I had a feeling Byleth might pull something like this.

Now that our day is moving on to the Golden Deer training, she starts the session off with some warm-ups: stretching, calisthenics, running laps around the training fields. And despite my general lack of qualifications to be here, I am not exempt, and neither is the good Professor herself.

As I expected, it doesn't take long for me to fall behind with the less physically-inclined house members: Marianne, Ignatz, and Lysithea to be precise, with resident slacker Hilda joining us as well. Of course, Leonie's the one giving Byleth a run for her money at the head of the pack, while Lorenz, Claude and Raphael occupy a comfortable middle position. Among us slowpokes, Lysithea in particular doesn't come anywhere close to completing the exercises Byleth's laid out, and I make it a point—maybe too much of a point, but I'm concerned—to remind her not to overexert herself. And not unexpectedly either, she tells me off in between fits of labored breathing.

Despite it all, overall, I keep up better than I had anticipated at first. I've never been very athletic, and some years of taekwondo as a kid and a less-than-mediocre career on the high school swim team never did much to change that. So the fact that I'm even able to keep up with the laggards of, y'know, a military academy is a credit to how my days laboring with Cyril have improved my stamina. But I know that if I'm going to have to go on missions with Byleth I'll need to level up, as it were, that much more.

Mercifully, after the warm-up exercises, Byleth exempts me from the rest of training: I'm not ready to spar with the students yet, she says. So I'll just observe for this first training session with the Deer, and hope it goes better than the lectures went before I got involved. After all, Rhea's interventions aside, the reason Byleth got recommended for the professorship in the first place was her practical experience, and if there's a place other than the battlefield for that to shine through, it's here on the training grounds.

"We're going to try something a little different today," Byleth announces to the class once they all fall in. "Let's split into two teams. Team one: Claude, Raphael, Lysithea, and Ignatz. Team two: Hilda, Marianne, Lorenz, and Leonie."

Byleth shoots me a glance that I can't quite read as the Deer divvy themselves up into those two groups. I'm not entirely sure what she's doing here, but again, my job is to observe.

As Lorenz saunters over to join his three teammates, he gives a smug flourish in Claude's direction. "Prepare to be humbled as I lead my team to a flawless victory," he says.

Claude just folds his arms. "Slow down there. We don't even know what we're doing yet," he replies. "Unless it's a contest to see who can impersonate a foppish rooster—then I might just have to concede to your inimitable genius."

Lorenz just gives a harrumph before Byleth interrupts once again. "This is the exercise for today," she begins. She retrieves a small kerchief from an interior pocket of her coat, the first practical benefit I've seen to that outfit. "This is the flag. One team will be trying to seize the flag and bring it back to their end of the field, while the other will have to defend the flag at all costs. Then we'll switch. We should have enough vulneraries to go around, but don't hurt anyone too hard. Got it?"

So, a stripped-down version of capture the flag, huh?

Nods, "yes, Professor!"s and the like abound from the students. Except for Hilda, who folds her arms, and says: "Why are we doing this?"

"The mock battle is coming up soon," Byleth explains. "I want to see how you perform as a group, and the tactics that you use. Now, Claude's team will be defending first."

Hilda frowns at that. I guess she was looking forward to being on defense, where she might get away with just hanging out.

"I'll give you a minute to get your weapons ready and strategize with your teams while I set things up," Byleth says. "Harrison, come help me."

I do as the professor asks. She grabs a training dummy and sets it up out in the field, draping the "flag" around its neck like a very short scarf. She instructs me to set up another dummy a good ways away, maybe a hundred feet or so, which to my eyes looks to be about the size of a school gymnasium.

The two teams of four assemble on the field, practice weapons in hand. Byleth gives a whistle to signal them to begin, and with that, the game is afoot.

Claude's team is well-poised for their position on the defensive side, with three ranged attackers. I don't really know if he has any unorthodox tactics up his sleeve, but it seems like he's going for a very traditional approach; Raphael, the lone melee fighter under his command, guards the direct path to the flag. Claude supports Raphael from a bit farther back, while Ignatz and Lysithea provide ranged coverage of the periphery around the flag.

I look over to the offensive team to see what they're up to. Lorenz is busily giving out orders to his three classmates. I had a feeling he'd end up as the commander of that group. Hilda and Marianne don't seem like the types to jump at the chance, but Leonie could give him a run for his money. At any rate, I'm keen to see if he can overcome Claude's defensive perimeter with the stronger melee force he has at his disposal.

Without a hint of subtlety, Lorenz, Leonie, and Hilda charge down the center of the field, making a beeline for Raphael and the flag behind him. Ignatz and Claude focus their fire on the three. Hilda starts getting hit first, going down in clearly overexaggerated fashion, and lying dramatically on the ground. Marianne rushes in, seemingly from out of nowhere, to help her, raising her arm in Ignatz's direction and calling up a magic circle as she does. Spikes of ice rise up from the ground around him, sending him stumbling back as his glasses fall off his head.

Damn, I'm gonna have to think about that one, too. I wonder if the Agarthans ever figured out LASIK.

Lorenz takes a hit or two from Claude, but manages to shrug it off enough to meet Raphael in single combat. Meanwhile, a few yards away, Leonie approaches from the side, deftly weaving past a shadowy projectile from Lysithea and "incapacitating" her with some quick lancework.

Lorenz thrusts at Raphael with his training lance, but it doesn't seem to faze Raphael much. That, on the other hand, fazes Lorenz quite a bit. He turns in Marianne's direction and shouts for her. She's been quietly advancing beneath the notice of the rest of the defensive team, but in an instant, he blows her cover: A few arrows from Claude lead to her suffering the same fate as Hilda.

Then, one, two swings from Raphael, and Lorenz is knocked down for the count as well.

