Idiosyncrasy

by OCfan11

A mode of behaviour or way of thought peculiar to an individual. OC-reborn-as-Leonie-Pinelli

19. Chapter 19 - Interlude

Chapter Nineteen – Interlude

0.

His name is Khalid.

It's also Claude.

He knows it the same way one knows to breathe. He knows it from birth, even if he does not understand what a name is. Does not understand the world or who he is or what he'll become.

Khalid.

Claude.

The-

1.2

On the twenty-fourth of the Blue Sea Moon – July – the seventh prince and thirteenth child of the Almyran royals is born. His father names him Khalid. His mother swears to never go through this again.

The woman once called Tiana von Riegan can guess why this took a toll on her, but she doesn't dare voice it. Never wants to confirm it.

The boy's green eyes are more than enough of a reminder.

Once more, he cries.

1.5

At two years old, Khalid knows he is odd compared to his half brothers and sisters. The other children, the palace guards, the caretakers… no one wants to play with him. He spends most days with his mother, another odd thing as the other kids rarely see their mothers and fathers during the day. It is okay though, because his mother is always talking with others and letting him watch the fights and a lot of time, she joins in. His mother beats up everyone who challenges her. She is the best.

Khalid is also smarter than most and knows a lot of people frown when he talks to his in-vi-si-ble friends because in Al-my-ra adults does not like kids talking to people they cannot see. His mother says it is fine. So Khalid talks to them.

There is nervous and smart Ignatz. He helps Khalid learn code and to put numbers together. Ignatz has things on his face to help him see. He says they are glasses, but Khalid thinks they look nothing like cups. No one in his father's palace wears them, so he can't ask what they are in his language.

Raphael is Ignatz's best friend. He teaches Khalid about healthy workouts and tells the best stories about food and helping people and his little sister Maya. Khalid wants to be tall and strong like him one day! His muscles are bigger than his mother and father's!

Khalid doesn't like talking with Lorenz as much. He likes to lecture about manners and utensils and nobility. When he asked his mother, she laughed and told him it doesn't matter! So now Lorenz teaches him poetry and magic fundamentals. Still boring, but it's better than walking with books on his head.

He doesn't really like Lysithea all that much either. She likes to call him a child whenever she's there. She doesn't come often. She'll tell him stories on magic, and draw wards and spells in the air. Tells him he needs to get better with faith, but he doesn't understand what she means.

Marianne is nice, but will only come during quiet moments. She tells him stories about all the animals she's friends with and teaches him how to approach horses and wyverns. No one understands how the meanest beasts in the stable let him sleep there, and he's not telling her secrets. He promised.

Khalid thinks he loves Hilda. She had pink hair and pink eyes and is kind-of lazy but is super strong. Strong enough she could probably beat his mother. She comes the most of everyone, telling him about ideas she's had for change or trying to boss him around. Her ideas do not work very well with what he overhears about the villages, but if anyone could make people change it is her. Even if she doesn't understand the people around Khalid, she can speak the language fluently.

Besides Hilda, none of his friends really understand the people around Khalid… except for Leonie. She never appears by herself and will translate for the others if Khalid does not get the words. She is always blunt, but gives apologies if it made his insides hurt or his eyes sting. She says things no one really understands sometimes, jokes only she gets. He's not sure how to feel about her. She is the only one to say that this is all in his head, and she didn't come back when he told her to leave. He's accepted her apology, but she still hasn't appeared with anyone again.

Khalid is two years old with imaginary friends and, one night after a meal where his father was kissing another mother, Khalid tells his own mother that he wants to marry Hilda.

Helping him ready for bed, Tiana laughs, "Your friend?"

Khalid nods, smiling, "Hilda Goneril. She-"

But he finds he can't talk, head snapping to the side. The echo of the slap lingers. His mother has switched from beautiful to frightening, her hand still raised. It hurts.

"Do not say that name," his mother heaves her breaths. "Never say that name again. Okay?"

"M-"

"Okay?!"

"Yes," Khalid cries, tears falling. "I understand!"

His mother leans away, still in her scary mode. She nods shortly and stands. "Your friends- your imaginary friends. You are never to speak of them again. If I hear another word of them, you will not to be at dinner for a week."

Meals are the only time he sees his family, dinner is the only time they are all together. Khalid quickly nods and stays silent as his mother leaves. His cries are as quiet as he can make them as he struggles into bed. He hugs a pillow to his face and screams.

Leonie is there when he looks up. His voice trembling, "What do you want?"

She watches him for a while, watches his stinging cheek, "When I was a kid, a man broke my jaw because I talked too much."

He thinks he remembers the story even if he doesn't remember, "Ouch."

"Yah," she shrugs. "Do you want me to get someone else?"

But he remembers his mother's words, and they dig deeper then the need to see Hilda. He only thinks he loves her. He loves his mother. He has to. She is the only real thing he has. "No I, I can't. I can't."

"Okay," Leonie answers like it is that simple. "If you can't, you can't. Do you want me to stay?"

He nods hesitantly.

So she does, but not long because Leonie never appears without someone else. She is gone before he can sleep, and in his dreams he can talk with his friends without worry. The only issue is that he can never remember the dreams when he wakes up. Nothing more than a flash of pink hair or a call for his name.

Hilda and Leonie have always swapped between calling him Claude and Khalid. To everyone else who speak the weird language and talk of magic like it's common, they call him Claude.

When he wakes up, everyone calls him Khalid. He is two years old and stops talking to imaginary friends.

Eventually, he stops remembering them as well.

1.6

Khalid is three years old and about to get a new sibling. He knows this because his mother and the other mothers told him. He knows one of his father's bedpartners has been screaming somewhere in the palace, that she is going to become a mother soon too. His own mother keeps close whenever new siblings arrive. She does not like it when he leaves her reach.

Since the slap, he has noticed the others getting physical punishments too. His older siblings getting whacked or thrown into a ring to fight out anger and problems. He notices his mother grips too tight sometimes, that his father is rough to all his children no matter the age. He once saw the Queen draw blood after reprimanding a server at the monthly dinner in her palace.

There is something in his body that doesn't sit right with it. Something that tells him, this is wrong. But Khalid is three years old and does not understand anything different. He just tries not to squirm when the odd feelings rush over or settle in him.

There is a knock on the door. After a few words, his mother has him scooped up and they're moving quickly. When he tries to ask where, she shushes him. When they enter a room with a bad smell, she makes him swear to never tell anyone what happens here. She tells him they will go to the bonfire tonight if he promises to never say a word.

Khalid loves the bonfire, even if others shy away from them or refuse to let them in the circle of cheering and dancing. He agrees and watches, biting his lip to keep silent as his mother flurries around the room. He is too small to see, but apparently his new half-sister in on the table.

From the sobbing and mutterings of the new mother, the little girl is deaf. Khalid is three years old, but he knows what that means. She will go to the orphanage, and if no one adds her to their family then she will join in the border fighting. He watches the table with a frown as the servants and nurses cower under his mother's words, as the new mother begs for a fix.

His mother agrees to 'getting someone over here' while everyone is sworn to secrecy. Like with his own birth, their father will not be by to see the child until he wants to. Then, he will name her. Same as all of his other children.

Khalid is one of the few allowed to see his new sister, even though he cannot tell anyone. Like the others, she doesn't really like him, but then again she sleeps most of the time so he has trouble staying interested in her. A few days after her birth, he is letting her play with his fingers when his mother sneaks in a man wearing very strange clothing. Then he's on the table, holding his little sister steady as the man casts real, powerful magic.

Khalid's always known it was real, but seeing it is another matter. His focus is then quickly taken by his little sister, who has the most interesting expression as she hears for the first time. He doesn't think he's ever seen it before.

She giggles and smiles when he giggles back.

1.7

Some days, Khalid likes his dreams more than his waking life. Even if he never remembers them, he remembers what it's like to feel wanted.

He sits in the classroom where a few of his brothers and sisters learn with the Queen's children. Here, a few people are nice to him. Mostly the professors, who while not really calm or patient do know a variety of teaching styles. They make the kids get along or be quiet when told to, either through competition or threats. Claude, unfortunately, has a hard time staying silent or still. He has energy for days and questions that are hard to get out, leading to more than one incident of dangling out a window or dragged to answer questions by the ear.

Khalid gets used to corporal punishment, even if it makes his insides feel all wrong and angry. He'll do his best to run, but he's not fast enough. He tries his best to fight, but he's not strong or skilled enough. Then he gets smart; hides when he needs to or plays dumb where he used to snap back. Khalid learns his way around the halls while the others have snacks or breaks.

Only the Queen's children talk to him, at least those who aren't mad someone younger than them is already taking lessons. Their mother and fathers haven't warned them away from the demon queen's spawn. After the initial disdain, they talk to him when he needs help. They play with him when they need the extra number.

He does not understand what it means to settle. Does not understand the sour taste in his mouth when he's chosen last; Khalid is just happy to be chosen at all.

He is a cheeky little brat.

But he has to be.

If it's not the frowns thrown his way, then it is people not paying him attention. The worst part is that he does not understand why. Why does he crave attention, and why do they treat him different than the others?

Some nights, when the moon is full and he has too much energy and he cannot sleep, Khalid wipes away tears as he tries to understand.

1.8

The day after the annual challenge for the thrones, Khalid is introduced to the man his father beat into the dirt.

"Nader will be your combat instructor," the King of Almyra clasps his son shoulder, the kid's flinch going unnoticed. "He is one of the best generals we have, great with paperwork too. So if you need tutoring in that, go to him."

Scars marring his face and a dirt-smeared beard, something in Khalid's chest swirls. Mixed feelings as he smiles and holds out a hand as custom, "Nice to meet you!"

Behind the men, Khalid's mother smiles like a proud cat. Nader laughs and, surprising them all, gets down to one knee to shake, "You as well, kiddo."

Khalid wants to like him. He really does.

But the boy has trust issues from years of hurts and the new teacher is forcing his smile. There's something that he's missing still. Besides this man losing for the position of King. Besides the obvious punishment for even trying. Khalid knows, even if he doesn't understand, that there is something about him this man hates.

Just another adult judging him without getting to know him.

1.9

Everything – all the training, all the sleepless nights, all the aches – is worth it the moment he holds a bow. It's all worth it the moment he lets an arrow fly and it hits the center of the target. For once in a very, very long time, Khalid feels right. Comfortable and proud. The second shot isn't as perfect, but he'll practice until his fingers bleed if he must. It is something he is a natural at, and no one can take away or tell him to hide it.

Nader clasps his shoulder and praises him, something softer in his eyes. Something proud.

It's something Khalid wishes his parents have in their expressions when they look at him.

2.1

He learns it in history class with the others.

"But, why?" asks his older half sister, a girl who would rather learn to snap spines than make friends, but they're all curious about the enemies. "They can't possibly keep organized with three ruling territories!"

"That's just how it is," explains their teacher, pointing to the three areas on a crudely drawn map. "We know very little about the people of Fódlan, however our spies have discovered that each territory answers to their religious faction, a dedicated group who worships a single Goddess called Sothis."

There is more outcry from the students, Khalid letting out an exclamation with them. One Goddess? How does that work?

Khalid doubts a lot of things. Fate. Destiny. Higher Powers. He's grown up in a culture where a lot of people pick one or two deities to pray to, but nothing showy or intertwined with the country's functions. Temples let people pray to whoever they need to, alters or bonfires let them offer whatever they choose. To him, a country answering to a religious faction is as unheard as splitting a country into different ruling bodies. He has grown up with Almyra's politics. A King and a Queen, the strongest of the two is in charge of the people while the defeated in charge of the military.

Fódlan is strange. An Empire ruled by an Emperor, someone selected by their country's only archbishop. A Kingdom ruled by a King, someone born into the role. The oddest of all, an Alliance of smaller territories joining forces to make a larger territory within the country. Each noble has a piece, a seat, a place. Khalid finds himself very interested in this last territory, the only one which borders on Almyra. The idea of people getting along, standing together-

"What do the people look like?" asks his older half brother.

Their teacher answers, "Like you and I, however they do have more variety in hair and eye colours. If you want to see what a person from Fódlan looks like, go see Khalid's mother."

He freezes, mind going blank at the words and stares his siblings give. For a moment it is like he cannot breathe, the air buzzing in his ears.

His mother.

A person from Fódlan.

The enemy.

It makes sense now. Makes him ill to process it.

Khalid wishes someone would have warned him.

2.2

Nader is back from the front lines with a handful of men, and there is a celebration. Singing and screaming and dancing and-

Khalid is pulled into the thick of things by his teacher.

It is a great feeling. Something he wishes would never end. His mother always stayed on the outskirts, cheering and dancing but never truly involved. It is a wild party, a grand feast, and the boy loves every minute of it.

The feeling of belonging.

It would be so nice to feel like this all the time.

2.3

Khalid is eight and nightmares have started full force since killing his first assassin at five years of age. He wakes up in a blind sweat and is moving before he processes it. Runs through empty corridors and hidden passages ways, skidding along the floor and bouncing off corners as silent as he can. He does not know why he is so afraid, but he knows he must check on his eldest brother right now.

He does not know how, but he knows his half brother is in the kitchen. Knows he cannot be caught out of bed or else.

He leaps out and onto the hooded figure that has just killed a few night-rotation guards.

Khalid is eight and feels like throwing up at the wrongness that spreads over his body when he kills the assassin. He doesn't stay there, doesn't check to see if there is another one, instead running for his mother's room. He crashes into Nader along the way, or more like Khalid bounces off him through his tears.

The man curses and sweeps him, jogging the sobbing boy the rest of the way. Khalid manages to get out the story to his mother, Nader, and the guards who are there. He doesn't see the looks but feels the way the room grows colder. His body pricks and tingles, the wrongness in him refusing to recede yet.

When it is just his mother and Nader, hears the man ask, "Should I increase lookouts at the border?"

"Yes," Khalid's mother snaps in her stress, pacing the lengths of the room. "And don't hold back. I don't want a single one to come here."

"Tiana-"

"This doesn't leave the room," she hisses. "They can suspect all they want, but without proof there is nothing to back. He hasn't sparred with anyone but you, right?"

"...No, but Tiana-"

Khalid jerks into watching as his mother has his instructor pinned to the floor, knife at his throat, "No. Buts."

The boy breaks the moment with a soft, "Mum?"

She draws away with one more glare at the man, face softening into what he loves of his mother. She settles next to him and sings, shushing him when he tries to say a word.

Khalid is eight and realizes there is more to the reason why Nader is his tutor, why his mother always had him near, and why he and the other kids must always travel in groups when no adult is around. He's very curious as to what it is, what they're hiding.

That bit of him that still hurts from finding out he's not a full-blooded Almyran, it hasn't forgiven his mother no matter how much he loves her. It means he questions everything, even if she shuts it down. It means he doesn't feel guilty looking for answers when she does things like this.

The wrongness is gone by morning, his eldest brother is still alive. Now, Khalid needs to find someone who will spar with him.

2.4

As he grows, Khalid finds himself more interested in the land his mother came from. What is it like? What are the people, cultures, and landscapes like? Three different political systems, unlike the one system setup in Almyra. The people in Fódlan are ruled by a singular person, or a group of nobles. The last time Almyra's King and Queen were married was over two centuries ago. Every year, there is a challenge offered for those who wish to prove themselves strongest. Beat the King or Queen, and you take the title. Then, beat your opposite and you control the country's inner workings. Loser is in charge of foreign affairs.

Neither Tiana nor the King could beat the Queen since she obtained the title. Not only do the King and Queen seldom get along, to marry would mean to give up their partners. If Khalid's father were to be beaten in the yearly challenge or marry someone other than Tiana, then he, his mother, and all of the others would be kicked from the palace, homeless. It is why the Kings and Queens train their children so hard. Succession comes from strength in Almyra, not by blood or blessings or votes.

The last time a King or Queen wasn't related to the previous ones was centuries ago.

On full moon nights, Khalid daydreams about being the King. Everyone tells him he isn't ready. A few tell him his mother's ancestry will keep him from the throne. Under all the negatives, the discrimination, the hate, he could have easily become vengeful. Cruel. Instead, Khalid becomes stubborn, hopeful, would rather see the good sides to people as he prepares for the bad.

He wants to become King. Thinks he would make it great dealing with foreign affairs, considering how the assassination attempts increased the moment of his mixed status was leaked by his teacher. The question would be, who does he want as a Queen? The current Queen's children seem alright, but very few have the woman's brains. She is able to keep the country prospering while the army continuously bashes against a wall. The overpopulation that was hinted at starting the war is either gone or hushed to where Khalid cannot hear it.

Khalid isn't sure what he wants in a Queen besides loyalty. Oh, he knows want he wants, but a loyal partner to run a country with is the only must. All others are concessions.

If he doesn't like their royal team up, then he'll only stay long enough to prove the naysayers wrong. There is a whole world to explore, after all. Almyra and Fódlan are only names and drawings on maps. They cannot be the only places where people live.

Khalid watches the stars and thinks of beaches he's never seen and what it would be like to become a pirate.

2.5

His first time going into the village is eye-opening.

Nader had to clear him for the visit, has to be with him every step. Khalid trusts this man more than his own blood family sometimes, and definitely more than the palace guards. A lot of people stare at him, as if knowing his mixed status on sight. It's unnerving, the itching under his skin ramping up with every rare sneer from his father's people if they don't immediately turn away.

There is the occasional sign or board with prices in the market, but most of it is all spoken word. Khalid learns fast to recognize items by sight, to memorize the words to practice later. It is very different from the palace. A whole other world unto itself, where reading and writing does not matter. What does is the value of the item to you and the trader. Gold trades hand, but more often than not it is materials being swapped. Sword for a crate of fruits. A beautiful dress for a horse.

Nothing is free.

"Here we are," Nader says, pushing the starry-eyed child forward. "You wanted to play? Well, go ask them."

Khalid grins at the easy permission and runs forward.

2.6

The few children do let him play with them, though they are obviously wary at first. It is not the clothing, nor Nader or anything he can think of. He has lighter skin than most, but it still isn't uncommon. The way he speaks is as loose as theirs, none of the palace refinement. He copies the way they move and how they act, and yet still other stranger children are being opened up to more than he is.

There is a buzz in his blood the more he tries to reach out and get a sense for them. Until he stops, and the itch goes away and their postures relax however slightly.

Maybe he's trying too hard.

But something in Khalid believes it isn't from overreaching, and he cannot ask with the eyes and ears everywhere.

