"Alright, Professor. So it sounds like you need to figure out how to plan a lesson," I begin. My voice is hesitant, lacking confidence. Byleth, for her part, watches me carefully as I speak. I find no assurance in her inscrutable expression, but given that she isn't objecting, I guess I might as well continue. "Do you have some kind of, I don't know, schedule, or curriculum? Things you're supposed to teach by certain dates?"

Byleth says nothing for a moment, then nods. She looks through her papers, pulls a few sheets out, then hands them to me. It's a table of the months of the year, with a list of topics Byleth is expected to cover written next to each. Excellent.

"Let's see here," I mutter. "Great Tree Moon, right?"

"Yes."

Listed with the Great Tree Moon are a series of topics:

• Weapon and magic types

• Combat roles

• Armor types

• Battalion types

• Organizational levels

• Chain of command

Let's look this over. Weapon and magic types, I think I have a pretty good handle on. Combat roles might just be sort of like character classes for the game, right? But armor types are where you start to lose me, if you get any more granular than "heavy" versus "light." Battalions were in the game, but I probably have even less idea of how they work in the real world, and the last two points I've got absolutely nothing.

But it's not my job to teach this shit. It's not actually my job to get involved at all. But what I'm trying to do isn't to teach this shit, but to teach Byleth to teach this shit. Pedagogy. I had to learn a bit of it formally for my summer job writing and rewriting questions for the chemistry department.

"Well, I'll be honest. I don't know a ton about all this stuff, but I think I can still help you," I say. "You can just lecture the students and read information or talk about these points. But what's missing, I think, is engaging them."

"I do not think you mean engaging as in preparing to do battle," Byleth says.

"That is correct," I reply. "No, I mean engaging as in drawing them in. A battle of their attention and interest, if you will."

Byleth just nods.

"You've got to get them to contribute. Rather than give them all the information, have them give you the information."

She tilts her head. "But I am supposed to teach them, yes?"

"Yeah, but just getting up there and reading off a paper or something isn't usually interesting," I reply. "No offense. They'll like it if you ask them questions, and they get to answer, and then the class discusses the answers to make sure everyone is on the same page."

"I understand," Byleth replies. "But I am not sure how the students will know the information before I teach it to them."

"Reading," I explain. I don't know if Garreg Mach has a textbook, but it damn well has a huge library. "You can tell them in advance what the topic for next week is. Tell them to read up on it. Or ask the knights and soldiers about it, since they should know, too. Tell them to take notes and write down what they learned and what they're confused about and what questions they have. Then, everybody brings their notes to class, and then it's your job to guide the conversation."

"My job…" Byleth says quietly.

"You're gonna want to make notes of what you think is most important to cover and ask questions to make sure there isn't anyone with misconceptions or who is confused about those basics," I continue. Then I point to the chalkboard. "You're gonna want to use that bad boy over there to keep track of the big ideas, too. Like…"

I get up and walk over to the board, and grab a piece of chalk. I can't suppress a smile. Despite being in a fantasy world, millions away from everything I know, this is something I know. This feels so right.

"Let's say we're talking about weapon types. That's on the list." I write weapon types at the top of the board, in the center, then draw lines splintering off from below it. "What goes under weapon types? What types of weapons are there?"

"Sword. Axe. Lance. Bow. Gauntlets," Byleth fires off. "There are others: daggers, blunt weapons, but these are the most important."

I write down each one as she says it, each one attached to a line connecting it to weapon types. "See what I'm doing?" I ask, and point to the space under swords. "Now, if we talk more about swords, about their advantages, disadvantages, and so on, we can put that right here."

Byleth nods, then gets up and joins me at the chalkboard. "May I?" she asks. I hand her the chalk and step back.

"If I wanted to talk about types of axes…" She repeats the process of drawing lines down from axes, creating battle axes and throwing axes.

I nod. "You got it."

"I think I'm getting the hang of this," Byleth says as she hands me back the chalk. It's ever so slightly unnerving to hear her use the same line as she does in the game, but I brush it aside. "But you said I should ask the students about what they already know?"

"Yeah," I reply. "Then you can follow up with more detailed questions, moving further down the tree. Actually—stop me if I'm going too fast—but here's something interesting about how you can construct questions."

Byleth doesn't say anything, so I continue.

"There's this thing—" I hesitate before giving her the name Bloom's taxonomy, but decide not to pursue it. "It's a system for categorizing questions. There are six levels, and everything you ask a student boils down to one of these levels based on what it's asking them to do in the end." I move to the side of the board and start writing them down. "From simplest to most complicated: remember, understand, apply, analyze, evaluate, and create.

"Remember is when you ask a student to recall some fact or detail. 'What are the weapon types?' Understand means there's some explanation of what it means. 'Compare and contrast the uses of battle axes and throwing axes.' With me so far?"

Byleth nods.

I take a breath. "Apply is taking the knowledge and using it in a specific situation. If there's a process, to, I don't know, deciding which weapon to use, that's apply. Analyze is sort of like that, but a little more complicated—if you're asking them why, or to make some kind of distinction, then it falls under that." I sigh. "The exact details aren't the most important thing, I'm just trying to give you ideas. A framework, a structure, to work from. At the end of the day, you're the combat expert."

"I see," Byleth says. "Evaluate and create… evaluate is to judge, yes?"

"Yep," I reply. " 'Are swords a good weapon choice for this scenario?' That sort of thing. And create should be pretty clear—for the students to come up with their own strategy, and propose their own choices given a problem."

Byleth does not say anything for a moment.

I chuckle nervously. "Ah, I know I said you shouldn't go off and do a whole lecture like that. Do as I say, not as I do. But I just felt like I needed to lay out the foundations one way or another, you know?"

