After I finish cleaning out the Black Eagles classroom, I report back to Seteth. Flayn is sitting in a chair by his desk, and greets me excitedly, smiling and waving as I enter.

I give Seteth the standard report on the day's activities, including Cyril's delegation of me to work with Hanneman and Manuela, which he and Flayn both take in with great interest. But I find myself leaving out quite a bit: the issue of my Crest, or lack thereof; Hanneman's offer to teach me magic; and the incident with Edelgard and Hubert. I've met two of the house leaders and as far as I know, Seteth has no idea.

"You had the chance to work with the professors!" Flayn says, her eyes wide with enthusiasm. "How wonderful!"

"Yeah, they're something else, alright," I reply, laughing. "It was a good break from the hard labor I've been doing with Cyril."

"Excellent," Seteth says. "I am certain that Professors Hanneman and Manuela appreciated your assistance."

After a few pleasantries, Seteth dismisses me. I don't make it very far down the hall before the door to his office opens again, and Flayn exits.

"Harrison!" she calls. "Please, wait a moment."

"What's wrong, Flayn?" I ask. "Does Seteth need something?"

She shakes her head. "Close your eyes," she says. "I have a surprise for you."

I'm confused. What could she be surprising me with? But still, it's Flayn, so I humor her and close my eyes. I trust she's not going to do anything ridiculous.

"Open!"

I open my eyes. In one hand, Flayn holds a small parcel, wrapped in paper and twine; in the other, one of the razor blades from Anna's shop, the ones I didn't have enough money for. Flayn bought me a razor, and what I presume to be soap. She actually went back and bought one for me.

A pang of guilt rushes through me. She saw my spat with Anna and felt like she had to take action to make it right.

"Flayn..." I mutter. "You shouldn't have. I don't need this."

"There is very little that any of us truly need, but life would be terribly dull without even the smallest of luxuries," she says.

As I inspect it further, I realize that the razor is one of the nicer ones that Anna tried to upsell me on—"imported from the Kingdom" or whatever. I shake my head.

"You bought this with Seteth's money, though," I reply. "At least, I assume you did. I don't deserve that."

"I ensured that Seteth approved first," she says. "And he did. To use his own words, he would prefer that you shave because it would reflect poorly on the monastery for its workers to look unkempt."

I can't help but laugh in spite of myself. Seteth is nothing if not an eminently practical man.

"I must look pretty unkempt for that to be the reason to sign off on it."

"Ah, I did not mean to suggest such a thing," Flayn says. "I merely thought that you deserve a reward after working hard. You should visit the baths and shave your face nicely because you have earned such comforts. I firmly believe this, Harrison."

I had thought the only reward for working hard was going to be survival. Even learning magic from Hanneman, given the way Hubert perceived my "intellectual acumen", could be more of a liability than a reward, if just another tool that could help me live another day. But Flayn's words have weight. I should bathe with that nice soap and shave my face with this fancy razor and enjoy it. As long as I don't slice my jugular open.

I look into Flayn's green eyes and smile.

"Thanks, Flayn," I reply, taking the razor and pocketing it. "That means a lot."

"It is my pleasure," she says. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Flayn."

I have a quick dinner at the dining hall and head back to my room. Thankfully, there's no Hubert waiting for me, or anything like that. Still, I decide to leave the razor at the foot of the cot. It's an awful thought, but those things are totally capable murder weapons in the right circumstances. This, too, is a tool for survival. Before Hanneman teaches me magic—even if I can cast it—this is the best self-defense weapon I've got.

The next day passes smoothly, as Cyril and I get back to our normal tasks. It's almost comforting to get back to the humdrum of simple labor after the excitement, for lack of a better word, of the past few days.

At lunchtime, we run into Flayn. After greeting us, she looks me up and down, furrows her brow, and folds her arms.

"You have not used your razor," she says, with the chiding tone of a parent or older sibling. "Have you even visited the baths?"

Cyril gives me an odd look, but I ignore him. I shake my head. "To be honest, I don't even know where they are."

Flayn enjoins us to have lunch with her, and she and Cyril spend the rest of the meal instructing me on the procedures for the baths—where they are, what I need to bring, all that. I'm surprised to learn that there are staff baths at a separate place from the facilities for the students, professors, and upper leadership of the clergy and the knights (or any distinguished guests that might be visiting). It does seem a little weird that they lump the students in with everyone else, but I guess it's not any of my business.

Honestly, I might've expected us regular folk to not even be allowed to bathe, given that soap would've been beyond my means for a while yet—I didn't even feel entitled to ask about it. Fódlan, in all its capacities, is masterful at hammering its social hierarchies into your brain. You don't sleep in the same buildings, wear the same clothes, or even use the same coins. And I've learned that the dining hall, too, has private rooms for the most elite to use at their discretion.

It all makes it stand out even more when a few individuals who are above me reach out and extend a hand, like Flayn. First, she bought me the razor, and now this. She's taking my integration into Garreg Mach so seriously. Despite her being no taller than five feet, she's acting the part of a concerned parent, and it makes me feel even smaller and more helpless. Which is true, through no fault of her own.

Actually, am I Flayn's human pet?

I laugh off the thought. Even if I am, I can't help but thank my dear Nabatean owner. Without her, I really would be a mess—or, considering my first encounter with her and Seteth, dead.

After lunch, Cyril and I spend the rest of the afternoon working up a good sweat, but we end up finishing a little early anyway.

"That's all for today?" I ask as we put away our equipment.

"Yep," Cyril replies. "We're gonna be pretty busy for the next few days, though. Gotta get everything ready for the new year's festival."

I internally groan at the thought of being busy. "What does everyone do for New Year's around here?" I ask.

"Oh, it's a lot of fun, actually," he says. "Lady Rhea and the priests do a ritual, but after that, there's a big celebration, with lots of food and music and dancing. The knights even put on jousting tournaments!"

"That does sound like fun," I reply, though I can't help but fear that it's only more of a chance for me to give away my foreignness.

"At least, that's what we did last year," Cyril explains. "This'll only be my second new year at Garreg Mach."

Cyril's dancing around the issue of his own past, and I know he doesn't want to be pushed on it, so I don't say anything. "Well, it's my first, so you still outrank me," I say, cracking a grin. I try to change the subject. "So what do we need to do?"