He just needs to find who has the answers, all the while asking himself what he's prepared to do to get them.

2.7

Because Khalid doesn't stop badgering about it, Nader gets him a magic teacher instead of learning it himself to teach. This goes for all of one sparring lesson, in which Tiana comes charging across the field to argue on what her son is doing. The yelling devolves into a fistfight, where Tiana stands victorious not unlike a moment Khalid remembers. She then storms over, tosses her son over her shoulder, and says she'll teach him magic or no one will.

Khalid learns about Belief and Faith. He learns how magic is frowned upon in Almyra. He learns how a very select few in the country will ever show the spark necessary for it, and that if they are not picked up and brought to the Queen's magical school then they likely grow up full of hatred and destroy towns and villages before they burn out.

He asks why they grow up to be evil. She doesn't know why. Neither do those in the palace or the few magic users who answer his question.

He feels like he might know, but it could just be wishful thinking. His mother promises he has the spark, but he hasn't seen any proof yet. Until then, Khalid is just like the rest of the population in this sense.

He isn't sure how that makes him feel.

2.8

He sneaks into the Queen's palace only once, a feeling of wrongness dusting his skin. Khalid puts it off as nerves and settles behind the curtains, watching the magic class commence. There are maybe a dozen kids and teens of all ages and varying levels. Instead of Belief and Faith, they are taught Fire, Water, Air, Earth, Light, and Dark. They are taught combinations –water and air: mist and ice – and are given books with strange writings to channel their magical energy into physical form.

Khalid ducks back behind the fabric when the Queen arrives, the students greeting her. Everyone leaves for outside practice, except the woman. She pulls back the curtain, smile not softening a little at the boy's cheeky grin.

"Don't you have your own lessons to attend?" she asks, beckoning him out.

"I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about."

"Oh?"

He follows her, the guards giving him unimpressed looks, "Everyone is saying that magic is uncommon and dangerous and turns people evil. Those people aren't evil."

"They are not evil," the chilly Queen nods, leading him to a lounge room, tea made and cookies out. Khalid sits and waits for everything to be sorted before taking a bite. If it's poisoned, it isn't like any of the ones he's taken immunity training for. "Magic, by its nature, is not evil. People just hear the bad stories and treat the untrained users poorly for it."

He swallows and takes a shot in the dark, "Is that why you bring them here? Do people hurt them?"

"Yes, and yes," still no change to her expression. "I, myself, do not possess any magical ability, but my brothers and sisters did. They all ended up fighting in the war. This school has done a lot to change the stigma around magic users, but there are still places where they refuse the assistance with crops or water purification or the like. Old, deep prejudice is hard to dig out. It is my hope that by starting to train young and showing the good magic can do, our people will grow past their fear and anger and treat each other equally, no matter the abilities.

"So, Khalid, what will you do about your situation?" She tilts her head and smiles smaller. It makes her look younger, less threatening within the confusion of his mind.

"I don't know yet," he replies, but that is partly a lie. He will venture to other lands one day. Get out of this situation and to a place where he is no longer sent looks of hate or disgust.

But where will that leave others in his position?

It's a lot to think about for a boy who shouldn't be carrying the weight so soon.

2.9

Khalid knows he gets nicked by the arrow. There is still a little bit of blood and a tear where it sliced.

But now, at the end of the archery practice – of trying to hit Nader's arrowhead-on – there is nothing. The only other injury on the field was the bird who dove into the arrow after Khalid had shot.

No one else must stay up all three full moon nights, no less tired than the day they awoke. No one else gets disgruntled – sometimes angry – looks by trying to get a sense of another person.

Only his mother can heal so quickly from an injury, but she feels tired afterwards. Khalid feels better, can last longer sparring.

There is something he is missing. With all the punishments from previous attempts to question it, he's almost afraid to keep asking.

Almost.

3.1

It is a story he will tell. How his father tied him to a horse and dragged him around. He doesn't say how many times it happened – more than he cares to remember – and won't say who else got the treatment – every single one of his siblings – but he will try and claim he is partially to blame. That he was a brat.

When he tells the story, it will always be played for a laugh. If someone gives him the look, the one that says that's not right, then he'll try to throw shade on himself. As though it was his fault he got tied to a horse and dragged over rocks and dirt things that will leave bumps and bruises.

Khalid will get better, but that is not the point.

Maybe he is a brat, maybe he is not. Still not the point.

The point is that if he cries during the punishment, they call him weak.

If he struggles to get away, they call him a coward.

That if he or his siblings are so injured they cannot get out of bed the next day, they are called unworthy.

In Almyra, the strong are respected. Khalid will pretend for years he isn't afraid of horses and will start to trust them only after his father's favourite mount dies. He will tell a story that was an experience where sometimes he feared for his life. Then, if no one laughs, he will act like he deserved it.

A part of him knows he does not. It is hard to listen to it when someone he loves is causing the pain, all the while his mother laughs on the sidelines.

3.2

The few of his siblings that tolerate him will trade favours. Khalid becomes sneaky, cunning, with a budding network. He can get them things only found in the market, in exchange for pieces of information or news. The same happens with the children outside. He makes sure Nader is distracted before giving them food or coin, learning what he can about his small world.

He is very proud of the time he convinced his elder sister to feign sick, taking her place in a hunt. His very first. The giant, leathery mount so unlike a horse snorts and then ignores him. Nader drops him on the back of the wyvern, and Khalid thinks this is right.

He is a natural. All that's missing is a bow.

…or something else.

He can't remember what, but he is pretty good with axes.

3.3

Another assassin, dead.

Khalid doesn't feel guilty. He never has. His mother, father, and Nader are the only ones to ever congratulate him on surviving.

Another sibling, dead.

No one congratulates him on making it through another round of poison immunity, not even the teachers who help him make it and watch over the royal children's progress.

Another lead, dead.

He is no further to understanding what makes him so different that everyone sneers at him when they don't his mother. Tiana, the bravest person from Fódlan, he tells them. Only, she won't say a word about her past. Refuses to tell her only son his heritage, no matter how much he pesters.

Another day, Khalid still lives.

3.4

He thinks, it would be so much easier if I stopped caring.

That's a real problem.

No matter how much he tries to keep a distance, he still begins to care. To like people or tolerate them beyond their uses.

He does not understand throwing your life away from someone.

Khalid does understand living for them.

Making them proud.

Proving the haters wrong.

He is stronger than he realizes, as everyone tells him he is weak.

Get told something long enough…

Khalid can name the people he lives for on one hand. He thinks that is enough. That as long as they are still there, he can work to be strong and make his dream a reality.

Right now, he dreams of being King.

3.6

His hair, which had always been long, now grows faster. It becomes a bonding moment between him and his age-group siblings, tying or braiding their hairs into different styles. Most get it cut, but he likes it long.

Likes the memories he can make when it is long.

"Khalid, can we weave flowers through it today?"

3.7

Puberty – though the word and knowledge of it does not exist in this world – hits like a punch to the gut. Khalid has no idea when his thoughts began lingering on people's looks or why the growth spirts ache. His schemes and careful mechanisms begin slipping, which is unacceptable. He forces himself through rigorous trainings and reads through anything he can get his hands on with gusto. This, of course, leads to a very disappointing realization that he grows tall and lean. Even his mother, the smallest of his father's partners, is thicker than him.

For all the disappointing changes, he is stronger than several of his older siblings. Maybe smaller and thinner, but there is a power in his veins that lets him turn a small rock into dust with an uncaring squeeze of his fist. Leave imprints into thick stone if he puts enough force behind it.

Khalid feels more in control of his body than ever.

His sex education has been whatever was said around the dinner table or from the romance books he managed to sneak from the other mothers with the assistance of their kids. He grows to be a bit of a romantic, no matter how much love at first sight sounds crazy.

3.8

Word of his heritage slips to the village teenagers before anyone can ask him out. He is both ostracized and mocked by them from the moment he steps foot in there.

Khalid breaks the nose of his once possible friend. It hurts his hand the same way their words make it feel like he is being stabbed by the one assassin who made it too close.

With friends like these, he thinks sourly, who need enemies?

He doesn't understand how they can turn on him so easily. They've known him for years now.

Does it all come back to fear?

How can he make it stop?

4.1

Sometimes, all it takes is an accident.

In broad daylight.

After years of denying him answers, hurting him with cutting words to drop the subject, and schemes set in place, all it takes is a moment of undeniable proof.

He is trying to learn Curved Shot, but the arrow goes wild around Nader and cuts the man.

Khalid's injuries heal instantly. Cuts and bruises and aches, gone. Like they had never been there before. He feels powerful.

Most importantly there is a sigil of light in the space before him.

There is a change in the air.

When he looks around, fear is on every face.

4.5

Under the light of the full moon, Khalid's mind whirls. His mother and father have left long ago, the latter before the former. His father left him with stories, his mother with books. He has already skimmed a few pages, what little his mother has translated in a hurry. What she tells him – warns, or maybe demands, of him – when his father has gone leaves the teen shaking as things make sense, but at the same time do not.

A country where people walk around with their Goddess' blessing in their veins. People like him, apparently.

The Crest of Riegan.

Known to heal with the damage dealt to another from a combat art.

One of the houses who have beaten back the Almyran's time and again. A close partnership with the Goneril house, who people live in fear of their Crest activating. Khalid does not think healing constitutes the same fear as freezing the battlefield, but until this morning he was just as frightened of the powerlessness fed to every child about facing someone with a powerful skill.

Except it is not a skill. It's in their blood.

His blood.

Tiana tells him to never use a Combat Art again. That hopefully it will be passed off as Light magic if they spin it right.

Khalid clenches and unclenches his hands.

He… doesn't think he can do that.

There is a power in his blood. Another tool in his arsenal. The strong are respected in Almyra, and this is a blessing towards his dream of changing his situation.

Khalid does not want to see the fear or hate aimed towards him from his country's people ever again.

He goes to bed and cannot sleep.

4.8

Like a floodgate, his few dreams become constant nightmares.

Khalid still cannot remember them, but the horror remains.

He learns to love the nights of a full moon.

4.9

Khalid practices upside-down archery until his fingers bleed and he can't see straight. Shoots up into the sky until it lands where he plans it to even with his eyes closed.

These are Combat Arts, even if no one realizes it. He can feel the telltale itch of his Crest waiting to activate, wanting him to hit a living target.

He doesn't.

Khalid is stronger than he realizes.

5.1

Khalid wants to run away.

He does not come to the decision lightly. Doing so would mean leaving everything he knows and loves behind. His mother may want to come, but he still does not know all the factors of her leaving. Has no idea how his parents ever met. Only merchants and spies ever leave into Fódlan, and none ever stay long. Their information network is abysmal, because Almyra does not support learning more about the enemy than necessary and his mother's true identity may cause a riot. They've covered up the Crest incident, but Khalid is unsure how much longer he can hold back in spars.

Almyra does not like to humanize the enemy. It is hard to want to fight when you remember they have family and friends, too.

It is difficult to want to stay, when all Khalid knows is the distrust of his people.

Maybe he'll break down the wall as he goes. If there wasn't the possibility of more bloodshed, Khalid might just do it. Show the two countries that they are both people. They are all human.

He begins to sequester things away. Just in case.

5.9

Tiana shows up at the training grounds in a hurry and leaves with him just as quick. Khalid is not strong enough to break her grip yet and tries to question where they are going. What's going on?

There's a buzz of not-right in his head as his mother demands, "Be silent, Khalid. For once in your life, do not speak."

He makes no promises, lead into a meeting room where his father, Nader, and several other men stand around glaring. Three of them are much whiter than his tanned mother, a shade of skin he has only heard of in his lessons. The middle one, with hair even whiter and a few wrinkles, smiles, "You must be my grandson."

Before Khalid can ask who are you, shouts erupt from his father, mother, and Almyran guards. The teen is bustled into a chair between his parents, the very few personal guards and Nader flank the Almyran royals. Meanwhile, only the spokesperson of the three strangers sits, watching the proceeding with a bared teeth grin.

After the third time his parents tell him to be silent, Khalid mulishly crosses his arms and watches the shouting die down. The person claiming to be his grandfather doesn't look away, seemingly try to memorize his features. The only thing in common between them is their eye colour, and that doesn't seem like enough evidence.

Tiana bangs her fist on the table. Several people, including Khalid, flinch, but it is effective in silencing them all at the cost of cracking the wood. The spokesperson gives her an unconcerned look.

"Why are you here?" she demands.

After a long, tense moment, the stranger grins sharper, "To hold up our bargain."

The King of Almyra slams to his feet, the room shaking, "You will not take my son!"

The spokesperson raises a hand to stop his guards from drawing weapons. The guards around the royal family already have their pointed and ready. He speaks evenly, "We had a deal."

Tiana cuts in, "He doesn't-"

"Did you think," the cold, frigid tone from the spokesperson chills the room. Khalid can see his breath, watches in shock as his father falls to his chair and the guards sweat, "that I was not watching? I knew the day he activated his Crest. I would have been content to let this slide since there had been no one to fill my role. However, Godfrey recently survived multiple assassination attempts. With him alive and taking care of the Roundtable, I felt it best to collect my grandson.

"What-"

But Khalid is cut off by his father and mother shouting protests and threats at the man. They say he cannot go, that this will be considered a kidnapping, that they will kill the man.

At the talk of murder, the room goes deadly still in the cold. The man's grin does not twitch as he looks Khalid in his very green eyes, "Why not let the boy decide?"

Even though he has the clues, Khalid must ask, "What is going on?"

"When Tiana wished to run away with your father," the man answers, and only now does Khalid pick up on the sweat pouring off the other Almyrans and his mother, "we made a deal. The family would help them return to Almyra, declare her missing and keep the search away from the other country, while in return she was to send any child she had back to us if they showed signs of an active Crest." He tuts, giving the woman a reprimanding look, "I knew you would hide it, but I had hoped I had raised a better person."

"Do not talk to her that way," warns the King.

The man tuts again, "I could have kidnapped the boy. It would have been as easy as it was to slip my people in and out of your country. I do believe I am being very generous, letting you have this meeting. Offering you, grandson, a choice. Would you like to come back to Fódlan with me?"

Through gritted teeth, Tiana strains out, "He will not-"

"I accept," Khalid cuts in. His parents, Nader, and the guards try to protest, but he waves his hands. "It's my choice. I want to see the place my mother grew up."

His father, angrier than he's ever seen him, sneers, "Very well, son. You have by the end of the day to be gone."

Leaves with his personal guard, door slamming in their wake. The temperature in the room rises, and with a gasp Tiana runs after the King.

Khalid turns to his grandfather, and isn't that weird to think about, to ask, "Where should I meet you?"

The man eyes him, smug like a cat who caught its prey. Yet, Khalid does not feel worried. "The main gates in an hour. I look forward to getting to know you."

Nader follows Khalid, silent, both ignoring the screaming and bellowing happening in the upper floors of the palace. He says nothing as Khalid gets out everything he's stored for running away. Waits and watches the teen's every move.

Sits beside him on the bed as Khalid tries not to panic, "You know, I'm going to take the challenge for King again in a few years. You're always welcome with me. Heck, my sister would take you if needed. She likes you."

Khalid raises his head a bit, the loose strands of brown hair cascading around to shield him from the room. He plucks the loose bead from it before it can fall, partly wondering if he must give them back to his siblings before he leaves, "You have a sister?"

"You didn't know?" Nader chuckles. "My sister's the Queen. I promised her I'd try again after I knew you could handle yourself. If you do ever come back, make sure to bring some of their famous teas. She's a sucker for that drink; you'll be stuck in the palace until she tries them all."

Khalid manages a weak laugh. After a bit of silence, he wonders, "Did you know? About my mother being from someone important?"

"…since your Crest activated. I've fought against Godfrey before. He's a very skilled archer, you might learn a thing or two."

"That's what I hope. Hey, Nader… do you think our countries will ever stop fighting?"

The man laughs again, "That's a loaded question. Maybe if we could all sit down and have a drink, find something in common. Don't know who would pay for that bar tab, though."

But it's not a no. It's a bit of hope. Khalid doesn't believe in things like fate, but he hopes some higher power takes pity on him. He wants to see the day where there isn't a wall between people, where the bloodshed is no more.

Maybe this way, he can get a foothold into international politics.

As they leave, the brother born before him hurries around a corner, stopping at the sight, "So it's true," he sounds disappointed. "You're really leaving."

"Yah," Khalid shrugs, not sure what to say. He goes stiff as his brother swoops in, but no knife comes. Arms wrap around in a hug.

"Everyone's going to miss you."

Khalid lists off a few names of the siblings who hate him.

The elder teen laughs, "Okay, maybe not them." He steps back and releases. "But we are going to miss you. I am. You're a good brother, for how scrawny and crafty you are. Don't let wherever you're going beat that out of you. We want to see you again. Everyone's going to be watching you go."

It feels a bit stale, hearing this now. Leaving them doesn't hurt as much as the thought of leaving his mother, their father, or Nader. Khalid plasters on a smile, the one that doesn't reach his eyes but all others accept. Tells his half-sibling, "I'm going to miss you all, too."

He wonders if they'd still feel that way knowing where he's leaving to. In a couple years his siblings will be a part of the military, whether on the front lines or working in the cities and towns is unknown. They are too strong not to go. Only his father's favourites will stay and learn the intricates of politics, and Khalid's known for a long time he is not a favourite. Has known his mother has been in and out of his father's favouritism for years.

Nader freezes on the steps of the palace's front. Khalid mimics him not long after. For there, loading a crate into a carriage, is Tiana. The King is nowhere in sight.

The teen hesitantly scrambles forward, picking up on the threats Tiana mutters to her father all while he smiles coldly. The teen has to ask, "Mum?"

"Hey, kiddo," she says as if everything is fine between them. "Is that all your stuff? We can put it next to mine."

There's a thought in his head. It says, this isn't how it's supposed to go. "You're coming with me?"

"Of course," she says, as if she isn't leaving the love of her life, a country where most people call her the Demon Queen, and moving back to a place she detests. "No way I'm going to leave you with this geezer and my brother. You'd never get a day of peace in your life."

He ignores the nagging inside him that wonders if she is only doing this for selfish reasons and hopes it is because she loves him more than his father. Hopes it is because she wants to go back and not because she has to.

Either way, he is happy not to be alone in this.

6.1

"Hi Claude. Claude? Clllauuude."