Leonie, all alone on her team, makes a run for the flag. She just manages to outspeed Claude and Raphael and grab it. "Not so fast," Claude says. He's got his bow aimed squarely in her direction, and opposite him, Raphael has his axe at the ready. "We've got you surrounded and outnumbered. Are you going to really try to run for it?"

She whirls around, looking between Claude and Raphael. Then she looks at Byleth.

"Yep!"

One-handed, she throws her training spear in Claude's direction. It doesn't connect, but it achieved its intended effect: to disorient and surprise even the old trickster himself, giving her a chance to escape and get a head start on the slower-starting Raphael.

Leonie bounds down the field. Claude recovers as Raphael goes after her. She's made it maybe halfway to home base before Claude takes her down from a distance, bringing an end to this round of capture the flag.

"That's enough, everyone," Byleth calls out. "Harrison, pass out the vulneraries, and Marianne, patch everyone else up."

Marianne and I do as she asks while the class reconvenes in one group again.

"We're going to switch sides. Claude's team, you'll be attacking—come with me. Leonie's team, you'll be defending—go with Harrison. I'll give you a few minutes to rest up and restrategize."

Wait, what?

Leonie and Lorenz promptly head over in my direction, with Hilda and Marianne lagging a little bit. It's my job to help them come up with a plan to defend now? Jesus, Byleth, you should know I'm not qualified for this!

"So, Professor?" Leonie asks once our group meets together in a loose huddle. "What's the plan?"

I don't say anything for a moment, not sure at all what I'm supposed to do. "Well, um—"

Lorenz, naturally, cuts me off. "I propose we move much more closely together," he says. "If I were to have proper support from the three of you, I could be much more effective than I was in the previous round."

"You didn't do a great job supporting anyone else," Hilda points out. "Calling out for Marianne just drew all the attention to her."

Marianne shrinks away a little bit at the mention of her name.

Leonie folds her arms. "Now's not the time to argue," she says, turning to me. "Professor? What do you think?"

I take a deep breath. "Well, look. They've got more ranged power than we do, for sure. In order to use that to their advantage, they're going to try to hang back and pick you guys off before moving in for the flag."

"So we can't just stand there and wait for them to come to us," Leonie says. "We have to bring the fight to them."

"Do we have to?" Hilda asks. "I thought defending meant we could just hang out until someone comes near us."

"Well, someone still has to stand back by the flag," I reply. "But I don't think chasing down the enemy is a good idea, either.

"Why not, pray tell?" Lorenz says.

"Like I said, they'll just pick you off as you approach," I reply. "Between Claude, Ignatz, and Lysithea, they've got the same number of ranged attackers as you have melee."

"So what are you suggesting?" Leonie asks.

I take a deep breath. The person I have in mind to be our MVP is probably not going to like it, but it's the best strategy I can come up with on such short notice. "Let's start with Marianne's role," I say.

"M-me?" Marianne's voice is barely audible over the loud banter of the other team.

"You're the only ranged attacker we have," I say. "You're the only one who can stop them before they get to the flag."

She lifts her eyes to look up to me, but only for a moment before they dart away.

"I'm not very good with my magic," she says. "Sometimes it's hard to hit people with Blizzard... and I don't want to hurt anybody."

"You don't have to," I reply. "You can use it defensively. Use the ice to block them from advancing, or stop their arrows. And if you get one of them alone, close off their escape so the others can take care of them."

"O-okay," Marianne says breathlessly. "I can try."

"That's all you need to," I say, mustering up a smile.

"Hilda should stand with Marianne in case anyone tries to rush her down."

"What do we do?" Leonie asks, gesturing to herself and Lorenz.

"You two need to occupy the midfield. When Marianne uses her magic to corner them, you go in for the kill. Well, not literally the kill, but you know what I mean."

"Right," Leonie replies.

"I have my reservations about this strategy," Lorenz says. "But perhaps I will defer to your guidance this once, Assistant Professor."

I nod. "I appreciate it."

"Are you ready over there?" Byleth calls in our direction.

"I think so," I reply, and turn back to my group. "Good luck out there, team. You can do it."

"You got it!" Leonie says. Lorenz nods up, while Hilda gives a disaffected sigh and Marianne shakes her head ever so slightly. I don't really know how to make her less nervous. I wish I had more time to develop this plan, but if it works, hopefully it'll give her a little confidence boost—at least for the rest of the day.

Byleth and I take our places off the side of the training field, while the two teams form up at their respective positions. Just like I instructed, Marianne and Hilda hang back close to the flag. Lorenz and Leonie stand closer to the middle of the field. Claude, Ignatz, and Lysithea, on the other hand, are content to stand way back by the other side, ready to start raining arrows and magic on my team.

Not if Marianne has anything to say about it. She casts Blizzard dead ahead the middle of the field, raising a wall of ice about six feet in both height and width—not covering a huge amount of the field, but it's enough for both Lorenz and Leonie to duck behind and take cover. Backs to the wall and to each other, they keep watch for anyone trying to snoop around into our half of the field and rush down the flag.

Byleth turns to me and nods. "That was you," she says, and for a second I can't tell if it's a statement or a question.

"Well, it was my idea," I reply. I gesture to the students. "They still have to execute."

Byleth just nods again, and turns her attention back to the field.

And then, nothing. Byleth's team quickly regroups in a huddle, and while I can hear them animatedly discussing something, I can't quite make out what. They break back to their original positions.

"Hey, Teach," Claude shouts from the other side of the ice-wall. "Is now a bad time to ask a question about the rules of the exercise?"

Byleth raises an eyebrow, as do I. What's he getting at now? Leonie and Lorenz dig in deeper, no doubt sensing that he's up to some absurd craftiness.

"What is it?" Byleth asks.

"Is there a time limit?" he asks.

Oh, now I know what he's up to. He knows Marianne can't hold up the barrier indefinitely, and figures he can just wait my team out. I fold my arms, my ego just the tiniest bit bruised. I thought I suggested a good plan, but if Claude manages to win with this strategy... well, I suppose it's my fault for not taking it into account.

