Byleth leaned against a counter in the dining hall as he took a silent inventory.

Two full sized pheasants were roasting in the spitfire. Four sheets of peach sorbet were stacked in the ice box. Two pans of Saghert baked in the oven, its cream and reduction were already finished. One pot of Daphnel stew was simmering and one pan of two-fish saute awaited on the stove, that would be the quickest to cook so he would wait until the last possible moment to start it.

The sun had not begun to rise yet, but Byleth couldn't sleep. Though most of his students spent the majority of the prior day sleeping after returning from Remire village, he imagined they still needed their rest. He had time.

"Must we be up so early?" Sothis yawned. "I'm still quite tired."

"You can go back to sleep," Byleth whispered. Though he knew she could read his thoughts, he preferred to pretend to be a willing participant in their conversation.

"And you?" She wearily asked. "You've been up all night. Most of my fatigue is due to what you've put our body through, you know."

"I know," he nodded. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, I'll forgive you this time."

"We never really had a chance to talk about this," Byleth adjusted his weight on his feet. "But you don't remember anything before you woke up in me?"

"I'm afraid I still don't," Sothis hummed. "I do not recall my time in a body of my own, nor do I remember bestowing crests to my children."

"Then I assume you don't know how to take them back?" Byleth frowned. "You are a goddess, after all."

"A goddess with no recollection isn't much of a goddess at all," Sothis sucked her teeth. "We have no choice but to merely wait to see if my memories return."

"I understand," he nodded. He was grateful for the protection Sothis had already given him and more than that, for her company. Byleth did not wish to push her too hard. There was still time to help Sothis regain her memories, after all, he felt closer to the answer of how to remove Edelgard and Lysithea's deadly crests than ever before.

According to the legends, it was the Goddess that gifted crests to her people so surely she would be able to take them back.

"Are you cooking for the entirety of Garreg Mach?"

He let out a soft chuckle, "no, just my class, Shamir and my father should he wish to join us. But you know how their appetites are."

"You've barely rested since we returned," he appreciated the concern in her voice. "And you wouldn't let the lazy one heal your eye."

"I prefer to keep magic away from my eyes," it was a pet-peeve of his. Though Lindhardt did a fine job with Edelgard's, her deeply bruised skin was already yellowing as if it had been quite some time since she sustained the injury, he couldn't stand the thought of such a thing close to his own eyes.

"Who are you talking to?"

Byleth snapped his head to the northern entrance of the dining hall. He had been so engaged in his conversation with Sothis, he didn't even notice Edelgard's approach, "just myself."

Edelgard furrowed her brow as she walked toward him, "do you do that often?"

"Only when I'm alone," Byleth was desperate to change the subject. "You're getting much stealthier, I barely knew you were there."

"Thanks to your efforts," She took a seat at one of the stools that lined the counters. "Are you… cooking? At this hour?"

"Are you awake at this hour?" He smiled.

"I couldn't sleep," Edelgard folded her hands together on the countertop.

"Nor could I," Byleth replied. "Your eye is looking much better."

"Yes, it hardly hurts anymore," she grinned. "I wish I could say the same for yours."

He shook his head, "I'm fine. Nothing compared to a hero's relic through my chest."

"Is… all of this for us?" Edelgard scanned the kitchen with her eyes.

"Yeah," Byleth turned to face her as he leaned his elbows on the counter. "I thought the class could use a little morale after what happened. Don't worry, I included quite a bit of dessert."

"You must've been up all night," she chuckled.

Byleth nodded, "yeah, but it's almost done. I tried to time it so they'd be able to enjoy it before the breakfast bell."

"My teacher…" her words trailed as the smile faded from her face. "After what you witnessed in Remire village, I must ask you again. Are you entirely certain this is a war you wish to involve yourself in?"

"I already have," his eyes darted across the room as he searched for the words to say. "But the answer is yes, El. Now more than ever. After seeing what they're capable of, I won't let you fight this alone."

Edelgard let out a long sigh, "I'm quite relieved to hear you say that."

"Were you doubting me?" Byleth turned and retrieved a piece of kindle from the wood-burning stove and placed it under the two-fish saute.

"Not at all," she gave him a wide smile. "It's just nice to hear."