"Hi Godfrey," Khalid – it's Claude now. They agreed he needed a new name, so no one connects the two. Something close enough that he can respond quickly while he gets used to it. Not that anyone outside of the manor knows he and Tiana have appeared – greets his uncle in a mixture of Fódlan and Almyran language. "Sorry, didn't hear you at first."

"Must be a good book," the man comes into small room, refitted as a library for the teen. He leans over, not touching. That's a big difference in Fódlan, something Khalid is struggling with. His mother makes sure to hug him every morning, but that's it. He almost misses the too-rough shoulder pats and arm punches. "What has your att- oh."

Beside the book is the list of stipulations. If Khalid signs, he becomes Heir Riegan.

"The Heroes' Relics," Khalid says, tapping the page. "I want to know what Frailnaught can do. Have you ever used it?"

Godfrey gives a thin smile, taking a seat, "No. I do not have the Crest of Riegan, so Oswald won't let me touch it. I know there are side effects to using it without the Crest, but the old man won't tell anyone."

"I noticed," Khalid makes a face. Taps the column on what he'll get in the agreement. "'All the secrets of Frailnaught and the Crest of Riegan'? He must be desperate to tell someone if you do not know."

"I know he is," Godfrey groans, elbows going on the table as he frowns. "He always told us that Tiana and I would never inherit, even if he trained us for it. It's quite telling how fast he went to get you after the news came."

"You know what? I can't tell if you're mad or not."

"About losing heirship? I'm mad at Oswald, but not you. He told me I'd lose it if I went on my last art hunt, and I hate that he was right. What I would really like is to be there when you run circles around the other nobles, if Tiana's praise about you is true."

"What does she say?"

"That you're very great at getting under people's skin."

Khalid grins, "It is a talent."

They chat for a little more, just to practice the other's language, before Godfrey leaves to go do whatever duties he has. Khalid goes back to reading, much less frightened now at how he understands the words than when he first began lessons. Khalid could swear he never heard anyone speak in Fódlan's language before, but he knows what each word means. He understands.

Reading and speaking, however, are a lot more difficult. He gets better the more he practices, but he still butchers words and his writing is atrocious. It is something he will unfortunately have to get tutored in if he signs. Calligraphy and quills.

Fódlan, in some ways, is worse than Almyra. In some ways, Fódlan is better.

Pale skin is more than just a common trait, while hair and eye colours can be anything. He still gets dirty looks whenever he goes into town, but it only took one reprimand by Khalid's grandfather to make sure none of the manor staff ever insult him again. Long hair is only for women or noble men, and even then the men are not allowed to style it. There are layers of clothing worn, more for nobles, but no one ever runs around bearing their chest or in just the necessaries to protect weak spots. There are frills and puffs and capes and makeup. People hide their scars, and it is shameful to get physical with others. Swords, lances, and axes are the respectable weapons, bows are for hunting or the weakest fighters.

The food makes his stomach roll, and he can barely eat. His mother always digs in with gusto, wears shirts and pants instead of short dresses. She is the crudest person at the table, the most violent in the household, but she slips back into her place with ease.

Khalid feels like he is struggling. Everything is too different, sometimes making him feel physically ill to try and understand the culture. He trains, reads, and ventures out to try and understand.

The worst is how much blind faith the people put into their religion. Nobody questions anything. It is all part of a greater plan to them. Even when they are down on their luck, the Goddess will bring them salvation. They see the Almyrans as brutes, invaders, savages and heretics.

Khalid grew up with a people who hated anyone they thought as weak or dangerous. He grew up hearing that the people of Fódlan were cowards.

Claude must now learn the ways of a people who are afraid of others. Who will lock away their country and destroy anything not in their worldview.

He thinks that maybe he wants neither for the future. Less hate, less fear.

For everyone to get along.

6.2

Khalid laughs as he gets the ball, rushing to the other side of the training field like his mother tells him to. She pins her brother to the ground, but the captain of the guard is still free to try and get him. The teen ducks and weaves around the other team's members, eventually throwing the ball to the lead healer of his team. The ball gets tossed up, and then sinks in.

There are curses from his uncle's team as Tiana's group takes the lead. Godfrey shouts that it won't stay that way forever.

"Whatever you say, old man," Khalid crows.

He gets his hair ruffled for that, "If I'm old, then your mother's leaving her golden years."

"Come over here and say that to my face!"

6.3

"How does your hair not get in the way?" Godfrey asks, flicking the thick braid.

From where he hangs in the rafters, Khalid shrugs around the drawn bow, "It never has."

Hits the bullseye.

When he looks back, Godfrey has an odd look his face, "Why are you shooting upside-down?"

Khalid gets a sense that the man's mind is somewhere else, "Why not?"

It later comes, when Khalid is in the small reading library, flipping through the thousand plus paged book on table manners he'd be supposed to learn if he signed the heirship agreement, that Godfrey shows him a few letters. Explains to his nephew, "There was a person who saved my life about a month before you came to Fódlan. We write letters back and forth, and they have absolutely no idea who I really am. She's a little bit older than you. I know you've had some trouble making friends, so I was wondering if you'd like to write to her as well. A third party, no clue on your past or who you are."

Khalid skims over the notes. They're rather funny, both with bits of humor and some demand-like suggestions towards a man who has hardly ever been told no in his life outside of his family. "What's her name?"

The silence that comes is very telling. Khalid raises his eyebrows as Godfrey looks pointedly away.

"Uncle Godfrey… Don't tell me you forgot."

"Look it's- I've been busy."

"She signs the paper with 'L', so it can't be that hard to guess." More silence. "At least tell me you remember what she looked like."

"…Hungry?"

Khalid can't help but laugh, "How are you still in charge again?"

"Look, kiddo, I'm trying to offer you a chance to practice your writing skills without signing your future away and talk out your problems to someone who has no way of impacting them. She said she was a commoner, she was pretty strong, and she lived in Gloucester territory. That's all I remember. Sorry."

"I thought they were still in boiling water for the whole bounty thing?"

"They are for not monitoring the situation, but since it wasn't signed with his Crest mark we cannot legally charge him with trying to kill me."

"Yah, I wanted to ask about that," Khalid brings up. "How are you still in position heirship if you can't sign anything?"

"Dad's been looking to adopt someone with the Riegan Crest for years. If you hadn't gotten anything, he would probably start looking towards Sreng. That's where a few of our ancestors ran off to when they didn't want a political marriage. It's become something of a tradition, and why Tiana was never forced into anything."

"So I can run off to Sreng one day?"

"Oswald wants you to sign so badly he'd drag you back, tradition be d***ed. But hey, about the pen pal. Want to try it?"

Khalid looks down at the neat and easy to read handwriting and thinks, what's there to lose? "Sure."

It's not like they'll ever meet.

6.4

He gets a writing tutor because Oswald does not want him to send anything less than perfect.

"Again."

Every attempt at a first letter gets shorter and shorter.

"Again."

He tries, he really does, and he does want to have someone outside the situation to talk with.

"Again."

By the fifteenth letter, he's more than frustrated.

"Again."

Khalid has over thought what he is going to say, to try and get them to like him.

"Again."

His tutor makes him redo it if there's a spelling error, ink blob, or is unreadable because his writing in Fódlan's curly language with a writing utensil made from a bird looks like said bird's talon marks.

"Again."

He gets fed up with the tutor, the planning, everything, and simply writes a letter, Hello, and then another letter.

His tutor gives him a disdainful look, "It passes."

He sends it off with Godfrey's, not expecting a response.

Khalid laughs when he reads the one that comes, something in his chest uncurling with relief.

6.5

He has to repeat the attempt over and over, but Khalid writes back.

He surprises himself.

6.6

There is a shift in the air, a change in the food and the clothing he is allowed to wear. Something tense in Khalid uncurls further, and for once he begins to find bits of peace in Fódlan. His mother hugs him more and spars with him. Godfrey's offers to play games with him come frequently. There is now a section of Almyran-made bows available for him to use, and they take him out hunting.

Of course, it cannot be great forever. Khalid knocks on his grandfather's door and waits for, "Enter."

Oswald von Riegan is an older man who will outlive his children, if what the books on a Crest bearer's longevity is true. A Major Crest of Riegan resides in his veins, and at one point he singlehandedly repelled Almyran's trying to attack from north of the border with Frailnaught.

He has also been very sick recently, something rare to happen for Crest bearers according to the same book.

The man takes off his reading glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose, motioning for Khalid to take a seat. The teen's eyes wander, watching the candles in the windowless room, "What did you need me for, gramps?"

"I must apologize to you," Oswald makes it sound like pulling teeth, but Khalid is too stunned by the words to retort. The old man never apologises. "I thought you would have been worn down with the offers in front of you, thought that maybe once you learned of Frailnaught's power you would have signed just for the ability to make change with it and the title of Duke Riegan. I should have been more invested in smoothing your transition into our world, instead of hanging the rewards out like a carrot. So, I will ask now, Khalid, why have you not agreed to be my heir?"

The teen's gaze shutters. He pulls out the paper and points to the only section that still leaves him feeling ill, "I understand now that short hair is a thing here, but I am not comfortable cutting it all off."

"Your body, your rules," Oswald sighs, as if he should have known the answer. As if he's heard it before. "You will need to cut your hair for the position, but I can bring in a stylist. Decide on a shorter cut with them, at least most of it needs to be above your shoulders. And think of it this way: you want to help people? We can make your hair into a wig to be donated to an orphanage or hospice."

The thought still does not leave him comfortable, but not taking heirship leaves him feeling wrong. A few days later, Khalid's head feels lighter than it has in years. He leaves a small braid of half the length, a style similar to those in Almyra who partake in a trade field.

The day after, he signs the paper and becomes Claude von Riegan, heir to the House of Riegan and next leader of the Roundtable Alliance.

6.7

With the announcement of a new heir out, the number of assassins coming for their family abruptly dies off. Claude appreciates the irony of it, even if it makes him paranoid enough to keep a weapon in reach every hour of the day. With the signing also comes tutors. Specifically, the best person to get his basics up to snuff for the Officer's Academy level and teach him the ins and outs of Roundtable politics.

Judith von Daphnel is a terrifying woman and Claude may have a crush on her. The fact they are cousins somewhere in the family tree puts a damper on it really quick. Still, she is the best person for the job, and they get along well enough. Within days his baseline Faith healing is at a level where things cannot cut him deeply. Arrows are unable to puncture muscles, organs, or veins, even from a strong shot. He gets to practice Combat Arts, too.

When his Crest activates, everything feels clearer.

"Claude!"

The two halt the spar, turning to Oswald.

"Sorry, Judith," the old man grunts. "I need him until dinner."

"I'm still getting paid," she waves away the concern. "Remember to cool down, boy."

"Yes, Judith," Claude makes sure to take his time. Even though the old man doesn't show his displeasure, he knows it's there. "So, where are we going, gramps?"

"The prayer wing."

A rush of excitement mixes with the adrenaline, "Oh? Have you finally deigned to let me see Frailnaught?"

He isn't expecting the, "Yes."

"Nice."

Learning the rules of the Church, Claude's come to learn that every Relic must belong with the family bearing its Crest or be stored within Garreg Mach Monastery until someone with the Crest appears. Obviously not every noble family bears a Crest, and there are not enough Relics to go around, but those who do have both must dedicate an area in their manors or castles to where people can pray to the Relics. No one ever really uses it, but only a 'blessed' place can store these weapons when they are not in use by their Crest bearers.

Claude doesn't believe a word of it but says nothing so to not give the Western Church a reason to start taking an active role in the Alliance politics. The longer he can stay away from the country's cult, the better.

Oswald nods to the guards at the doorway and unlocks the door with the only key and a fingerprint wreathed in light. One day, Claude will have to learn to do the Crest imprint.

Inside the windowless room, barely paying attention to the locking behind him, Claude takes his time to bury his fear. Oswald doesn't bother to light a fire, marching over to the ball emitting an unearthly red and yellow glow. Claude lags behind, remembering to breathe, "So, gramps, why show me this now?"

Oswald activates a rune, lighting the candles in the room. With a better view, Claude excitedly focuses on the paperwork spread over tables and books labelled as diaries.

"This," Oswald says gravely, putting a pause on the excitement, "is all we have managed to discover about the Crest of Riegan throughout the years. By dinner, you will understand why no one else must know of these things."

Their gazes wander over to Frailnaught, a bow too unlike something made in this age. It almost looks like a hand. Or spine.

"The first," Oswald walks over to lift it out of cradling arms. The red and yellow dies away under his touch, "is that only someone with the Crest of Riegan may use this bow. If another were to, it would either harm them or kill them from the backlash. It connects to our Crest, powers it further. Which leads to the second lesson."

He sets it down. Meets his grandson's eyes in a mournful daze, "Prolonged usage will increase your Crest's strength. A few years with the bow, and you may find your Minor Crest has become a Major Crest. This, along with the side-effects of our Crest, will make us more prone to illness. Shorten our lifespan."

"What?" Claude demands, tone going dark. "What side-effects? Why use it at all, if it kills us faster?"

"Power," Oswald takes a seat, pushing over an old book. The page it is on lists the known effects of the Crest of Riegan. "The Crest is the reason we are where we are. Frailnaught is a beacon of hope for those in these lands. While we can not redirect rivers or cut through mountains, we can still make something maybe even more impactful with our abilities."

There is a pause, disbelief scrawled all over the teen.

"Empathy is a trait shared with all Crest users. We are able to feel another person, get a sense of their emotions. If you've ever wondered why the people of Almyra are made out to frighten Fódlan so much, this is why. Did you ever instinctively try to get a sense of someone, only to get nothing in return? I cannot feel you, Claude, and we cannot feel them."

Turning away from that very traumatic subject, Claude points out, "There is no way we can tell the future."

"Did you ever get the sense that something was wrong?" Oswald counters. "Something in your very being? It would have happened when you were a child. A moment in time where you felt you had to stop or change something. Do you have nightmares now? Constantly? Those should ease by your fifteenth or sixteenth birthday, and then you will only have them when there is something you must change. You will not remember them unless you obtain a Major Crest of Riegan, but you will still feel the warning sense as the time approaches."

"Fortune telling does not exist," Claude insists, "we make our own paths. Choose our own choices."

"Maybe so, but could you imagine if it got out some of us could predict tragedies? And you will predict something once you come of age, Claude. It could be a bad feeling, or be words being said. A sense the world is repeating around you, and that you need to stop what is to come. Your Crest is two levels below a Major Crest. What did you feel the moment you first saw me?"

"…This is-"

"-wrong," they finish together. Oswald grins, full of pity, "Because we were not supposed to meet there. You were going to run away, live a few years in Fódlan, and then I would finally find you and convince you to be my heir."

Claude feels like the air is crushing his lungs. There is so much he wants to say, and so little he can find the strength to ask. As crazy as it sounds, it feels right. On a level he cannot comprehend, it feels as though the series of events make sense. Like he did what Oswald said, only he cannot remember it, "What did you do?"

"I dreamt for years that I would receive a message of Godfrey's death in Gloucester territory. I warned him for just as long that going there would strip him of his title, because how do you tell someone you dream of them never coming home? How do you love them? And then, he survived his death route. It was the only fortune that has never come true for me, and I will gladly take the blessing for what it is. I sped up our meeting, somehow got Tiana to come home, and now here we are. Lesson three, Claude. Change is inevitable. We must take the advantage where we can."

6.8

The wyverns are due to be born sometime this month, he still hasn't been able to formulate a letter to his pen pal between all the training, and now Claude is stuck at his first ever Roundtable meeting. The only upside to all of this is that it has been in Goneril's territory. Claude has finally been able to see the largest, most heavily attacked by Almyran forces, parts of the wall. It is tall, thick, and for a moment he wonders how anyone would think they could get through it instead of over, under, or around.

But then he thinks about the powers of the Heroes' Relics, and he is excited at the thought of bringing it down himself. One day. When doing so would not bring about a full-time war between the two countries.

"Hey, you!"

Claude turns and views a lot of pink. His breath catches.

He does not believe in fate. Has had long chats with his grandfather about destiny and future and choice. Blind obedience and faith are not his style. But if he did believe in any of it, at least a little, then he would accept that laying eyes upon the teen before him was akin to love at first sight.

Her brother seems to pick up on it a bit, straining to keep pleasant, "You are Claude von Riegan, are you not? I am Holst Goneril, and this is my sister, Hilda Goneril."

"Younger sister," she makes sure to state, eyeing Claude up and down. And it hurts, claws at his emotions and tears at his heart, how she looks at him like dirt under her nails. The going theory with his grandfather is that no one can feel him with their Crest or whatever causes the Crestless to spot an Almyran without knowing it. He can sense the two's distaste without trying to feel with his Crest. "I am very curious to talk with you later."

"We've come to collect you," Holst jumps in. "The meeting is about to start."

"Lead the way," Claude grins. It doesn't meet his eyes as he can feel them reject him. It hurts a lot more than he thinks it should.

At least Lorenz isn't at this meeting. Claude doesn't think he can take another round of disapproving hums and Crest-sense rejection when he messes up the utensils.

6.9

The sons of two prominent merchants all but sworn to server and prosper the Country of Riegan. Best friends, by how easily they talk. Ignatz Victor and Raphael Kirsten.

There is a tally in the back of Claude's head. It goes, one, two.

He is distracted by the fearful look that flashes on Ignatz's face, the doubt that comes and goes from Raphael. Ignatz seems naturally timid, Raphael naturally kind and looking past whatever he subconsciously feels from Claude.

Claude, though, feels the rejection in his Crest. He talks easily, swapping stories with them as they travel along to pick up the others.

Marianne, three. Painfully quiet and will not meet anyone's eyes, so he doesn't take her fear of him personally. Still, it doesn't endear her to him.

Hilda, four, looks exasperated as he tries to play charming and smiles. Claude wonders if anyone notices it is fake. Another strike if he has them all fooled.

Lorenz, five, starts in on the lectures about nobility as soon as they're all down. Doesn't seem to pick up on anyone's discomfort, and soon they lose Ignatz and Raphael from their group. After a while, the Gloucester heir frowns, "Sir Riegan! This is not the fastest way to Ordelia!"

"I know!" Godfrey shouts back from the driver's seat. "We're picking up a student along the way!"

Lorenz hums, frowning further, "They must be a commoner. I do not know of any nobles who live this far out. Why, the only village near here would be… Sauin, I believe."