"Let me see if I understand," Byleth says. "I will begin by asking the students simple questions to assess what information they remember and understand, and begin to write the important points on the board."

I nod.

"What they give me, I will use to ask more complex questions to get them to think more deeply. But I will think about the most important points ahead of time and ensure those are discussed. Then at the end of class I will explain the topics the students are to research next," she says.

"You got it, Professor," I reply. "I mean, I don't know how long each of these points will take. Could you spend a day talking about the ins and outs of each type of sword?"

Byleth folds her arms. "Perhaps…"

"Well, I have no idea. That's for you to figure out based on your knowledge." I shrug. "But it's important every so often to—" I don't know if Fódlan has the word zoom "—take a step back, and remember what the top-level topic is, and how the little details fit into it."

"Part of combat is not forgetting the battle around you by getting lost in a duel," Byleth says, nodding. "Strategy, tactics, and fighting one-on-one. Skill at all levels is essential."

I purse my lips and nod. "Well, it sounds like you got a handle on it," I reply. "Got any other questions?"

"What do I do about tomorrow?" Byleth asks. "It is clearly too late to ask the students to do any reading or research now."

"Mm, yeah," I reply. "And it's probably best to give them some time to do that, in case they have trouble finding the books and so on. But I think you might be able to get away with just asking what they know about some of this stuff and going from there. They've got to have some knowledge on the basics of weapons, right? Isn't there an entrance exam?"

"That is true," she replies. "I believe that may work."

"Glad to hear it," I say. After a slight pause, I continue. "How are you feeling?"

Byleth blinks. She doesn't say anything for a moment. "I am better prepared than I was before."

I give Byleth an emphatic thumbs up.

The next few days pass by mostly uneventfully. I don't hear again from Byleth, so I assume she is doing well with that little push. Just like in the game, there's no doubt she's a natural, but she's just lacking a bit of knowledge in the fundamentals. And Seteth doesn't have any choice words for me, either, so it seems like word hasn't gotten back to him about my tiny bit of interference. All the better in my book.

When I get back into the swing of my work with Cyril, it feels… almost lonely, after all the excitement over the past few weeks. I don't encounter the students or the professors very much, except in passing. As for my fellow servants at the monastery, I notice a certain cold, distant edge has crept into how they're acting. People shift uncomfortably when Cyril and I sit down near them to eat, and whispers continue to follow me everywhere. I thought they might die down with the news of Jeralt's return and Byleth's appearance as the show-stopping new professor, but I was mistaken. As we're sweeping the courtyards, all alone, I ask Cyril what he makes of it.

He wrinkles his nose. "Well, I guess it's been worse than usual."

"What do you mean, worse than usual?" I ask.

"What it sounds like," he replies. "It's 'cause of your whole run-in with Professor Goneril. Ya got accused of a real serious crime there. And now everyone knows you're a foreigner, and that ya might not believe in the Goddess, and all that."

"Oh," I reply. "Shit. So that's why I'm getting the cold shoulder, even though I was proven innocent?"

"Pretty much," Cyril replies. "But I did say worse than usual. Don't tell me ya didn't notice that it's always been this way."

"It has?"

"Well, maybe not for you," he goes on, then shakes his head. "No. You've always been working with me. People were never very friendly to me—or to you, either, 'cause you're always with me."

I think it over. I mean, he's not wrong. None of the other servants or monks were particularly friendly to Cyril and I. Granted, I didn't make much of an effort, trying to keep up with my own work and how the game's named characters kept seeming to stumble into my life—or I into theirs, from another perspective.

"Are you saying people avoid you—" I think carefully before I decide to continue down this route "—because you're Almyran?"

"Of course they do," he replies, like I just asked if a bear shit in the woods. "They always have. Ya think that Professor Goneril was the only one? Well, his whole family was bad, let me tell ya, but it's not just him."

I nod. "Before now, I just got it from association with you, but now…" I sigh. "I'm sorry. I'm the real outcast here. Yeah, you're Almyran, but I was accused of a crime, acquitted in a closed-doors procedure, all suspicious stuff. I'm dragging you down with me now. "

"Hey, don't talk like that," Cyril says. "I don't let everyone else's opinions and gossip get me down. There's only one person who I'm trying to make happy, and that's Lady Rhea."

I fold my arms. "But I'm sure there are people who think that I was trying to hurt Lady Rhea," I reply. "People that don't believe I'm innocent."

He shrugs. "It doesn't matter what they think," he replies. "It's all in the past. Lady Rhea said ya can stay. She didn't think ya did anything wrong, so at the end of the day, that's what matters to me."

"Well, I'm glad I have your approval, at the least," I say.

"You do your job well, ya don't give me too much of a hard time, and ya don't treat me different because I'm Almyran," he replies. "Sometimes, I'm glad I get to work with ya, Harrison. Most other people here just… get in my way."

I muster up a smile. "Thanks, Cyril," I reply. "I'm glad I get to work with you, too. Let me know if I ever do get in the way, though."

"Well, maybe when ya first started, ya were," he says. I appreciate the honesty, buddy. "But not anymore. You've come far, apprentice."

I laugh, and he smiles.

Cyril's got a point. Maybe I don't really care what the peanut gallery has to say about me anyway. I need to make friends to survive, but I'm never going to find allies in the peanut galleries of Garreg Mach. Not now, not while I'm the foreigner, heathen, suspected criminal I am. But I need to find people who don't care about that, and people who know better.

I guess now that the school year is in full swing, more and more people are actually using the training grounds, I realize as I begin cleaning them.

"Ah, hello there, Harrison," Dimitri says with a wave.