"To start, we've got to clean up the courtyards, make sure they're all nice and clear for everyone to gather around on, and set up tables and chairs and benches. Then there's all sorts of decorations that need to be put up, and we've got to make sure there's enough lanterns and torches for everyone to celebrate into the night," Cyril says. "That's just the start of it."

That's just the start of it? God, I'm never going to get Hanneman to be able to teach me anything, or get my Crest clusterfuck sorted out, at this rate.

When Cyril's done enumerating our tasks for tomorrow (and when I thoroughly regret asking), he lets me go for the night. We've finished up earlier than usual. Considering our conversation earlier today, I decide that this is a pretty good opportunity to head to the baths. I grab the razor and soap that Flayn bought me, as well as a clean uniform, and head out. The communal bathing facilities for us regular folk are situated over by the staff dormitory and the barracks, as opposed to the far fancier sauna for the higher-ups which is closer to the Officers Academy.

The interior of the staff baths are built of plain, spartan wood paneling, a contrast to the monastery's usual grand, opulent style of architecture. It's sparsely decorated, with simple signs separating the facilities by gender. I head to the men's section, into a thankfully-empty changing room. Along one wall is a long mirror, and along the opposite, rows of shelves like preschool cubby-holes. A table with stacks of towels and rows of small wash-basins sits in one of the corners. I change, grab a towel, and shove my clothes into one of the cubbies.

I carefully recall Flayn's instructions for bathing, not wanting to make a fool of myself—even though no one's around. I use the soap, wash-basin, and towel to clean off my body before entering the next room with the heated bath. Days' worth of caked-on sweat and dirt are lifted off my body, and it feels so satisfying. Even though I know this is a poor imitation of a real hot shower, with a fraction of the cleaning capability, I feel like I've never been cleaner. I curse myself for not asking about it sooner.

The bath is quite large, the size of a small swimming pool. I walk to the edge of the stone deck and experimentally dip my toe into the water. It's warm, so pleasantly warm. I'm surprised at first, but putting it in perspective, it's not that surprising. I mean, the Romans had hot baths and they didn't even have fire magic or whatever. What hits me a lot harder is when I realize that this is the first time in over a week that I have touched hot water. I lower the rest of my foot in, and then the rest of my body, feeling the warmth of the water wash over me.

For just a peaceful moment, I'm not worried about anything.

But just as nature abhors a vacuum, so does my mind. Everything snaps back into painful focus. I'm stuck in a fictional universe, and I don't even know how to get home. I have to hide the truth about myself from damn near everyone I know. And I've met people capable of untold violence who don't even trust me. We're only, what, a week away until 1180 and then it won't be long before Byleth shows up. And then I'm really fucked.

I can feel my breathing pick up and my heart race. I think of all the arteries and veins and capillaries in my body, imagine my heart pumping blood through them. What if the blood running through it all isn't what I think it is? Isn't what it was a week ago? The thought makes that blood—whatever its nature may be—run ice cold, even in the warmth of the bath.

I've stayed too long here, I realize. I leave the bath and dry my body off with the clean towel. Then I get to work lathering up my face with the soap, and break out the razor. I'm not sure how to effectively shave with the damn thing, but I guess the upside of slicing my face off is that it would give Hanneman a nice blood sample.

I manage to accomplish the task with minimal injury, actually. Focusing on how I handle the razor is a very tempting distraction from all the shit that's going on. When I'm done, feeling clean, refreshed, and hopefully better-looking babyfaced, I head back to my room and get some needed rest for the next day.

"We're gonna be pretty busy" was an understatement.

Rather than our usual rounds organizing supplies and cleaning floors, we focus exclusively on preparations for the new years' festival, and it's still a ton of work. We spend most of our time early on cleaning the courtyard—it's amazing what the students and knights leave lying around. And on top of that, there's work to be done on the plants, weeds that need to be picked, and that's before we get to all the other shit Cyril went on about last night.

By midday, I already feel like I've been run ragged. My focus on our work is interrupted by the sound of a group approaching us.

"Hello there," a voice calls out.

I look up from the flowerbed I'm attending to and see who it is. It's Dimitri, and behind him, I quickly realize, are the rest of the Blue Lions: Ingrid, Ashe and Dedue stand dutifully a few steps behind the prince; Felix scowls and folds his arms; Sylvain is flirting with another student who I don't recognize; and Mercedes and Annette take up the rear.

Dimitri looks back at me, and I see recognition in his blue eyes. He smiles and nods. "Well met, Harrison," he says.

I panic a little. I mean, fuck. I made such an impression on Dimitri that he remembers my name? Edelgard, I'd understand; that was a fuck-up of near-fatal proportions. But I continuously fail at my one goal to not stand out and be recognized. The nail that sticks up is hammered down.

"Hi, Dimitri," I reply. From behind, Ingrid glares at me, but she doesn't say anything. I bite my lip. Dimitri asked me to call him that! How can she be mad?

"Do you need any assistance?" Dimitri asks.

Cyril cuts in before I can answer. "Look, we've got it covered," he says. "Just leave us alone."

Dimitri's eyes widen. Was he hurt by that? "My apologies. I do not mean to be a bother," he says. "I simply thought I might volunteer the services of the Blue Lions. You're preparing for the new year's festival, are you not? That must be quite the workload ahead of you."

I look back at Cyril and shrug. I don't think we should be so rude to Dimitri, and honestly, we really could use the help.

"If they want to help, why can't they?" I ask. "He's right. There is a lot to be done."

Cyril shakes his head, evidently displeased at the idea. "Don't you all have class to be going to, anyway?" he asks Dimitri.

"As a matter of fact, we do not," Dimitri explains, shaking his head. "As the incoming class of 1180, our work does not start until after the new year."

"Well, fine. There is a lot of work to do, so, you can help us if ya want," Cyril says. He turns to me. "But it's going to be your job to make sure they get the work done. And I'll have to check it all over to make sure it's up to Lady Rhea's standards. Got it?"

I nod. "I can do that."

Dimitri nods as well. "Very well," he says. He turns around to face his classmates and waves his hand, and any side conversations cease. "Blue Lions," he addresses them, his voice growing in volume. "Our plans for today are changing. We are going to be spending the afternoon helping out these workers—Cyril and Harrison—in preparation for the new years' festival. Let's work together and follow their lead. Understood?"