"Relax, Lorenz," Claude leans back further on his crossed arms. "We have plenty of time to get to the Monastery. Kick back, enjoy the scenic route. We could play a game from my childhood. My eyes spy something green."

"Tree," Hilda deadpans. "Now will you both be quiet? I am trying to ignore you."

Marianne whimpers.

Claude sighs as Lorenz turns on Hilda. He stares up at the fabric roof, almost able to see their noble Crests stuck on the outside. He turns to happier thoughts, like finding the pen pal he's grown fond of over the years. It can't be that hard to narrow down females who's names begin with the letter L.

Unless they've been lying to him and Godfrey for years, like he's been lying about his original name. Then he'll have to start trying to match homework to the handwriting in the letters. As long as he finds them and can determine if they're a rejection too. Then his curiosity will be satisfied and he can put full attention on digging into the history of Fódlan.

He needs to find something that can decimate mountains. Allies who will stand with him when he makes a big move.

Because who needs friends when there is a part of them that will fear or hate him for being so cold to sense? So unempathetic to Crest senses and a threat to the common populace.

Claude doesn't need to feel them to know that all reactions are the same.

7.1

Six.

'Where is Leonie?'

Claude jolts a bit, the thought coming out of nowhere in the middle of his inner ramblings. He blinks, looks around the cart. Spots her, and then goes back to admiring Hilda's reactions. He really enjoys watching her, so expressive and honest with him. She plays everyone so well, plucking just the right strings to make them think it was their idea to help her or do her work. Claude knows he annoys her, being so hard to read. Which makes it all the more fun to pull real expressions out of her.

Except Hilda doesn't bite at his teasing, so he turns to his next target. Lorenz is always quick to anger in the face of Claude's lax manners and holes in nobility etiquette. To the Riegan heir, he swaps between finding it odd that Lorenz doesn't avoid him after Gloucester's false bounty was gaffed and indifference to the teen who so desperately wants the leadership to the Roundtable to bring his family back from the shame. Lorenz isn't desperate enough to kill him, Claude knows what that looks like, but he'll be keeping an ear out on the actions of his fellow Golden Deer nobles while they're at the Officer's Academy.

Marianne has to be hiding something with how scared she is of the world.

7.2

"She did this on purpose!"

Claude looks up from book he's reading my candlelight, vaguely surprised to see his uncle glaring at a bundle of papers, "Who did what?"

Instead of answering, Godfrey jerks it out for him, free hand covering his face, "Read it."

Claude hesitantly takes the bundle, laying it out on his book. It becomes rather obvious that he can't read it, at least not without hours to try and make out the bird scratch writing, "Was my writing ever this bad?"

"Yours was saintly compared to that," Godfrey looks like he's mourning something with how he sighs over the writing.

"What is this?"

"Leonie's essay for getting into the Officer's Academy."

Claude's mind screeches to a halt. Looks up in disbelieve, "This?"

"She said it was the final draft, but that's…"

"How would this pass the written exam?"

"I don't know," Godfrey stares at the tent wall like it has betrayed him. "She must have sent a better one in. She must have."

"Or maybe the professors can read scratch marks," Claude gives reading it another try. He makes it through the first sentence and is intrigued, but not enough to keep deciphering. "You're better off getting her to read it."

But when he goes to hand it back, his uncle is staring at him with that unfocused frown. A pause that stretches. He looks around, but nothing.

Claude slowly meets his uncle's eyes, "What is it?"

"…Nothing," a sharp shake of his head. "I was just thinking."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense."

"What colour are Leonie's eyes?"

"Orange," Claude replies automatically. A practice of knowing the features of everyone around him, years of watching for assassins. "Why? What were you thinking about?"

"I was just thinking I couldn't remember," Godfrey laughs, shoulders relaxing. "Must be age." He takes back the papers and scowls at the words. "I'll try to make a dent in this, let you know if there is anything interesting."

"It's probably all a lie."

"Probably." And Claude jerks at the omission from his only, constantly optimistic family member. "What's that look for? Leonie's already told me as much. She has a mercenary licence but needs the certificate to get anywhere big with it. They'll judge where she's at and let her take the test for free after her teacher signs off. She just also needs to do the knight's exam while she's there."

Claude feels a slow smile grow on his face, "What else can you tell me about her?"

"Oh no, get to know her yourself. She's got a better head on her shoulders than to- I don't know, put itching powder in suits or switch the salt and sugar jars."

"Are you still mad about that?"

"The cooks are still mad about that."

But Claude resolves to ask her for a few stories. If she is trying to cheat the system for a bunch of licences, then maybe she won't be so bad.

The thing is though…

…he keeps forgetting to talk to her.

7.3

Just before he was sixteen, when the nightmares stopped frequenting and he began to remember tastes, smells, and emotions upon waking, sometimes there would be a few words. Always someone else speaking, and as he meets people he can begin matching the things he cannot forget.

Claude awakens in a luxurious bedroom in the dead of night to the taste and smell smoke, his body sweating, and for once his own voice searing words into his blood and head.

'Where is Leonie!'

So loud and clear, it must be recent. In a panic he looks outside but cannot see anything through the darkness. He is worried and too warm, trying to remember to breathe. He is not used to how these new unmemorable nightmares force him into action. His instincts demand he go, but Claude fights it with every breath. He can't be hasty. Without knowing what is to come, it is impossible to know why he remembers smoke and panic and-

'Where is Leonie?'

Claude clambers out his window, ignoring all warnings of not to go exploring in places you don't own. He has to search around the stable to find her, trying to keep light footsteps even through the urge to make sure she's here. He spots the cart and looks in and-

She's there. Asleep. The urge evaporates at once, along with the traces of smoke that aren't there. He turns away, hand coming up to his face to ground him. This is real. It was just a dream. Nightmare. Something that didn't happen, but he'll be on the lookout for today. Tomorrow. Whatever. "Why am I even out here?"

Claude startles when Leonie makes a noise, but she's just moving in her sleep. With that, he decides it's been weird enough and hurries back to his room. It's here he really notices how big the ivory is. At least reaching up and over three rooms, thick and sturdy like it was made for climbing.

He paces around his room for a long time, working off the edges of the nightmare. Trying to remember.

But only someone with a Major Crest of Riegan remembers the images – memories – of their dreams,

And Claude hasn't dared touch Frailnaught.

7.4

'Where is Leonie?'

Nothing comes of the nightmare, even after he checks his notes on what he remembers. Nothing comes of it, besides the small nudges when his head registers five people in the cart instead of six.

Objectively, he knows she's there. Can even see the line forming between the commoners and the nobles no matter how he tries to include them. Claude just… forgets where she is sometimes. She has a presence quieter than Marianne, which should be impossible for someone who's hair sticks out with such an orange colour.

Orange hair, orange eyes. Clothing that cover everything but arms, neck, and head. Sometimes a cloak, fingerless gloves, and shorter than him. Smaller, in ways that he can't describe the feeling it brings to look at. There is just enough fat on her face to not call it skeletal, while the rest of her visible appearance looks all muscles and bones. Angles just odd enough to raise an eyebrow. Her gloves somehow stay on, even looking a size too big. Her clothing is loose enough for movement but reveals nothing of her actual size. At several first glances, Leonie's gender isn't apparent, and her voice doesn't give many hints.

Claude glances at her again, wondering just when he realized she is female. Wonders if it was a subconscious thing or if he only realized when Godfrey referred to her as such.

His attention is drawn back quickly to Hilda and Lorenz making remarks on his hair. He tries to redirect their attention to Leonie's, but Hilda just brushes it off as fine and tries to convince him to smooth it back or straighten the curls.

Claude feels a growing suspicion. Leonie's hair looks like someone took a knife to it in order to keep it short enough that it would stay out of the way.

But then the suspicion disappears, as he forgets about Leonie again and defends his hairstyle.

7.6

Lysithea is so… small.

White hair, red eyes, and a stiff breeze away from blowing over. She's smaller than any of his brothers and sisters, practically a large doll being swallowed in a dress. She has an attitude and is already talking about advanced magic.

Claude notices the moment she looks a bone-weary tired in her parents' arms. As if the weight of the world is crushing down on her and has been for a while. It is when she doesn't give him a second glance that he resolves to make sure she doesn't let her troubles drown her. Also, to make sure she's staying healthy; Lysithea's gaunt arms and face cannot be from good habits.

It's rare that no one focuses on him in a first meeting. Hopefully a good start to a partnership, they're both heirs to a Roundtable seat after all.

Seven.

7.7

As Lorenz crosses the divide that had been growing between nobles and commoners, Claude counts them again.

One and two. Ignatz and Raphael.

Three and four. Hilda and Lorenz.

Five and six. Marianne and Lysithea.

He isn't looking at Leonie as he tallies her, seven.

And I make eight.

The maximum number of students for the main classes of a house, barring special permission by the Archbishop. From studying enrollments and listening to stories, Claude's found a small pattern. There is always someone who excels at archery and someone who can take the heavy armour classes. Ignatz and Raphael fill the roles easily, especially since they're children of prominent merchant commoners. There are normally two spots for magic users, one Faith-inclined and one Reason-focused. Just hearing the talks, he thinks Leonie, Lysithea, and Lorenz will be fighting for one of the spots. His instincts, though, say those belong to Marianne and Lysithea.

There is a very large chance that, seeing as Claude struggles with lances, it will be a three-way fight for the two cavaliers spot. Claude's spot is guaranteed as next leader of the Alliance. Which leaves the random student. For the Golden Deer, the spot is usually filled by an archer. Magic for the Eagles, another lance user for the Lions. There's been very few changes in the design over the past decade. A sword user here, an axe user there. The odd changes are usually dependant on the house leader's skills.

Claude looks around the cart and counts them again. He sees potential classmates and thinks, better the ones you know.

It also sinks in that three of them have names beginning with the letter L. Claude ruled out Lorenz ages ago, though the hairstyle did make him hesitate on a what-if scenario. Leonie and Lysithea are potential candidates, one more than the other. He had to give Leonie's name to his uncle, while Lysithea hasn't actually talked with either Riegan yet.

Claude doesn't get his hopes up, though. He isn't even sure if his mysterious pen pal got his last message yet; he didn't get a reply before leaving on the road trip.

Better the people he knows.

The part of him that's read all those romance stories hopes they'll click like pieces falling in place at first meeting. He could really use someone watching his back in the heart of Fódlan's religion.

7.8

While the ladies go shopping, Claude takes the time to get to know Ignatz and Raphael better. Lorenz tags along.

It is eye opening, how Lorenz butters up Ignatz with praise and offers him a position if he passes and obtains the knight's certificate. Claude's never thought about building a support of hand-picked personal guards. Especially not when he has yet to see the person in action. Claude drifts off with Raphael in search for food.

The commoner who looks like he could crush someone with his fists turns out to be a gentle giant. Raphael eats a lot, gets a gift for his little sister, and plays with a few stray cats. All the while never once show displeasure at speaking with Claude. In fact, he seems pretty happy.

But then, so far Raphael always seems to be happy. Hopefully, going into a den of noble vipers won't harsh that.

They're coming up on it soon, and Claude's filled with nervous excitement. Finally, he can see into the heart of the continent. Learn about their stories and gather the tools to become a leader. A reminder, that he isn't here to make friends but allies. People who will stick with him when he finally amasses enough power to make a change.

Maybe see if Raphael is worth bringing in on the campaign for an open-border Fódlan, but Claude will not shed a tear if his fellow students get caught up in the mess left behind.

8.1

It feels like someone is watching him.

Claude tenses under the onslaught of what feels like judgement. It makes him twitchy, cranks up the paranoia, and only the feeling of pain drags him out from under it. He's left marks in his hand, fists clenched under the wrongness. It's different then the usual odd sense; this covers him head to toe and he grabs a bow, begins maintenance, if only to keep his mind off it.

It ebbs off eventually, and he's almost tired by how much of an energy drain he feels. Another secret he's looking to uncover. There is some kind of barrier here in the land claimed by the Monastery that allows in only rushing water, never rain. If that was what they passed under, then clearly there is more to it. But who would tell Claude if he asked?

Well, it's a good thing they can't expel him, isn't it?

8.2

Garreg Mach Monastery, for how old it is, is still rich in culture and renovations. Parts of it are crumbling, parts of it are cracked, but it is filled to the brim with history and happy looking people.

Claude can't wait to dive into its depths, uncover all its secrets.

But first, sleeping assignments. Ignatz isn't a fan of sleeping up high, they aren't sure if the refurbished cell-like room can hold Raphael's weight on the top bunk, Claude is working his way into a panic attack over being stabbed if he sleeps up or squashed if he takes a lower bunk, and Lorenz doesn't want Claude on a level above or below him.

The Riegan heir has to leave the room, smiling and telling them to decide. He has to place a hand on the wall and ground himself, deep breaths in and out.

It's stress, he tries to tell himself. Just stress.

He recovers enough that he jogs the rest of the way down at Hilda's squeal. The sight of Lysithea hugging a golden deer toy melts away the rest of the fear.

He can bunk with Godfrey tonight if necessary. It isn't the end of the world to share a room with three practically strangers. Besides, it isn't as if he sleeps lots or heavily anyways.

Four and four, he thinks, trying to hold the calm with the thought. The Officer's Academy's main class is usually an equal split in gender, and here they all are.

Together.

Having each other's backs.

…Really hope my read on the guys isn't wrong.

8.3

Claude signs up for Crestology.

Godfrey signs him up for allowances in Choir, Fists Club, Etiquette, and Animal Care. Claude has to show up to each club's lessons least once a month or else he gets mandatory detention and has to do the dreg jogs in the one he missed. Whatever, it's his grandfather's money. It looks like he'll be seeing most of his classmates around, so there is a greater chance to connect with them.

Seteth is already watching him too closely. Wonder who warned him, and what they warned him about.

8.8

Claude is listening with half an ear to Hanneman's explanations about Crest suppressors and the reason they're needed to get a pure result for the Crest analyzer, but the reality is that he's still shaken from talking with Manuela. He thought Leonie's wariness may have been an over exaggeration. It wasn't. He kind of wishes she'd have told him just to take the out, even if he wouldn't have believed her and gone in out of spite.

The more he thinks on it, the more he wonders if that was their first real conversation since they met. If they did ever talk between her village and now, he wasn't really paying attention. Odd, but there are currently more important things to wonder about. He'll need to check in on those who did get the full physical.

"If you'll put your hand on the analyzer now."

Claude does as directed and blinks out of his thoughts as a yellow and golden light intertwines to shine before them. There right there, is the proof he belongs in Fódlan nobility. The Crest of Riegan on display, tangible when he's only ever been told it is in his blood. Finally seeing proof squashes that last bit of doubt.

"Yes, yes, your papers did say you were about an eighth tier for your Minor Crest," Hanneman mutters, furiously scribbling on his chart. "I will check in with you at the start of the year. We may be able to draw your Crest to the ninth level by the time your exam comes around. You already have the makings of a Major Crest of Riegan, see how your Crest appears to be reaching inward? Why, we may be able to rank you as a low Major Crest within a few years, once the two curves are connected. For now, I recommend visiting the chapel for an hour prayer session every day. Crests have the most success gaining power while immersed in Faith magic."

"Sounds good to me," Claude says, no intention of following through. The relief at seeing his Crest has turned into a cold lump of dread. For all Crest bearers are supposed to have longer lifespans, he's read his ancestor's journals. A jump in Crest status takes a constant toll on the body. Oswald is the perfect example of jumping levels in a Major Crest, ill often and nowhere near the physical strength he used to hold. Compared to other Major Crest bearers, he's essentially dying young.

Claude doesn't want to break his body with an unseen force, thanks.

8.9

Claude slides in next to Leonie for dinner. The correlation between the heaps of food on her plate to her small body isn't processing. It isn't near Raphael's mound, but he thinks she'll be sick from overeating soon enough. He knows she's shorter than him but sitting next to her, Leonie looks small.

He elbows her and feels only bone and muscle.

He verbally jabs at her and she keeps smiling. Accepts it and moves along.

It's almost refreshing. Definitely a challenge. Claude has no idea why he hasn't tried to get under her skin before, but he's making it a mission now. Everyone angers at something, and it's best to know which triggers are pressable.

Of the ones participating in the obstacle course tomorrow, Leonie is the only real competition.

9.2

Claude is used to early mornings. He's always had a difficult time sleeping for long periods, never truly needing the full night's rest. He's also used to eating alone, his siblings or the castle's staff taking spots down the table away form him. Moving away when he picks up his things to eat with them. He deals with it; the only time he's ever taken meals in his room have left him fighting a poison assassination attempt.

There are maybe three other people eating when he goes for breakfast. By their hard looks, he's not making any friends today. Back to the thick stone wall, entrances in the corner of his eyes, Claude watches everyone. Sees Leonie enter not too long after he starts eating.

Chokes when she smiles and makes her way over to sit with him.

"Morning Claude," Leonie greets, sitting across from like nothing's wrong. Shuffling the food on her tray as he recovers.

He can count their conversations on one hand. She wants something. She has to. There's no other reason to be here but to make nice with the highest Golden Deer noble of the group. "Good morning, Leonie. Morning person?"

"Early morning training person," she tucks away fruit into a pouch he can't see. "New energy, new day."

He baits, "Enough to go exploring with me later?"

"Can't." He almost believes her. She looks apologetic, disappointed even, with her smile shrinking. Gives him some excuse that sounds plausible. She really has bothered Seteth, enough that he isn't giving Claude a stink eye anymore.

So, Claude doesn't press. Gives her a smile that says no hard feelings instead of I know you're up to something like he wants to. "There's always next time."

"Absolutely. Anywhere you're looking in particular?"

"Well, since we can't see the library yet," he tries to look charming, hand under his chin, "I was thinking I'd look around. Learn a culture the old-fashioned way."

"Architecture."

Claude feels his lips part wider in surprise. He didn't think anyone understood that, how different the arts and buildings can be between cultures. It was shocking for him at first, how castles and manors can be built so differently but still hold or represent the same things. "Exactly. You know, not many people get that."

"It's the number one thing I notice. I'm a small-town girl, though. Everything is different from where I grew up."

Culture shock, Claude thinks, remembering the one letter he saw in his uncle's study. The most probable catalyst for the change in his situation. How he could finally begin to start thinking of the manor as home. "Oh yah? I bet this has all been a big change. Rather shocking, right?"

