Over the next week or so, my life as a janitor at the monastery, working under Cyril, seems to mostly get back to normal. Side-eyed glances and hushed, nervous whispers follow me wherever I go, but that can't be helped. I doubt Goneril's sudden disappearance would go unnoticed by many, and I am the one responsible. No one gives me a hard time personally, though, so I can't complain.

None of the students give me any trouble, either. I knew that wouldn't be the last I heard from Claude or Edelgard, but I haven't seen any of the three house leaders for a while. Did they end up going on the trip to Remire anyway, despite the lack of a third professor? Was Jeritza ever appointed to fill the vacancy? Are we still on track to have Byleth appear? I have no idea, and it's more than a bit terrifying to know that I may have irrevocably altered the path of canon just by doing my best to not die.

I could ask to learn more about what the current status is, but I don't want to look suspicious and overplay my hand so soon after clawing back my freedom. So I wait. One way or another, I'm sure I'll hear about it eventually.

All that aside, I know I really should go pay Hanneman a visit—follow up on the Crest mystery for his benefit, and the magic lessons, for mine—but given that he and Manuela are busy running the Academy with only two actual professors, I don't want to add to his plate. If I haven't altered things too much, they should be back up to three professors soon enough.

With spring now in full bloom—exact dates are hard to keep track of, but we're more than halfway through the Great Tree Moon, otherwise known as April—Cyril and I have a lot of work maintaining the greenery around the monastery. I'm busy trimming the hedges in one of the courtyards when I see her.

She regards me for a moment with piercing blue eyes. Her expression remains flat and neutral, framed by shoulder-length hair the color of the ocean. Her outfit—the light-armor cuirass, the long coat hanging around her shoulders, leggings with an indescribable pattern and the dagger at her hip—somehow looks more put together in real life than it ever could in the game's art. Something about her posture, awkward but not yet aware of that fact, makes it all work.

But just as soon as I'm impressed by the sight of Byleth, I realize—this is what I've been wondering. She's here. And she's talking with Edelgard.

The imperial princess has taken notice of me as well. "Oh, hello, Harrison," she says with a wave. "Do you have a moment?"

"Sure," I reply. "Do you need something?"

Edelgard shakes her head, then turns to Byleth, who has been observing us wordlessly. "Not exactly. I thought perhaps you would like to meet the newest addition to the Officers Academy," she says. "Allow me to introduce Professor Byleth Eisner."

"Hello," Byleth says.

I don't know what it is about actually talking to Byleth—this world's equivalent of the fucking Messiah—but my instinct is to be as self-effacing as possible. Maybe dealing with the lords here and there, going through a near-death experience and so on, has softened up my defenses around them, but Byleth is still all but a stranger to me. Or maybe it's that I know just what Byleth means to Rhea and how a perceived offense could land me right back on the Archbishop's bad list.

Or maybe I'm just worried about what the little green girl in Byleth's head is saying about me. I don't know.

I give a smile and a friendly wave. "Hi, Professor. My name is Harrison. I'm just a servant at the monastery." The two women look at me expectantly. Should I say more? "Um, I'm sorry to be taking your time."

Edelgard smiles. "There's no need to be so modest," she says. "After all, you're the reason Professor Byleth is employed."

I shift uncomfortably. Edelgard, do we really need to be getting into this now?

"What do you mean?" Byleth asks, her expression remaining just as neutral as ever.

I leap on it before Edelgard can say anything. "Your predecessor, Professor Goneril, tried framing me for a crime that he committed," I explain. "Edelgard and Claude helped clear my name, and together we were able to prove that the old professor was guilty."

"I see," Byleth says. "He was the professor for the Golden Deer?"

"That's correct," Edelgard replies. "Though as I understand it, the Archbishop has given you the choice of which house you will lead. You are not obligated to take up his place if you do not wish to do so."

I can't help but chuckle. "It sounds like you want her to teach the Eagles."

Edelgard folds her arms. "To be frank, I would," she says, turning to Byleth. "I believe there is much I could learn from you—your prowess with the sword is one thing, but I am most impressed by your intuitive grasp of battlefield tactics. But you should choose your path for yourself."

"A noble sentiment, but not all of us have that luxury," I mutter.

The princess furrows her brow. "If you are referring to yourself, then—" she realizes Byleth is watching her intently, and her eyes widen. "—nevermind. I understand."

What was that about? Maybe she was going to encourage me to do the same, cut my own path, but realized it's hardly possible given the circumstances. I give Edelgard a sidelong glance, but Byleth's voice commands my attention.

"Thank you, Edelgard," she says. "I must speak with Dimitri and Claude and learn about their houses before I make my decision."

"Naturally," Edelgard replies. "If you have any other questions about the Black Eagles or the Academy, I am more than happy to oblige. It's the least I can do after you saved my life, of course."

Byleth nods and turns to leave.

I give a small wave. "Nice to meet you, Professor," I say. "Best of luck with whatever house you decide on. Don't worry, it won't be hard to outdo Professor Goneril."

"It was nice to meet you too, Harrison."

Her long cape-like jacket flutters behind her as she leaves, and once again, I am alone with Edelgard.

"An interesting woman, don't you think?" Edelgard asks.

"Takes one to know one."

Edelgard smiles. "Well played," she says, then sighs. "I meant what I said. I sincerely hope she elects to teach the Black Eagles."

I shrug. "You heard her. She's not ready to choose yet."

Edelgard presses her lips together, but says nothing in reply.

"You said she saved your life?" I ask. I want to know if the bandit attack—that Edelgard planned, mind you—happened the same as it did in the game.

"She did," Edelgard says. She recounts the story, and it sounds a lot like how it went down canonically. The three lords were on the training mission near Remire Village, under the supervision of Manuela and accompanied by a small contingent of knights. The bandits attacked, the house leaders got separated from the main group, and when some of the baddies chased down our heroes, they stumbled onto Byleth and Jeralt, just as it was originally written. Unlike the unnamed third professor in the game, though, Manuela didn't flee the battlefield altogether: she went to get the knights and returned with reinforcements. Then, Alois and crew helped the students and the pair of mercenaries rout the bandits, and all ended well.

"She had no idea who I was—I had no time to introduce myself—yet she leapt to my defense, risking her own life without a second thought." Edelgard looks off into the distance wistfully, as if reminiscing about a long-cherished memory, even though this happened less than a week ago. "Forgive me. The moment had quite an impact on me." She turns to me and nods. "I don't doubt that you would understand."