Most of the Blue Lions seem to get the message. Nods abound, coupled with a chorus of "yes, sir" and "yes, Your Highness." Mercedes and Annette, for their part, smile and wave in my direction.

Felix interrupts, glowering at Dimitri. "I thought we were going to spar. But you'd rather stop and smell the roses, I suppose. That's unlike you, boar prince."

Ingrid recoils at this and wags a finger in his direction. "Do not call His Highness that!"

Felix laughs. "I'll call him whatever I please." His smirk fades from his face, as his copper-colored eyes turn from Cyril, to me, then to Dimitri. "Anyway, this is a complete waste of time. I'll be at the training grounds—hopefully there'll be some knights there who can give me a good spar."

"Felix, is that really necessary?" Dimitri asks.

"I came to this monastery to get stronger, not waste my afternoon playing garden-servant with two fools who can't even do their job," Felix replies. "I'll be off now." With a humph, he turns around and walks away.

"Felix!" Dimitri calls after him, but quickly gives up, shaking his head and sighing.

After a moment of awkward silence, Sylvain steps up and puts one hand behind his neck. "Don't worry, I've got this. I'll go check up on him." He turns to walk in the direction that Felix left.

Dimitri opens his mouth to speak, but Ingrid interjects. "You just want to chat up any lady-knights that might be there," she says. "Don't deny it."

Sylvain stops and turns around, giving Ingrid a quick wink. "Sounds like you're jealous," he says. "I promise I'll bring Felix back. But I can't promise when. See ya!"

Without further ceremony, he turns and heads off towards the training grounds, too, ignoring Ingrid's calls for him to come back and Dimitri's sighs.

"Well, that was certainly something," I reply, my own patience for the antics wearing thin. "Anyone else want to jump ship? Now's the time."

I watch the Lions watch me for a moment. But no one budges or says a word.

Dimitri nods firmly. "Those two and I will exchange words about this later," he says. "But as for the rest of us, we are at your service."

"Alright, Blue Lions," I say, mustering up as much confidence as I can. "Let's get to work."

I quickly take to delegating the students to the tasks that need to be accomplished, making sure to give them detailed instructions to do a job worthy of Cyril's approval—and by proxy, I suppose, Rhea's. I give Dimitri, Ingrid, and Dedue jobs involving heavy lifting and moving things around, while I give Annette, Mercedes, and Ashe more detail-oriented work like decorating. I'm certainly no Byleth, but I might as well play to their strengths. If anyone gives me a problem about it later, I'll just say I had a hunch about what they might be most adept at.

Soon after the work gets started, I make sure to check up on everyone, starting with the former group. Maybe because of that chivalric spirit, they've opted to begin with setting up the dividers for the joust. Dimitri and Dedue set one up while Ingrid struggles with another on her own. I rush to help her.

"Hey, can I give you a hand?" I ask.

"No, I've got this," Ingrid says. She strains to get a grip on the divider, her hands struggling to find purchase on its red and white wooden sides.

I do the reasonable thing and step in, stabilizing it from the other side and helping her walk it back to where it needs to go. Dimitri and Dedue are nearby, just finishing setting their divider in place, as Ingrid gets to work with ours.

"Do you need any assistance?" Dedue asks.

"No thank you," Ingrid replies, the tiniest of edges creeping into her voice.

"Understood," Dedue says.

Dimitri gives me an uncomfortable look for a moment. The tension between Ingrid and Dedue is palpable. "Come on, Dedue," Dimitri says. "Let's go."

Dedue only nods, and the two set off in another direction.

Ingrid only takes a moment to finish securing the divider into place. I give her a look, and contemplate saying something about that interaction. But it's not my place, considering I barely know her, and I can't think of a delicate way to do it, so I just keep my mouth shut. She gives me a firm nod before curtly turning around and leaving to continue her work. No doubt she'll struggle with the next one, too, but given that she didn't even seem that keen on accepting my help, maybe I should just let this one go for the time being.

I head on over to see how the decorating group is handling things. Annette's a little too short to work on hanging things from heights, so she hands Mercedes and Ashe the decorations—mostly colorful flower arrangements and laurel wreaths. I watch them work for a minute, impressed by the smooth flow of it all, when Mercedes turns around and notices me. She smiles and waves.

"Hello, Harrison," she calls out to me. "How does everything look?"

"Great, actually," I reply. "Seems like you guys aren't having much trouble."

"Not at all!" Annette calls back cheerfully.

"We're making good progress," Ashe says. "I must say, this is quite a bit more fun than I was expecting!"

"Well, that's good to hear. I don't know if everyone else feels the same way," I mutter.

"I'm not sure this is what people have in mind when they think of Garreg Mach Monastery," Annette muses. "That might be why some of our classmates aren't, you know, having a great time."

"That may be," Ashe replies, "but His Highness was right—there's more to being a knight than just fighting on the battlefield. And we are from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, after all. It's important that we help out and give back to the Church."

Ashe's words catch me off guard. Of course, there's no ill intent there, but it still doesn't feel like I'm part of the Church. "Yeah, I guess so," I reply awkwardly, not really sure what to say.

He smiles in my direction. "By the way, I don't think we've met," he says. "I'm Ashe."

"Harrison," I reply. "Nice to meet you."

Mercedes laughs. "Look at you, making friends so quickly!" she says. "That's wonderful."

I just sort of half-laugh. I know Mercedes didn't mean any harm by it, but it almost makes me feel like a child.

Right. Human pet and all that.

Rather than hover awkwardly over the group, I let them get back to their work and return to my own, going back to tending to the plants I was working on before all this started.

But it isn't long before my focus is interrupted by the sounds of even more people approaching. As they get closer, I realize they're students, and that there's two groups. Looking towards their leaders confirms my suspicions: the Black Eagles and the Golden Deer have entered the area.

Both groups slow down and stop when they see the Blue Lions hard at work. Edelgard and Claude exchange some words. I can't hear exactly what they're saying, but as expected, they seem to be having some kind of argument. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dimitri get up from his work and head towards them.

All three of them up in each other's business doesn't sound like it'll lead anywhere positive. I'm not actually worried that anything will happen, but maybe they could do with an actual fucking adult to step in and defuse the situation, at least before the impromptu workforce gets distracted. Well, I'm not an actual adult, but I'll do my best anyway.