"Someone's coming," he nodded toward the southern entrance. He also saw the sky beginning to turn a dark orange with the rising sun.

"I don't hear anyone," Edelgard replied.

Byleth stirred his saute as it started to sizzle.

"Who's cooking at this hour?" Shamir peered through the doorway. Her eyes rested on him, "of course it'd be you."

"I figured you'd be up," Byleth answered her. "Now I don't need to come get you."

Shamir eyed the kitchen carefully as she approached the last stool, "is this your way of saying you're sorry?"

"Yes," he nodded with a grin.

"Just so you know, the blonde one, Ingrid is also making her way over," Shamir informed him. "She'd make a good mercenary if her only targets were meat."

Edelgard laughed and abruptly stopped after a short snort.

"You're in awfully high spirits this morning," Shamir eyed her with a grin of her own.

"I apologize, that was most unbecoming," Edelgard swallowed hard as she covered her nose and mouth with her hand.

Byleth couldn't help but to laugh as he continued stirring the pan.

"Are you ever going to give me a straight answer, Byleth?" Shamir refocused her attention on him.

"I knew your stomach was injured because I saw you holding it," he gave her a simple reply. However, he knew she shared much of his skill of investigation.

"That doesn't explain how you knew it wasn't fatal," Shamir lifted a single brow. "You told Lindhardt I had a shallow cut, which was the case, but there was no way you could have known that."

"Alright kid," he heard his father's booming voice call through the dining hall. "What couldn't wait until later?"

"Captain Jeralt," Edelgard greeted him warmly. "Our teacher's making us quite the feast. I do hope you'll join us."

"I never say no to a good meal," Byleth heard his hearty footsteps across the floor. "Couldn't sleep, huh?"

"No."

"No."

Shamir and Edelgard answered him in unison.

"Yeah, me either," Jeralt took a seat at one of the stools. "You must've been up all night cooking! Is that pheasant I smell?"

Byleth turned his head and nodded.

"Noa fruit..." Jeralt sniffed the air. "Onion… fish… and something fruity I can't quite put my finger on."

"Peach," Shamir answered.

"You'll have to teach our class how to be so… observant," Edelgard chuckled. Byleth could imagine the amazement on her face.

"Oh, princess, you don't want to smell the things we do," Jeralt laughed.

"It's true," Shamir agreed. "Especially on a march with a bunch of soldiers."

"I will… have to take your word on that," Edelgard suddenly seemed less interested.

"Professor?"

"Ingrid!" Jeralt called. "Will you do us a favor and fetch the rest of your class? My kid here's made you all something special."

"Not just for us," Edelgard reminded him.

"Certainly!" Ingrid's excitement overflowed. Byleth could hear her double-stepping all the way down the stairs.

He removed the pan from the stove and placed it on a moist serviette. He then lifted the pot of Daphnel stew from its flame to a wooden cutting board.

"Hey, let me do that," Jeralt rose from his stool. "You must be exhausted."

His father rounded the counter tops and opened the spitfire, "Remire was pretty hard on the kids, eh?"

"I imagine so," Byleth leaned against the counter as his father took over.

"Well this will certainly lift their spirits," Shamir nodded.

"It'll just take time," Jeralt continued. "I trained every man in our company and each one went through the same thing after a hard contract."

"I remember," Byleth lifted his eyes to meet Edelgard's, but she quickly averted her gaze.

"Except for this one," Jeralt shook his head. "Until we came to the monastery, I was sure he had very little emotions."

"Truly?" Edelgard tilted her head in curiosity.

Jeralt nodded, "I've never seen this kid cry. And I mean never, not even as a baby."

"Sounds like every parent's dream," Shamir chortled.

"It was, after I got over my fear," Jeralt answered. "Not much gets this old man scared, but having a baby that would simply stare at you as if he was piercing your soul, that did it."

"That's why I'm never having kids," the knight quipped.

"What about you, princess?" Jeralt lifted his brow. "You want kids?"

Edelgard seemed taken back by his question. She paused as she thought out her answer, "as the heir to the Adrestian Empire, I imagine there will be many children in my future."