Leonie's grin comes back, excitement playing over her face, "I still have my appetite, so it's all good. From what I've seen the students eat, that's going to be the shock to my system. Real food? With seasoning? Perish the thought."

Claude snorts, remembering how poorly he took to the new diet. Latches onto a different thought, "I've never heard that expression before."

"Small village commoner," Leonie grins, unabashed. "I probably have a lot of weird mannerisms."

"You eat like a noble," perfect use of the cutlery, "I think you'll fit in just fine."

Leonie coughs, "Like a Deer noble, or an Eagle noble?"

The fact she knows the difference makes him laugh, "Not a Lion?"

"I've seen a book on their table mannerisms. It's not worth the extra practice."

Claude smiles, that light back in his eyes. "Here, here."

As the conversation breaks into different topics, he can't help feeling that what was said was familiar. Something's he may have heard before. Thankfully, not in the Crest way.

9.3

Claude doesn't like how many people came to watch them. Smells like a setup.

"So," Leonie breaks into his thoughts, "how are we going to do this?"

Claude feels his mouth move before he processes, "What do you mean?"

Leonie means working together. With him.

It is such a novel experience. Someone who's looking to bend the rules with him, instead of leaving him out to dry. She even suggested it first, so Leonie can take the blame when Seteth gets all huffy about them not doing the course solo. This test is meant to pit them against each other, for someone to give up and agree to do things the traditional way for a physical. Without his Crest, Claude knows it would have been at least twenty minutes to complete the whole thing. That's only what he can see. There are definitely some traps buried around to weaken them.

Leonie wants them all to get through. Takes his ideas into account and forms a plan together. It has always been someone telling what to do or ignoring him. This is what he's come to the Monastery to learn. Teamwork, and more importantly how to be a leader.

The part of Claude that doesn't trust her thinks this must be why she was so nice at breakfast. Buttering him up so he wouldn't be opposed to working together. However, there is a line that's sticking with him. Something that casts doubt on the theory.

"I'd carry you if I thought you couldn't."

Leonie looked like she meant every word. Still looks earnest as she talks over the plan with Lysithea and Marianne. If they fail, Claude will make sure it's all on her.

9.4

The don't just succeed, they crush it. Literally. Lysithea blows a hole in the climbing wall and Marianne's prayers light up their path. It has to be one of the strangest obstacle course runs he's ever participated in. Claude doesn't know how Leonie got him over the line before her because he had been trying for last. As the person slotted to become the figurehead of one of Fódlan's three countries, the Officer's Academy has to accept him. Leonie's a random commoner who had the luck of knowing Godfrey for a sponsorship. The Church has no reason to keep her around, especially after turning their test into a teamwork exercise.

Since he's watching, Claude sees how Leonie's smile doesn't falter as Seteth marches their way. He watches her square her shoulders and hold her head high, preparing for battle.

…Would it really hurt if I take credit for this?

Claude steps in front of her, takes the heat of Seteth's glare, and proceeds to talk circles around authority. It's what he's good at. The crowd of onlookers watches him, believing Claude to be the mastermind behind the plan.

Let them, he thinks. None of the ladies at his back protest. When Seteth finally gives them their victory, through the cheering, Claude gets a little nudge at his arm.

Leonie, looking more relaxed, only says, "Thanks."

His mouth is dry, "Not mad I took the credit for your plan?"

"It was our plan at best," she smiles more like a smirk. "You did most of the work, so take the credit."

"I'm pretty sure I watched you lap me."

She laughs, "Physical work is completely different from keeping things together. Having Marianne light up the ground was genius."

"Lysithea blew a hole in the climbing wall."

"I know, it was great."

No praise for herself, Claude thinks. Must be one of those odd people who doesn't like glory.

If there's one thing the same between Fódlan and Almyra, it's the want of glory and fame. And giving people weird titles.

9.6

Claude doesn't go far in his exploring. The escorts are all packing up, and soon he'll be on his own. No support besides what his family name brings. It's all rather exciting, as long as he doesn't work himself into a panic. Fighting off assassins is so much easier when you know the layout of the place. He has trust in his poison resistance, especially since poisons in Fódlan are so much less creative and powerful. Judith's training means he can take a headshot arrow if need be, Claude's shield of faith magic stronger than most his age. There is no reason to panic, besides the lack of allies.

He should be used to this, but there's always been someone to turn to. Tiana, Nader, Godfrey and Oswald. Even his siblings in the last few years together.

"What's caught your attention," Godfrey asks, leaning over his shoulder. "Crocus?"

"Autumn crocus," Claude corrects without thinking. There's no exclamation, which isn't too surprising. Godfrey is terrible at forging. "It's weird, these normally grow when the leaves brown. They should have been killed during the cold season."

"You'll find that about a lot of plants here," Godfrey shrugs and leans away, uninterested in the flower. Claude is very interested in what other deadly things grow around here. "So, how are you feeling?"

"I've been worse," Claude straightens out. "Better now with time to adjust. I would hate to have been here closer to the school year. No time to relax, you know?"

"I get it," Godfrey eyes him. "I cried at night my first two weeks here."

The brings Claude up short. Tiana had said she had been expelled two months in. Godfrey never talked much about his experience, while Oswald would praise the Officer's Academy a little too much. "Missed home that much, huh?"

"Not really. I had a few friends around, so I wasn't too concerned. No. I knew that if I wasn't the Riegan heir, then I would have never gotten into the main class. All of my classmates were better than me, so I had to make up for my weaknesses elsewhere. I got really good at finding talented people," he nods back to where his personal guards are packing, "so that I didn't need to be."

Coward, hisses the part of Claude's mind that remembers – grew up learning and immersed in – Almyran culture. To hide behind anyone is a weakness. To not push to the limits and beyond is to be ridiculed. Claude has, however, grown up hearing about the war. Could never understand why people sacrifice themselves instead of running to live another day. Or, why fight just because someone told you too? The pay cannot be that good.

"How about my classmates, then?" Claude forces his thoughts away from the decisions of his family. "Anyone I should team up with?"

His uncle gives him a long-suffering look, "If you're going by pure strength, Hilda, Leonie, and Raphael. Politically, any of the nobles. Raphael and Ignatz are great ties to the business side. Lysithea, Lorenz, or Marianne if you need a magic user's advice." Here, he pauses.

"What?"

"If you need a loyal figure," Godfrey continues, saying the words with an expression of having his teeth pulled, "go for Leonie. She keeps quiet about a lot of things, and I'm sure you've noticed how she redirects. She's also smart and isn't the kind of killer to feel guilty afterwards."

"Wait," Claude jerks, alarmed, "she's killed before?"

"You aren't supposed to know that," Godfrey mutters harshly. "Yah, okay, an assassin that was coming after me. If anyone at the Church asks, though, she hasn't spilt the blood of the people before. They're really big about taking in students who haven't killed. Probably to manipulate them in their grief- you weren't supposed to know that either."

"The Church really is hiding things?" Claude hisses, eyes wide. "Why didn't any of you warn me?"

"We thought it would be for the better if you didn't try to reveal Church secrets."

"Aha! It really was more than you! What would the family think I would try to reveal?"

Godfrey groans, "Nothing. Because you are smart and going to keep your head down so you can graduate and be a respected member of the nobility. Drop it, Claude."

"You can't just say that to me and expect me not to go searching," as if he wasn't already. Now there's proof.

"You will not go digging up secrets," Godfrey says, and for a moment he looks scared. "People who do, disappear. Gone, because they got curious about artifacts or snuck into restricted sections. Promise me you will focus on your studies and making connections, not the secrets of the religion housing and feeding you."

Claude lies, "If it means that much to you, I promise."

While it may hurt to know he's going to destroy his uncle's relief one day, it isn't going to stop him.

9.8

Everyone gives their excuses because apparently even though everything in Fódlan appears slow, the newcomers are settling in fast. Leonie, though, smiles and says, "I can join you after lunch."

After so much rejection to explore, Claude never thought he'd get an agreement. He's quick to excuse Leonie's willingness as, she's just paying me back for the obstacle course. He took the heat, to repay she can explore with him. A no-lose situation if she didn't already have plans like the rest.

It will be a good time to get to know her better. Ask about whatever the girls don't want to talk about and hear the stories of where she learned the weird terms and phrases. The small village commoner isn't a good excuse, but Claude can appreciate hiding secrets. It's makes for even more fun to try and pry them out into the open.

10.1

"You'll probably see her around. She's Seteth's sister. Big," a motion around her head, "hair, much lighter green then his."

Claude coming over his surprise that Leonie is sitting with him for breakfast again, "And she's teaching?"

"Yep. Super nice. You know, if you want to join band-"

"I'm already in enough clubs, but thanks."

"To each their own," Leonie shrugs, digging into her oatmeal and berries.

Doesn't get mad when interrupted. Claude strikes another thing off the list.

10.2

"I take it," Hilda looks at the two male nobles, "you both got invitations as well."

"I would not be here if I did not," Lorenz huffs, sneaking glances at the large door. "The higher floors are restricted from the public. I would not risk expulsion, and I should hope neither of you would. Claude, where is your invitation?"

"Relax, Lorenz, it's right here." Claude grins at their reactions as he pulls the crisply folded paper out from under his shirt. Hilda rolls her beautiful eyes so hard that he's surprised they don't pop out.

"Really," Lorenz hisses, "do you have no shame?"

"Where else was I supposed to put it?"

"A pocket. A bag."

"Well, which one?"

"Boys!" Hilda throws up her hands, "Will you please be respectful? We are outside of the Archbishop's hall."

"You are correct," Lorenz stiffens, a light blush filling his cheeks. "My apologies. I will not lapse in my manners again."

Claude feels no shame, just continues to smile as the beautiful pink haired lady sniffs in distain at him. Does it hurt? Yes. He will not do anything to rectify it, though.

They stay silent as footsteps approach. Seteth appears from the awning, frowning, "Is Lysithea not with you?"

"She has yet to leave the room today," Hilda replies sweetly, as though she isn't a near-master manipulator. "I believe she is still feeling unwell from all the travelling. It is a big change for all of us, you know. I could hardly sleep in such a stiff bed myself."

Seteth does not take the bait, "Alright then. I trust you will catch her up on anything missed."

"Why are we here, Seteth?" Claude does a little wave. "It seems a little odd to call us out, with a letter of all things."

"You will see in a moment," the man says shortly, striding for the doors. "Follow me."

The knights who had been watching them let them in. As they grow closer to the woman dressed in the finest garbs and jewellery to ever be made in Fódlan, so to does the feeling of tension wrap around Claude. A judging, pointed feeling. As though the room has suddenly become colder.

In the corner of his eye, Claude sees Hilda looking to be in bliss, while Lorenz wears a permanently peaceful smile. Something in the air, Claude realizes. Something he is immune to. He forces his jaw closed, breathing through his nose but can't smell a thing. If it knocks the others out, then he'll try and fight his way out, screwed over by his own paranoia. If it's just something to force people into relaxing, then all he needs to do is keep his mouth shut.

Easier said then done when faced with a mystery.

"Good morning, children," greets Archbishop Rhea. Dressed to impress – or strike awe – with a headpiece that makes her presence feel larger. Green hair more mint than Seteth's dark. She looks as one would expect of a motherly type, not a hundred plus years old religious leader. "It heartens me greatly to finally meet you. To see you carry on the traditions of your families and attend the Officer's Academy for your leadership training."

It does not get past Claude that the invitation to meet her came after their chaperones left.

"Lysithea von Ordelia is not here because of travel sickness," Seteth explains, taking his place beside the archbishop. "I will have a healer sent to check on her."

"Not Manuela?"

Claude can taste blood with how hard he bites a cheek. Seteth looks pained by his boss' question, "No. Lysithea was one of the few carried through the event yesterday. I feel it would be best to hold off on sending Manuela to anyone until after her review."

Rhea hums, expression falling into a gentle sadness, "It pains me that one of our own must be questioned. But enough of that. Claude von Riegan, Lorenz Gloucester, Hilda Goneril. I am proud to announce that the three of you and your fellow, Lysithea von Ordelia, have been approved into main Golden Deer class for this coming year."

Claude smiles and thanks her with the other two, but he feels cold under the searching green eyes of the archbishop. As if she knows what he thinks. That, for as glad as he is to get the pass, this isn't right.

"I trust one of you will deliver the news to Lysithea in private," Seteth stresses. "Advance acceptance is rare. You will still be required to participate in the testing; however, we require your insight into your fellow students' abilities more than your best participation."

"Sounds good to me," Hilda eagerly agrees.

"Right then," Seteth sharply nods, walking towards the doors. "That is all. Claude, follow me to my office."

It says something about how drugged they are that Hilda and Lorenz don't mock or protest Claude following the administrator. Seteth motions him to have a seat, pulling out files from a labelled stack in a cupboard. With sharp eyes, Claude can see the names of several incoming students before it closes. He marks it as a good place to go searching for information.

"This is not to be spoken of outside this room," Seteth demands, placing three folders before him. He takes a seat as Claude flips them open. "It will not be confirmed until every student has been selected for your class, but you are the current choice to lead the Golden Deer next year. If you leak this information, it will be taken away from you and given to your second in command. Those are your options for the position."

Hilda, Lorenz, or Lysithea. All equally terrible options. Unless he somehow tricks Hilda into doing work, he'll be left with full control. Lorenz will lord his power and do whatever he can to push Claude out of the main class. Lysithea - oh hey, her birthday is coming up – is young, almost too young, and doesn't have the charisma to keep a group of people together.

At least he knows Hilda's manipulations. She wouldn't crackdown on Claude and risk the ire of his noble house. It also helps that he wouldn't mind her flexing power. "I want Hilda as my second."

Seteth looks like he disproves the choice, but says nothing about it, "That will be all."

10.3

Claude runs into the healer sent to do a look at Lysithea. She isn't in her room, so he waves them off with a, "She probably stepped outside for some air. I'll take her to you guys if she isn't better by tonight."

He lingers a bit in the hallway, alone. Wonders just how many layers there are to the Church's plan. Claude never expected them to blatantly tell them they were already in the main class. He also never expected the officials to drug them.

He may be in over his head, but that's never stopped Claude before.

10.4

Killing intent.

Leonie doesn't know it.

Doesn't know the feeling of suffocation in the air. Struggling to breathe as fear leaves your body paralyzed. Colours in the room muting; feeling too full or too empty inside. An instinct in yourself screaming to not draw the attention of the predator.

Judith taught him how to use it. Claude is nowhere near the level of Oswald's, but he can silence a room with licks of dread if need be. He tries, a pinpoint shot of killing intent right at Leonie as she carries Lysithea.

Not even a twitch of difference.

What would have gotten under anyone's skin, doesn't work. Another thing crossed off the list. Something noted, is how easy it is for Leonie to hike down the mountain and back while carrying Lysithea.

He can use this.

10.5

Leonie nods slowly, eyes flirting from Hilda to Claude and back. "Yah, I can distract her. Our times for the fittings are back-to-back, so it wouldn't be a big deal if I stuck with Lysithea beforehand."

"Perfect," Hilda beams. "You'll need to do it as well on the actual day, give us time to setup and convince her to leave the room."

"No need to worry about that. Lysithea said she'd be a weight for me if I needed one. I'll cash in on a favour if I have to."

"Thank you, Leonie," Hilda coos. "That means so much."

Leonie gives her a deadpan smile, "Sure."

Claude tries to hold in his chuckles, "Hey Leonie, do you think you can carry somethings to the lower village and back without Lysithea noticing?"

Hilda goes to admonish him – they've already got Raphael carrying things – but Leonie responds with a pleasant, "Small things, sure. Anything bigger than a backpack and someone will need to distract her while I go back and forth."

"It's fine," Hilda cuts in. "Raphael and Claude will bring everything up during your distraction. Now if you'll excuse us, we must discuss the plans with Marianne."

Hilda takes his arm in a vice grip, dragging him away without care. Claude cheekily waves to Leonie as he goes. She waves back, eyebrows up.

"What are you doing?" Hilda hisses when they're far enough away. "We had a plan, Claude."

"There was no harm in asking. Besides, it's obvious she doesn't care for your sweettalk. You're weren't exactly subtle."

"I am as subtle as a brick to the head," Hilda drawls, finally letting go. Claude rubs his arm on instinct, feeling warm both because Hilda touched him and his magic barrier healing the bruise. "It's not my fault no one else notices. And I. Am. Trying to get them into my gossip network. Leonie is the only one who's getting to know other people, but Lysithea would rather read and Marianne would rather talk to animals. You do not understand the depths of my suffering."

"Speaking of Marianne," he switches the conversation away from another woe is me session, "why do you think Rhea didn't include her in our little acceptance."

Hilda hums, "My only guess is because Edmund does not hold as much weight in the Alliance, what with it being the newest addition to the roundtable. But it could also be because she has the least likely chance of inheriting."

"Says the second child."

"To start, I have a Crest. I am also from a direct line of my house. Our situations are very different."

"If you say so," Claude crosses his arms behind his head, enjoying watching her think. "Do you think we can talk her into coming to the party?"

Hilda turns on such a sad, pleading expression that he almost falls to his knees and begs for her thoughts so he can fix whatever the problem is, "No one can resist this face, Claude."

His heart beats loud in his chest. Claude smiles wider, voice strong, "No, I don't think anyone could."

It wouldn't be enough to make him go back on his idea of opening Fódlan to the world, but it would definitely make him think twice. Claude wonders when the attraction will begin to lessen, because if it keeps like this then it will only hurt more if he finds a way to tear down the wall the Goneril family guards.

10.6

"Matilda von Scherer," introduces the current leader of the Golden Deer House. "You're going to be shadowing me until exams begin. Any questions?"

"Which of your family is in my uncle's personal guard?" Claude wonders.

"My uncle. And yes, I am officially a commoner. Your uncle drafted me into leading a battalion years ago, so no, I do not need a position in whatever you're building for yourself."

"I wasn't going to ask, but good to know."

Matilda's face sours, "The first thing Seteth wanted me to teach you was paperwork. As a house leader, you're going to get a lot, so I hope you're a fast read."

"Hey, uh, does anyone else know about the whole…?"

"The other house leaders do, because they will be mentoring your counterparts if they arrive before exams. Otherwise, you will be the only one prepared for the responsibility. Congrats."

When he looks at the stack of paperwork, Claude doesn't exactly feel celebratory.

11.1

20

Alright, C. I'll see you there.