Byleth ponders it for a moment, then replies. "I don't want you to try to wait out the other side. So get moving. We'll discuss later."

"Understood, Teach," Claude replies. He shrugs to his teammates. "Well, worth a shot. Here goes nothing."

Ignatz and Claude flank Leonie and Lorenz from one side of the wall, while Raphael and Lysithea take the other a little more slowly.

Lorenz immediately makes a dash at Claude, with Leonie following close behind. Him just charging into the face of destruction is going to be a recurring problem, isn't it? But it seems to work, actually. Leonie and Lorenz stick together and separate Claude and Ignatz from one another as they frantically try to hit them with arrows. Raphael and Lysithea do their best to close the distance to help out, but Marianne calls up another Blizzard to wall them off, buying our lancers a little more time to do their work.

I smile. They listened to my plan—divide and conquer.

Before long, Claude and Ignatz are down. Raphael and Lysithea change tactics, making a mad dash for Hilda, Marianne, and the all-important flag itself. Lorenz and Leonie are pretty far away at this point, and they can't get to the flag in time before Lysithea knocks Hilda off her feet with a blast of dark magic—though I doubt Hilda was trying too hard to stay on her feet. It's all down to Marianne now.

She tries to cast another spell, but Raphael manages to dodge and counterattack, knocking her down and out of the competition. With nothing standing between them and the flag, Lysithea and Raphael leisurely take possession of it. They hang around for a few seconds there before turning back around. Taking the flag is only the first part of winning—they've got to bring it to the other side to seal the deal, and Lorenz and Leonie are waiting up ahead. We still might have a chance—if Lysithea and Raphael stick together, as I would expect them to, Lorenz and Leonie could get the advantage by flanking them.

But they don't, in fact, stick together. No, they split up, each sprinting at top speed across the length of the field. For a second, I'm totally confused. What are they hoping to gain from doing this? Then I realize: with Raphael's large frame obscuring my view of the action, I didn't see which one of them took the flag. And unless Leonie or Lorenz got a better angle than I did, neither do they.

Now, they've got a choice to make: risk dividing their efforts and being overcome individually, or picking the wrong person to stop and not having enough time to get back to the other. Well played, I'll admit. I should know by now not to expect anything but the unexpected from Claude's team.

Lorenz and Leonie seem equally caught off guard by this new strategy, and I don't know if they fully appreciate the implications yet. They waste a crucial moment deliberating what to do, gesturing animatedly at one another and their counterparts on the other team, while Lysithea and Raphael make progress across the field.

They split up to take on Lysithea and Raphael individually. Leonie takes Raphael while Lorenz heads for Lysithea. Lorenz, too confident, too brash, without any hint of subtlety, easily telegraphs his movements and gets taken out with a magical strike from the young mage in no time.

But Leonie gets into a protracted duel with Raphael. Lance on axe, she holds her own well enough. I know Three Houses ditched the weapon triangle, and I don't know enough about fighting to know how it ever really translated to real life anyway, but it's still impressive for her to keep at it despite Raphael's size and strength. She actually manages to take advantage of his slower, less precise swinging by dodging and getting in counterattacks.

Even so, Lysithea presses on to her team's home base, and while the fight between Leonie and Raphael remains unresolved, throws the flag up in the air when she reaches the goal. "We got the flag, Professor," she announces. "Game over."

Byleth puts two fingers in her mouth and lets out a piercing whistle. "All right, that's enough," she calls out. "Let's regroup, everyone. Leonie, Raphael, break it up." The two have continued sparring despite everything, and among the commotion of the students reconvening I can hear them solemnly agree to a rematch on the training field.

"I want to discuss what went down there," she says. "Does someone from Claude's team want to explain our strategy?"

"I will, Professor," Lysithea says. "We wanted to take advantage of our ranged attacks and keep our distance from the other team. Except for Raphael, I don't think any of us could win in a physical confrontation."

"But you ran into a problem when Marianne created an ice wall."

"Well, yes," Lysithea replies, with a reluctant nod. "Claude's suggestion to wait that out was amusing, but not very practical."

"I thought it was very practical," Claude says with an exaggerated huff. "Isn't that what a siege is?"

"Sieges require extended supply lines and plenty of manpower to maintain," Lysithea fires back. "It's not strictly relevant here."

"Thank you, Lysithea," Byleth says. "Sieges aside, why did you continue in the way you did? Ignatz, Raphael, any thoughts?"

"Oh, we tried to flank them around the wall," Ignatz suggests. "Claude and I thought we could get a few arrows at them before they charged us down."

"That didn't work so well, did it, huh?" Leonie cuts in with a grin.

"I guess not," Ignatz replies with a nervous laugh.

"Maybe if Lysithea and I were there to back you up with some more power, we could have stopped 'em right there," Raphael interjects.

"Good observation," Byleth says. "It was a smart decision to continue to use your ranged power to your advantage. But without close-combat fighters to protect them, ranged attackers are very vulnerable to a concentrated push."

She turns to my team and asks them to explain our strategy. Leonie and Lorenz take turns falling over each other to explain the ice wall plan—not that it's particularly complicated, but Byleth gives me an approving nod when they mention it was my call.

"Now, I've got to interject just one little thing," Claude says. "That ruse at the end with giving Lysithea the flag? My idea. Seems like it worked pretty well, yeah?"

Byleth nods. "Leonie, Lorenz. How did you respond to that?"

"It caught me off guard, for sure," Leonie replies. "We didn't have a lot of time to decide what to do. I thought that you guys would give Raph the flag, because he'd be harder to take down on his own, and more likely to actually finish the job."

"That's why it worked," Claude replies.