Jeralt placed both pheasant roasts in a wide pan, "you nobles do seem to have a lot of 'em."

Shamir sucked her teeth as she lifted herself from her stool, "I can't let you do all the work. The peach smell is coming from the icebox, it's sorbet, right?"

Byleth gave her a nod.

"How may I help?" Edelgard also removed herself from her seat.

"You just relax and enjoy," Jeralt waved his hand dismissively. "You kids have done enough to last a while."

"You both did just as much as us, if not more," Edelgard furrowed her brow.

"Yeah, but we've already seen our fair share," Shamir didn't turn to face her as she lifted several sheets of frozen peach from the icebox.

"This wasn't our first battle," Edelgard's confusion only grew.

"I think what she means," Jeralt sighed, "is that we've already seen our fair share of senseless massacres. We know how to block out those feelings."

"I see," Edelgard took her seat once again.

"My kid here's trying to help you and your classmates learn to block out yours," Jeralt elaborated.

Edelgard finally met his gaze, this time without darting her eyes away, "of which, I am grateful."

"They're coming," Shamir used a round wooden mallet to mash the frozen peach chunks into a smooth, thick, frozen cream.

"They sound like a herd of deer," Jeralt laughed.

Byleth could see Edelgard narrow her eyes as she leaned her head toward the southern entrance.

"Do you hear a light clopping?" Byleth pointed out the door.

"Barely," Edelgard answered.

"It doesn't seem to stop, does it? There's no hesitation between each step, a lot even overlap, right?"

Edelgard nodded, "yes, it does seem constant."

"That's what a group of seven or more people sound like," Byleth explained. "Any less and there would be at least a moment of spacing every four to six seconds."

"You never cease to amaze me," Edelgard shook her head with a grin.

Byleth let a grin form on his face. He didn't know why, but he very much enjoyed hearing those words.

"Professor!" Annette was the first to call out. She was followed by her classmates as they each greeted him and the others in the room.

Suddenly, there was a myriad of voices that filled the dining hall.

"You made all this for us?"

"Oh my Goddess, that smells delicious!"

"Is that dessert? Yes!"

Jeralt and Shamir quickly retreated from the kitchen as they made their way to the end of the counter where he and Edelgard occupied.

"They certainly seem happy," Edelgard remarked as she eyed each of her classmates.

"But they won't forget," Byleth nodded slowly.

She placed her hand over his until he looked at her again, "at least they're smiling again."

It was true. Being able to smile and laugh again was the first step to coming to terms with what they witnessed and went through, or at least his father used to tell him in his younger years.

"Professor!" Flayn happily galloped toward him. "I must thank you for this wonderful meal!" She gave him a bow and he gave her a smile.

"Yeaf, fanks!" Caspar yelled with his mouth full.

"Hey! No eating until you get your plates to a table," Jeralt instructed. "You better get in there, princess, before it's all gone."

Edelgard stood, "will you three not be joining us?"

"We will," Shamir nodded toward the kitchen, "as soon as we're certain we won't be trampled."

Byleth tilted his head, "go on, I made sure to include some sweets in there I knew you'd enjoy."

She gave him a slight grin before she did as she was told. Edelgard had to weave her body around her bustling classmates, "be sure to save enough for everyone!"

"You did good," Shamir placed her hand on her hip as she watched the students slowly begin to disperse with plates in their hands. The dining room table quickly filled up.

"You sure did," Jeralt gave him a firm smack on his back. "But are you sure you're ready to have all those kids?"

Shamir chuckled as she turned her head to hide her wide smile.

"What kids?" Byleth looked up at his father as he furrowed his brow.

"Professor!" Ferdinand stood at the dining room table, "Captain Jeralt, Lady Shamir, please join us!"

"It's just Shamir," she coolly replied. "Come on, we better grab our plates before they go back for seconds."

Her and Jeralt approached the now empty kitchen but Byleth stayed put. He wasn't very hungry.

"Will you not join in their festivities?" Sothis's voice chimed in his head. "You must eat."

I'll eat later, he thought to himself.

"That is what you always say," she huffed. "After turning back the hands of time, we must keep up our strength."

I'll get some sleep later, that'll help.

His eyes followed Lysithea as she rose from the dining room table and made her way back to the kitchen.