"I do," I reply. "I definitely do."

Well, now that Byleth's on the scene, I suppose my last excuses for procrastinating on meeting with Hanneman have evaporated. I may as well get it over with, and be prepared to have some explaining to do if it comes down to it. I head to his office and knock on the door.

"Hey there, Professor," I say when he opens the door.

"Ah, Harrison," he says. Hanneman lets me inside and shuts the door behind me. "I trust you are doing well? I have not seen you since—well, since that incident."

"I'm just happy to be alive and in one piece," I reply. "And I couldn't have done it without your help. So, thanks again."

"Think nothing of it," he says. "Now come, take a seat. We have much to discuss." He sits down at his desk and gestures for me to do the same across from him. I comply.

I mumble a vague assent. As much as I like Hanneman, and as much as I know this is important, I'm not looking forward to being grilled once more on my blood and my origins.

"It was indeed fortunate that the results of testing your blood were able to exonerate you." Hanneman leans back in his chair and puts a hand on his chin. "But I'm afraid it leaves us with more questions than answers."

I nod slowly. "So you're pretty convinced at this point that it's a real result, not some kind of error."

"Given the pattern of results, it seems to be a legitimate result to me," he says. "As for what it could mean, I have been unable to develop a working hypothesis as yet. I understand you are a foreigner—perhaps that is related, but I do not know."

I realize he's expecting me to say something. "Do you have any points of comparison? I've met a few non- Fódlan natives during my time here."

"There are some, but not many: Dame Shamir, of Dagda; Cyril, of Almyra; Princess Petra of Brigid; and one of my students, Dedue, who is from Duscur." He counts them off on his fingers.

"And their blood—"

"Does not give this result, no," Hanneman says. "As a rule, the response observed on the Crest Analyzer is dampened compared to that of Fódlan natives without a Crest."

I fold my arms. "So could this just be a case of that?" I ask. "A difference of degree, not kind."

"Perhaps," he replies. "I suspect I will need to analyze your blood further in order to do so."

"Well, hey. Go right ahead," I reply.

"Unfortunately, Manuela seems to have misplaced the sample we took last, so we will need her to draw another vial," Hanneman continues. He shakes his head. "That woman… I suppose I ought to make it two so this doesn't happen again."

I silently thank God—or should I be thanking Sothis, who's to say?—that he doesn't seem to want to bring up my origins now.

"I can head over to the infirmary and have her take another sample," I reply. I'm sure it's fine to do this more often if you've got vulneraries to get you back to 100%, right?

"That would be appreciated. But before you go off and do that—if you have some time, would you like to progress further in your study of magic?"

I can't help but smile. "I thought you'd never ask."

After some warm-up of just creating the magic circle, Hanneman pulls a maroon tome from the shelf and hands it to me. Fire.

"Now then—"

"Wait, Professor," I cut in, "shouldn't we do this outside? So I don't burn down your office?"

"If one is careful, that should not be a problem," he says. He turns to look at me for a moment and presses his lips together, then nods. "But if you insist…"

We head outside to the training grounds and get to work. We start by going through Fire, the tome. It's something of a cross between a user manual and a comprehensive textbook filled with data. There's guides to the glyphs that must be used—there's always one that's necessary to make Fire fire, while the others determine the physical shape and trajectory the spell takes and the intensity and power with which it is launched. More elaborate variations on these, not appearing in this book, are used for higher-level spells, like Bolganone or Ragnarok. So far, this much is review from the introductory text Hanneman lended me.

But, he explains, the devil is in the details—the magic script that appears on the sides of the circle, which specifies in very concrete terms things like angles, distance, velocity, and so much more. "With enough specification, one can precisely coordinate very complex movements in short order," Hanneman says. "Observe."

He turns to the targets, holding out a perfectly still hand. He conjures the magic circle, and it quickly populates with the appropriate symbols and a dense network of script-instructions around the arcs. They're different from Fire, I notice, just as the circle dissipates. A host of glowing arrows—incandescent golden rectangles—fly out in a cone, at least a dozen of them. This is Sagittae. As they hurtle towards the targets, they bend and reorient so that each finds its mark—about half land in the target directly in front of Hanneman, with the remainder split between the two targets flanking him.

It dawns on me that the movements of all of those projectiles were encoded in that circle—that Hanneman used that writing on the outside to direct them all. So this is why black magic is tied to Reason: you've got to analyze the demands of the situation, devise the appropriate blueprints, so to speak, for that spell, and execute it.

Challenge accepted.

I set to work practicing the simplest incarnations of Fire: a simple flare coming right out of the circle. There isn't much room for elaboration here, so I just need to focus on the big symbols. It's sheer willpower and focus that concentrates the magic enough to cast the spell, but the connection between the hand and the mind means that hand movements help make all the shapes you need to keep in mind crystal-clear and deliberate—at the cost of time, of course.

I breathe deeply and steel myself. I concentrate on the image of the characters I need to consider—just three glyphs: one for Fire, one for a point-blank burst, and one that keeps me on low power. My chest tightens as I start to focus on pulling up the circle, but I maintain my posture and my form. The circle appears, and I hold steady. This is just as we've practiced—we're only pushing it a bit further now. Move your hands to form those symbols—really feel your motor cortex doing the work, dig that mental groove as deep as you can—

And we have fire. Fire is spilling out of my hands like I'm motherfucking Zuko over here. Well, that's not a fair comparison—the flame is small, only stretching a few feet in front of me and not at all wide in diameter, and it billows and flickers inconsistently. And somehow I'm surprised that fire is hot—my hands aren't burning, actually, but I can feel the heat radiating off of the flame I'm producing. Every instinct in me is crying out to move and run away from the red burny thing. But I trust Hanneman, and I have to believe in what I'm doing. I have to hold steady, as steady as I can.

The fire continues for only a few moments before extinguishing with little more fanfare than a smolder.

"Congratulations on casting your first spell, Harrison," Hanneman says. "Now, again. Focus on maintaining the flame longer. Keep your magical input, your concentration, steady and smooth. You can do it."

I do as he says, practicing casting Fire—this version of Fire, anyway—a few more times. Each time, I get a little better: a little faster, a little more sure of myself. My shock at actually being able to produce the flame gets less with each attempt, and the flame burns longer, brighter and steadier, a testament to my improvement.

As I'm preparing for my fifth attempt or so, I hear someone call out to me.

"Woah, Harrison!" the voice says. "Professor Hanneman's teaching you magic?!"