"Hi, Dimitri," I reply. "I'm just making my rounds here. Don't let me interrupt you."

I start cleaning the fields while Dimitri continues practicing his swordplay. Every so often I look up from my work to watch him. Obviously, I don't know anything about fighting, but I can tell his movements are careful and well-practiced, but at times it seems like he's almost holding back, pulling away.

A loud crack echoes through the empty training grounds, and Dimitri sighs. "Oh, not again," he mutters.

I turn to look at the source of the noise, and what happened. Dimitri's wooden training sword has shattered like glass, leaving splinters of wood all around the field, and the blond prince himself holding the broken hilt.

"Don't worry, I'll get that," I say, and move to start cleaning up the mess.

"Please, allow me to assist you," Dimitri says. I briefly consider telling him not to bother, but he's already come to my aid before I can say anything.

Working together, it doesn't take us long to clear away the debris. I go to the stash of spare training swords and grab Dimitri a fresh one, gripping it by the "blade" and holding the hilt out for him to grasp.

"My thanks," Dimitri replies, taking the sword from me. He gives me an awkward nod. "Say, Harrison. Have you any experience with swordplay?"

I shake my head. "Nope."

"I see," he replies. "Ah, I'm sorry. I was just wondering, given how you were observing me before."

"There's nothing to apologize for," I reply. I feel like I tell him this a lot, though I suppose that's the pot calling the kettle black. "I just found it interesting to watch."

Dimitri purses his lips, as if deliberating on something, then nods. "Many in Faerghus believe a boy becomes a man when he picks up a blade not to cut his beard, but to cut down an enemy," he says. "But I am not so sure."

And in my religion, we call you an adult when you read from a scroll and give your "today I am a fountain pen" speech. That's an old joke, but more to the point, when you are called to give your dvar at your bar or bat mitzvah, you're supposed to comment on and discuss the holy texts you just read, even to question them, to extract meaning and wisdom. Hell, I got real meta with mine and questioned the issue of questioning itself!

Of course, that would be anathema to a devout adherent of the Church of Seiros. And to those in the Holy Kingdom, proving yourself an adult through a scholarly achievement would be nothing short of laughable. Jews are a people of the book, and the people of Faerghus—Faerghans? I don't know what they call themselves—are of the sword.

Not that I'm sure I should tell Dimitri any of that. "I've heard the Kingdom does start its fighters young," I reply. "But what do you mean, you're not so sure?"

"Not all problems can be solved with violence," Dimitri says, frowning. "But so many in this world only see a path forward by raising a weapon. Then it falls to those like myself and my companions in the Blue Lions to take up arms."

"To be fair," I say, "I'm not going to be moving very far in life with a broom in my hand instead of a sword. And neither is some farmer with a plow, either."

"Yet a farmer working the land is creating something," Dimitri counters. "Mothers and wives who cook and sew are creating. And you, though you may not see it, are creating, too, helping to keep this beautiful monastery in working condition."

I nod.

"But my countrymen think it an honor to trade their plows for weapons, and die needless deaths in service of our Kingdom. In their pursuit of chivalry, they forget that a sword can never create anything. It can only protect what already exists," he says. That's a surprisingly thoughtful take from Dimitri. "But sometimes, that is all we have, and that is what we must fight for. It is as House Blaiddyd's motto says: 'if you seek peace, prepare for war.' "

"Isn't the future worth fighting for as well?" I ask, without even really thinking about it. Well, I've gone and done it now, haven't I? "I mean, you're correct: a sword on its own can never create anything. Fighting does not create prosperity. But I think there's more than just what we have at stake: there's what we could have."

Dimitri sighs. "The future is a fickle thing. It may seem bright, but one never knows when it will vanish over the horizon."

Don't I know it, buddy. I mean, I didn't exactly watch my family get murdered, but I've had my entire life snatched away from me by God knows who or what, and then managed to just skate by from the death penalty. The future is a fickle thing indeed.

"Those are some very pretty words," a sardonic voice calls from behind us. I turn to see a student with dark hair framing his face, and cold, piercing brown eyes that flit from Dimitri, to me, back to Dimitri. "It's always rich hearing them come from a beast like you."

I can see the tension in Dimitri's face, the coldness in his stance. For all the talk of the friendship shared by Dimitri, Sylvain, Ingrid and Felix, it's clear that at least this relationship is strained. "How long have you been standing here, Felix?" Dimitri replies. "Have you come just to irritate me?"

"I came to spar with you," Felix says, punctuating his statement by tapping a training sword against the ground. "But when I heard you prattling on about swords and creating and protecting and all this nonsense, I couldn't remain silent. Just because you walk on your hind legs, doesn't mean the noise you make is intelligible to humans."

Dimitri sighs. "Felix, I—"

Felix ignores him. He looks at me and nods up. "Listen well. The prince knows nothing of protecting anything," he says. "He fights like a bloodthirsty beast. He kills and kills and revels in every moment of the act. He only destroys what he touches—everything from swords to men's skulls."

"I stand by what I said," Dimitri says quietly.

Felix shakes his head. "You're wrong. All you achieve by picking up a sword is striking someone down. Whatever your intentions are, strength is the only thing that matters. It's the only thing that decides who gets to live and who gets to die." He turns to me again. "So people like you should just stay out of the way if you don't want to add to his body count."

Dimitri glares at his classmate, but says nothing. Without any warning, he whirls his training sword around and gets into a fighting stance. I duck out of the way, away from the two students.

"Come fight me, Felix," Dimitri says. There's a glint in his eye, like Felix's ribbing has awakened something. Something frightening.