"I do not think one should rely on simple tricks and base scheming to win battles," Lorenz says. "I could see such behavior from a commoner, a mercenary like the Professor, but a fellow noble like you, Claude? It's quite unbecoming of you."

"As far as I can recall, noble blood never stopped anyone from scheming," Claude says.

Lorenz shakes his head and turns to Byleth. "I mean you no disrespect, Professor. This exercise was merely that—an exercise—but I can only hope it does not beget more dishonorable conduct."

"Honor has nothing to do with it," Byleth replies. "You think I fight dirty because I am—I was—a mercenary. I understand. Mercenaries focus on results. That is, winning, and living to fight, and to win, another day. I know many of you are nobles, and many of you want to become knights, but…" she pauses and looks away for a moment, as if struggling to find the words. "I want you to stay alive, and to win, too, when you are on a battlefield for real. All of you, whatever it takes. Honor has nothing to do with it," she repeats.

A weighty silence fills the air.

"That's it for today," she says. "Hilda, Marianne, I didn't hear from either of you, so write a small report on your thoughts on this exercise before next class."

Marianne just sighs as Hilda lets out a high-pitched whine. "Ugh, Professor, do I need to? Here, let me just give you my thoughts now…"

"No. One paragraph, on my desk when next class starts."

"Fine," Hilda says, defeated. "Hey, Marianne, wanna work on it together?"

"Um… if we have to…"

As the class files away from the training fields, I approach Byleth. "Well done, Professor," I reply. "You're learning quickly."

"Thank you," she says.

"I didn't even have to prompt you to do all that class discussion," I say. "Great stuff. Sooner or later and you won't need me anymore."

"I'm not certain about that," she replies.

Staying alive, however you need to. I wonder how much she had me in mind when she said that, if at all.

With the academic side of things improved from our mishap with the Golden Deer and our new plan tried and tested on the Black Eagles, it's time for the Blue Lions. I'm hoping that this lesson is something of a victory lap here. After all, if I taught a lesson on military strategy to the ostensible satisfaction of Edelgard and Hubert, strategist extraordinaires, what could go wrong?

"Quick question, Professors," a confident voice asks from the back of the classroom. Sylvain raises his hand just as he finishes calling out to us.

"Yes?" Byleth replies.

"I'm just curious," he begins. "How did Crests and Relics figure into that whole battle? You know, the legendary super-weapons that can single-handedly decimate battalions when they're not being used to decorate a mantelpiece."

And it comes back to this, of course, because damn near every student here has been traumatized by the crushing twin pillars of the nobility and the Crest system. No doubt that's what is causing Sylvain to ask his question—whether it's trying to prove something to his peers or to himself, or for the sheer joy of grinding the axe.

"That's a good question," Byleth replies. "I can't remember much discussion of it in the book we were reading about the war."

She's right, at least for the discussion of the Battle of the Copper Pass. I haven't read the thing cover to cover in the course of a few days, so I can't attest to whether or not the significance of magical eugenic blood superpowers was mentioned elsewhere. But before I can try to throw together an answer or deflection, Ashe of all people raises his hand, and Byleth calls on him.

"Professor, if I may?" Ashe begins. Byleth nods, and he continues. "I'm certainly not a military historian or anything. But I've read that Crests were a fair bit more common back in those days. And if I remember right, many of Rupert's knights were members or vassals of the great noble houses of Faerghus. So Crests must have played some role."

"Ashe, buddy, it's not the Crests that matter, it's the Relics," Sylvain says. "Let's say something happened to the Lance of Ruin—House Gautier wouldn't have a chance to defend the Sreng border." I try my best to maintain a neutral expression and not betray the fact that I am keenly aware that something will in fact happen to the Lance of Ruin in a few short months.

Felix laughs bitterly and shakes his head, not even showing a shred of apology for interrupting. "I'd hardly call the Sreng and the Imperial legions of old comparable opponents. Of course Relics can dispense with unorganized hordes using the crudest of weapons. One might even consider it unsporting."

"Sport's got nothing to do with House Gautier doing its duty," Sylvain replies, but his blasé tone belies the fact that I don't think he's very convinced of his own words there.

"Don't tell me you —"

Finally, Dimitri inserts himself into the exchange. "Felix, Sylvain, that's enough. Let's return to the Professor's lesson, shall we?"

Felix bristles. "And the boar prince rushes to the aid of his vassal. If only humans worked the same way."

"No more of this, unless you three want to do twice as many laps during your next training session, " Byleth says. "Let's return to the subject at hand."

The three quickly shut up, and I breathe a quiet sigh of relief as she's finally put her foot down.

"As we've been discussing, and in my experience, superior tactics can overcome advantages in strength or numbers," Byleth explains. She points back to the board. "Crests and Relics or no, Agnes's troops made the correct strategic decisions. Relics can only do so much when attacks are raining from above." She turns to me and nods. "Harrison, do you have something to add? You were the one who read more of the book itself."

Well, Byleth did a good job explaining the best I could really offer there. But as I look out into the classroom, and at the Blue Lions—especially Annette, Ingrid, and Ashe looking on attentively, and even Sylvain, who can't hide his curiosity beneath his airs of being above it all—I get the distinct feeling that that's not enough. It's not going to look good, and more importantly, it's not going to give them what they want. So let me try, I decide, as an idea begins to take shape in my mind. If you can't dazzle them with your brilliance, baffle them with your bullshit.

"That's definitely a succinct way to put it, Professor," I reply. "If we want to dig into this idea a bit deeper, let's just try a little thought experiment here. To be honest, I don't recall the exact list of which nobles and vassals and their retinues were present at the battle," I say. "But let's just approximate that by looking at the noble houses of the Kingdom today. What are those houses' Relics?"