Annette almost skips her way across the grounds to meet us.

"Hey there, Annette," I reply. "And, yeah. He is." I chuckle at the thought—I can do magic!

She gives a gesture that I can only describe as a double-fist pump. "That's great!" she cheers. "Show me what you got!"

I do as she asks, and conjure and maintain a solid, steady flame. I'm pleased with the consistency, but I can feel the repeated casting starting to physically wear me out, too.

Annette grins and claps her hands. "That's not bad for your first day!"

"Thanks," I reply, returning her smile.

"They started us with Fire at the Royal School, too," she says. "Even though I bounced right off it as soon as they let me try out Wind."

"Fire has been the standard first spell for novice mages since at least the fourth century," Hanneman replies. "The tradition predates the Kingdom, and not for no reason. Fire is easier to control than Blizzard or Thunder, yet is clearly visible even at low power, unlike a mild use of Wind. There is considerable pedagogical value in that combination."

"I see," Annette replies. "Thanks for the explanation, Professor." She turns to me. "Have you thought about what kind of magic you want to focus on? Which element do you want to specialize in?"

"I'm just following Professor Hanneman's lead right now," I reply. "Uh, do I need to pick an element now or something?"

The truth is, I hadn't thought about it! The game almost made it look like those spell lists were innate, not chosen.

"Well, you don't have to right away," Annette says. "But it helps, because it's a lot easier when you get comfortable with one type of spell and get familiar with its parameters."

"What made you choose wind?" I ask.

"Because it's the most accurate," she replies. "I don't ever want to miss. And by practicing with it all the time, I really don't."

"Really?"

She nods. "Watch and learn, Harrison!"

In no time flat, Annette pulls up a magic circle and aims it at the targets, then releases a blast of wind. I can feel the gust blow around my shirt and my hair as it passes by. When it hits the target, the thing is sliced clean into two.

"Not bad for my first day" seems pretty bad now, I realize. I didn't feel too bad after seeing Hanneman in action, given that the man has decades of experience under his belt, but I can't help but feel a little jealous of Annette. I know it's not all talent—the girl works hard for it, and she's coming in with some of the best education on the continent. But all that aside, seeing a powerful, fluid display of magic, seeing how she makes it look so easy, when she's sixteen and barely five foot even—it reminds me just how far I have to go to be anything other than a defenseless liability.

She turns around and makes a show of dusting off her hands, then puts them on her hips. "I'm getting the hang of Cutting Gale, I think," she says. "Next stop, Excalibur!"

Hanneman chuckles. "Ah, that enthusiasm of yours is infectious, dear Annette," he says. "But no, Harrison. You need not choose immediately. There is much to be learned even in studying things outside one's area of specialization."

I furrow my brow. "Do you need to specialize?" I ask. "I mean, I'd imagine having multiple elements at your disposal puts you in a better spot than others, right?"

"Not necessarily," Hanneman replies. "The question becomes how proficient one is with each element. It is a sizable commitment of time and effort to study and practice enough to command one element at an advanced level, let alone more. That is why most mages tend to limit their study to no more than two."

"Most mages, huh?" I ask.

"Well, quite a few will pick up odd spells such as Sagittae, which I demonstrated for you earlier," Hanneman says. "But generally, that is the case. I confess, I haven't even begun a detailed study of high-level fire magic, though I've been meaning to for years."

"Ooh! Sagittae!" Annette says. "I want to learn that after I master Cutting Gale."

I fold my arms. Maybe I have commitment issues, but I don't like deciding on something like this. I like having my options open—versatility is the name of the game. And Hanneman doesn't know it, but he's talking to someone who took on two unconnected majors for no good reason other than I wanted to learn about it all. And more, honestly, but there's only so many hours in a day and so much gas in the brain-tank.

"Again, there is no need to think too much on it now," Hanneman says. "That was a successful first day of casting spells. No doubt your stamina has been sapped by that practice, but you will build endurance with time. You ought to rest and look over Fire."

"Got it," I reply. I bid him and Annette farewell.

Through the week, I've been practicing Fire after I finish my work for the day, alternating between studying the theory in the library and applying it out by the training fields. Improvement doesn't come quickly, but it is visible. I can practice for longer before tiring out, and my casting is quicker, more reliable, and can be maintained for a greater duration.

The books say that all people are born with varying levels of raw magical potential. Some are just naturally gifted conduits for this kind of power, able to more efficiently channel it. With more magical horsepower, your spells hit harder and are less taxing. Based on what the book is saying, I don't think this applies to me in the least—I'm not Annette or Lysithea. Even so, you can work yours out to become stronger, and skill and knowledge play a huge role in the effective deployment of magic in the field. So even if I'm only rocking average hardware, my only hope is that my technique and study make up for it.

One morning, I'm cleaning the training fields before classes start for the day. Byleth and Claude walk in, as Claude evidently talks the professor's ear off. Byleth turns to me and acknowledges me with a nod.

"Hello," Byleth says. "Harrison, was it?"

I'm taken aback that she remembers my name. "Hi, Professor," I reply. "That's right."

Claude, who didn't even seem to notice me before, also looks surprised. "You and Teach have already met?"

"Edelgard introduced us," Byleth says simply.

"That Princess," Claude says, chuckling to himself. "Always causing trouble, huh?"

Well, that might be more true than he knows, but it's also a teensy bit of projection. "Sometimes trouble is good," I say. "Your brand of trouble, well, got me out of trouble."

Byleth nods. "That's right," she says. "Edelgard said you had helped Harrison when he was falsely accused by my predecessor." She looks at him, and if I know that gaze, it's practically begging him to say more.

Claude doesn't say anything for a second. Maybe he's not ready to spill to the new teacher how he broke into the last teacher's office looking for suspicious items. "It's no big deal," he says. "I just did what I could."

"And what did you do?" Byleth asks. "What is your brand of trouble?"

Claude's eyes flit between me and Byleth. She's really putting him on the spot here. He was able to get out of serious scrutiny in the courtroom—perhaps because any wrongs he committed paled in comparison to those from Professor Goneril—but for whatever reason, Byleth isn't going to let him off the hook.

But honestly, I think it's a little more strange that Byleth apparently hasn't been told damn near anything about the events leading up to her hiring. "Has no one told you about what happened?"

She shakes her head. "I have only heard rumors," she says. "Seteth, the Archbishop… they hardly spoke of it."

"Not even Edelgard?" I ask. I was with them both when the topic came up, but I would have expected the princess to drive the subject home to bring Byleth over to her side.