"Now that's what I came here to see," Felix says with an amused smirk, before mirroring Dimitri's stance.

I slowly back away further. This should be the cue to get back to my work, but I can't look away as the two spar.

Dimitri lunges forward with a wide horizontal swing. Felix steps back and dodges, before returning the favor with a strike of his own. It looks like he might score a good hit on Dimitri, but the prince parries the blow at the last second with uncanny strength, shaking Felix's stance. Felix takes another step back, as if taunting Dimitri to come forward once again.

He accepts, closing the distance with one, two, three slashes, each more aggressive and reckless than the last. I don't know much about fighting, but even I can see that his movements are easily telegraphed and Felix avoids and parries them with ease. Now, Felix has an opening, and he doesn't let it slip, hitting Dimitri with a precise strike that he can't dodge or counter.

There's a moment when, out of the corner of his eye, just as the hit lands, Dimitri makes eye contact with me. Is this the tip of the iceberg that is his inner darkness? Is he looking towards me trying to reach out, or to drag me in?

In that instant, I decide, at least for the moment, that Felix is right, that this is my cue to leave. I get back to finishing my work, ignoring the two as they go back and forth and back again, then gather my belongings. I better get the hell out of dodge before those two get any more heated, or any more swords get broken.

Aside from our usual business, one of the big items on this week's to-do list is to prepare for the arrival of a delegation from the Eastern Church at Garreg Mach. That means the cathedral needs to get a real deep-clean, as well as some rooms for the guests to stay at, including a luxurious suite for the Eastern Bishop himself. Now, I for one thought we were already deep-cleaning the cathedral every damn week—sometimes more than once a week, as per Cyril's demands. But apparently we're talking a whole other level of clean.

Cyril leaves me with cleaning on the cathedral while he starts on the guest suites. I hope I'm doing a good enough job, which isn't easy to tell without his critical eye. That might be part of why I find myself nervous when Byleth of all people shows up at the Cathedral—even more surprisingly with Hilda in tow.

"Hello, Harrison," Byleth says, expression inscrutable as ever. "May I speak with you for a moment?"

"Hey there, Professor," I reply. I look over to the pink-haired student standing a few feet behind Byleth, with a bored expression on her face. "Sure. What's up?"

"Have you met Hilda?" she asks.

Hilda nods before I can say anything. "We've met," she says.

"Oh. Good," Byleth replies. "Hilda has not been doing the class reading assignments like I have asked. Seteth informed me that I can discipline students by having them help the monastery servants. And I thought you might need help."

I can't help but smile. Even though the help is Hilda, who I guarantee won't even bother picking up a mop, I'm a little touched by Byleth's thoughtfulness. She really wanted to repay the favor from the other day.

"Thanks, Professor," I reply. I look back at Hilda, who is slowly and slightly shaking her head, as if to say, 'don't do this to me.' Sorry, kid. "I can take it from here."

"Excellent," Byleth says. "Hilda, I hope you will learn a valuable lesson from this."

Hilda folds her arms. "A valuable lesson? You know, Professor, I might learn more if I just headed back to the library," she says.

"You're not getting out of this that easily," Byleth says. "I expect you to be prepared for class tomorrow. We are not even going over any new material, so the reading you should have prepared for today should suffice."

With that, Byleth turns and leaves me with Hilda.

"Alright. You heard her," I say. "Let's get you a mop and bucket."

I walk over to the supply closet, and have to wave Hilda over to get her to follow me, but not before she puts on a big show of sighing dejectedly.

I hand her the mop, but she doesn't take it. Instead, she takes a deep breath and looks up at me with a lost expression.

"Um, I don't really know what I'm supposed to do with this," she says.

Oh, come on, Hilda. "Really," I reply. I show her the motion of mopping the floor. "Not ringing any bells?"

"We had servants to do all that," she says. "So I don't really have any firsthand experience. Maybe you could just show me a little? So I could watch and learn. Wouldn't want to mess it up, after all."

"You can learn by doing," I reply. "It really isn't complicated."

"Fine," she says. She takes the bucket and mop out of my hand. "Just keep in mind that if you keep me here too long, I won't have enough time to get ready for tomorrow's class. What am I going to tell the Professor then?"

"You're going to tell her that you slacked off and didn't work efficiently."

Hilda's jaw drops, as if she didn't expect me to fire back so quickly. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that if you don't have time to do your schoolwork after this, that's not my fault," I reply. "The faster you work, the quicker I'll let you go."

She turns and heads back to the cathedral, shaking her head. "Are all monastery servants like this, or is that Almyran kid starting to rub off on you?"

"Cyril has a name," I reply, as I follow her back. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"What's what supposed to mean?" Hilda rolls her eyes as she puts her mop to the floor and starts working. Actually. It's a half-hearted effort, but half is, mathematically speaking, an infinity times better than what I expected to get, which was zero.

" 'Like this,' " I say.

"You know," Hilda replies. If I knew, I wouldn't be asking. "You're always focused on the job, and hard at work and all that stuff." She wrinkles her nose. "What do you even do when you're not working? Do you have any hobbies? Friends?"

Not much, debatable, and debatable. Once I had hobbies, and friends, and things to do when I wasn't working or trying to avoid getting executed. But I took those things for granted and now I'm here. "Not really," I reply.

"Oh," Hilda says. "Well, that's…" she doesn't finish her sentence, but the unspoken meaning of it is more than clear. "Hey, I could be your friend, if you want, if you'll do all this for me."

I can't help but laugh. Another nice try, but I know her game at this point. "I think I need help more than I need friends right now."

Hilda sighs. "Figures. Well, you've got Cyril as your friend, right? You two are always together. Real peas in a pod. You're even both so dull that you only live to work."