L

Claude reads it over and over. He digs out his box of their letters and memorizes the handwriting. Where the capital letters curl, the size of the writing, everything. He looks to the line in his uncle's letter, telling him that their pen pal is at the monastery. He wants to find them, but at the same time doesn't. Claude doesn't want this little bit of peace ruined. Doesn't want his writing buddy to look at him with disgust or hate him on sight. It has been so easy to talk with them, to someone who isn't affected by his dual heritage gifts.

He reads over the letters and frowns a bit at the wording. He's talked with someone about a few of these topics. A moment later, Claude can remember the jokes with Leonie about learning the art of cutlery. While it would fit – saved his uncle's life from an assassin, a bit older than him, female – he's seen a sample of her writing. There is nothing similar between the messy scrawl and the beautiful, spaced out words of his correspondent.

Which means sneaking into Seteth's office for a look at those files, getting the names of all the future students and filtering down, or waiting until the school year and compare assignments. Claude knows which one's the easiest choice, but he's impatient enough that he'd like to break into a high Church-figure's secure cabinet. Claude has a hunch and planning this will be more fun then reviewing Matilda's class assignments and request forms.

It's as he's coming up with a response for his pen pal that Claude realizes his uncle must know the name of the mysterious L if he knows they're at the school. The betrayal is only tempered by remembering he's left several pranks for his uncle to find back home. The rash power is Claude's current favourite non-lethal weapon of choice.

11.5

"Claude," Matilda's eye twitches as she looks over the rejected pile. "A word of advice. Never reject a request for more of these three items."

"Huh?" Claude blinks and looks at the names she's written. "Licorice root is an expensive import, and it's on Manuela's list of things of restricted health items. The House would also save money without buying large quantities of ginger or chamomile tea."

"This is the maximum amount of licorice root allowed to be ordered per person, per month. If you do not buy the other two, you will have a riot on your hands. Buy the tea."

"Why?" he laughs, going back to reading over history reports. "It's just tea."

"Heathen," she replies with no heat, like always. "Don't say I didn't warn you." She finishes accepting his rejects and hands them all over. "You said you wanted to deliver them this time, correct? If you leave now, you'll make it before he leaves for the dinning hall."

"Thanks Matty," Claude swoops out of the room, laughing and ducking as a training knife goes sailing over his head. He goes for the long way around, hoping to see Seteth leaving so he can crash the empty office. Passing the bathrooms, he winces at the sound of retching. At least they made it in time.

It does give him an idea on what to do to set a reputation for himself. He needs to make it big and effective, so no one bothers him. So no one wants to come to him. It must be closer to the beginning of the new year, but not during exams. There is a limit to how much he can get away with. It can't leave any visible marks, nor be permanent. That still leaves a lot of options for mixtures he can concoct.

For now, Claude walks up the stairs to the second floor. Seteth's gone and there's a guard shift, perfect for walking into the unlocked room. The teen sets the papers on the desk and opens the unlocked cupboard.

What he first notices is the Golden Deer section appears pitifully small compared to the others. A measly fourteen folders compared to the stacks of Eagles and Lions. Seteth has organized them by last name, so it's easy to count the dozen who's family name begins with an L. The first and middle names are harder; Claude skims a thumb over their titles and counts with sharp eyes.

Twenty-two names beginning with L. Over half are female. He sucks in a groan and goes to start with the Eagle class, but ends up hurrying to shut the doors and sit down when he hears footsteps.

Seteth, looking rather angry, narrows his eyes in the doorway, "What are you doing here, Claude?"

The teen motions to the stack of papers, "I'm dropping off Matilda's stuff. Oh, and I also wanted to ask- see we're planning a party for Lysithea-"

Seteth, apparently very hungry, easily agrees to his request for a spare room and is about to leave after a sharp reprimand to wait outside until he's back, when a sweet, melodical voice exclaims from the hallway, "There you are, brother!"

Flayn, Claude thinks, looks much more like Rhea than her supposed older bother. Her eyes light up when Seteth introduces them, the lovely lady clasping her hands together in excitement, "Oh yes, Leonie has told me about you. Is it true you carried your classmate through the Knight's obstacle course?"

Claude laughs, acting sheepish as he hides the delight at the young woman's oddity. Not even a hint of displeasure from her, unlike Seteth who is trying to burn Claude to a crisp with his glare. "Well, halfway through it. Leonie carried her the rest."

"Claude was just leaving," Seteth breaks in before Flayn can ask anything else. The lady pouts, and Claude's overcome with the odd urge to hug her. To see her smile again.

"We must talk again sometime," Flayn declares, waving and stepping away from the doorway. "It was a pleasure finally assigning a name to a face."

"Same," Claude shoots back, careful not to make Seteth explode. That's a very unhealthy complexion. "See you around."

"Oh, indeed!"

Though, Claude is going to do his best to be scarce until Seteth forgets this whole thing.

11.9

"A rumor," Hilda hums to herself, "to make you look bad. Why?"

"Ladies have started coming up to me," Claude lounges on the opposite bunk. It's rather bare compared to the small touches on the other ones in the girls' room. "Only they don't try and flirt with me alone. It's always in groups. One guy accused me of seducing his girlfriend and challenged me to a fight. Obviously, I'm not doing any of that-"

"Obviously."

"-but I would rather not have to deal with it in the first place. So, what magic can you work to keep people from coming near me?"

"What's in it for me?"

That's easy, "I'll get you a set of gemstones that you can use for accessories."

Hilda's eyes narrow, "How did you know about my hobby?"

Claude points to the half-done, woven necklace on the nearest table.

Hilda takes that as an answer, "I want three different kinds of quarts, at least one red and at least nine stones in total."

"Deal."

"Is there anything you can do to back up the rumors?"

"I'll pull a few stunts, be purposefully mean a few times. You can say I'm a schemer? Someone who only looks out for himself? How would that work?"

"I can even get Lorenz to help spread that one," a slow smile grows on her face. "But you have to keep it up for a while in order to cement it all. I know it isn't hard for you to talk dishonorable trappings or plans but do try to keep it legal. I do not want to have to lead the Golden Deer house."

"Yes ma'am."

"I expect those stones in a week or I'm going to let everyone know how heir Riegan is single and ready to mingle."

Claude forces the smile to stay in place, anger and distrust bubbling in his chest, "Yes ma'am."

While she hates putting in the effort, she'd do it. Another reminder of how much power she holds over him, even if Hilda doesn't know it herself.

12.2

Like every morning since their arrival to this place, Leonie sits across from him for breakfast, greeting with an energized expression, "Good morning."

Except this time, he notices she's not eating from her tray, "Morning. How was your run?"

"Same old, same old. Apparently it's the Faith exam today, so I'm going to rope Raphael into coming with me to Fight Club. Have you been yet?"

"Not yet." She still isn't eating from it but pulls an apple from about her hip area. "Is it fun?"

"I enjoy it," Leonie flashes a smile between a bite of her apple. "It's just fist fighting, but it's nice to finally have human opponents. Everyone in the village was either too old or too young to practice with. Oh, and just a heads up, Lysithea and I were moved to the Black-Red Eagles set-up last night."

Claude feels something at that announcement. It's a deep, wounded sense. Something that goes further, deeper, than the memories in his Crest blood. A sense of betrayal that makes him want to reach across and- he's not sure if he wants to hurt her or drag her and Lysithea back to their old room. To growl out that they are Golden Deer.

But Claude's always been great at masking his emotions, instead shoots a confused smile and asks lightly, "Why's that?"

"Uneven numbers is the official word," Leonie explains, twisting her fruit by its stem. She doesn't look away from him, and it calms down the thing in him. The anger is directed to those who made her move. "Unofficially, I'm the only friendly face to that kidnapped girl. She's having a hard time adjusting, obviously."

"Obviously," he repeats in a tone too dry, the thing getting the better of him for a moment as it settles back. Disappearing as though it was never there. As if it knows what she's talking about. Leonie's showing the first signs of true displeasure he's seen on her since the physical exam. Claude speaks honestly, "Hey, I'm glad she has someone. It's just… what about when school starts?"

"I'm hoping to get her a support system before that," Leonie admits a bit grimly. As if taking care of this person is her job. He's feeling oddly indigent on the subject. Looking after students is supposed to be the House Leader's job, but then again the Eagles are really big this year. "If you can recommend any Eagles to start with…?"

He barks a laugh, "Not many are talking to me." At least, none that could help. Selfish and vain, trying to get a foot through the door to the Riegan wealth or standing. He wouldn't trust any of them with an animal, never mind Leonie's newest focus. They sound like the kind of person who would have been chewed up and spat out in Almyra.

"Figures," Leonie purses her lips. "I'll see who's coming in the next few days to try and set her up with something. Hey, I can point you to some Blue Lions if you're tired of seeing us everyday."

"But you're all such great conversationalists."

Leonie snorts, hair strands fluffing around her head, "Is this the part where I thank you for carrying most of the dinner conversations?"

Claude coughs because… he feels almost grateful that his talents are being recognized, "…You're the only one who's noticed."

"I think we've all notice, but at the very least, I appreciate it. Thanks, Claude."

Yah, okay, he feels better now. Which means it's time to pull out the one thing that seems to bother her: formalities. Claude grins and mock bows against the table, "Why of course, Ms. Pinelli."

"Ugh," but even her vague displeasure isn't enough to lessen how much he's grown to enjoy their chats, "please stop that."

She's smiling. No matter how much he tries to barb and needle her, she's always smiling in the end. Always sits with him the next morning.

"Since you asked so nicely... I've been meaning to ask," he dangles a spoon in his hand, leaning on the other, "where do you keep getting apples?" Even when they don't server one, she's always munching on them.

Still hasn't unloaded her unusually large tray. The irrational worry is starting to drip into his thoughts.

"Found them, stored them. Why? You want one?"

"Sure, why not?"

Claude leans over to try and catch a glimpse of her side pouch, but Leonie's already tossing an apple at him. He catches it, a bit surprised at how hard it slaps. By the time he's looking up, she's already gathered and standing.

The worry doesn't seem as irrational now.

"Catch you later. I have to make sure Bernadetta is capable of eating sizeable meals."

Bernadetta, Claude resolves to memorize that name. The excuse calms his strange panic a bit – he's still not over her and Lysithea switching rooms – though it's not enough that Claude can't help but try to get his table partner to stay longer, "Isn't that Manuela's job?"

"Do you think I trust her?"

He flashes a smirk, because at least they're on the same page with that. Claude decides to do his nice need for the day, "Her class's Faith exam is tomorrow."

"Thanks for the heads-up."

Now, time to be culturally inappropriate to some nobles.

…I bet Leonie wouldn't get offended so easily.

He shakes off the thought and wrongness. Yah, she would.

It's a confusing mix of knowing vs. knowing that he doesn't give any more attention.

12.4

"Look at you two, hard at work," the librarian, Tomas, chuckles as he comes by their table. "Is everything alright?"

"We're good, Tomas," Matilda says without looking up from her homework. "Thanks."

"Hey Tomas," Claude props a hand under his chin, grinning, "Any books on the second floor you need help getting?"

The elder chuckles again, grinning brightly with an eye twinkle in return, "There are some rules even I cannot bend. It is only a few more months. Have patience."

"It's never been my strong suit," Claude goes back to reading the essays Matilda marked. "Thanks anyways." Once Tomas isn't looking, he shuffles them off the library book.

"That needs to be back before the hour," Matilda reminds him. "Seteth's going to swoop in and kick us all out."

"It wouldn't be the first time an alarm has gone off. I bet he wouldn't even notice."

"I don't have time for detentions. Finish your chapter and I'll put it away."

Claude sighs but hurries to memorize the travels of Saint Cethleann.

12.6

In the constant sounds of the dinning hall, Claude almost doesn't notice it. He looks to his other side, freezing only a moment at not meeting orange eyes that have a habit of watching the table, "Where is Leonie?"

"Exploring," Lysithea says, nose practically in the spine of her book, trying to read in the poor lighting. "She said if she got lost, that I was in charge of getting Bernadetta's food. Obviously, I'm in charge." She says it as though it's a major inconvenience.

"Do you need help-"

"I'm fine."

"Okay," Claude relents and tries to engage Marianne into a conversation. It goes less than stellar. He tries next for Ignatz and Raphael, with more success. Their conversation is soon taken over by Ignatz and Hilda discussing accessories while Lorenz tries to explain table manners to Raphael.

He feels the odd moment of silence, watching them all. There is a gap where Leonie would either fill it is with stories or entice someone to tell their own.

Seven out of eight.

Claude can't even remember how these dinners came to be. They all just showed up around the same time, every night. There was never a decision, never any promise. And they always sit together, no matter the ties to other people. For someone to be missing…

He's not one to worry too much about others, but he'll do a sweep of the grounds before curfew. Just in case.

12.7

'Where is Leonie?'

Claude can't stop watching her from the moment she enters the dining hall. He'd had the dream again, not the nightmare of smoke but a voice that is his but not asking for her. It really hammers in the point he couldn't grasp. Claude can match a line from the dreams he can't remember to everyone he's ever met, except for Leonie. There should be something, but there's not.

He tries not to think on it, warring between suspicion and worry if he does. He plasters on a grin, teasing as she takes the seat across from him, "And where were you last night young lady?"

The squeak from beside her is practically an explosion. Claude barely feels his fork drop, eyes wide at the thing he has trouble focusing on, that he didn't even realize was there.

No, not thing. Person.

"I lost track of time and only just caught the end of dinner," Leonie shrugs, the person latching onto her side as they try to hide. He sees a lot of purple, and it almost sounds like they're wheezing. "Claude von Riegan, this is Bernadetta von Varley. Bernadetta, this is the future house leader of the Golden Deer."

Claude forces his eyes to stay on the girl. If he thought Leonie was small, this one is tiny. There is practically no presence to her. Then he processes what she said, and there is a bit of anger and fear because no one should know. "Hey now, that's not for certain. It is very nice to meet you, Ms. von Varley."

Deflect.

The girl lets out a noise that practically shoves worry down his throat. Claude isn't one to care much for others but does she need a doctor?

"Bernadetta was kind enough to be added weight for my jog today," Leonie says, pushing the tray of food over to the girl. There is a pause before the girl delves in, still blurry to look at. It is the strangest thing he's seen today, and Leonie seems completely unaffected by it. Maybe touch negates it? "She and Lysithea are going to be reading for the rest of the day. I'm heading down to the lower village later if you want anything."

"Nah, I'm good for now. Hey, Bernadetta," the girl 'eep's and meets the smile Claude's reserved for small, newborn animals, "if you want to eat with us at dinner, it's alright. I promise we don't bite."

He's shocked by how her image gets blurrier, his eyes beginning to slide over the girl without thought. He can feel a bit of sweat forming from focusing, and almost loses concertation when her panicked words begin rushing.

"None of that," Leonie sounds gentler than he's ever heard her. Calm, keeping the girl in her seat without trapping her. Attention solely on the small flight risk. "Of course Claude wants you here right now. He's only extending the offer to eat with him or the other Golden Deer whenever you want."

"But he said-"

"Dinner, yes, but really, it's always dinner somewhere."

Claude sits back, watching Leonie explain things that aren't even hypothesises – barely theories in the realm of Fódlan's sciences – as if they are facts. She makes it sound easy; one thing turns constantly. When Fódlan and the sun face each other, we get light. When we face the moon, there is still a part of the moon facing the sun. She's just about to detail how the moon can still get light with Fódlan between it and the sun when a student drops into a seat a few feet away. Claude noticed the room was getting fuller, but Bernadetta obviously didn't as she flees the moment it registers.

"I'm going after her," Leonie sighs and drops her apple core on the tray.

Claude wants – yearns – to ask how she knows all of this. If she's making it up. How does the light hit the moon? He also needs the time to focus and reassess, and Bernadetta is a priority for her. He needs to get the facts from that as well, because so far his read was that Leonie didn't shelter people. So, Claude stops her before she can lift the tray of empty dishes, "I'll get it."

Her smile slips for a moment, "…Are you sure?"

No, "I've got it. Go help her."

Leonie's returning smile is something softer, more grateful. "Thanks."

Alone once more, he can finally think about what just happened. The infamous Bernadetta is obviously traumatized by something and, as curious as he is, it isn't Claude's problem. Leonie seems to have that well in hand, if he can get her to trust him then it will be easy just to ask for details. He's more curious about the ability to obscure features. There isn't a record of it being a Crest power, if it's an item then he can get his hands on it and cause all sorts of mayhem.

After meeting the girl, Claude takes back his thoughts on Almyra crushing her. She would either be a great spy, or a great messenger with that kind of speed.

12.8

This time, Claude doesn't even hear Seteth return. The man catches him in the act, though thankfully it's Lysithea's folder in his hands. He passes it off as wanting to learn more about his future classmates. Seteth, unfortunately, does not let him off completely, "I told you to wait outside my door the last time. Seeing as you disregarded my instruction, and you feel the need to learn more about your classmates, your punishment is to write at least a page on every Golden Deer student joining the next term. It is due the week before the new year, with latest extension on the first day of the new year. After that, I will let you read their files."

Which is fine, because the only handwriting he has left to see are Lysithea and Leonie's. If it's neither, then he'll have the time to begin looking when assignments roll around. Claude smiles, cheeky, "I won't do it again, Seteth."

"It will be much worse for you if you do. Now, before you go, what can you tell me about this… phantom of the Monastery?"

"Not much. A couple people said they were pulled into rooms and yelled at a bit. Is it real?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Seteth's hard glare drops into something more troubling, as if he had thought Claude was the perpetrator. "I have had more than a few complaints come about them. It is bringing a lot of fear, both that it is a vengeful ghost and that someone is causing harm to the people of the Monastery. We are looking into it, and if you learn anything then alert me as quickly as possible."

Claude clenches his jaw, still smiling, and replies that he will. He almost says something about hate he's seen. Cruel words by nobles or the clergy to commoners. Disdainful looks to those marred by injuries or sickness. Pushes and shoves to those that are visibly from somewhere other than Fódlan.

There is only one person in all of the Monastery who's known to be Almyran, and it's not him. Even the only people to truly know – not just guess or theorize – Claude's true bloodlines are Oswald, Tiana, and Godfrey. Khalid is known by the people in the manor and the people of Almyra, but not as a prince and Claude respectively. The whole point of a secret identity is to keep secrets.

Cyril was a boy from Almyra who was brought to the Monastery by the archbishop herself, and yet people will still purposefully track mud through places he's cleaned or call him extremely offensive slurs. Claude has yet to meet the elusive boy, but he understands the kid's reasoning of not being seen or heard.