Ingrid raises her hand, and I call on her. She begins reciting the list as if she had learned them by rote: "Areadbhar, of House Blaiddyd; The Aegis Shield, of House Fraldarius; The Lance of Ruin, of House Gautier..." But the way she recites them doesn't betray any kind of classroom learning here. No, the Relics occupy such a space in this culture, have such a gravity and weight to them, that everyone around them is immersed in their importance. "Thunderbrand, of House Charon," she continues. "Crusher, of House Dominic—" Ingrid's voice falters momentarily here, as she says the final one: "and Lúin, of my—of House Galatea."

"Great," I reply. "So, let's see what those have in common. Lances, a sword, an axe, a shield?"

"Ooh! I got it!" Annette exclaims, raising her hand.

"Annette?" I ask.

"They're all close-combat weapons!" she says.

"Exactly," I reply. "So, yes, maybe Relics could give Rupert's troops the edge on the ground, where the melee was happening. But the tactical advantage of Agnes's units in the mountains, giving her heavy ranged attackers the best position to have the decisive effect on the battle."

For the moment, nobody musters up any further objections, so I take the victory with a quiet sigh of relief.

"Very good. Thank you, Annette. And Sylvain, for the excellent question," I say. Annette smiles,

but Sylvain just gives a curt nod in acknowledgement. "If no one has anything more to add, let's move on."

Apart from that, the rest of the class proceeds relatively smoothly. Note to self: The Blue Lions kids are always going to ask about Crests and Relics. It makes sense, doesn't it? Like Dimitri had told me on the training field, Faerghus values nothing above strength. And what rawer, more concentrated form of strength is there than magic superpower genes? They've been raised to hone in on that, for all the pain it may have caused them.

Claude asked about Crests and Relics the other day, too. But something sits differently here. With Claude, for all his illusions, projections and manipulations, the guy is genuinely curious about what makes the machine that is Fódlan tick—that's why he's asking. Claude wants to understand. The Faerghus kids, this is what they understand most of all.

Claude and I are in more similar positions than I may have thought at first glance. Not that either of us would admit it to the other. He can't be trusted, after all.

The week drags on, each day feeling longer and more exhausting than the last. It's not just the physical training sessions with Byleth—it's the stress. To a certain extent, we're falling into a routine, but I find myself learning the material and reviewing it with Byleth only days before we teach it, plans constantly needing to be adapted on the fly. We haven't had any major hiccups, so I think we're doing well, especially this early on, but it's probably the most mentally demanding thing I've ever done, and I got an A in physical chemistry.

On the second-to-last day of the week, I'm reviewing our final lesson plans for tomorrow when there's a knock at the door. "Come in," I call out.

In walks Seteth, with something of a slight scowl on his face as he surveys the office. I realize I haven't seen him in a few days, since I've started reporting to Byleth and Byleth alone.

"I see you've made yourself quite comfortable here," he says. "You realize this was intended to be the Professor's office."

It figures he'd have a problem with this arrangement. I shrug. "She said I could use the place," I reply. "My understanding is that I'm going to be doing a lot more office work than her, at any rate." Byleth has mentioned as much, but we haven't gotten into it yet, since we've just been trying to get the lecturing part down pat first.

Seteth mumbles something under his breath and just shakes his head. "Well, I suppose I'll leave the matter for another day."

"If you say so," I reply. At least I'm not getting evicted today. I close the book I'm reading and straighten myself in my seat. "Is there something you wanted from me?"

He nods. "In fact, there were two orders of business I wished to discuss with you. I will keep it brief, since I understand that your schedule has changed with your recent promotion. I am loath to monopolize your time, of course."

"I appreciate it, Headmaster," I say. The next words come out a bit awkwardly, as someone not used to this kind of position: "Close the door and have a seat."

He opens his mouth to speak, but doesn't say anything, just shutting the door and sitting down across from me. "Firstly, I must admit I am surprised, but it seems you have been doing a satisfactory job of fulfilling your duties thus far," he begins.

Backhanded compliments aside, satisfactory is good enough. I'll take it. "Thank you," I reply. "I'm trying my best."

"I expect you will continue to do so," he says. "Don't get complacent. You cannot simply rely on whatever natural ability you seem to have."

I frown a little. "I mean no disrespect, but I don't think I have any natural ability," I reply. "If I do, it's not with tactics or strategy. That's Professor Byleth. I'm just good at learning from books. And while I know things are different here, believe me, I've had the better part of my life to practice it."

"I do believe you," Seteth says. "I appreciate you bringing more order and structure to her classroom. But my point still stands. In addition to mastering the academic material, you will need to train rigorously for when your class begins to receive more practical missions."

"Professor Byleth's been training me in swordfighting, and I'm still practicing magic with Professor Hanneman when I can."

"Good," Seteth says, and takes a breath. "I hope that will be enough."

"We're in agreement there."

Seteth nods, then continues.

"The other point to discuss is your compensation. You will now be receiving your earnings in monthly installments at the beginning of the moon," he says. His eyebrows furrow even more for a moment. "Based on what you've told me, I don't expect it to be long before Professor Byleth has you managing your house's finances as well. So I will remind you to avoid commingling the Golden Deer's funds with your own, lest you seek to find yourself in the accused's chair once more."

"Of course," I reply, and just manage to hold back a chuckle at the irony. I come from a family of CPAs—Excel is probably in my DNA at this point—so if Byleth really needs an accountant, well, I guess I can wear that hat as well. It's the least I can do to do my old man proud.

"I am glad to hear that much is clear," Seteth says. "Now, you will receive your first pay when the next moon comes, after the mock battle. But as I've told you, you ought to acquire a wardrobe that is, er, more appropriate to your position."

He reaches into pocket in his cloak and places four coins down on the table, sliding them over to me. Two are very clearly gold, while the other two have a metallic hue somewhere between gold and silver—an alloy of the two, maybe?

"Use this advance to purchase some sets of proper clothing for yourself," he says, putting real weight on the 'proper' there.