"And we're both dirty foreigners," I mutter.

"People say that?" she asks. "Honestly, as far as foreigners go, you're both pretty normal, I guess. I mean, the Almyrans are real brutes. They break treaties, attack without being provoked, and take no prisoners. It's a wonder Cyril turned out like he did."

"So that's it," I reply. "We're just some of the good ones."

"It's better than being some of the bad ones!" she says. "You don't know how many times I've had to patch up my brother after he got hurt on the battlefield, fighting off the Almyrans. Almyran soldiers, Almyran weapons, did that to him."

And that gives your household the right to take slaves? I'm not going to get into that with her, not now, but I can't just let it stand.

"Let me ask you a question, Hilda," I reply. "Who do Fódlan's soldiers work for?"

"I didn't realize this was a quiz," she mutters.

"Just answer my question."

She sighs. "It depends who you're talking about, right? The noble houses all have knights and retainers working for them. There are mercenary companies who are loyal to whoever pays them. And the Church has its own knights."

"Thank you," I say. "What do all those things have in common? The rich and the powerful are the ones the soldiers work for. That doesn't have anything to do with ordinary people—farmers, servants, craftsmen—people who are just trying to get by and provide for themselves and the people they care about. None of them have any say in the matter."

"So you think the same thing is true in Almyra," she says.

"Yep," I reply. "You can't say every Almyran is a 'brute', or whatever the word you used was, just because of their soldiers. I'm not saying what their army does is good or right. But beyond those borders, there are people, you know."

"Maybe you're right," she says. "There probably are lots of good Almyrans beyond the border. But thousands and thousands of the bad ones try to invade Fódlan and kill us all every year. It's House Goneril's job to stop them."

I guess that's a victory I can take for now. "I'm glad you see what I'm saying," I reply. "I'm sorry if I hit a sore spot earlier. I just get frustrated sometimes with how Fódlan treats outsiders."

"I guess I can understand that," Hilda replies.

We get back to cleaning, but it isn't long before Hilda starts up conversation again. Whether that's because she's trying to ingratiate herself with me so I'll let her go, or something else, I can't say.

"Hey, when you were asking me questions, to try to make your point about Almyra—did you learn how to do that from Professor Byleth?" she asks.

Shit. I engaged teacher mode a little too hard there, huh? Best to leave it for the professionals. "No. I don't know what you mean," I reply.

Hilda shrugs. "Just wondering," she says. "She's been doing a lot of that lately, asking us for our thoughts and then discussing them as a group."

"And how do you like that?"

"It's annoying," Hilda replies. "Sometimes I actually catch myself trying to think of an answer. Ugh. When's she going to go back to reading out of that book, so I can just tune out the monotone sound of her voice?"

I just chuckle.

"Seriously," she continues. "A little bit, I miss having my cousin—or whatever he really was to me—as my professor. I never had to worry about doing class readings or participating in training or any of this," she says, gesturing around to the cathedral floor.

And the elephant in the room—or wyvern in the room, as Claude said once, I think—is finally acknowledged. "I'm sorry about all that," I reply. "I really am."

"It's fine, I guess," she says. "I didn't know him that well, and he wasn't really the person we all thought he was, anyway." She sighs. "Apparently it's just making life difficult for my brother with all the political stuff in the Alliance. At least it doesn't concern me too much."

I wonder if the visit from the Eastern Bishop has something to do with the political situation over in Leicester, or something else.

Our conversation sort of peters out from there, given the fact that I've picked two real winners of subjects: racism and her fake criminal relative. Even so, the time we spent talking while working has made the task go much faster, actually. I think giving Hilda something to distract her from how much she despised the work, or trying to weasel her way out of it, made her more effective.

It doesn't take much longer before the cathedral is mostly clean. What's left, I can easily handle myself. Out of the goodness of my heart, and respect for her mostly good-faith effort, I tell Hilda she can go.

"About time," she says. She looks around at the cathedral floor. "Wow, look at that! Honestly, that was mostly you, Harrison—I didn't do a thing."

I shake my head. "Is this some weird trick to try to get me to think you're useless? No, you helped. You should be proud of that."

Hilda just shrugs as she puts down her mop and bucket.

"At least put that back in the supply closet!"

"Fine," she replies, picking them back up.

"Thanks, Hilda," I say. "Have a good night. And good luck with your homework."

She mutters something that I can't quite make out as she heads to return her equipment, and I get back to my work.

Thanks to Hilda's help, I'm a bit ahead of schedule on preparing for the Eastern Bishop's visit. So I take some time to keep making progress with Fire, studying in the library after my work and practicing at the training fields when no one is around.

Still, thinking about Fire, and thinking about Hanneman, makes me remember that I've been putting off having Manuela draw my blood again. Whether it's regular forgetfulness, or unconsciously motivated by not wanting to know more about whatever the fuck is up with me, I can't say. But either way, I suppose I had better go do that. This time, I'll hand-deliver the samples.

As I walk toward the infirmary, I think about what Hanneman and Annette were saying about reason magic, and specializing, and I think back to Earth. Back when I was thinking about grad school—envious of friends who got into great programs doing what they loved. Maybe it's just sour grapes, but did I even want to do a PhD? Become an expert on some microscopic fiefdom of knowledge?

"Hello, Professor?"

Manuela greets me with a wide smile. "Hey there, kid," she says. "What can I do you for?"

"I think I need you to draw another sample of my blood. Professor Hanneman says you lost the vial you took at the tribunal the other day," I explain. "And the man is dying to get his hands on some more."

"Of course," she mutters. "Well, far be it from me to stand between the good professor and his study of an interesting specimen, hm?"