"She said she wanted to focus on the future, not dwell on the details of the past." Byleth looks to Claude, and then me. "But I want to understand."

Claude folds his arms. "If you don't mind me saying so, Teach, I wouldn't have expected you to take such an interest in Harrison and that trial and all."

Is he just being defensive? Evasive, maybe—trying not to answer the question. But he's also insinuating that I'm not worth Byleth's time. If that is what he means, well, it's not like he's wrong, but I would have expected something a bit nicer from Claude.

"I want to understand what happened—to understand who I am replacing and why I am here."

Claude grins and shakes his head. "Why are any of us here?"

He's clearly not going to give Byleth what she's looking for, so I step in and summarize the events myself. I decide to try to strike as neutral a tone as possible. I don't know if Byleth has picked the Golden Deer based on this encounter or not. And the stillness of her expression gives me no read on how she feels about Rhea or the Church. To avoid getting on anyone's shitlist, or telling Byleth something that could come back to hurt me, I keep things focused on the facts, and hold back on giving any of my own opinion.

For his part, Claude watches me intently as I deliver the explanation, giving an approving nod when I carefully dance around explaining exactly how he came to my aid. I repeat the story he used in the tribunal about where and how he found the vials that ultimately proved my innocence.

When I'm finished, Byleth nods. "Thank you. That was very helpful," she says.

"No problem, Professor," I reply.

She pauses for a moment before speaking. "I am sorry for taking your time—you should get back to your work."

"No need to apologize," I say. Wasn't I the one apologizing for taking her time the other day? "Let me know if you need anything else."

Byleth goes back to inspecting the training equipment while I keep cleaning. Claude keeps giving me a strange look, and when Byleth's all the way on the opposite side of the field, he comes over to me.

"That's quite the bold move there," he says.

I sigh. "What is?" I ask. Honestly, Edelgard is easier to deal with—she says what she wants!

"You know, being so up-front with your story after the Church already arrested you once," he says. "You heard what Teach said, right? She didn't hear a lot from Rhea or Seteth. They're covering it up."

"Maybe," I reply. "Or maybe they don't care about it anymore now that he's gone and they have a replacement."

Claude puts a hand to his chin. "Either way, it's still quite the risky play, if I do say so myself," he says.

"Look, Claude," I begin. "I tried to keep my head down and keep my mouth shut. First of all, it doesn't really work, and second, the only reason I survived is because I had allies—including you."

"So you're trying to win people over with your honest and straightforward nature, is that it?"

Why is he being so difficult? I fold my arms. "When you put it like that, it sounds bad. But I'm just trying to make a good impression, and trying to make friends and allies I can rely on."

"I see," Claude says. "Well, best of luck to you with that. But be careful, alright? A lot of things worked well for us last time, but watch out. In the future, you might not be so fortunate."

He walks off, leaving me to ponder that interaction. I know Claude is the "avatar of distrust" and all, but does he not understand the idea of making friends? It's not just about having people owe you favors. I meant what I said, it's about making a good impression, having people care about you. Hanneman and Manuela cared about me ever so slightly, so when push came to shove they were willing to help. It's not that complicated! And that bit at the end, about the future? Is he saying he won't help me if I get into a bad situation again? I feel like Edelgard would, but that's neither here nor there.

Maybe Claude's right. Maybe I shouldn't be "interfering with the Officers Academy" like Rhea warned me not to. Having allies is all well and good, but maybe a foreign heathen, formerly-suspected of conspiracy against the Church, talking to Rhea's precious baby Byleth is a bit too much. Her goodwill can only be stretched so far. But then, if the likes of Rhea and Catherine will never take my side, maybe Byleth is someone I need to be friendly with. At the end of the day, though, she deserves to know what happened to Goneril—what happened to me. And even without any editorializing on my part, I think—I hope—Byleth is smart enough to realize that this Church is hardly perfect, and that she might consider that in the future.

I realize I never actually learned if Byleth is teaching the Golden Deer or not. Them being together, I assume they were. Thoughts of the implications for the future start racing through my head, and I try to silence them as quickly as possible. After all, I don't have it confirmed. There's no point fretting about it until I know for sure.

Right?

Later on in the week, one day after my work I head to the library to read over the finer points of hurling a fireball at a target. My goal is to figure out something, anything, other than ejecting a flame directly from my hands—you know, actual battle-useful magic. I've found I like this secluded spot on the second floor, so I go upstairs to get a quiet place to work.

Dorothea's over at the table, looking over a book herself. She regards me with a smile and waves me over. If it was any of the other students, I might still consider turning around and finding another place to work. I'm not supposed to interfere with their studies, after all. But it's Dorothea—I've been more open with her in the short time I've known her than a lot of other people. So I take a seat across from her, a bit farther down the table, and crack open Fire.

Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes into this study session, I hear Dorothea mutter something.

"What was that?" I ask.

She leans back and shakes her head. "I just don't get it," she says. She fidgets with a bracelet around her wrist—a silver chain of an intricate weave. I don't think I noticed it the other day, but then, my mind was elsewhere at the moment. "I'm having trouble with this spell."

She closes the book and stands it upright, showing me the cover. Thunder.

"Oh," I reply. "Well, have you tried asking the professors?"

Dorothea sighs. "I was going to go after class, but they've been pretty busy getting the new professor up to speed," she says. "And before you say anything, I asked the other Eagles, too. Lin said he'd help me study, but I think I got stood up for a nap."

"That's rough," I say. I close Fire and stand it up so she can see the cover. "Look, I'm barely getting to grips with Fire, so—I don't know if I could help you, but maybe it just helps to talk through the problem out loud with something?"

"Ah," Dorothea says. "I thought Edie had mentioned you studying with Professor Hanneman."

"That's right," I reply.

She nods and takes a deep breath. "So, I started learning Thunder a few weeks ago, and I thought I had it down. But lately, when I've been casting it, I end up shocking myself, too. And it gets worse and worse the more I try to practice. I figured it might be time to crack open the book and see if there's anything about my problem in there, but I can't find anything."

I furrow my brow. "You're sure you're replicating the spell exactly as written?"

"That was the first thing I checked," she says. She opens the book and shows me. "This should just be a simple, quick Thunder about ten feet in front of me. Nothing fancy at all."

"I know it might be painful to show it to me," I say, "but I kind of want to see you do it. Not that I want to see you get zapped! But I might, I don't know, observe something by watching you."