Dimitri reaches his peers before I get there. Still, I can overhear their conversation.

"Edelgard, Claude," Dimitri says, acknowledging them with a short bow. "Good day."

Edelgard returns the gesture. "Well met, Dimitri," she replies.

Claude gives Dimitri a nod and a smile. "Hey there, Your Highness," he says. "You seem to be hard at work."

Edelgard tilts her head. "What Claude means to say is that we are wondering what the Blue Lions are busying themselves with," Edelgard says.

Dimitri begins to explain. "We are helping some of the servants—" he cuts himself off when he notices me approaching, and nods in my direction. "Ah, there you are, Harrison."

"Hi there," I say, mustering up an awkward smile. My eyes turn from Dimitri, who simply smiles back, to Edelgard. She definitely remembers me from yesterday.

"We meet again," she says, her tone not betraying any emotion about the fact.

"That we do, Lady Edelgard," I reply.

She quirks a brow.

"Oh, excellent," Dimitri cuts in. "You two have already met."

And what a meeting it was—fearing a very slow and painful death at the hands of Hubert von Vestra. Though I can't hold that against Edelgard herself: after all, she was the one who bailed me out of that situation.

Edelgard opens her mouth to reply, but Claude interrupts. "Hey," he says. "Who's the new guy? Did you all have some secret meeting without me?"

"Nothing of the sort," Dimitri replies.

Edelgard folds her arms. "If we were, we certainly wouldn't just tell you."

"Ah, I see," Claude says, his smirk growing. "You know, you're sharper than you look, Princess."

She takes the bait, hook, line, and sinker. "And just how dull do you think I appear?"

Claude laughs. Edelgard glares at him. I take a deep breath—this is the kind of thing I'd hoped to prevent.

"Aren't you guys the house leaders? You should set an example for your classmates by not arguing like this."

Edelgard, Claude, and Dimitri all stare at me wordlessly. I hear a few gasps from the Black Eagles who overheard what I said.

I swallow hard.

"I'm sorry if that was too far," I admit sheepishly.

"No, no," Dimitri cuts in, shaking his head. "You're absolutely right. Petty squabbling ought to be beneath our station."

Edelgard grits her teeth, then nods. "I suppose I agree," she says, the reluctance clear from her voice.

After a moment, Claude's smirk is back on his face. "You've got a point, but I can't deny it's fun to tease Their Highnesses like this every once in a blue moon."

I just nod and exhale deeply, as I look a ways away, over towards Hubert, who is giving me the classic death glare. Guess I'd better get to writing a goddamn will.

"Anyway," Claude continues. "You seem to have a pretty good idea who I am, but no harm in being polite, right? Claude von Riegan at your service, house leader of the Golden Deer and heir to the ruling house of the Alliance. But who's counting?"

"I'm Harrison," I reply. "The new guy."

Claude nods. "Nice to meet you, Harrison. Anyway, we've gone quite a bit off topic. So, I take it the Blue Lions are helping out with your work?"

"That's right," I reply. "We're preparing for the new year's festival. It's a lot of work, so Dimitri graciously volunteered to help us."

"Curious," Edelgard says, putting a gloved hand to her chin. She looks towards Dimitri. "I was going to take the Black Eagles to the training fields. You know, I've read plenty about the exploits of the Knights of Faerghus—I was looking forward to seeing the next generation in action."

"It was our initial plan to do the same, but the 'exploits of Knights of Faerghus' do not merely happen on the battlefield. They are also sure to come to the aid of all who may be in need," Dimitri rebuts. "I'm sure we will meet each other on the training grounds soon enough, Edelgard."

"You two ought to slow your roll, if you ask me," Claude chimes in. "The school year hasn't even started yet. I, for one, was going to take the Golden Deer to a nice quiet corner where we could birdwatch, then sit in a circle and talk about our feelings and get to know each other."

Edelgard frowns, unamused by the joke. "I am unsurprised, yet disappointed."

I glance over my shoulder at the Blue Lions, still hard at work, alongside Cyril. What am I actually accomplishing here? I've got things to do, and there's no use standing around until I colossally fuck everything up again.

"Anyway, Edelgard, Claude, it was nice talking to you, but there's still a lot of work ahead of us. You know, you're welcome to help us if you want," I say, trying to be as polite and friendly as possible. Laying low is a priority, but being as taciturn as Cyril won't win me any friends. Besides, the faster I take care of this, the faster I can try magic with Hanneman. "After all, you'll get some exercise in and get your classmates to work together. And isn't that what you're after, anyway?"

"Hm," Edelgard says, tilting her head. "I suppose it wouldn't be an unproductive use of our time."

Claude sighs. "Such responsible students—you're putting a lot of pressure on me, you know?" He smirks in my direction. "Fine, we'll help out as well."

I can't help but smile. I'm not sure I expected either of them to help out, but I'm glad they are. "Thank you both," I say. "Let's get started."

I figure the best way to do things is to just divide the classes roughly in half, the same way I did to the Blue Lions—one smaller group to focus on the heavy lifting, and another for the detail work, trying to play to everyone's strengths, or at least their preferences.

I start with the Golden Deer. Taking care not to identify anyone by name (and betray my knowledge), I give Claude, Raphael, Hilda and Leonie the job of moving the folding tables into place. Marianne, Lorenz, Lysithea and Ignatz are going to do some more decorating—setting up festive lanterns and making sure they've got enough fuel.

I turn to the Black Eagles next. Looking past Edelgard and Hubert, I notice Bernadetta, shrinking away behind Dorothea. They were going to train, right? How did Edelgard even get poor Bernie to come here? Drag her out? I remember Bernadetta liked working with plants, so I decide to give her the task of tending to the gardens around the courtyard, alongside Dorothea, Ferdinand, and Lindhart. I assign the remaining four, Edelgard, Hubert, Caspar and Petra, the responsibility of moving out all the chairs and benches.

As before, once the students have gotten their tasks underway, I make sure to check up on each group. Team Table is doing solid work, fronted by Raphael and Leonie. I manage to catch Claude glancing in Cyril's direction before he realizes I'm approaching.

"How's everything going over here?" I ask.

"Oh, just fine," Claude replies. "Say, I've got a question for you, if you have a second."