I shrug. "I don't want to be stuck again either, but I'm inclined to humor the guy."

"Very well," Manuela replies. "This'll just take a moment."

Once she gets out the right equipment, it doesn't take long for Manuela to sit me down in the chair and draw my blood. I look away once again as she does, my eyes wandering the rest of the office. She's got a poster from her opera days on the wall, medical treatises on her desk, and a Goddess statuette in the corner.

"Hey, Professor," I ask as she adds some elixir into each vial as a preservative. "I've got a question for you."

She stoppers the vials and slides them towards me. "About your blood? I'm not quite certain what's going on, but I'll give it a try."

I take a deep breath. Is this weird? It might be weird. But it's been on my mind ever since Hanneman and Annette said their piece about specializing in magic. "No, not that. It's about you."

"Oh?"

"It's kind of a strange question, and I'm not really sure if I know the right way to ask it, but here goes," I begin. "So, before you were a professor, you were an opera singer. And also a doctor. And somewhere along the way you also picked up faith magic, right?"

"Perhaps not in that order, but yes, that's all true," Manuela says. "But that's not what you're really asking."

I shake my head. "It's just… I'm really impressed, is all. You've moved from one thing to the next, and none of them are easy. It's almost like you've lived three or four different lives in one. How do you do that?"

Manuela leans back in her chair and smiles, then shakes her head. "What prompted this display of flattery?"

"No, no, I'm not trying to flatter you," I reply. I break eye contact and look at the desk between us. "Well, for one thing, I'm making some progress with Professor Hanneman in studying magic, but I didn't know you were supposed to specialize in black magic—I don't want to make that choice. So it was kind of silly, but I was thinking, if you could go through different careers, surely I could learn more than one element."

Manuela laughs. "Well, if you want some wisdom, see what you think of this," she says. "There are some people in the world who have a dream, a goal, a vision, that's so singular and defined. They're willing to keep digging, to get as deep as they can to pursue it. People like Hanneman—or my student, Linhardt, who's just as obsessed as him about Crests. These people do well with reason magic—they live for developing a mastery over using those symbols to create the effects they want. They pore over every page of those tomes until they get it, rock-solid."

I know she's talking about philosophies behind learning magic, but for some reason, when she talks about people with singular, defined visions, all I can think of is Edelgard.

"So, what are you saying?" I ask. "Is reason magic not for me if I'm not like that? If I can't be like that?"

"That's not quite what I mean," Manuela replies. "It's more that those people are the ones who are drawn to it, so you have to deal with how they think—with what they expect from you. You have to remember that's where they're coming from."

I furrow my brow. "So you don't think I have to pick an element, or…" my voice trails off as I'm not even completely sure what I'm asking.

"At the end of the day, that's your choice, kid," she says. "But it's your choice. They may have a point, but you might not care. You don't have to fit their expectations if you don't want to. You want to know how I could be a professor, a doctor, a healer and a singer? Because I've spent my whole life defying the expectations that others placed on me. Mostly men, but that's neither here nor there."

I'm not sure how applicable it all is to me, given my circumstances—but then, Manuela beat the odds too, didn't she?

"Well, thanks for the advice, Professor," I reply. "You've given me a lot to think about."

"Don't mention it, dear," she says. "Now, don't forget what you came here for! Make sure Hanneman gets what he needs."

I take the vials and thank her again as I leave.

We'll have to wait to see what Hanneman makes of those. He tells me he's been consumed with a new mystery: Byleth's Crest, "of unknown provenance." I tell him there's no rush, since the samples are preserved, and leave the good professor to poring over a new mystery. Honestly, this is probably better. I'd rather not get all that attention on me once again.

The next day, after I'm finished with my work and my dinner, I head back to my room. Not long after, there's a knock on the door. I take a deep breath as I get up to open it—I haven't had the best track record with unexpected visitors, after all.

"Greetings, Harrison."

It's Flayn. Okay, so I guess I'm not getting dragged off in chains today, at least.

"Hi, Flayn," I say. "What's the matter?"

"My brother wishes to speak with you," she says. "It is urgent. We must be going quickly."

I bite my lip and nod. "Alright," is all I manage to say, but inside, my mind is swirling with questions. Did I do something wrong? Or, no, did he find out about me helping Byleth and is going to reprimand me for it? Fuck, maybe I am going to be dragged off in chains, or put into Abyss or something.

Flayn leads me towards Seteth's office, and I do my best to push down the anxiety as we walk. Flayn's almost got a spring in her step, so nothing too terrible can be happening, right? I don't know. Maybe she just has no awareness of just how close I always am to getting screwed over—to screwing myself over, more accurately. Or perhaps that's not giving her enough credit.

When we get to our destination, Flayn gestures for me to go on ahead, and I do so.

I don't even notice Seteth sitting at his desk at first. My eyes first jump to Byleth sitting across from him, then to Rhea, sitting with her hands folded in her lap next to Byleth. Flayn doesn't enter the room, but shuts the door behind me.

All the fear comes flooding back. Not only does Seteth know about the fact that I've so much as spoken to Byleth, but what I've done to help her—and Rhea knows as well. I am being dragged away in chains! Or worse! Probably worse.

Some sort of stammering noise escapes my mouth, but no coherent words form.

"Take a seat," Seteth says, gesturing to a third chair in the corner of the room. He's glaring daggers at me. Not that I can really blame him.

It takes me a moment to overcome the initial inertia that's weighing me down. My legs feel like they've suddenly turned to lead. Rhea watches me as I do so, though I find myself unable to maintain eye contact for more than a second. Byleth's eyes dart between Rhea and I.