It adds motivation to Claude's fire of stopping this treatment.

"Oh, and Claude," Seteth doesn't know when to quit, stopping the teen as he goes to leave. Green, protective determination seems to be lit in the man's eyes, "Stay away from Flayn."

Or else, goes unsaid.

Claude finds himself really annoyed with Seteth today. His hands clasp behind his back, fingers digging into palm as pain keeps his thoughts clear, "Relax, Seteth. I'm not going to drop in on the music club like Leonie does to the others."

Seteth swallows the that's not what I mean and nods sharply. Eyes promising murder if Claude so much as thinks of spending time with the greenette.

She seemed nice enough. He'll have to talk with her again soon.

13.1

It's a reckless idea, badmouthing the Church in the middle of its base of operations. If he's being honest, what Claude says to the empty hallways isn't even that bad. All he is doing is questioning the central points of their religion.

He doesn't hear anything as one moment he's looking around, running his mouth, and the next he's shoved into a small room. Into a seat. He can't focus on the figure as they move quickly around the room, scolding – no, more like warning – him about insulting the people who own the place.

Their voice, low and a bit distorted, is the only sound they make. Claude has trouble focusing, worse than with Bernadetta, with an odd mix of black and white stopping the light from hitting them where he can see. Every time he tries to get up, he's pushed back into the seat without seeing the person move. As annoying as it is, the person is still in range of Crest's sixth sense of feeling people. He focuses on the feedback, on trying to get their emotions.

Only, there's nothing. As though no one else is in the room with him.

The whole encounter cannot be anymore than a minute, but he is in the chair longer. A bit of dread creeps into him. While he likes mysteries, it's no wonder people think this to be a phantom. It isn't even like those from Almyra, where he's now learned they are the only people he cannot get a read on with the help of his Crest. There was no presence to this person.

Claude resolves not to get caught up in this again. As curious as it is, he wouldn't even sense them coming – Crest or no – if they decided to kill him. Better to not get complacent with this threat and to move some plans ahead.

Things like this don't just abruptly start happening without a just as abrupt stop. This ghost-like person is here for something, and he's not going to snitch to Seteth about a handful of secrets to help find it.

13.2

Claude wakes up with a distant sense of dread. Something is going to happen, but not for a while. Within the month for certain. The line in his head, scared and determined, sounds like Lysithea.

'Leonie got our br-'

He can guess the missing parts. Whatever it is will be in the morning, when she gets Bernadetta and Lysithea's breakfast. Which is why he is so relieved to see her come into the dining hall with one of the two. Less so when he spots the third person.

"Morning, Claude," Leonie greets. "You remember Bernadetta? And this is Dorothea. Ladies, Claude von Riegan."

Claude looks the amazingly put-together teen in the eye and smiles as casual as possible, "A pleasure to meet you.

Dorothea grins back, cutely with a predator's glint in her eyes, "Likewise. Leonie was telling me you were a part of the first group of students to participate in the obstacle course," Dorothea says, warming her hands around the morning soup bowl. She blinks slowly, hyperalert to his actions, "I'm not doing it myself, but I am going to go and cheer on the other Black Eagle students."

There's a threat on the horizon, and he really doesn't want to leave Leonie until it passes. She and Lysithea are keys. This person, another Eagle, taking interest in his soon-to-be-classmate is grating him the wrong way. He needs…

Claude wants someone to watch his back, and so far Leonie is the only one he believes won't turn for a better deal. Even Hilda, no matter how much he adores her, only puts up with him because she's his second for the class leadership. The gemstones keep her satisfied for now, the praise from her family and disdain for the actual House Leader position keeps her from destroying him, but she makes the threats and promises very clear if he displeases her.

He's seen how nobles and commoners alike greet Leonie, sometimes even stop to chat as she passes. Of the Golden Deer commoners, she is the only one capable of guarding his position should he need the help.

With Bernadetta, if he believes the rumors, he can understand the clinging after her traumatic entrance. If some other class tries to use Leonie's connections for themselves…

No emotions in his eyes, hand under his chin, Claude keeps smiling, "Oh? I guess I should go too. All of the future Golden Deer students are already here, just a few left to run the course."

Not that he cares much about them beyond their potential use. Introductions weren't exactly the best. Besides, Claude already knows who he wants for his seven.

Leonie draws his eyes, her smile still in place as her eyebrows twitch, "I'm running it again with Bernadetta."

It's a stare down, a bit of anger stirring because she's switching, isn't she? Maybe she'll be an inside person for him, Claude's counting on her connection with Lysithea if that's the case. It better not have been because of Dorothea. Leonie wouldn't switch for just Bernadetta.

"Did you know they're allowed support items?"

Claude's smile doesn't so much as twitch, "You would have known if you went to see it."

Doesn't show how his mind whirls to get her to stay. He needs…. Wants her in the seven. Strength alone, she's near top of the commoners. The other six Golden Deer who didn't travel with them are so much weaker, even those with Crests.

Leonie rolls her eyes and head, "I'm usually helping Flayn tune instruments at that time. It honestly wouldn't surprise me if Seteth sets up this thing in the exact time he knows she won't be watching."

"Oh?" Dorothea mutters. "I haven't met Flayn yet."

"She's Seteth's little sister," Claude elaborates without thought. He's still staring down Leonie, mind slowly gearing towards how to cut her out if need be. If she goes into another class, he needs her to struggle within it to keep her loyalty. "I haven't seen them interact much, but he can be very protective of her. Almost too much."

Leonie snorts behind her apple. "Did you get the shovel talk, too?"

Bernadetta stutters and squeaks from between the ladies, "W-what's a s-shovel… talk?"

His mind stops for a moment, because Leonie has that look on her face. The one that follows with an 'oh, a person told me about it while I was helping them' or 'small town village thing'. Whatever it is, it's always interesting. Maybe that's why he really wants her so much. Even if she's lying – and for the life of him, Claude cannot image Leonie lying – she always has something fascinating to say.

An important thing in your body, that can also cause heart disease?

The ground under their feet moving, and because of this the star positions are the same only certain times a year?

Hurt a loved one, and no one will find your body?

Claude's never heard things like this before. It seems no one has. Which means Leonie's crazy, lying, or hiding something.

He's never liked letting go of entertainment. When Leonie tosses an apple she can't possibly have put in her side bag – Claude's made a point to know the dimensions, it isn't possible – he looks the picture of innocence and begins to ask, "Do you have any other-"

He catches the pear she tosses his way. Blinks at the different fruit, and then laughs because still impossible, "How'd you know what I was going to ask?"

Maybe, he wants to know where she can keep so many things out of sight. Another mystery, another reason to keep her in the main class of eight.

"I keep several fruits on me at all times, but I guess I kind of do eat apples more than others. I like being surprised with how sweet or sour they can be. Ah," she squints towards the roof, "Bernadetta, are you almost ready to go? We'll need to sign-in with Seteth if I'm remembering right."

The teen squeaks and chugs back her soup. Claude follows her gaze to the window.

Dorothea protests, "There isn't a need to rush."

"We're about fifteen minutes away from the hour. There's bound to be a lineup. From what I've, um," Leonie coughs, eyes adverting to the sides of their heads, "heard about the other times, I'd rather see about us getting into a group that can do it in under thirty minutes."

Claude feels the snicker leave, only just managing to swallow the joy he feels. The pride. No one has beaten any of their records yet, "It's the climbing wall that gets them stuck. Seteth put on some kind of ward that makes it impervious to magical attacks."

"Raphael could probably punch through it," Leonie says as she slings an arm over Bernadetta's increasingly shaking shoulders. "We've got this. Worst comes to worst, I'll just get you over the wall and run around it myself. I'm the support item, remember? Not an actual competitor."

Claude just about chokes at the relief that sings in his veins. He covers the feeling with a bite of the pear. He'll keep the plans for just in case, but it's a weight lifted now that he won't have to use them. Won't have to risk whatever trust Leonie has foolishly put in him breaking at a manipulation gone wrong. He can live without her, has no real need for her with her commoner status and less strength than many with Crests, but he wants to have her support. It would make things so much easier to not separate from her, even though that's exactly what he has Hilda doing for him and the student body with the rumors. Rumors, which Leonie pays no mind to. Or, maybe it's because Hilda started them. The relationship between ladies is a good indicator of what will happen if he screws up.

And then, it's just him and the new girl. Claude smiles, teeth like a sword blade, "I have no interest in a romantic relationship."

Dorothea startles, the charm falling off into something more smug, "Well, I'm glad that is out of the way then. Are you this blunt with every lady, or am I special?"

"Special's a word for it," he takes a bit of the pear, very determinedly not looking at her breasts like several people who've glanced over. "Leonie doesn't drag just anyone out to meet me in the morning. Were you her new weight, or just happy coincidence?"

"…Coincidence," Dorothea's grin is sweet, but her eyes are as cutting as his own can be. "Though, now that I think about it, we did meet when she came back for Bernadetta. That is not a common occurrence, from what little I've heard."

"It isn't," he agrees. "So, Lady Dorothea, why did she bring you here?"

The teen hums, "I do not know. Maybe she thought you needed more friends."

"Ouch," he feigns a wound. "But plausible. So, what were you doing before you were with the Countess?"

"Living with my father," Dorothea bares her teeth is a charming, cutthroat smile. "Where were you before you were with Duke Riegan?"

"Living with my mother," is his barebones reply, grin just as mean and sweet. He cuts the tension moment by forcibly relaxing and turning back to breakfast, "What classes are you looking forward to?"

It's too bad Leonie made friends with the, so far, one person in the Empire who can keep up with him. All the others are so focused it's hard for them to see around their goals.

Oh well, all the easier to spin them in circles. At least now he knows to keep an eye out, lest Dorothea ruin his fun.

13.3

Claude and Dorothea talk about nothing of importance while waiting at the obstacle course. There is a mix of deflection and blunt responses before they settle on scoring the students by looks.

"She is a six at best," Dorothea disagrees, pursing her lips. "Blue hair is not common enough to be wearing objects without the colour in it. All that yellow makes her pop in a- oh my. It looks like Leonie's made some friends."

Claude's counterarguments die as he follows her gaze.

"Orange hair, sparkles in the light, with a blonde partner who looks ready to scream. That must be Sylvain Gautier and Ingrid Galatea. I have to say, this is a surprise."

"How so?"

"Oh? I would have thought the… tales would have reached across the Alliance. Sylvain flirts with anything in a skirt."

Claude can't help the laugh, "And, what was it, Ingrid? Who's she?"

"His impulse control, not that it does much good. It is odd to see them talking with Leonie and Bernadetta. Leonie is a three at best, and Sylvain doesn't go after anyone younger than him by a year."

At least he has some decency, "It's her hair cut, right?"

"Amongst other things," Dorothea sighs, but Claude's more stuck on watching what Leonie's doing. He follow's the gaze of the waver to a group of Lions preparing for the course. "My roommates are convinced she's actually a man. They disagree with Seteth for allowing her to stay in an all-girl's dorm, even with proof she is female."

His eyes stick to a person on the way back to Leonie. A blond teen who stares at her. Claude narrows his eyes, focusing more on the odd look than the conversation, "Proof?"

"They've walked in on her changing. Apparently she has no shame," Dorothea titters.

The boy is watching Leonie with an expression Claude knows he's seen before. He can't place it, but it doesn't leave a good feeling behind seeing it aimed towards his classmate.

Then Dorothea's words hit and give the push to look back to Leonie, who isn't paying her watcher any mind. He chuckles along, even though it's odd. Of all of them, he'd expect himself and Leonie to be the ones to lock doors, even though the Monastery frowns on it.

Unless she has nothing worth stealing.

13.4

Claude slings and arm over Leonie's shoulders, blocking her from the view of the watching Lions, "How was it this time?"

"About the same," she responds with a grin, elbow brushing against his side, "though I missed having a helping hand."

There is a stab of joy at the words. A loud thump of his heart. He brushes it off as he lowers his arm, but still makes sure to be between her and the others. She won't leave for Bernadetta or Dorothea, but he doesn't want to risk the group watching her.

He doesn't move too fast towards the scared teen, just enough that Leonie flanks and Bernadetta knows he means no harm. It's a step up that Bernadetta doesn't run or spiral as soon as he talks with her. Now that he can see her, the bags under her eyes are a little less smudged than usual.

Maybe with a bit of confidence, they can make a spy out of her yet.

13.5

"Alright," Claude decides he's going to ask once, and then drop it. As long as it stays away from him and the possible bad feeling to come, he'll leave it to the Knights. He stands during their dinner, making sure his group of seven looks towards him. The newcomer Golden Deer never seem to eat with them, always early or late. They also don't interact with the group much beyond Hilda, Lorenz, and Leonie from what he's seen. The only reason Claude knows more than the basics about them was because of the reports he's writing, "who here has been waylaid by the Phantom of the Monastry?"

Hilda, Lorenz, and Leonie. The only one he'd been expecting was Lorenz, what with how often he's been imposing date requests on the female population. The other reasons make sense, even though it irks him that the phantom laid hands on his classmates. Claude doesn't let the sting of anger show on his face, forcing his thoughts away from calculating ways to trap the elusive figure.

It doesn't irritate his bad feeling, so it isn't something worth investigating further until the next problem has passed. At least, that's what Claude tries to tell himself.

He really wants to know how to get around the empathetic sense all Crest owners are supposed to have. Now that he thinks about it, he should really begin practicing again.

13.7

"And just because you don't want-" Hilda pauses her scolding.

"I know I don't have to be cruel," Claude decidedly doesn't groan, "but they don't even have the courage to face me alone. I can't take their confessions of seriously, never mind kindly, when-"

"Claude."

"Hilda," he playfully mocks back.

"Has anyone told Lysithea about the thing?"

His eyebrows furrow, lips turning into a pout, "What thing?"

"The class placement thing."

It takes a moment longer to connect the dots. His eyes go wide, gulping, "Do you think Lorenz did it?"

Hilda grinds her teeth and marches away, "Change of plans, we're heading to my room."

13.8

Lysithea takes it well, all things considering. She watches them, wary, "And this isn't one of your… jokes?"

"I wouldn't let him joke about this," Hilda states.

The sit in the Golden Deer hopeful's area, Lysithea on Leonie's old bed, Penelope's area now.

"Really?"

"I swear on my family's name, Lysithea."

The small, young teen hisses in a breath. Looks between Claude's unusually serious expression and Hilda's patient acceptance. Finally, Claude wonders aloud, "You don't seem happy about this."

"I wanted to get in on my own merit," Lysithea hisses, face getting a blotchy red. "I'll be one of the youngest to ever be accepted into the main class. What a joke. No one's going to take me seriously or think I deserve the spot. I can't ever talk with Seteth about receding it because if they want me in that badly then they'll just stick me back in regardless. No, I have to get better. I can't show any weakness in the trials. I have to- have t-to-"

"Whoa, hey," Claude swoops down beside her, arm slinging over her shoulder for all of a moment. Lysithea flinches away and he turns to give attention instead of physical contact. "Don't cry. If you cry, then Hilda will cry-"

"Hey!"

"-and then I'll start crying," Claude jokes. "You're already talented with magic. Really talented. That alone will get you into the Academy. And if you look at your competition, Leonie and Raphael are really the only ones you might have trouble taking down. Everyone is so skinny and weak, a kick behind their knee will topple them. Seriously, Lysithea, you're fine. No one will look down on you."

"T-then will you stop calling me a kid?!"

"Not until you're taller than one of us."

"Ugh," Lysithea groans, smacking his arm with the strength of a butterfly. "You're such a jerk. I-" she falters, "I guess I can't tell anyone about this, can I?"

"Orders from Seteth," Claude shrugs. "No one else can know. I'm sure it won't just be our group, so at least we can have fun guessing the other handpicked students in the Eagles and Lions."

"No question there," Hilda speaks up, rolling her eyes. "The princess, her retainer, and the Prime Minister's kid for the Eagles. The prince, his retainer, and his three childhood friends for the Lions. I would not want to be in that class."

Lysithea wrinkles her nose. It's adorable. "I could guess those Eagles, but how do you know about the Lions?"

"My friends told me."

Claude translates it as her gossip group. Lysithea understands that as well, given her distaste. Still, went much better than expected. In fact, he's almost certain he can sway Lysithea into a tentative partnership. She needs reasons to prove herself because of her age, he wants a strong magic user on his side. Best part, it might even be a two-for-one with Leonie sticking to Lysithea.

Speaking of which, where is Leonie?

His paranoia is getting worse the longer this bad feeling sticks around.

14.1

Claude is on edge, as though the day teeters something. His nightmares, of which he remembers only bells tolling, aren't helping his peaking anxiety. However, breakfast goes as normal. He sticks close to Leonie, greets Lysithea, Bernadetta, and their other roommate, before finally going back to his room to exercise in the empty space.

The jittering of energy means he wants to do something, and the only helpful side is that it isn't a full moon. He'd be worse if this continues to the full moon. After hours working out and stretching, he's ready to move. Except, the moment he steps outside he's waylaid by a messenger saying that he's to go to Seteth's office. Claude is polite thanking them, even if he'd really rather go exploring when everyone's busy with the sword tournament. Though, now that he measures the sun, it's got to be over soon.

Seteth's door is locked, and no one seems to be in. Figures. As much as he'd like to try and pick it, the knights guarding Rhea's door are watching him a little too closely.

He doesn't have to wait long.

Four people, all male, leave Rhea's audience chambers. One is that Sylvain guy, another the blond who stares at Leonie. The third is someone who has the markings of a Duscur citizen – Claude' first time seeing them outside of drawings – while the fourth is all dark hair and gloom, storming off, hand reaching for a weapon that isn't there. There is a bit of that weird glaze to their expressions as they go, though the blond shakes it off fastest. Seteth comes out of the room and guides him towards his office.

"Ah, Claude, good of you to make it," Seteth isn't smiling, but then again he never really is. Claude can't get a word in edgewise as the man unlocks his door. "Come in you two. Have a seat."

Claude almost holds out a hand, awkwardly running it through his hair at the last second of remembrance, they don't do that here. "Claude von Riegan."

"Dimitri Blayddid," he nods cordially. Looks over his shoulder, "And this is Dedue."

The Duscur student nods, "I shall wait out here for you, your highness."