Dorothea smirks. "It certainly wouldn't be the first time I've put myself in an unpleasant situation for a man's benefit."

I chuckle and shake my head. "Dorothea, I'm trying to help you."

"I know, Harrie, I know," she says.

Neither of us say anything for a moment. Dorothea looks torn as she seems to deliberate over whether she actually wants my help.

"Alright. If you think you can learn something by watching me, then let's give it a go," she says. "But we're not going to the training grounds—it's much too embarrassing to do this in front of anyone else."

We go outside so Dorothea can physically demonstrate the problem she's having. I open Thunder to the same page she was on before and get ready to watch.

"Stand back," she warns. She straightens her posture, setting her shoulders back. Then she holds out her hands and pulls up the magic circle—the glyphs are the same as written in the tome—and casts the spell. A blindingly bright bolt of blue-white energy jumps down from the sky, crashes into the ground ahead of us and kicks up a cloud of dust. Some stray strands of electricity arc towards Dorothea. She flinches, and I can just barely make out the curse she mutters under her breath before the sound of the thunderclap follows, with the pungent smell of ozone coming just moments later.

"Dorothea! Are you all right?"

She takes a breath and steadies herself, then adjusts her hat. "I'll be fine, Harrie," she says. "Well, there you have it. The Mystical Songstress herself can't even cast a spell."

I look at her right in the eyes and shake my head. "If I can cast a spell, you can, too."

"I like the enthusiasm," Dorothea replies. The corners of her lips quirk in an amused half-smirk.

It's time to get down to brass tacks. "So, let me see if I've got this right," I begin. "Based on what I saw, the glyphs and the script were the exact same as in the example the tome gives."

"Yes indeed," she says.

"Is there a specific part of your body that you think the lightning is attracted to?"

Dorothea raises an eyebrow and I slap my forehead.

"Come on, I'm being serious!"

She folds her arms. "If I had to say, it would be my hands—but I'm waving those around to cast the spell, anyway. You don't have to be Professor Hanneman to figure out that this—" she gives me overexaggerated jazz hands "—has something to do with the problem."

After a moment of thought, it hits me. "Your bracelet. When did you get that?"

Dorothea snaps her fingers. "Already thought of it, Harrie."

I furrow my brow. "What do you mean?" How? Does she know that metal conducts electricity?

"All the books on thunder magic describe how it's attracted to metal," she explains. "So I already tried taking it off, but that wasn't the problem. And I'm a little glad that's the case. I like it."

Fair enough. I guess a thousand-odd years of magical experimentation would get them to some of the same empirical discoveries, even if they don't have the same language to describe it. So then the bracelet is not just a pretty silver lightning rod - and that rules out her earrings and the gold braid of her uniform as well.

Dorothea sighs. "I guess I'm just wasting my time, huh? I'm no match for the kids who were casting magic before they could run. If you want to learn magic, you've got to be born a prodigy like Lin or Lysithea, or go to that fancy sorcery school or—"

"Dorothea!" I'm taken aback by how my voice raises without meaning to. "Look, I didn't mean to yell, but—you're nervous. You're off your game and now you're spiralling. I know. I do it too." I point to my chest to emphasize the point. "When Edelgard visited me in that cell, I looked her in the eye and told her she was wasting her time because I was a dead man. She told me I was wrong, and I was. So I'm telling you that you're wrong.

"Last week, when I was having a rough go of it by the fountain, when you stayed with me—I told myself I'd redouble my efforts. I'd become stronger, learn more, get good at magic, so if people want to push me around like that, I can push back. You should too. You're right, we are behind compared to the noble kids, but we just need to work harder and work smarter, okay? This is just an obstacle. A problem to solve. So let's put our heads together and solve it."

Dorothea looks at the ground for a moment and takes a deep breath before looking back at me. She musters up a smile. "Have you ever considered a career in the theatre, Harrie? That was quite the dramatic improvised monologue. Very impressive."

I can't help but laugh, though I feel a blush rising to my cheeks. "There was a time when I was in a stage crew," I reply. I definitely can't explain being the sound tech guy for my tiny high school's attempts at putting on musicals to her, much as I might like to. "When you hang out with actors, even for a little, you get roped into their improv games. And you pick up a thing or two."

Dorothea laughs. "Alright. So if it's not my bracelet, then what else could it be?"

I rub my temples, trying to wrack my brain. "What else conducts electricity…" I mutter to myself without even thinking.

Dorothea tilts her head. "'Conducts?' Like an orchestra? What are you talking about, Harrie?"

I bite my lip, not saying anything for a moment. I want to explain what I mean—I really, really do—but I'm hesitant about playing my hand. On second thought, fuck it—it's basically going to become public knowledge that I'm a foreigner, so I can chalk this up to some of my weird Morfis knowledge, right?

"So, think of it this way," I explain. "Metal lets the lightning move through it. You know how if we're talking, out in the open here, we can hear each other, no problem? The sound is moving through the air just fine. But if you put on heavy wool earmuffs—" I swear to God earmuffs better exist in Fódlan "—the noise will be dampened. So the noise moves easier through the air than the wool—like the lightning moves easier through metal than, well, pretty much anything else. Does any of that make sense?"

Dorothea blinks. "I … think so?" She says. "So is metal the only thing that conducts… electrickery, or whatever it was you said?"

"Electricity. And the other thing I can think of is water, I guess." Technically, water's only a good conductor if you've got minerals dissolved in it, but it's not like we're dealing with distilled water on the regular in Fódlan, is it?

Dorothea snaps her fingers. "Oh, that makes sense!" she says. "The tome says thunder magic is more effective in wet conditions."

I nod. "That checks out to me."

"But it's clear as day out here, right?" Dorothea says. I notice she's fidgeting with her hands, rubbing them together—

Then it hits me. "That's it!" I say and snap my fingers. "It's sweat!"

"Harrie, everybody knows beautiful ladies don't sweat," Dorothea says in a deadpan tone.

I barely acknowledge the joke before continuing. "You're nervous—even more nervous now because you're afraid of messing up and hurting yourself. So of-fucking-course you're going to sweat. That's what's bringing the thunder to your hands," I explain. "Just wipe off your hands, try to relax, and give it another try. Do it for me?"

Dorothea looks me up and down, then furrows her brow. "Wait, Harrie. I don't think this is it."

"Huh?" The blush I felt rising earlier breaks out in force now. Was I making a fool of myself? Did I overlook something obvious?