When I do manage to move, it's like my legs have become liquid, unsteady and weak as I move to bring the chair next to Byleth and sit down.

"Hello, everyone," I finally say. "Archbishop Rhea. Holy Chamberlain Seteth. Professor Byleth."

I'm so fucked, aren't I?

"I am glad that you are able to join us, Harrison," Rhea says. "I am sure you are wondering why we have called you here."

I just nod slowly.

"Tell me. Do you recall that I previously instructed you not to interfere with the students' education?"

"Yes, Lady Rhea."

Her serene expression doesn't budge an inch. "I should hope so. However, you must realize you have done just that in the assistance you gave Professor Byleth."

I swallow hard.

Rhea continues. "Do not deny your actions. Admit them. And tell me why you chose to defy my instructions."

I take a shuddering breath and consider my next words very, very carefully. "Yes. I helped Professor Byleth. But I did not think I was defying your instructions. Professor Byleth seemed to be struggling—I thought I could help—" I exhale before continuing "—and I didn't tell her what to teach her students. I only helped her come up with a plan to teach the prescribed curriculum. I didn't interact with the students or do any more than that. I believed—maybe that was wrong—that this would be acceptable."

Rhea takes my explanation in for a moment, then nods, the tassels on her headdress moving as she does. "I see," she says.

My eyes move from Seteth to Byleth to her. She didn't give any indication as to whether it was in fact acceptable, and it's that uncertainty that terrifies me.

"Professor Byleth has informed Seteth and I that she has taken a great liking to your aid. So much so, in fact, that she has requested that you be made her full-time assistant."

My mouth opens, but I don't say anything. Byleth wants me as an assistant? "What does this mean for me?" I manage to force out after a moment.

"Such a fearful one, you are. I wonder…" Rhea shakes her head. "Never mind. The Holy Chamberlain and I have seen fit to grant Professor Byleth's request. As of tomorrow, you will be relieved of your custodial duties and will report to Professor Byleth."

It looks like I don't have a choice. I look to Byleth, who nods at me, and then back to Rhea.

"I understand."

Rhea ignores my reply. "The goddess has smiled upon you once again, Harrison," she says. "Just as she has smiled upon us all in bringing our dear Professor to the Academy in our time of need. Even so, you ought to know by now the fate of those who reach for more than the goddess grants them."

She's referring to Goneril, of course. That guy tried to use her power to have me killed, and she has the gall to use that to threaten me more? I mean, it's not like it doesn't work. I know she has the power of life and death over me, and she's reminding me quite well of that fact.

"Seteth will aid you in making the necessary arrangements with the Professor," she continues. "A final word, if you will. The students are attending the Academy to one day faithfully and diligently serve their countries, their houses, their lords, and the Church. Do your utmost to serve this mission as you assist Professor Byleth. Do not impress upon them your foreign ways or heathen beliefs. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," I reply.

When I first encountered Rhea, I felt like I was swimming with a shark—just waiting to be pounced upon like prey. And she still incites that instinctive hair-raising response, but something's different. These aren't the sorts of threats a predator makes to their prey—she's making these threats because she sees me as potential trouble, but can't get rid of me so fast thanks to Byleth. For better or worse, to Rhea, I'm a piece on the board worth considering, even if I'm just a pawn whose role is to back up her new queen.

Too bad I'm not that good at chess.

"Congratulations, Assistant-Professor Harrison," Seteth says dryly. "I hope you appreciate what an honor it is to be involved in the education of such bright young souls."

"Thank you."

Rhea smiles and nods. "I suppose that concludes my business here. I will be retiring to my chambers for the evening," she says.

"Understood," Seteth replies.

With a final farewell, Rhea gets up and leaves the office, with just Seteth, Byleth and me remaining.

Now that Rhea's gone, I breathe a bit easier, but my head is still spinning from everything that just happened. Seteth launches into a barrage of details about the logistics of being a professor, and I get enough to get the gist of it. I'll get paid more, my room will be moved near the student dormitories—just like Byleth's—I'll get an office, and given that the Church doesn't want me teaching in a servant's uniform, I'll receive a small bonus up-front to buy clothes that should be more reflective of my new status. I don't want to tell him I don't know where to buy clothes, let alone what the hell fashion is like in Fódlan.

When Seteth is done talking, and I'm done nodding along, he ushers Byleth and I out of the room.

We just kind of wait there in the hallway for a moment. Neither of us is apparently sure what to say to the other.

"I'm sorry," Byleth says quietly.

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry," she repeats, then pauses. "I thought the Archbishop would give you a choice. I didn't realize she would just make you my assistant without asking."

I laugh nervously. What else can I do? "It's all good," I reply. Is it? "I mean, you know, that could have gone a lot worse, considering she told me not to get involved with the Academy and all."

"I understand," Byleth says. "But are you upset? Do you not want to be my assistant?"

I swallow hard, and think about it. I haven't had a clear thought about it yet, since the rush of everything swept me away like a whirlwind. What was the conclusion I came to when I offered to help Byleth at all? That friends and allies are what is most important. And this puts me in a prime position to make those friends and allies. The people I'm concerned about, who could die with the way things are going—this puts me in a better position to help them. And I get to work with my mind and make a little more money at the same time. What's not to like?

But can I do it? Or am I too weak? Felix told me the other day to stay out of the way. Maybe that's the right thing to do. If I go down this road, I'm going to have to make tough decisions. I'm going to have to do tough things. Am I going to be an absolute disaster in combat—if Byleth even deploys me in the field? It's probably better if she doesn't. Am I prepared to kill people to stay alive? Because in a sense, in the long run, that's what I'm being asked to do.

"It's not that I don't want to," I reply. "I… I don't know if I can. I don't know if I should."