"Thanks," I reply. I hesitate before taking the coins from him. I don't want to look like I'm taking it frivolously. After all, gold coins must mean a serious amount of dough. Silver was just pocket change to Catherine, but that was still an order of magnitude above my salary as a servant. But Seteth is ordering me to go shopping, right?

"Don't try to be too adventurous or fashion-forward," Seteth warns. "Remember, your house stipend will cover any armor, weapons, or other equipment you may need, but you still may find yourself wearing these clothes in the field."

"That's a good point," I reply. "Simple, comfortable, durable."

"Yes, exactly," Seteth says, and lets out a breath that almost sounds relieved. What, did he think I was going to try to impersonate Lorenz or something? "There is one more thing. In the coming days, you will be moving from the servants' quarters to a room closer to the students."

That's not a request, that's an order. "I understand," I reply. "When you're ready for that, let me know the details."

"Excellent," he says. "Expect to hear more from me soon, then. With that, I will be off." He stands up with an abrupt start.

"All right," I reply. "See you later."

"Take care, Assistant Professor."

Sure enough, it isn't long before I get kicked out of my closet of a room and moved into another set of dormitories next to the students. This building, Seteth explains, is actually for squires and apprentices of a separate training institution under the auspices of the Knights. Commoners and even the children of country knights and gentry sign up for training and working with the Knights of Seiros in exchange for a subsequent decade or two of service—finally answering the question of where the nameless NPC students who don't show up in the house rosters appear from. They're not nameless or NPCs at all, just students of a different kind entirely.

It's a distinctly less academic program than the Officer's Academy, which is geared towards training top-brass leaders, not junior officers or skilled support staff. And to that end, the professors such as myself aren't involved in it—though, Seteth explains, there's often joint training exercises, especially later in the year.

"I would have given you a spot by the Academy students, but I'm afraid Professor Byleth took the last spare room in that block," he explains. "And I simply couldn't give you a room on the upper floors, I'm afraid. I don't think our noble benefactors could conscience such a thing."

Something tells me he's right on that.

My room is right around the corner from the Academy students', with a door right out to the field like Byleth's. As I move my meager possessions into the new room, I find it's pretty well appointed in comparison to my previous lodgings. There's an actual bed, for one, as well as a small bookshelf, a chest of drawers, and a generously-sized desk and chair. An oil lamp can provide lighting, too, when the sun isn't streaking through wide windows flanked by heavy cloth curtains. It's not too unlike a nice college dorm room, minus air conditioning (if you were lucky enough to live in a dorm built after the 70s), a mini-fridge, and the ever-popular technically-not-allowed electric kettle. But maybe with magic, solutions are possible to imitate those conveniences, in one way or another.

Having moved in by the dormitories and with my clothing stipend acquired, the only thing left for me to finish my metamorphosis into The Assistant Professor is to look the part. That's where Hilda and Dorothea come in.

When it's finally time for the scheduled shopping trip, the three of us meet at the square where vendors come to hawk their wares at the monastery. There are some stalls with clothing displayed, but a lot of it seems really opulent—doublets with ornamental gold trim, puffy, ruffly shirts, and belts with buckles large enough to inflict some serious blunt force trauma—and that's just the men's clothing.

Hilda's attention is immediately caught by a big sign for "Anna's Boutique" with a cute drawing of a fashionably dressed couple. "Ah, my favorite!" she says. "Let's start here!"

I sigh. It's Anna—maybe not the same Anna I ran into so long ago, not that there would be any way for me to tell. Either way, I know what to expect.. "I don't think I'm the target market for anything boutique," I say.

"Oh, come on, Professor," Hilda says. "Let's just browse for a bit, okay?"

I relent, and Dorothea and I follow her into the store. As I thought, a redheaded, ponytailed merchant is behind the counter, grinning widely.

"Welcome to Anna's Boutique! I'm Anna, of course." She gestures to Hilda. "Lovely to see you again, Miss Hilda. I don't believe I know your friends here—" she says then turns to me—"Oh, are you in need of a uniform? I don't sell those here."

"Our professor," Hilda cuts in. "He doesn't know the first thing about fashion, so the task falls on us, his dear students, to help him get an outfit together."

"Well isn't that just lovely!" Anna says. "I'm certain that you'll find something befitting an esteemed professor, something you would be proud to wear while educating the next generation!"

"Me too!" Hilda replies. "Now I don't know about you, Professor, but those coats over there caught my eye." She points to a row of long, luxurious jackets, in every color imaginable, from purple to orange, made of a rich, satiny fabric and decorated with gold and silver braid. "They're just calling your name!"

I ignore her and turn to Anna. "I'm a professor's assistant, actually," I cut in, "and I've got the budget of one, too. So I might be looking for something a little less high-end."

Anna wags a finger at me. "You know what they say—dress for the job you want, not the job you have!"

"Oh, I'm perfectly content with my career choice," I reply. "No regrets or second thoughts at all, no ma'am."

Anna's smile widens, but still doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I'll just leave you and your students to browse, then," she says. "Let me know if you need anything."

I thank Anna, then pull Dorothea aside as Hilda continues to marvel at the merchandise.

"So, just between us, is this really our best shot? Because, well, I don't know how I feel about those coats."

Dorothea lowers her voice and looks at me intently. "Feels like they're overpriced trinkets to me," she says. "But what else can you expect? The merchants here are just trying to sucker in the students, the knights, the pilgrims—anyone who's stuck here and with more gold than sense. It's just a huge racket."

Somehow, the expression doesn't quite work the same without the "sense"-"cents" pun, but I got the sentiment from Dorothea loud and clear.

"So then what do you suggest?" I ask. She doesn't know the kind of budget I have, incidentally. Maybe I am actually the target demographic for "overpriced trinkets" now.

"You know, we can go into town. They've got shops there that sell secondhand clothes—things should be more reasonable there. And you'll be less likely to end up looking like you got into a fight with a viscount's closet."