Claude's got a question for me? His whole thing is having all the aces up his sleeve. I'm not sure what he wants, but I'll play along. "What is it?" I ask.

"That kid, Cyril," he says, "he's from Almyra, right? I've heard things, but I haven't gotten around to actually talking to him."

"That's right," I reply. "I hope that's not a problem."

"No, not a problem at all," Claude replies. "But for some people, it is. I've heard Garreg Mach isn't quite as distrustful of foreigners as the Western Church or some of the border Alliance territories, but..." His voice trails off.

I nod slowly, not breaking eye contact with Claude. I consider my response carefully. I don't want to give away the fact that I don't fit in, naturally. But I know we share the belief that Fódlan's xenophobia is a little much—okay, a lot much. Maybe I can signal that to him without giving everything up.

"There are a few bad apples, but we've been trying to avoid them," I say. "Word of advice, your very own Professor Goneril's the worst of the bunch."

The slight smile fades from Claude's face, and he nods. "The warning is appreciated," he says. "Knowing what I know about House Goneril, that's not a huge surprise."

"Hey, that's my family you're talking about," someone calls from nearby. We've both forgotten that Hilda is within earshot. She walks over to where we are, puts her hands on her hips, and pouts. Fuck. I've just insulted her cousin or something, of course. It feels like I'm putting my foot in my mouth every hour on the hour.

"I'm so sorry," I replied. "I didn't mean any offense."

"You've got nothing to apologize for," Claude points out. He turns to his classmate. "Hilda, it's just a fact. The Gonerils occupy the border with Almyra—there's a complicated relationship there."

"Complicated is one way to put it," Hilda replies. She turns to me.

Hilda doesn't know the truth about Claude, naturally. And neither should I. I decide to try steering the topic away from such a thorny issue. "So, Hilda, you're related to Professor Goneril?" I ask.

"We're second cousins, once removed, or something?" Hilda says, putting a hand on her chin. "Third cousins, twice removed? Who knows. I never bothered to remember." She shrugs. "Anyway, they're a side branch of House Goneril. Hmm—there's a word for it—my brother taught it to me, but I can't remember that, either."

"A cadet branch?" I suggest.

"Yeah, that's it," she says. "He's from a cadet branch of our house."

"Interesting that he ended up here of all places," Claude remarks. "I thought most Goneril sons end up leading the defense of the border."

"That's true," Hilda replies. "But the story is that dear old cousin Caius grew up kind of sickly and weak. Even though he had a Crest, he wouldn't have made a great soldier. So one day, he just up and left, trying to find something else to do. We didn't hear back from him until he ended up a professor at the Officers Academy—and everyone was happy enough for him. He'd made something of himself, I guess."

"That's an interesting story," I say.

It's weird, is what it really is. First, him growing up in poor health—I mean, Caius didn't seem particularly fit, but he looked to be in fine condition when I met him. Or maybe that was just the psychological effect of him being so, so much more powerful than I am. But also, him disappearing so suddenly, only to turn up at the Officers Academy? That's a little off. Still, I suppose it squares with the stories of Gilbert and Catherine. People really do just end up here.

Hilda shrugs. "I dunno. I only met him once or twice before—I hardly remembered what he looked like. This is all just what my brother told me," she says.

Raphael and Leonie approach us from behind Claude and Hilda. Leonie speaks up. "What's the matter with you two? Slacking off, huh?"

Claude grins. "Just having a friendly conversation," he replies. "Harrison, this is Leonie and Raphael, if you haven't met them."

They both give a smile and a friendly wave.

"Hey there," I reply. "I'm Harrison."

"Nice to meet you," she says. "But we've got more tables to move."

"Ugh!" Hilda replies, shaking her head. "I wish you hadn't agreed to make us do all this work, Claude!"

"Think about it," Raphael interjects. "The faster we get done here, the faster we can get dinner!"

"That's a good way to think of it, Raphael," Claude replies with his trademark smirk. He gives me a nod. "We'll catch you later, Harrison."

"Alright," I reply. "Let me know if you have any problems."

I go to check on the other half of the Golden Deer. I don't want to push Marianne, who seems to be avoiding making eye contact at all cost, and I'd rather not deal with Lorenz and Lysithea's attitudes. I just check in with Ignatz, who reports that everything's going well with hanging the lanterns. No assistance needed.

Time to check on the Black Eagles. I move over to the group that's working on the flowerbeds. Bernadetta kneels intently over one, and Ferdinand does the same, while Dorothea just watches him, arms folded. Something's going on over there, clearly. Meanwhile, Linhardt is way in the back, leaning against a tree, presumably asleep.

I decide to take things up with Bernadetta first. "Hey there," I call out to her as I approach, trying to keep a gentle tone.

"Wah!" she practically yells as she whirls around to face me. "Wh-what do you want?"

"Relax, relax," I reply, holding up my hands in a placating gesture. "I just want to check in to make sure everything's going alright."

Bernadetta shakes her head, causing her unruly mop of purple hair to look like it's bouncing. "Oh, no, I've screwed everything up, haven't I? You wouldn't be talking to me if I was doing it right!"

"Like I said, I'm just checking to see if you're having any problems," I say. "Everything looks fine to me."

"No, no problems here! Not at all!" she says nervously.

I nod. "Glad to hear it. Trust me, you're doing great," I say. "What's your name?"

"I'm Bernadetta," she says. She turns and looks towards Linhardt, then in the direction of Ferdinand and Dorothea and sighs. "Look, I don't wanna be here. I only left my room because Edelgard wouldn't stop knocking on my door!"

I must smile without thinking about it, because Bernadetta recoils at my reaction.

"Don't laugh at me! You've met her, haven't you? You know she's super scary!"

"I know, I know," I reply. "She scares me too, a little. At least, Hubert definitely does."

Bernadetta shudders. "I don't even want to think about him." she whispers.

I take a deep breath. "Well, I'm sorry to bother you. But you're doing great work. Better than I do, and I work here."

"Uh, um, thank you," she says, finally mustering up a nervous smile. "I guess I just like working with plants. They don't talk, ha ha…"

I bid Bernadetta farewell and turn my attention to Dorothea and Ferdinand, figuring that trying to rouse a napping Linhardt to get to work will be a lost cause.

"How's everything going over here?" I ask as I approach.