"Soldiers sweat all the time in combat," she says. "Right? They still manage to cast thunder spells just fine. It wouldn't make sense for a little sweat on my hands to be causing this problem. I might be nervous, but I'm hardly exerting myself like an actual fighter."

Oh. She's completely right. I shake my head and sigh, trying to steady my breathing. "You've got a point," I admit. A damn good one. "But we must be getting closer." I didn't give that ridiculous speech for nothing!

"We must?"

I nod. "I've just got a feeling," I reply. "Think, Dorothea. Your hands. Besides the bracelet, the sweat… anything, I don't know, happen to your hands lately?"

She puts a hand to her chin. "Well, last week I bought a new lotion from a traveling merchant, and I've been trying it out, but—"

"A lotion you use on your hands?" I ask.

Dorothea nods. Getting warmer!

I continue. "And what's so special about it? How did the merchant sell you on it?"

"It's made with sea salt from Brigid," she replies. "Supposed to work wonders on softening your skin, you know. Natural minerals and all that."

I can't help but laugh. Ladies and gentlemen, we've got it.

She folds her arms. "What are you laughing about?" she asks. "Don't try to tell me this is some snake-oil treatment. I mean, have you seen Petra? You can't argue with those results. That's what Brigid sea salt does for a girl."

"Whether 'Brigid sea salt' works or not, I don't know," I say. I'll wait for the double-blind, peer-reviewed study. "But I do know that all those minerals, all that salt, in a solution? That's what conducts electricity."

"I thought you said it was water and metal."

I take a breath. There's no way I can explain ions and all that crap to her now. "Water usually isn't just water. Even fresh water has some of those minerals in it—it's those minerals that are doing the work." If there isn't enough water in the lotion as compared to oil or whatever else is in it, then maybe this is a bust. But what other possibilities are there?

Dorothea sighs. "I could try washing it off. But I'm only doing this for you," she says. "I'll be right back."

She leaves, presumably finding somewhere to wash her hands. Several minutes later she returns, wiping down her hands with a kerchief, which she stores in her pocket.

We acknowledge each other wordlessly, with only a nod. Dorothea takes a deep breath and steadies herself once more. She holds out her hands and pulls up the magic circle. I ball my hands into white-knuckle fists as I watch in desperate anticipation. I want her to succeed, dammit!

The thunderbolt crashes down and—nothing arcs towards Dorothea. Nothing at all. She doesn't pull back or cry out in pain—it's a perfect cast of Thunder.

"All right!" I cheer as I pump my fist. "You got it!"

The look of relief that washes over Dorothea's face, as it fades to a satisfied, proud smile, is something I'll treasure forever. Her laugh is almost musical.

"You were right, Harrie," she says. "I could do it."

"I never had any doubt," I reply.

"If rough hands are the price to pay for pulling it off, then I suppose there's nothing to be done."

"Just leave the Brigid sea salt for your face."

She laughs.

As we're walking back to the monastery buildings, Dorothea turns to me. "Now, where did you learn all that stuff about electricity anyway, Harrie?"

I knew this was coming. Still, it's not easy to say. "Well, you probably know by now I'm not just any commoner—I'm not from Fódlan."

Dorothea purses her lips. "So you picked that up from your travels in exotic foreign lands, huh? I get the feeling you're not going to say more." She chuckles. "Let me be honest, Harrie—you're a little short to be playing 'tall, dark, and mysterious.'"

I fold my arms as I notice that we're just about the same height. Maybe I am short by her concept of the word, then. "I'm not trying to be tall, dark, or mysterious. It's just… it's a complicated situation, alright? And considering I almost got killed not too long ago, it's kind of on a need-to-know basis."

She nods. "I can tell not to pry. But if you've got more tips about how to use my magic, well, I don't care where you got them or how, as long as they work like that one did."

"No guarantees," I reply. "This time, I just got lucky that it was something I happened to know a thing or two about."

"Lucky? I don't know," Dorothea says. "You're a smart guy, Harrie. With the way you were coaching me back there—well, if they hadn't snapped up Professor Byleth, you might be the one for the job!"

We share a laugh over the thought.

"That reminds me," I begin. "I've been meaning to ask someone. Did Professor Byleth end up choosing a house?"

"The Golden Deer," Dorothea replies. "Edie was acting like she took it in stride, but I think she was a little disappointed."

Not surprising at all that Edelgard would feel that way. "Were you?"

"Not exactly," she says. "I mean, she seems like an interesting woman, with an even more interesting fashion sense. But I don't mind Manuela staying as our professor."

"I get that," I reply. "Do you interact with Professor Byleth at all, or is it just Manuela all day? I don't actually know how the Academy works."

"The professor assigned to each house spends the most time with them," Dorothea explains. "We do most of the training and lectures with them, but each house does spend some time with each professor. Professor Hanneman gives deep dives into magical theory, Manuela teaches field medicine and healing magic, and Professor Byleth… well, she just took us to the training fields for the whole class period last time. That was something."

"Wasting no time at all, huh?" I ask. "That's a no-nonsense mercenary for you."

Dorothea nods. "You said it," she says. "Anyway, Harrie—thanks for everything. Really. Those noble brats in the Deer and the Lions better watch out at the mock battle, because the Mystical Songstress is going to give the most shocking performance of her career!"

It's only after I head back to my room that the gravity of what I have learned from Dorothea hits me: Byleth has chosen the Golden Deer. My earlier assumption was correct. On paper, it's not a bad outcome, is it? The Agarthans are dealt with once and for all, and Claude and Byleth resolve to make the new Fódlan a more open one—better for people like me, anyway. But it makes me feel nauseous to consider what it really means—it's not just abstract ending cards we're dealing with. These are lives, and if everything goes down on the path that's been laid out, people I've met and even care about are going to die.

If Byleth doesn't recruit Dorothea or Annette, they're probably going to die. Mercedes, Petra—they were kind to me too, and they're probably going to die. If I'm remembering right, I think Hanneman or Manuela only get that treatment on screen in Azure Moon, but who knows what this new real world has in store that the game's version left out. None of them deserve it. None of them deserve to lose their lives because of Byleth's choice here and now.

And then there's Edelgard. Troubling, difficult, morally complex, brilliant Edelgard. Deep within my heart—though I struggle admitting it even to myself—I know I believe in her cause. I knew it when I played the game, and my experiences now only confirm it. The nobility system, with its worship of Crests, causes so much injustice and suffering. I saw it firsthand. I heard it from Dorothea and, terrible as he was, I heard it in the story from the late Caius Goneril. Commoners, foreigners, dissidents, and children without Crests are cast aside as it is expedient to those in power. And the Church, as it stands, only exalts and sanctifies it all.