"Oh, that's more what I need, I think," I say. If I had known medieval thrift shopping was a thing, I probably wouldn't have come into this store in the first place.

Dorothea holds up a finger. "But first, you might want to look around here for your, you know, basics first, you know? Used smallclothes, well—"

"Oh. Oh." I don't let her finish the sentence, and look down at my feet as I feel myself starting to blush. "I got it."

Dorothea chuckles. "Just trying to look out for you, Harrie."

I just nod. Somehow I don't think it's exactly proper to talk about purchasing underwear with your students, and that's a very discomfiting line of thinking to go down. But Dorothea brought it up, and she still thinks of me as "Harrie", as a peer, so I doubt she's too upset by it. So much the better.

With Hilda distracted by shiny piping, I set out on the hunt for, well, smallclothes. I find a few pairs of light shorts and undershirts ("fine chemises", Anna insists.) They seem close enough to their modern equivalents, relying on laces or ties without the benefit of elastic bands, and not dissimilar from what's included in the monastery servants' uniform. The difference is in the material, with these being made of light, fine linen. As I hand my selections over to Anna to total up, I expect that they will command a higher price.

"All told, that will be four thalers," she says. I hand her one of my gold coins, hoping that it's enough—I don't want a repeat of that first time I tried to buy from an Anna.

"Very good, very good," she says. "And here is your change." She hands me back one of the silvery-gold coins that's the same as the others Seteth gave me. These, then, are thalers, and one of the gold coins is equivalent to five of them. Hooray for math.

With my new purchases packed away in a bag, it's time to go. Hilda, predictably, is nowhere to be found.

"She's over here, Harrie," Dorothea calls out, waving from over by the jewelry section.

We have to practically drag Hilda out of the boutique.

"Just a few more minutes!" she says. She holds up a pair of earrings set with polished sky-blue stones. "Do you think my brother would buy these for me? I think the baby blue really complements the color of my hair."

I just look at her blankly for a moment.

She rolls her eyes and sighs. "You wouldn't get it. Not everything needs to be matchy-match, you know."

"I'll take your word for it," I reply. "But I don't know your brother, or what he will or won't buy for you."

Hilda shrugs. "I'll just buy them and ask for more money if I need. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, right?"

With a smile, she heads up to Anna to pay for her purchase, while Dorothea and I exchange a glance. When Hilda returns, Dorothea explains the next step of the plan.

"So, you coming with?"

"I guess if you insist," Hilda replies. "You sure you can't just find anything here?"

"If our venture into town doesn't turn up anything, we can check here later," I reply.

"Fine, fine," she says. "Let's go, then. Don't keep me out too late, Professor."

We walk towards the imposing gates of Garreg Mach. Stepping through that threshold, feeling my foot touch ground on the other side of the damn monastery, causes me to let out a shuddering breath that I didn't even realize I was holding.

"You alright there, Harrie?" Dorothea asks. "We haven't even started the walk down yet."

"I'm fine," I reply. "I just can't remember the last time I left the monastery grounds."

That's a lie. I can—it just feels like a lifetime ago, because it was.

By "walk down", Dorothea really did mean a walk down, though. I shouldn't be too surprised since we are in the mountains, but the path leading from the gates descends sharply down to the town in the foothills. As we continue along the path, the figure of the monastery grows more distant, but ever taller, looming over us.

This isn't escape, it isn't freedom. It's a very temporary reprieve. It has all the weight of the fifteen minutes of recess you get in elementary school. Or being let out to play basketball in a prison. It's probably somewhere in between the two.

The town at the foothills of Garreg Mach is certainly small by twenty-first century Earth standards, but is nothing to sneeze at. There's a wide-open town square teeming with the hustle and bustle of people moving around, buying snacks and trinkets from street merchants.

Fanning out from the square are taller multi-story buildings with thatched roofs and adjoining stables with plenty of people coming and going. Inns and taverns, I realize.

Back when I was still a servant, I had come to learn that Garreg Mach itself offers lodging and supplies to travelers and pilgrims, not to mention the services of the merchants they make available to visitors. But I'd cleaned by their boarding-rooms a few times, and they seem to cater to a richer, more upper-crust crowd—the kind that donations and tithes can be solicited from. The locals here must have wanted to cash in on the opportunity, too, and hit a lower price point at the same time.

Let's hope we can do the same with clothing.

We finally make it to the secondhand store that Dorothea mentioned earlier.

The shopkeeper there, a kindly older woman with white hair tied neatly into a bun, greets us as we look about the inventory. The collection seems much more suited to my level—there are jackets, cloaks, and vests, plainer in design and more sober in color. The exotic purples and blues are replaced with earthy tones of brown, green, and khaki, and even without touching them, I can tell the clothes are made from more sturdy materials.

Of course, not every one is a winner. I have to look through jackets that are too big, too long, stained or worn—these are second-hand clothes after all. But it doesn't take long before I find something that seems reasonable— something I could actually wear.

It's a russet-brown coat, fastened with a long series of buttons. There isn't a lapel or collar like a modern overcoat, and the full-length sleeves also open up, each with another row of buttons.

"Hey, Dorothea," I say. "What do you think of this?"

She comes over and sizes it up. "Nice, heavy wool... no stains, no holes, very nice." She mutters a few more things to herself, then looks up. "Let's see how it fits."

Dorothea asks the shopkeeper if "we" can try on the merchandise, to which she agrees, and I try the thing on and walk over to a mirror hung in the corner of the store.

I know the broad strokes of how to check a modern suit jacket for fit—the seams in the shoulders, the lengths of the sleeves, and so on—but this is another beast altogether. And who's to say the fashion in Fodlan isn't totally different from what's in my mind?

But roughly, things look and feel like they're in proportion. I'm not swimming in the thing, and the length is good for a real outerwear overcoat, coming down just above my knees.