"I do not know what you mean by should," Byleth says. "If you fear that it is not your place to assist me, the Archbishop has already given her approval. If it is not something you want, then I will speak with her again. But if you do not think you are capable…"

I look into Byleth's eyes.

"I would not ask you to do this if I did not think you more than suited for the task," she says.

I nod.

"Alright, Professor," I reply. "If you can believe in me, then I can believe in you."

She nods. "Good. Now get some rest, Assistant Professor. That is an order."

I don't need to be told twice.

A/N: Ah, I've been waiting to build up to this for some time! It took a little longer than I anticipated, but we're here now. Thanks to TDB and Syntaxis for beta reading. Your out-of-context TDB quote for today is "I'm trying not to use the word 'beefcake' because I find it a pretty gross word." Syn's been laying pretty low for a bit, so honestly, I don't have a great out of context quote from her. Alas, I promise to return with the goods next time.

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:

Syntaxis - Well, as always, thank you for the detailed review. Obviously we've talked a lot about where the story is going in the process of writing, but I always find your interpretation fascinating, especially in this case about Claude. He's definitely got some complexity to him that's hard for me and Harrison (and Claude himself) to grapple with, haha.

furukawa023 - I'm glad you're enjoying the story, but honestly, I'm quite surprised you're able to follow it without knowledge of the FE series or Three Houses itself! I'm curious, how did you find out about this fic in the first place?

Stormtide Leviathan - Thanks a lot! I hope I don't disappoint!

Nokraz - Thanks for the review. Don't worry, there is more magic to come in the future.

DeirdreofChalphy - Yeah, I love Dorothea too. I liked her a lot playing the game, but some sort of switch flipped when I was actually writing her, and made me like her even more. Glad you enjoyed the chapter and thanks as always for reviewing!

Crowbars357 - Thanks for the review!

ENDDRAGON369 - I see. Thanks!

SHSLNothing - Yeah, I thought F!Byleth would be better from a "gender balance of the main cast" perspective. And I'm glad you're enjoying the developments with magic this chapter.

eseer - Interesting predictions... we'll see what comes of all this in the long run. Thanks for reading!

Guest - Well, does no one want to work with Claude, or does Claude hold himself back from working with others? I think it's a little bit of both, to be honest. Thanks for reading!

DOOT76 - Azure Wind? We haven't even seen Byleth and Dimitri in a room together!

Rationalism - To be honest I think there's a point where applying too much physics to magic stops being fun for me, so that's not something I intend to get too far into. But definitely interesting thoughts. Thanks for the review!

DemonRaily - The title is supposed to be a bit ironic? I don't know if it literarily counts as irony. But you get the idea. Anyway, with respect to Edelgard, I see you're being quite negative on the future of her dynamic with Harrison. We'll see what happens!

Xekinor - You'll have to read on to find out!

Jeptwin - Interesting questions to be asking! I think it's a little early to be predicting how he's going to change the future of Fodlan, but at least after this chapter he's moving closer to the main cast, rather than drifting away from them. Thanks for reviewing!

flitterflux - I never thought I'd live to see the day people are making soyjak memes out of my fanfiction

WideBrimmedHat - Thanks for your input. Honestly when it comes to things that really edge up on The Discourse like this, I'm not sure how much I should say in my review response and to what extent I should let the story do the talking, so... yeah. Your point is well taken, though.

weismax33 - Thank you for reviewing! Even if other reviewers already talk about what you want to say, I'm always happy to hear more if you want to review. Either way, I'm really excited to write what comes next, too!

Apollofine1 - I'm glad to hear you're interested!

Sperance - Interesting suggestions! We'll see how things develop over time. With regards to Harrison's stats, I think that's probably accurate. And you're right with regards to his flaw - and look where that's ended him now! Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Daedalaus - We'll have to see!

patattack - Thanks a lot!

Lovnag - I'm glad you enjoyed the trial sequence, and those were definitely some of the aspects I intended to get across with it, so it's great to hear that they came through!

AmanoRyo - Haha, thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoyed the fic! As for how many Claude memes you can add... honestly, the answer is none if you ask me. A ton of the Claude memes felt pretty forced to me. Not that I don't like him as a character, but I intend to write a Claude that's closer to canon than the fanon memelord he's become, haha.

Eberronguy - Thanks a lot! To a certain extent, that was intentional - just because Harrison vibes a bit better with the Black Eagles, doesn't mean that affects Byleth's choice! I didn't just mean that as a bait-and-switch, though, so don't forget about what you observed.

Cavik - Haha, "peculiar amount of personality" is definitely one way to put it. Canonically, Byleth only warms and opens up from here, though, so we'll see how that budding personality takes shape over time. Thanks for the review!

ArgoDevilian - Thanks for the review! Yeah, I think it's not unreasonable to think that Byleth might not immediately be a perfect teacher - not that she's bad, just that she isn't accustomed to the demands of the job just yet, which is what drove the inspiration for the major developments in this chapter.

Guest - I imagine it like "Harry" but with a little more emphasis/dragging out of the "ee" sound at the end.

heavenschoir - Who knows what the future holds for Dimitri? With respect to your unique classes... I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I don't think I'm really going for that. Thanks, though!

tekepajt98 - Thank you so much for reviewing! Glad to hear you enjoyed the story!

TheGiantRock- Hah, that was a good prediction! Thank you so much, I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

Sabaszki - Hey, I'm sorry to disappoint you. Unfortunately I can't please anyone with any decision in the story - on my last story, I had plenty of people upset that I didn't have my SI get into magic, so... damned if you do, damned if you don't, I guess. Still, thanks for reading!