Dorothea immediately drops the sulk and smiles in my direction. Before she can reply, though, Ferdinand speaks up. "Hello there," he says. "I believe I have not introduced myself. My name is Ferdinand von Aegir, heir to the Duchy of Aegir—"

"That doesn't answer his question, Ferdie," Dorothea says. "By the way, I'm Dorothea."

"Nice to meet you, Ferdinand, Dorothea. I'm Harrison," I reply. "So how is the work going?"

"Our efforts are proceeding quite smoothly," Ferdinand says. He turns over his shoulder to look at Dorothea. "Though I must admit, I can only accomplish so much on my own. Perhaps you would care to assist me, Dorothea?"

"Oh, don't be silly!" she says. "A proud and proper noble like you certainly has much better aesthetic sensibilities than little old me. Your delicate hands were born for this kind of work—you're doing far better than I would."

Ferdinand frowns. "I never suggested such a thing," he protests.

Dorothea folds her arms again.

"I do not understand why you are acting like this," Ferdinand continues. "It is as if you hate me, even though we have only met but days ago!"

"Ever wondered why that might be?" Dorothea fires back.

"Hang on, hang on," I interject, holding out my palm. "I don't know what the personal issue is between you two, but there's clearly some kind of failure to communicate going on here. So let's just talk it out like adults." I gesture to Ferdinand. "You can get back to the flowers after."

"I'm not sure what the point of this is," Dorothea mutters.

"Very well," Ferdinand says, sighing.

I take a deep breath. "So, Dorothea," I say. "What's going on, from your perspective? What's the reason you aren't working with Ferdinand? Tell us the truth, but don't be mean."

"Well, after you assigned us to work on the flowers, Lin and Bern just went off on their own," Dorothea explains. "Ferdie dragged me along and started going on and on about his grand vision for how it would all fit together: white tulips over here, red carnations over there. He didn't even ask me what I thought. Not that I was surprised. Typical nobleman arrogance—I'm sure you understand."

"Let's not get personal here," I warn her.

"Right, right," Dorothea says dismissively, idly twirling a lock of her dark brown hair.

"Now, Ferdinand," I say, turning to him. "What about you?"

"I was hoping that Dorothea and I might work well together," he says. "When I explained my concept of how the gardens might look, she was reluctant to venture any contribution of her own. That is why I proceeded forward on my own accord!"

Dorothea interjects. "I was only holding back because my 'contribution' wouldn't have mattered to you," she says. "It would've just been a distraction to your big noble brain. And look—you're doing such a great job 'proceeding forward' all by yourself!" She's laying the sarcasm on thick.

"Alright, I think I know what's going on here," I cut in. "You're not communicating with each other, and that goes both ways. Ferdinand hasn't given Dorothea a chance to explain herself. But Dorothea, you haven't given Ferdinand the chance to hear you out, either."

Ferdinand nods sadly. "I suppose you are correct," he says. "Dorothea, I sincerely apologize for not inquiring as to your thoughts on the matter. You may believe otherwise, but in fact, such conduct is surely not noble. I humbly ask for your forgiveness." He places his hand over his chest and bows in Dorothea's direction.

Dorothea giggles, and nods back. "Very well, Ferdie. I accept your apology." Yet she hasn't apologized herself. She and I make eye contact, and she sighs. "And I admit that I made a mistake, too. I should've spoken up with my own idea—and kept you from getting us into a bigger mess."

"I know you two have your disagreements, but you're both classmates. You're both in the Black Eagles. You've got to work together and represent your class," I say.

"That is certainly true," Ferdinand says with a smile. He turns to Dorothea. "At any rate, I did not get all that far with the flowers, so there is still plenty of time to adjust our course. What did you have in mind?"

"I'm glad you finally asked!" Dorothea says, returning his smile.

The two start chatting away about their plans for the gardens—this time, actually talking to each other. I didn't exactly expect to get dragged into that kind of dispute, but all the same, it feels good to work out their problems, then take a deep breath and look back at it all.

There's only one more group to check on. Caspar is hard at work single-handedly lifting big benches and moving them into place. He's doing fine on his own, so I don't feel the need to bother him. Edelgard and Hubert are helping out as well. Though it's probably the most proper to check in with the house leader, especially since Edelgard and I have met now, I find myself all but shuddering at the prospect of dealing with Hubert again. There's no doubt he will never forget, let alone forgive, anything from the other day, or from when I ever-so-briefly told off the house leaders just this afternoon.

Thankfully, Petra is not too far from me, a ways away from the others placing some wooden chairs around the table. I'll go see if she needs any assistance.

"Hey there," I call out to her. "Do you need any help with your work?"

"Hello," Petra says to me after I wave to her. "No, I am not having need of help. But there is a question of which I would like answering."

Petra's idiosyncratic manner of speech is just as endearing to hear in real life as it is through the game. I smile and nod. "Sure. What is it?"

"What is the meaning of these customs and traditions?" she asks. "If you cannot tell by my speaking, I am not of Fódlan. I was birthed—er, born in Brigid. Our traditions are very different. I wish to be learning more about the customs of the people of Fódlan, while I am in study at the monastery."

I sigh. I don't really know what to tell Petra—there's no way I can give her a satisfying answer that isn't wrong.

"Well, it's complicated, and I don't know a whole lot about it all," I reply. "From what I understand, we're going to be celebrating the new year. It's the start of springtime," I explain. There, that's not wrong!

Petra observes me carefully. She nods. "I am having this knowing as well," she says. "But I am wanting to know more."

Fuck. I bite my lip while I think of what to say next. "Like I said, it's pretty complicated. You might be better off asking someone else."

Petra looks around at the courtyard. "I have agreement. The decorations are indeed pretty."

"No, no," I say, and can't help but smile. "When we say something is 'pretty good', or 'pretty bad', or 'pretty complicated', 'pretty' means 'rather' or 'very' or 'quite,'" I explain.

"Thank you for the explaining," Petra replies, giving a short bow. "I have understanding now. May I be asking another question of you?"

"I'm not sure I can help you, but okay," I say. If it's about the new years' festival, I'll have to end this conversation. I can't risk blowing my cover anymore.

She folds her arms and puts a hand on her chin. "Tell me if I am correct," she begins. "You are not born in Fódlan either."

My gut sinks.