"She sure has quite an appetite for being so little," Sothis chuckled.

Don't let her hear you say that, Byleth grinned, she would be very offended.

He returned his eyes to the table where his father and Shamir now sat. They all talked loudly to one another, and laughed and smiled. This is exactly what Byleth had hoped to achieve. Though they may never forget what happened in Remire Village, they would at least learn that it is possible to still be happy.

"Professor?" Lysithea stood next to him and held out the plate she made.

Byleth was caught by surprise, he had assumed she made it for herself.

She pushed the plate into his hands, "come, we've saved you a seat."

"I like this one," Sothis hummed. "Small, yet in charge."

Byleth silently followed her to the table as she pointed to an empty spot across from Ingrid.

"I don't know how you managed the time to make such a feast, professor!" Ingrid covered her mouth as she spoke with her serviette.

"I don't know how I'm going to go for our morning run with such a full stomach!" Caspar leaned over the table.

"Morning run?" Byleth asked as he took his seat. "Classes won't resume for a couple more days."

"No reason to let ourselves fall behind!" Leonie yelled from a couple spots away. Her remark was met with a symphony of agreements.

It seemed her and her classmates still wished to resume their training despite the break they've been given. More than likely a defensive response to keep their minds busy so that they don't dwell on the horrors of the small town.

"In that case," Byleth began, "Instead of our morning run, why do we not play a team precision game?"

He desperately wished to help them not only occupy their minds, but to capitalize on their high spirits.

"Game?" Edelgard perked a single brow.

Many of his students were very competitive. He knew that would certainly gain their attention.

"Yes!" Caspar pumped his fist in the air. "Count me in!"

"No," Shamir shook her head. "I'll be the arbitrator. You won our last argument, I won this one."

Byleth gave her a grin and a defeated nod.

"That means we get the professor!" Ferdinand threw his hands into the air triumphantly.

Edelgard pursed her lips as she took a deep breath, "very well."

She still had Petra on her team, and that was a win. Edelgard stood next to her brigid friend as her team created a line separated by about four meters of space between them, she stood first with Petra next to her. Then Hubert, Dorothea, Lindhardt, Lysithea and Bernadetta.

Across from them stood her teacher, Leonie, Ingrid, Annette, Caspar and Flayn then Ferdinand in the same formation.

Shamir stood at the end of the two lines directly in the center, "alright. No using your hands. You pass your ball to the next teammate in line with your feet only. The ball has to go through each in your line and finally to me. When I catch your ball, that's a point. First in lines will have to come get your ball and kick it to the beginning of the line."

"Alright, let's do this," Caspar jumped up and down as he tilted his head from side to side.

"Wait," Edelgard held her hand up as she approached Petra. "Petra, I think you should go to the end of the line. Shamir has to catch the ball so we need someone with exceptional aim."

"I will be most honored," Petra put her arm across her chest and gave her a bow before she jogged to the end of the line. Her whole team shifted up as Petra took her place.

"Okay, we're ready," Edelgard gave a firm nod.

"Wait, how do we call fouls?" Leonie raised her hand.

"You don't," Shamir shook her head. "Only I do."

"That's a scary thought," Ferdinand widened his eyes. "You are not known to be the most forgiving."

"No, I am not," Shamir coldly replied. "If you get a foul on your team, the ball has to get passed up person to person until it reaches the first in line then you may start again. First team to three points win. You're 'right' team," she pointed toward her teacher's team, and then pointed to hers, "and you're 'left' team."

"Why are we left and right?" Caspar shrugged.

"Because I'm not remembering team names."

Edelgard eyed the brown ball on the ground in front of her. She tensed her muscles and prepared to strike the moment she heard Shamir's signal.

"Any more questions and I'm going to deduct a point from your team," Shamir lifted her brow and looked at them as if she dared anyone to call her bluff. No one did. "Go."

Edelgard immediately stepped forward and kicked the ball with the side of her foot, sending it Hubert's direction. Her aim was a bit off and he was forced to take a few painfully slow steps forward, "faster, Hubert!"

"Yes, Lady Edelgard," he replied as he gave the ball a hard kick to Dorothea, but it flew right past her.

