"
"Your point being?" Monica rolled her eyes.
"I doubt such a feat could be repeated. I would not want to risk Lady Edelgard's life without the crest stone firmly in hand," his tone was colder than usual. "Until we find it, it may very well be in our best interest to ensure the only person that can wield it, stays alive."
"Oh, he will," Monica nodded, "for now. But it sounds like you guys are hot on the trail of that crest stone."
"And we could be closer if not for your… incessant interference," Hubert quipped.
"Are you saying I'm nosy?" Monica shot him a grin.
"Yes," he didn't deny it. "In addition, you insist on drawing further attention to ourselves. Edelgard was called on specifically by the professor and you interfered instead of simply allowing the class activity to carry on as usual."
"Well, I couldn't have our dear Edelgard get too far from me, now could I?"
"You drew unnecessary attention with your ridiculous display," Hubert continued, his anger seeping through with every word. "The more suspicious the monastery gets, the harder our task becomes."
"Fine," Monica pouted like a schoolgirl. "Has anyone told you that you're no fun, Hubie?"
"Do not call me that," Hubert scoffed.
His disdain caught Edelgard by surprise. He had allowed Dorothea to call him that very name on numerous occasions. But since she had expressed her desire to turn against Those Who Slither in the Dark, Hubert has shown nothing but contempt toward her new enemies and their minions.
Edelgard hoped her teacher would do the same.
"Okay," Monica sucked her teeth. "I'll play your game for now. I'll be the diligent school girl that participates in class and I'll let you go about your business as usual."
Edelgard felt a cool, relieving sensation throughout her body.
"But know that if I find that you two are trying anything, and I mean anything," Monica's eyes narrowed as she darted back and forth between herself and Hubert. "I won't care what Tomas says, and you can kiss our dear professor goodbye."