What do I tell her? I look around the courtyard, expecting to see an eavesdropping Hubert. But I don't. I sigh again.

"Your name is Petra, right?" I ask.

Edelgard introduced most of the Black Eagles to me when we first got started, but I don't want to risk calling someone by their name when I shouldn't. But if I'm going to trust her, we've got to be on a first-name basis. It's not a strict application of deindividuation theory, but it never hurts to invoke one's individuality when imparting such a serious responsibility.

She nods.

"So, Petra, can I trust you with a bit of a secret?"

She nods again.

"Great," I reply. "The secret is: you're right. But you can't tell anyone. You must know how Fódlan is about foreigners."

"I do not know what you are speaking of. Everyone here has been treating me with much kindness," Petra says.

"That's because you're a princess," I explain. "An honored guest of the Empire. I'm no one important."

Petra furrows her brow. "I have understanding, but how did you know of my royal—royalness?"

Shit. Edelgard did introduce Petra, but she didn't say that she was royalty. "Oh, you know. I'd heard that there was a princess of Brigid in next years' class. When you said you were from Brigid, I assumed it was you."

"That is me, yes," she says. "Where are you from? Your speaking is excellent. It cannot be Brigid, of course. And your name does not sound like the names of Dagda."

"That is something I can't tell you right now," I explain. "Sorry."

"I am seeing," she says. I think she means 'I see', but I don't correct her. "Do not be fearing, Harrison. You can be trusting me. Even though I am a guest of the Empire here, I have understanding of what it is like to be in a place of such difference."

"I'm glad," I reply, glancing over my shoulder. "Well, I hope I could help you out, Petra. You'll need to ask someone else if you want a better understanding of the traditions of Fódlan. Actually, maybe we could, you know, work together on figuring it out. We'd both benefit. Just as long as we keep it quiet."

"That will be an excellent idea," Petra says. "I must be returning to my working now. Good-bye."

"See you later."

Great. Now three people know I'm a foreigner. I really hope I can trust Petra—she's a good kid, and like she said herself, she gets it. Still, in the back of my mind, the possibility that Edelgard or Hubert might pressure her for more information lingers. But Petra's smart, smart enough to figure out that I'm not a local. I'm not sure trying to backpedal and hide would have been a better decision.

The rest of the afternoon proceeds smoothly, as I make a few more rounds ensuring that everything gets done and lending a hand here and there. We manage to make all the preparations that need to be done before the day of the festival, which should free up much of this week for Cyril and I.

"I don't even know what I'm going to do with myself," he says as he surveys our accomplishments.

"Knowing you, I'm sure you'll think of something," I reply.

I know that I'm going to try to fit in some private lessons with Hanneman. That is, if I can clean Manuela's office, as per his stipulations.

As orange begins to creep into the sky and the sun slowly sets, I tell everyone to start wrapping up their work, thank them for their help, and send them off to a well-earned dinner. Three houses shuffle off to the dining hall, chatting with a far more friendly, relaxed air than the stiffness and straight posture they walked in with. Still, I have some more things I need to say. I call out to Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude to hang back.

"Hey, do you all have a minute?" I ask.

The three stop and turn to face me. I smile.

"I wanted to thank you guys for helping out," I say.

Dimitri returns my smile and shakes his head. "Oh, there's no need to thank us. After all, we only did so much of the work ourselves. It's our classmates who deserve the thanks." He gestures to the group of students, now looking like one much larger group—but maybe it's just the growing distance between us.

"Yeah, and I trust you to communicate my thanks to them, too," I reply. "But you three made the choice to take time out of your class's schedule to help us, and that means a lot. There are a lot of people out here who wouldn't do that, you know? Or actively try to make our lives more difficult." Caius Goneril comes to mind.

"It is our pleasure and our privilege to help," Dimitri replies. "I'm just amazed we were able to accomplish so much today."

Edelgard speaks up. "I believe it was due to your leadership," she says, turning her severe violet eyes towards me.

I laugh nervously, trying to downplay it. "Oh, I don't know about that, really. At the end of the day, we really just hung up a bunch of decorations, spruced up some flowerbeds, and set up tables, right?"

"On the contrary, I don't think such a thing is so trivial," she replies. "You were able to organize a group of relative strangers, delegate them responsibilities, and ensure that progress was made in a timely fashion—even resolving issues and disagreements as they arose. Dorothea and Ferdinand have been at each other's throats since they met, but you got them working together." Edelgard gives a slight smile. "As their house leader, I must admit that seems to be no easy task."

She was watching me the whole time, huh? Studying me, observing me. I'm not exactly surprised, after what I did to get on her radar.

Edelgard tosses a stray lock of hair over her shoulder and continues. "One would be surprised at how many supposed leaders, born into positions of authority, lack this kind of capacity entirely."

"Hm," Claude says. "I wonder what our classmates would think of that. Saying that the counts and dukes they have for fathers aren't necessarily all they're cracked up to be."

"I'm not particularly concerned," Edelgard replies.

"Edelgard, Claude, let's put this all aside," Dimitri says. He turns to me. "Though I must say, Harrison, I do agree with Edelgard—you were quite adept in leading us today. In fact, you seem quite a bit better off than how you seemed just a few days ago."

He smiles, so I'm pretty sure that's a compliment, but I'm not certain what he's getting at.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Not to be rude, but when I met you the other day, you seemed—" Dimitri's voice fades as he struggles for the words "—nervous, uncomfortable. One might say, a fish out of water."

"A fish out of water, huh?" Claude asks. He turns his head towards me and gives me a smirk. "Just how did you guys meet, after all?"

My eyes dart from Claude to Edelgard as I consider my response. Fuck. They both know that something's up with me. Edelgard furrows her brow, and I become acutely aware of just how much reason she has to suspect me of ... I don't even know what, given the circumstances of our first meeting.

I open my mouth to respond, though I'm still unsure of what to say. Being a fish out of water at church may be more of a giveaway than I would like—or it might give Edelgard the wrong idea.

Thankfully, Dimitri cuts me off. "At last Praesday's church service," Dimitri explains. "Harrison had already met Annette and Mercedes, apparently. And any friend of theirs ought to be a friend of mine as well."

"Curious," Edelgard says. "A 'fish out of water' at church services."

Dimitri shakes his head. "Ah, I've spoken too much," he says. "Forgive me."