Of course, Edelgard's actions aren't entirely as praiseworthy as her goals. And I'm keenly aware that without Byleth there—on routes like the Golden Deer—she grows desperate and deteriorates into a shadow of what she could be. But I don't want to let that happen to her. Not for the sake of this world, and not for her own sake, either. Is it possible for me to do anything about it, though? Edelgard might find me curious, but I'm no Byleth. I'm just a janitor who knows a thing or two about magic now.

But we did get Professor Goneril, and even though the ultimate outcome was the same—for reasons I'm not entirely sure of—I can't help but be unsettled by the implications. Especially since now all three of the house leaders, plus Rhea herself, know my name. And now Byleth does, too, thanks to Edelgard's introduction.

Goddammit, Edelgard. It all comes back to you.

I try not to think about all that too much. I still have a job to do, and while every day my chances of getting back to Earth seem to slip further out of reach, I suppose there's a non-zero possibility it happens.

I'm cleaning out the Blue Lions classroom when I hear an animated conversation from the room next over. I wouldn't think much of it, except I mostly hear one voice, and when I stop and listen to it—is that Seteth? I can't quite make it out. I know I shouldn't eavesdrop, but it is pretty unusual for him to come out here. Maybe he's talking to Byleth? I slip towards the edge of the room to get a better listen.

"—know what you think this institution is, but it is not like training sellswords under your father's command," Seteth says. "You cannot—and I cannot stress this enough—simply take the students to the training grounds all day."

I can just make out Byleth's quiet voice in reply: "I tried to give them a lecture as well."

"And you simply read aloud from the book, verbatim," he says. "Do you think that is useful for the students?"

"No," Byleth replies. "That is why I spent most of the day with them training."

Seteth sighs. That's just what Dorothea had told me about.

"Is my job not to teach them to fight?"

From anyone else, it would sound like a bitter rebuttal. But from Byleth it sounds like a genuine question.

"There is a time and place for practical instruction," Seteth replies. "But there is more to be done. The academic curriculum covers much more: the theory of tactics and strategy, military history, organization and logistics. You need to instruct them in the classroom as well as the practice field."

Byleth pauses for a moment. "I understand," she says. "But—"

"But?"

"I find it unclear what it is you wish to have me do."

Seteth sighs once again. "I wish for you, as a professor of this academy, to perform your duty to the standard we expect, and provide the students with a quality education in all respects."

I hear a chair move, and decide to stop listening and get back to work. If one or the other is leaving, I don't want to be seen eavesdropping. I don't get to hear the rest of the conversation.

When the Blue Lions room is all clean, I take a deep breath and move to the Golden Deer classroom. I've still got to clean it. Just act like you haven't heard anything.

Seteth has left, but Byleth sits at the teacher's desk, poring over a book with several more stacked up next to her. "Hi there, Professor," I say when I enter. "Am I disturbing you? I can clean out the room another time if I am."

"Go ahead," she says quietly.

I nod and get to work, starting from the back corner, as far away from Byleth as possible. I keep my head down and focus on the cleaning, afraid that any further interaction with Byleth would betray that I overheard her conversation with Seteth.

Even so, I can't stop thinking about it. The game makes Byleth out to be an amazing professor—and I don't doubt she has that capability in her—but this still is her first week, right? She's still at the lowest professor rank. Like Seteth himself said, she's fresh from the mercenary life—more than competent at actually fighting, but lacking experience in navigating the classroom setting.

It might be presumptuous, but I wonder if I could help. I mean, Dorothea's compliment the other day wasn't unfounded—I have a decent amount of experience teaching. In college, I worked my way up the ranks of the chemistry department's student-teaching opportunities, from peer tutor to a summer job writing questions to full-fledged teaching assistant. Now, teaching freshmen to balance equations and coaching sophomores through chair conformations is a completely different ball game as compared to teaching at a military academy—I know that much. But if what Seteth says is true, then maybe Byleth just needs help learning how to teach.

Of course, it's a stupid thought. I think about what Rhea said, instructing me not to interfere with the Academy. And I think about what Claude said, his insinuations that maybe I'm playing dangerously.

Mulling it all over, I give an errant glance in Byleth's direction. She looks up and once again I find myself unable to look away from her piercing gaze. Can she read my mind or something? Or does she actually know I eavesdropped on that earlier conversation?

"Harrison. Is something the matter?" she asks.

God dammit, Byleth. I can't bring myself to say no, and I can't bring myself to leave her hanging when it's at least worth a shot to see if she wants my help. Rhea doesn't need to know about it. Maybe she will get upset, but if it makes her precious Byleth happy, I should be in the clear.

"Well, uh…" I struggle thinking of the right way to phrase what I want to say. It's going to be awkward no matter what. "So, I didn't really mean to eavesdrop, but I overheard your conversation with Seteth earlier."

"Oh." Her expression changes by a barely perceptible amount, though it remains inscrutable as ever.

"No, no, I'm not thinking badly of you, I promise," I continue. My breath tightens as I do so, but I know this is the right thing to do. This is something where I can be useful—where I can make a difference more than just mopping floors. "You're new at this whole teaching thing, right? I was thinking, if you want, I might be able to help you out a little. I can't promise I'll fix anything, but I have a little experience in teaching, and I'd be happy to sit down with you, look over the lesson plans with you, give you some tips—but only if you want, of course."

Byleth looks at me blankly and just blinks. Does she understand what I'm saying, or am I fucking this all up? Is she going to ask why a stupid little servant like me has any experience teaching if the fucking vessel of Sothis doesn't? Is she going to tell Seteth and Rhea about this?

"I would like that, Harrison."

I nod, set down my mop and bucket, and pull up a chair next to her.

While Claude means well, at least I think, I know this is something I need to do. This is my chance to be something more than a janitor. And if Rhea doesn't like it?

I'll burn that bridge when I come to it.

A/N: And now we have Byleth and the true plot of the main game can begin. Thanks for sticking with me so far and giving me the chance to try starting this story from an unconventional position. I know this chapter is pretty serious getting into Byleth's choice and Harrison's reflections on the implications of that choice and the canon routes. I understand people have really strong feelings about this game, so if people disagree, I totally get it. If people don't want to read the story anymore, I totally get it. I just ask that you be thoughtful, civil, and kind to each other and to me. Thanks as always to TDB for beta reading as well as Syntaxis, who's finally back and has brought us some great An Odd Awakening and Strings Attached content. Your out-of-context TDB quote for today is "I let you name a penis." And Syn said "I bet Mercedes gets absolutely terrible road rage."