"Foul, left team."

Lysithea galloped toward the ball and tried to give it a kick back up the line. Her aim was perfect and Lindhardt put his foot forward to stop it's motion before he launched it toward Dorothea.

Surprisingly, the mage placed her foot on top of the ball to cease it's motion and gave it a light tap back to Hubert, "come on, Hubie!"

Edelgard found herself bouncing up and down with impatience as she watched the ball slowly make its way back to her.

"Foul, right team."

She did not tear her eyes away from the ball that approached her feet. She stomped her foot and let the ball collide with it and gave it another kick back to Hubert. This time, he hopped to change his footing and passed it to Dorothea with ease.

Only then did Edelgard lift her eyes to see her teacher swiftly pass their ball to Leonie, she double stepped to stop it's motion before another perfect kick to Ingrid. She turned her focus back to her own team to see the ball had reached Petra.

"Take your time, Petra!" Her own excitement surprised her as she hopped up and down.

Petra took a step back and cocked her leg. The ball lifted into the air and Edelgard watched as Shamir leaned her body to catch it.

"Point, left team, come get your ball," she dropped it to the ground.

Edelgard sprinted behind her team line. She quickly gave the ball a light kick as she slowed her pace, careful not to lose control. Once she caught up with the round object, she gave it another light kick.

"Point, right team."

Edelgard's heart quickened, she saw her teacher sprinting toward Shamir.

"You got this, Edie!" Dorothea clapped as she passed her. From the corner of her eye, she could see her teacher once again, making his way back up the line with almost as much ease as he did when he retrieved his ball.

The second she reached her place she gave it another kick to Hubert and lifted her eyes to see the professor had already reached the beginning of his line.

This round went a lot smoother as each team member carefully passed the ball to one another, slightly faster this time until it once again reached Petra.

"Point, right team."

Edelgard balled her hands into fists as she watched Petra execute another perfect kick.

"Point, left team. Game point."

Edelgard dashed to the end of the line and watched as the professor began dribbling his ball up his line. She kicked it much harder this time as she hoped to beat him to the beginning.

"You got this, professor!" Leonie yelled.

To her disappointment, by the time she reached her spot once again, she saw her teacher no longer had the ball.

Edelgard put her foot on top of the ball for better accuracy and kicked it to Hubert.

"Foul, right team."

"They got a foul!" Lysithea's tone was much more serious than usual. "We still stand a chance!"

Hubert's kick was off aim and Dorothea was forced to run a short distance behind her. Edelgard peered up quickly to see her professor hopping from one foot to the other, both stopping the ball and passing it in one swift motion.

"Come on, Lindhardt!" Dorothea watched as her kick rolled directly in the path of his feet.

The usually fatigued mage moved much faster than normal as he gave the ball a kick with the side of his foot.

"You can be doing it, Bernie!" Petra leaned from one leg to the other as she stretched her kicking leg.

The ball rolled slowly toward Petra and Edelgard could feel herself grinding her teeth.

"Point, right team. That's game," Shamir announced.

Edelgard watched as the opposing team gathered around each other as they slapped each other's hands.

Her own teammates walked slowly around her.

"My apologies, Lady Edelgard," Hubert gave her a formal bow. "If only I had been faster."

"It's no one's fault," she did hate to lose but she reminded herself of her teacher's words in the kitchen. "We all did well."

"Because we lost," Petra furrowed her brow. "Does that mean we are not allowed to be engaging in the slapping of hands?"

"Usually that custom is reserved for the victors," Dorothea answered as she crossed her arms.

"Who made that rule?" Edelgard's words left her mouth without thinking, "I didn't hear Shamir say that."

Dorothea lowered her brow as she thought. Finally she shrugged and threw her hand into the air.

Edelgard let a wide small grow from ear to ear as she threw her own hand up to meet hers.

"Good game, Lady Edelgard," Ferdinand gave her a nod. Usually he would be gloating about his victory over her, but his words seemed more genuine this time, "who wants to do some water dancing?"

"Yeah, I could go for that," Leonie vigorously nodded her head.

Her teacher was right, her classmates desperately wished to keep their minds preoccupied and judging by their laughter and smiles, it was working.