"It's alright," I reply, scrambling to find a way to deflect Edelgard's train of thought. "The service was a little overwhelming to me, that's all. I've never been at a place like this before."

"But—" Edelgard interjects.

I cut her off, trying to muster as much confidence as I can. "If you're just dying to know my life story—well, I can assure you, it's pretty boring. And better told once we've gotten to know each other over a meal, maybe. Or a few drinks, if they even let you kids partake."

"Or even if they don't," Claude jokes.

"I understand," Dimitri says. "It was not my intent to discomfit you. Nor do I believe my peers had such intent either."

"Yeah," Claude says, but his tone seems half-hearted at best.

Edelgard just nods.

"If we're done getting personal for the night, I think your classmates are waiting for you," I say. "Thanks again for your help. Have a good night."

"Goodnight," Dimitri says.

"I shall see you later," Edelgard says.

Claude doesn't anything, and just shoots me a wink. I don't like it.

The three house leaders turn around and head in the direction of the dining hall. When they're out of earshot, I curse under my breath. I'm just a goddamn magnet for trouble. They're all onto me. All of them, except Rhea. I haven't even met her, but I don't think I can fool her.

My days really are numbered, aren't they? Maybe my best shot is to run away. Leave this place, try to find a way home, or worse, hope I can survive the coming war.

I put my hand on my face, and feel the slight stubble that has grown in since I shaved yesterday. I think of Flayn and Seteth. There's a reason I showed up at the Holy Tomb. There has to be. And I remember Hanneman—there's something up with my body. There are mysteries that need solving, questions that need to be answered. The best shot I have at answering them is staying here. It won't be easy, and it will be dangerous, but if I escape to the middle of nowhere, I won't have a chance at figuring anything out.

A/N: As always, I can't thank my beta readers enough. Syntaxis has been AWOL for a little while, so some other friends besides ThreeDollarBratwurst stepped into help: RedXEagle3, Tyrux, and DestructionDragon360, so a big thank you to all of them. For TDB's out of context quote, we have "A reminder that dakooters predicted the Femboy Restaurant meme by over a year."

Come hang out on our Discord server with TDB and Syn and me: discord . gg / A27Ngyj (remove spaces). I can also be found occasionally at the Fanfiction Treehouse server, discord . gg / 9XG3U7a . Hope to see you guys around!

And now, some review responses:

King Gai - Hey, don't be so quick to knock bows! Anyway, I think there's a bit of a way to go before Harrison actually gets to fighting, so be patient!

TheBraveGallade - Flayn is an unexpected contender, but she seems to be gaining traction. I hope to hear your thoughts about shipping (and everything else) as the story progresses!

Caldon -I'm glad you enjoyed how I wrote all the characters! Though I can't say much more about the situation with Harrison's Crest. The idea of planting the lyrics to Edge of Dawn sounds funny but honestly even in a shitpost-y sense I'm not sure what it would accomplish, haha.

Sonikah - That's an interesting theory! We'll have to see what happens!

CaptainSidekick - Thank you for reading and reviewing!

DestructionDragon360 - Hubert is definitely one to watch out for.

RazorBlueAJ - Thank you so much for your review! I'm glad you're enjoying the fic!

Bridd - I don't think that just because racism is a thing in Fodlan means it's not a bad thing, or that Harrison recognizing it makes him a SJW... Fodlan has very real problems in that regard, and that's canonically speaking. What I was trying to get across here is not him accepting it, but learning to pick his battles in this world where he doesn't have much power.

A fan - I can't say any more about whether it's plot-relevant or not at this time, but that's an interesting idea for sure.

Louie Yang - Maybe, maybe not - I can't say. The only way for him to find out would be if he held one.

Ailing Loran - Thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

Hello I am Username - Thank you so much for the detailed review! Your ideas are very interesting but I can't comment much about Harrison's future without giving anything away. But I was especially happy to read

Stormtide Leviathan - Thank you for the review! Hopefully this chapter gave you a little more flavor for our pal Caius Goneril.

EuclidWriter - Thank you so much for the detailed review! I think your notes on the pairing and the potential future for Harrison are very interesting, but I can't say more at the moment! As for the latter point, I mentioned this in our PM exchange, but I figured I would clarify for everyone else: Harrison's basic needs are taken care of by the church. As Seteth mentioned, the cost for room and board is deducted from his pay, leaving him with almost nothing. A lot of people in Fodlan would be lucky to be in a position where they could just get hot meals and a roof over their heads in exchange for labor. Of course, it just highlights the disparities in the screwed-up class system.

V01dSw0rd - That's an interesting theory!

Spiderc - Thank you so much for the review! I'm glad to hear I got the voices of the characters down!

Heavenschoir - Don't worry about EB - I'll get back to it when I'm ready and once TWCT is a little farther along. Thank you for being patient!

thedark2 - I'm sorry to hear that Harrison irritates you. I think part of the appeal of an SI is projecting your own flaws onto the character and challenging them in ways that helps them grow and develop, so I hope that you're on board with that. But I know the fic isn't for everyone and if it really bothers you to read it, that's OK too.

Pat - I'm glad you're still enjoying the fic! I can't make any guarantees for any specific elements Harrison will bring to Fodlan from Earth, but I'll say that the idea is something that really interests me about self-insert fics, so I certainly don't plan to just leave it on the table.

Megatoast - I personally like writing stories that don't take the angle of a hypercompetent main character, especially not at the beginning, and character development isn't going to cross over from the other story. I'm sorry if that comes across as him being a "total weenie" - it's just how I want to write the story. It might not be for everyone.

Raj8 - I'm sorry to hear you didn't like Earthborne, but I'm glad that you're with us now! I can't say anything about the magic at this time, though.

Guest - That's an interesting theory, but I can't confirm or deny it just yet.

Information Broker - Thank you so much for the detailed review! I'm so glad you're enjoying it, especially Cyril! He's a pretty unpopular character so I'm very happy to see I made him work for a lot of people.

raychii521 - I don't think I wrote him to be very calm in that case... Also, I don't think Hubert or Edelgard are psychopaths. If you disagree with them or don't like them, that's totally understandable, but I don't think they're psychopaths.

WhiteVolder - Thank you so much for your review! This is the first time I've gotten a review in a language other than English, which was super cool to see!