And as always, thanks to everyone for the reviews, favorites, and follows!

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!

Review responses:

DaedalusFlights - Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it!

ENDDRAGON369 - I'm not sure what you mean by this. I know that there are connections between the arcana and the Crests but Flayn and Dimitri have different Crests. Are you referring to something else?

Pridesbane - Thank you!

jaclea - Well, I think this chapter answered your first question... but as for the rest, you'll have to see. Thanks for reviewing!

TechManuel - Thanks for the review!

WhiteVolder - Thank you for reviewing, glad you enjoyed it!

ArgoDevilian - Haha, honestly I think his friend group just increased. Catherine wasn't more than an acquaintance. And that was a pretty good call with regard to Harrison's sympathies.

eseer - Interesting hypothesis, but I can confirm that's not what I'm going with for this fic. Thanks for the review!

Jeptwin - Thank you for the review! Keep in mind we never saw that scene from Catherine's perspective. We don't really know how she feels about it - only what Harrison saw and heard and thinks. I'm not saying she's totally torn up inside. But to put it simply, I guess: like with anyone, there's some ego defense going on internally that's resolving her inner conflicts so she can sleep at night. Her interaction with Harrison ("nothing personal"/"all's well that ends well"/"here, let me help you out a little") is ultimately a projection of the conclusions of that conflict.

DD360 - Yeah, I drew a lot on her supports, especially that one, in writing this. Catherine's definitely a fun character to write in how clear it is what she stands for - Rhea. And Harrison's an unsure bundle of anxiety desperate to fit in, so you can see how easily sparks fly, in a very bad way. Thanks for the review!

UDtimburrhog - I'm glad someone caught the little "foot stuff" joke. I think you're the only one who's brought it up to me? And that's a very good point with respect to Flayn vs Dorothea - not that Flayn's doing anything wrong, but Dorothea can empathize a lot more given her own personal experience. I probably would agree about the conversation between the three lords, though I thought I'd be remiss if I didn't take the opportunity to check in with the three of them about how the implications of the trial match up with their respective (current) outlooks on the world. Thanks for reading!

DemonRaily - Thank you for the review!

DOOT76 - Thanks a lot! I do enjoy writing Edelgard because while she is the hardened imperial heir she also has a dorky side that bleeds through in fun ways. Stay tuned for her further interactions with Harrison. And I'm glad you don't think I went too far in portraying Fodlan's problems. That's something I worried about, but honestly, given what the game gives us, those problems run deep and I tried to make them feel real. Interesting thoughts with Byleth but, well, you saw what happened this chapter, haha. Thanks again!

Metal Vile - Catherine is definitely very set in her ways, that's for sure. It makes her a lot of fun to write. Thanks for the review!

Tord - Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! Though I take issue with your concern. I don't know what you like or are expecting or looking for in this fic, but sometimes when people say that kind of thing about my story they are expecting a real power fantasy self-insert which is just not what I'm here to write. I'm not trying to make Harrison useless or boring, but the most fun I have with this story if the character drama, not prowess or power in physical combat, so keep that in mind. Thanks again!

Sperance - So, does that mean you're shipping Harrison and Dorothea? Haha. I'm glad I got quite the reaction with Catherine. But honestly, you're right - she isn't even trying to be difficult. Thanks a lot for the review!

patattack - Well, "sort of" telling Catherine to shove it is about right, lol. Glad you enjoyed the chapter and thanks for reviewing!

Cavik - It's a bold move... let's see if it pays off for him. As for Dorothea, we'll have to see where that goes. Thanks for the review!

Impostor1427256 - Thank you so much! I wanted to take the opportunity to get acquainted with the world and some of the main characters, while introducing an interesting but ultimately not world-shattering conflict to highlight some of the issues bubbling to the surface in Fodlan. It sounds like I succeeded, which I'm glad to hear!

Grammy-saltiest-birdlover - Thanks for the review! Glad you enjoyed it!

Scoolio - Thank you so much!

AmanoRyo - Thanks a lot! Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere!

DeirdreofChalphy - Hey! It's great to hear from you again! I'm so glad to hear you're enjoying the fic, and in particular, the Dorothea scene. I'm really proud of it, and it honestly wasn't in the original plan for this part at all, but as I wrote it it broke out to being my favorite part of the chapter. Dorothea in particular is quickly becoming one of my favorite characters - she's a ton of fun to write, and as you've said, her background gives her a dynamic with Harrison that's unlike most of the other characters. Edelgard is also a lot of fun to write and you should look forward to seeing plenty of her in the future. Hope to hear more from you!

Remvis - I'm glad to hear that the Goneril twist was well-received. As for Chapter 10, I had a lot of fun doing that character work with Edelgard, so it's great to see you picking up on the subtle forces that are in play. Don't worry, you will have plenty to look forward to with her, even if Byleth picked Golden Deer.

Call Brig On Over - Thank you so much!

Anon - Thanks a lot! That's a great compliment, since I love the 3H characters, it's why I felt like I had to write this fic, and why I enjoy writing it so much.

heavenschoir - Thanks for the comment! You'll have to see on all those points. The science may not play as important of a role as you are expecting. This chapter was kind of an edge case, honestly, not something that was originally in the plans. I hope you still enjoy the story anyway!

Lovnag - Glad you enjoyed it!

jpleffew - Haha, thank you for reading! Don't worry, I'm still writing!

lytsadboi - I'm happy to hear you had fun!

Syntaxis - Glad to have you back and to hear from you again. Very interesting to hear you announce your sympathies loud and clear. I'm very relieved to hear from you, as from others, that the trial had the intended effect of showing some of the problems with Fodlan - not only flaws in how the church administers justice, but the social problems surrounding nobiltiy and crests as well. It's also great to hear that I'm doing Claude justice - I find him tricky to write, much trickier than Edelgard who is honestly very straightforward in what she wants, haha. I'm looking forward to working with you on making the rest of the story going forward as good as it can be!

somas35 - Thank you so much! I get what you mean about meta aspects sometimes being weird, but I feel like you can't write an SI story without bumping against them in one way or another, so I'm glad to hear you like how I'm handling it! And honestly I really like doing the worldbuilding and fleshing out what the game gives us, so I'm glad that is a hit as well.