"Not a bad fit, Harrie," she says, giving an approving nod.

Hilda gives a disaffected shrug as she fidgets with her new earrings. "I mean, I guess. A little boring, a little plain. You're never gonna stand out in that, you know."

"That's a good thing for me," I reply.

"Actually," Dorothea begins, wagging a finger, "the flowing sleeves look reminds me of Professor Byleth's outfit a little."

I bite my lip. She has a point, come to think of it.

"Oh yeah!" Hilda chimes in. "You two will look all coordinated now! I love it!"

"That wasn't my intent," I say. "And besides, I thought not everything has to look all matchy-match. I guess I'll just have to always wear the sleeves buttoned up."

"Not everything doesn't mean nothing," Hilda replies, folding her arms. "You're no fun, Professor."

"School isn't supposed to be fun," I reply. "Not for the students or the teachers."

That settles the matter for now. With Dorothea's help, I pick out a few more pieces—simple vests, shirts, and pants in much the same style as the coat. Between all that and a surprisingly well-fitting, sturdy pair of boots, I now actually have a decent wardrobe. Unassuming, maybe, but solid.

All my purchases here come to one "gold mark", which I presume is the true gold coin, so I give the shopkeeper one and the three of us head on our way. Luckily there's a lot less here than in Anna's Boutique to distract Hilda.

As we head back to the main square of town, I breathe a quiet sigh of relief. "Well, that was pretty successful, I'd say."

"It was," Dorothea says.

"Thank you both for taking the time to come out with me. It means a lot," I say. Just then, something on the opposite side of the square catches my eye: a vendor hawking what looks like desserts from a cart. I point him out to Dorothea and Hilda. "You guys want a snack? My treat."

"Goddess, yes," Hilda says, starting across the square with an unexpected spring in her step.

"I'd like to see that kind of energy in the mock battle," I call after her.

"Only if there's this kind of reward!" she calls back.

A/N: Well, I know there's no real good excuse for why this took so long. Life is hard. Being an adult is hard. Having a job and a relationship and a family is hard and sometimes things get lost in the shuffle and sometimes those things are hobbies, even ones that you really enjoy. But I'm not intending to give up. Thanks for being patient. And thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites in the time being.

Thanks to TDB for beta reading as always. I've been away for so long he went and became an actual lawyer in the time it took me to write this chapter. Your out of context quote from him is: "I can assure you I'm perfectly average at parties."

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! I promise I'll try to be more active going forward.

And now, some quite long-awaited (possibly) review responses:

patattack - Thank you very much! The Battle of the Copper Pass was actually inspired by a real historical battle, the Battle of Morgarten, with Agnes's troops reprising the role of the Swiss and Rupert the Austrians. I was reading an actual book on medieval tactics and got inspired by their analysis of that battle. It's definitely not a 1:1 rewriting, nor was I trying to do such a thing - I was just inspired by how representative that battle was of the dynamics of infantry and cavalry and so on.

EmptySpot - Haha, well I suppose it's either that or Pink Guy.

Crowbars357 - I think that would be a little too convenient, don't you think?

Takedo - A very interesting theory! You'll have to see how all that pans out over time.

Everpeach - I understand. Thanks for reading!

eseer - Ascended Bernie is a formidable thing indeed.

Incognito74 - Thank you! Glad you enjoyed it!

Dragonmaster150 - Thanks! I will say that you may want to check the previous chapters again, as Harrison is actually a Jew. I plan to explore more about how faith magic works in the future so stay tuned for that!

Socialism - Thanks for the review!

Spearance - Haha, that's right. Thanks for the review!

somas35 - Your point about depression in SIs is interesting. I don't think this is categorically true, but I do think writing can be a coping mechanism for people who are depressed or otherwise unsatisfied with their lives. I know sometimes when I have had hard times making real life decisions I would fixate on what could be done with my fic.

Steelrain66 - Thanks for the review! I was thinking swords because a) swords are just cool, I don't care about "logic" and b) it's Byleth's own weapon of choice, so it makes sense for her to want to instruct him with it.

V01dSw0rd - Interesting predictions! You'll have to keep reading on to see what happens!

Reza Gray - Thank you for commenting!

Cavik - Haha, thanks for the review!

Anon - Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it!

DannyPhantom619 - Good question. I don't know, actually, since Awakening seemed to ramp up the tension pretty quickly compared to Three Houses's slow-burning intrigue in White Clouds. But we'll have to see just how slow it remains.

Remvis - Thanks a lot! I actually did model the sword lesson on a few videos online.

Heavenschoir - Thanks for the review!

Guest - Haha, thanks for commenting!

Guest - Thank you so much! Pacing is something I find myself struggling with so I'm glad it's enjoyable for you.

Kuroyami Fukaikuro - Thanks! Right, I find it a lot more satisfying when the self-insert has to earn their victories, and one thing I'm trying to show is that it's not just through wits or hard work, but both as well as the importance of making connections and allies.

Arrancar113 - Well that doesn't seem like such an unpopular opinion but we'll have to see how the story develops further! Thanks for reading!

- Thank you so much for reading! I definitely don't plan to repeat canon exclusively just with Harrison there, but you'll have to see just how much changes and in what way.

Lordsunshine64 - Thanks for reading! Glad you are enjoying it so much.

FanficLovingPerson - She may sometimes be an airhead, but she's definitely competent.

Guest - Thank you! Oh, a love triangle already? Wow!

Guest - Thanks for reviewing! The character interactions are my favorite part to write.

Viviene001 - I came back, don't fear! Hope you enjoyed the current chapter.

Knucklesfan - Thank you so much, glad you enjoyed it!

Sinfel - I'm alive, I promise!

The Mob Reader - Thank you for reviewing!

PhoenixClaw2128 - Thank you for the review! I hope this lived up to your expectations!