"Inside, boys," Seteth warns, "and shut the door." Waits for them to take his seat, ignoring their questions by laying out three folders for Dimitri. "As Claude has been selected to take leadership of the Golden Deer house next year, you have been selected as the Blue Lion's house leader, Dimitri. While you have written your choice to us, I implore you to consider all options before selecting a second in command."

"Ahh, that will not be necessary, Seteth," Dimitri replies with a thin smile. Claude's more interested that the prince of the Holy Kingdom – because the Empire's heir is female and that's the only other possible royalty – expected he would be the House Leader before stepping foot here. "Dedue is my only choice for such a position."

"…I see," the man nods, disappointment creating hard lines on his face. "Well then-"

14.2

Seteth doesn't get a chance to continue, for there are bells tolling. Claude just about rips the knife from the prince's waistband and goes running, the sounds of bells echoing with the blood in his veins.

For all the good it can do, he despises the forewarning some days.

"Those are alarm bells," Seteth says, focusing back on them, face shutting into a mimicry of someone who's seen things. "The Monastery will be going on lockdown. Return to your rooms at once, we will finish this discussion later."

Dimitri, like the good little prince he is, immediately jumps to help, "Is there anything we can do to assist?"

"Staying out of our way," Seteth warns him. "You have no experience here, nor do we know your capabilities. Someone will be by to check on the students. Do not leave your room until sanctioned."

"Yes, sir," Claude drawls, standing and with no intention of returning until he must. "Come on, your highness. The Lion's dorms are further away from the rest."

"Oh, no, you do not have to escort me."

"I'm not. I just don't want to run into anything alone, and you happen to have a bodyguard."

14.5

From what little he's managed to gather from the guards before he was manhandled into his room, there was a prison escape. Claude didn't even realize the Monastery had a prison; it's well known Rhea is trigger happy with her executions. Likely, he thinks, because she never kills them herself.

"Claude, are you even listening to me?"

"I'm listening, Lorenz," he sighs and catches the wooden ball that was spinning on his fingertip. "I'm in no hurry to go out again. If you want to risk Seteth's wrath or whatever caused the alarm, then be my guest."

The teen sputters and ends up huffing, storming back to his bed. Raphael asks, "Do either of you want to play cards now?"

"You know what?" Claude mutters to himself, sitting up. "Why not? Strip poker or tag team?"

Lorenz sputters more about him being uncouth and inappropriate to lead the Alliance, but sits down anyways. They end up together for a regular poker match, and Claude catches onto the commoners' game early. Ignatz has a great mask, while Raphael loses on purpose. By the time lunch rolls around and they're free to leave, Ignatz has three quarters of the winnings and Lorenz has lost the most.

The noble Gloucester doesn't take it too well, huffing and joining up with the teens from the other all-male Golden Deer dorm for lunch. Claude's roped into Hilda's details of what she could pull together between the dorms and the cafeteria, and it's because of the gorgeous, smart distraction that he doesn't notice his blood still pounds with a warning. Not until two people join their table, and the air in his lungs freezes at counting only one Golden Deer.

"Hey, Lysithea, Bernadetta," Claude greets like he's not debating on whether to seek out his missing classmate or not. "Are you two okay?"

"We're fine," Lysithea grumbles. "Leonie's an idiot."

"Oh?" Claude has to put his fork down, but there's already a dent in the silverware. "What did she do?"

Lysithea details a workout routine that's too much. It apparently exhausted Leonie and she slept through most of the alarm, even now is still asleep. The girl finish lunch quickly and are whisking away a tray for the missing Deer before Bernadetta can work herself into a panic attack. Claude discreetly straightens out his fork and resolves to check on the orange haired girl.

Only, she's not in her room when he goes.

And he's not sure why he's worried enough to go searching even though there are several more important things to do.

14.6

Claude isn't sure why, but the worry twists harder in his chest, stealing his breath as he watches Leonie watch the sky. From here she looks small; smaller than normal. Maybe it's the way her shirt blows a bit freer. Maybe it's how her arms tremble, holding her up as she leans back. For a moment, he wants to tuck her away in the dining hall and feed her enough meals for her collarbones to hold some fat and stop jutting out.

The moment passes as he follows an urge, because she's never shaken him off. He keeps his touch light, only making contact with her eyebrows and nose, "Guess who?"

"Hey Claude," busting all his expectations on the people of Fódlan, she leans back into him with a smile. His hands go to her shoulders, just as boney even through the hard muscles. She feels small. "What's up?"

"Oh, you know," he sets her right, so he doesn't have to see her arms tremble again. Sits next to her. Even her fingers look smaller. Claude isn't sure how her fingerless gloves are staying on. None of this feels right. "Checking in on everyone like a responsible leader. Didn't see you at lunch, and Lysithea wanted me to make sure you weren't exerting yourself."

Her smile distracts him from the sense of wrong, "As much as I don't like taking a day off, I do enjoy sleeping in once in a while."

"Yah, about that, Lysithea mentioned you were exercising yesterday, but what did you do that tired you out so much?"

The stories match, so if there's a lie it's from Leonie. But she wouldn't lie, Claude chuckles at the thought. Everyone does at some point. "That almost sounds like Hilda's exercise regimen back in Goneril. What made you decide to try it?"

"No wonder she's so strong," they're still watching each other. He's been told his eyes can be the scariest thing about him, but she's not faking her gaze. "With the sword tournament over, I thought I'd do something to make up for lack of rushing about. Just my luck I'm outside the gate when the alarms sound."

Focus, he thinks. Tries to pull up a potent amount of killing intent, but Leonie doesn't twitch. She never does. "And you didn't think about returning?"

"I didn't know what the bell was for. For all I knew, there was some big-wig or parade or something and I would have interrupted a very delicate meeting."

Claude laughs, ignores the term he doesn't understand, and switches tactics to a more cheat skill. He doesn't like sensing for people, not after all the years of being rejected, and especially not on people he sort-of likes. It's always emotionally difficult to get the truth of their feelings, even if it's a great lie detector. He doesn't believe Leonie would lie, but there's something wrong that sings in his blood and tells him the tragedy is yet to come. "Well, just know I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks," Leonie gently elbows his arm. It's barely a whisper but he appreciates her deviation from Fódlan standards. It does make him feel bad for what he's going to do next. "I'm glad you're okay too."

With that, she leans back on trembling arms to watch the skies once more, apparently not feeling the chill that normally comes when he senses on purpose. Claude, on his part, is stunned for a moment. Much like an Almyran, he can't feel her. No emotional feedback. He searches her face for clues – having become adept at body language from his childhood in Almyra – and Leonie really does seem happy he's okay. She might actually like him.

"What?"

Claude blinks and realizes she staring at him again. Realizes he's been staring for longer than appropriate.

Claude stuffs away the urge to hug her and changes the subject hard, "Did you know it can snow on Monastery grounds?"

"What?" her eyes widen, "really?"

"It's only done it twice from what I've heard, but both times people started going crazy and calling it the end of times."

Leonie laugh, "Of course they would. It's not like Seiros wrote about the Goddess taming the colds or anything."

It's the way she says it.

The way she says it.

It's dangerous territory, but if his suspicion is right then Leonie might be someone who can help him tear down a wall. "Why do you say it like that? Wasn't that one of the visions the Goddess blessed upon Seiros?"

"She still had to write it for it to be passed down."

That's a very safe answer, Claude thinks, a little giddy. Not only is her block against empathy a familiar sense of home, she doesn't quote scripture or refer everything back to religion. Even Hilda will reference lines at him or create jewellery with symbols or symbolizing the religious marks or objects. Ignatz and Raphael pray together in the chapel a few times each week. Lorenz uses it to back his noble claim, Marianne prays every chance she gets, and Lysithea can quote the history of Fódlan and the Goddess' intervention or blessings whenever someone asks a question about why the world is the way it is.

Claude isn't sure Leonie's ever given blessing for the food. He feels like she must have. "That she did. You ready for dinner? I can smell it from here."

"Yes, please," Leonie groans, stretching and wincing as so many things crack. Claude offers a hand to pull her up before he remembers the rules. She takes it anyways. "Thanks."

His heart beats loudly in his chest. "Anytime."

He really hopes that's a lie.

14.8

Claude doesn't believe in things like fate, but if he did he would have called this hate at first sight.

"Edelgard von Hresvelg," the princess introduces herself. "This is my vassal and second in command, Hubert von Vestra."

"If Lady Edelgard loses her position of House Leader for any reason," Hubert drawls in a voice that is both empty and threatening, "I will be sure to eliminate all who had a hand in it."

What a fun guy, Claude thinks, sarcasm just wanting to burst out. He is as composed as he can be while also feeling his heart pound with an alien kill kill kill, "If she loses it, I'm pretty sure your country would rebel, what with needing the archbishop's blessing to take the throne."

The two Eagle students share a look. Claude makes sure to keep his hands out front, clasped yet hiding how his nails bite into skin. Finally, Edelgard nods, "Indeed. Let us hope it does not come to this."

Inside, Claude is practically begging for Dimitri to show up and stop this awful tension. It feels like every second word out of his mouth is two steps back from a positive relationship with the other House Leader. At least with His Royal Awkwardness, Claude can sit back and laugh at the wreck sure to happen. Finally, Seteth comes from wherever he was to practically demand Claude teach Edelgard, along with Dimitri, how to fill out forms before dismissing Claude and leading the royal's group away.

Claude lets out a huff and stares at the ceiling, the irrational anger gone, "It won't be like this all year, right?"

15.1

Claude wakes up with the taste of dust on his tongue and screaming being the only thing he remembers. Whatever goes wrong, it happens today. He checks through the words in his hidden book, reminds himself breakfast. If he can get through the morning, then Claude thinks he'll be fine.

Except Leonie drops two trays on the table with an apple already half eaten in her mouth. He can't remember the last time she had a full breakfast with him and thinks he should have noticed earlier. No matter how she keeps pulling out fruits from nowhere, it isn't healthy if the one he sees her eat is all she eats for the morning. No wonder she's been getting smaller.

Leonie's gaze doesn't stray to the warm and cold, pleasant smelling meals before her, "Is that all you're eating?"

She doesn't look hungry as she finally glances down, "I'll eat more with the girls. This way I don't get a talking to for keeping the trays in plain sight."

'Leonie got our br-'

He's moments away from sitting on her if that's what it means to stop whatever is going to happen. In fact, he isn't going to leave her side if it means the taste of dust leaves his mouth. Claude isn't sure he succeeds as relaxed, but all the practice of hiding how he really feels has always payed off, "Stay here."

Leonie jolts, and he enjoys the rare moment of surprising her.

"If anyone gives you trouble," Claude bluffs, "just let them know you won't be supplying the good stuff anymore. That is why the staff here likes you… Am I close?"

"On the money," Leonie stares a him a bit more before shaking her head and smiling a bit wider. "I give most to the orphanage in the lower village, but the lands here are so bountiful I can get a lot with little effort. Good practice for when we have to sign up for jobs."

He can't believe he got it right. "With what you bring in, I don't think anyone else will get the hunting job." Now, keep her talking, "How is Bernadetta? Lysithea told us about your unfortunate run-in with Hubert."

It occurs to him that Lysithea may be in trouble, but unlike Leonie she'll attack loud and noticeable with magic. What little he's observed of Leonie and Raphael's sparring, she's quiet when she's injured. With how tired she's been from her workout, Leonie's nowhere near strong enough to cause a larger scene.

He tunes back in at the mention of the potential spy girl, "Hubert was definitely not a good one to start with. Maybe we can meet a few today. Bernie- ugh, Bernadetta- she is okay with me, right?"

"She likes you," Leonie says after a bite of her apple. He feels something like pride, all up until Leonie finishes with, "It's still harder for her with males, but it's all good since you've been holding back for her."

Claude chokes, pride quickly turning into hesitancy. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Leonie smiles sweetly, tone bland. "So you haven't been making people cry with a bit of cold logic and biting remarks at lunch this past week? My mistake. Must have been another Claude."

He begins ramping up the panic until he realizes she's joking. Leonie is trying to be funny. As though she isn't mad about him hurting people. Purposefully hurting people. He smiles sharply and tries to hurt her with bite and killing intent, "Well, there are two other Claude's signed up for our year. It's an honest mistake."

But it never seems to work, and it is both great and terrible. He can't push her away like this, and he can't use as a weakness. He almost feels bad when she smiles like she's grateful, "Of course. Still, thank you for being kind and patient with Bernadetta. I am honestly worried about how school starting may undo her progress."

Teasing, contact, something has to work, "I wouldn't worry about that," he stretches out, arms going behind his head as he kicks her under the table. Leonie rolls her eyes, but that's it. "She's a lot stronger than you give her credit for."

He can't bring himself to call her Ms. Pinelli. He doesn't want to see the distaste unless it's aimed at him, not just at the proper name.

Claude, finally able to think past whatever nightmares he can't remember, is finally realizing how much he's come to enjoy their chats. Enjoys the time with someone who doesn't berate him every other sentence and has more in common, more to talk about.

If he was one to frighten easily, he'd be terrified. Outside his family, the most he ever wanted a companion like this was Nader, and even then teaching Claude started out as a punishment. Something the boy could never forget, even as they grew close enough that Nader would offer him a place if he ever came back.

For a moment, Claude wishes Leonie was his pen pal. That he didn't have to realize he wants her on his side because he's been watching for something awful to happen.

"I know you'll need to be introduced even-"

"Why do you say that?"

He is sharp and cold and wants her to leave even though he doesn't want to separate until the day is done and gone. He doesn't know why he doesn't like the princess of the Empire, but he doesn't want to hear her name fall from the mouths of his classmates.

Leonie and Lysithea are already in the Eagle nest and he doesn't want them to switch, doesn't want to lose their strength to someone who doesn't know them.

"Claude… at this point you're inheriting the roundtable's only position that must directly deal with the Empire and Kingdom leaders. Wait, have you met Dimitri yet?"

Claude huffs and avoids, "Are you on first-name basis with His Royal Highness?"

"Yes?"

Claude straightens, braces his arms, and tries to feel past the familiar block. Leonie looks like she's telling the truth, looks concerned, but-

"He said to use it, but I'm not good at this whole royal thing so maybe I shouldn't? …Did Lysithea not tell you? We met and trained a bit with him and Dedue before the whole Hubert mess."

"No," Claude says, realizing that this is a nightmare. "She didn't. What was he like?"

If that prince came and hooked her-

"Nice, I guess?" Leonie pulls out an orange, which Claude has to smother a laugh at. There was no way she had that in her bag. "We all shared training tips. Bernadetta trusts Dedue more than him, so Dimitri and I ended up showing disarming tactics since she wouldn't take any of his advice."

He finds he can breathe easy again, anger derailed. Leonie is still his classmate and, most importantly, more inclined to his side. Bad impression from Hubert, and no lasting impact from Dimitri. Claude knows he can beat that any day. "I guess we should say hi if we see them around. And the perfect chance to introduce Bernadetta to everyone would be at the course today."

"Ugh," Leonie tosses up her hands. "You know I'm helping Flayn today."

"Bring her along. The more the merrier." More reason to piss off Seteth, and maybe this way, there will be more motivation from the Church if the world starts to end this morning.

15.5

The morning has come and gone, and now Claude has more important things to plan for.

Somehow, Leonie convinces the children of the Empire's political leaders to eat lunch with herself, Lysithea, and Claude. Well, them and Dorothea. They're even sitting with a political hostage for the Empire who, up until they arrived, was being ostracized from her house like Claude expected to be from his. Leonie's managed to also deflect probing questions aimed towards them and carry a conversation that makes Petra both comfortable and entices others to join in.

Claude isn't sure how he missed this level of social awareness from her before, but he's not underestimating it again. While Hilda is great at getting information, Leonie is great at keeping it. This is a useful skill as long as he can get it on his side. If he could get away with it, he'd have kept an arm around the ladies flanking him and stare Edelgard's wary and hungry gaze down. As it is, all he can do is silently give support to them against the single-focused Empire kids. Anything he says will be taken as a weakness on their part.

When Hubert implies Leonie can't get in on her own merit, Claude dies a bit inside not being able to brag she has three of the top ten records on the obstacle course. That she's better with a sword than most nobles. If he was really being generous, Claude would say she is the second-best archer coming into their year, and he's only seen her shoot twice.

Instead he taps her foot, and Leonie doesn't even twitch. He helps her leave Edelgard hanging with a change in topic. It's weird to feel so smug about having someone flow the conversation with him. He's used to putting his foot in his mouth or grating nerves until they can't put up with him.

Leonie is weird.

In a good way, he decides, resisting the urge to play footsies.

15.6

The day is not over but, no matter how much he's relieved the dust taste is gone, Claude sticks close to Leonie's side. He's already had Edelgard try to assess her, no need for Dimitri or some other force to nab her now. There is still a feeling in his chest that until he can count everyone at dinner tonight, they aren't safe.

He's proven right in some way when an explosion goes off on the other side of the Monastery. It's loud, ground shaking, and for a moment Claude is terrified that he's about to taste dust and hear screaming he can't place to a person.

"What was that?"

It's Leonie's hissing that draws him back. Helps him center as they watch smoke rising in the distance. "No idea. You start rounding up-"

"Hey, whoa, no. I'm faster than you. I can make it over-"

"No," Claude feels the word rip from his chest, harsh and with feelings he doesn't care to place right now. There are seven people here he wants alive at the end of the day. He's going to gather them all and not let them out of his sight. The odd, singular thought of Leonie disappearing and having to replace her turns his insides a burning cold. "We stay here, then. Make sure the students are accounted for and not getting in the way."

"Alright," Leonie agrees, easily. When he really looks at her, there something in her expression he can't place. It might be trust, but it really shouldn't be.

Only when there's a tug on his hand does he realize he's holding her, using her to ground to reality. Claude really, really doesn't want to let go. The Church should be dealing with this, it's their job to ensure everyone's safety. They should go get Lysithea and stay put in the Golden Deer hopeful's dorms.

"I'm right here," Leonie says the right words to calm him. Enough like a promise, with confidence she can follow through. "Won't be going anywhere without you."

Claude pulls together every shred of authority he can muster and steps back, dropping her and trying to radiate the confidence he doesn't quite feel. This loss of control is only made worse by knowing it was coming and not remembering. It makes it worse, because times like these he considers what it means to become a Major Crest holder.

Leonie is still looking to him for orders. Belief in him. Something he's wanted for ages, and now's not the time to give it up, "Thank you. Let's go make sure no one else runs off."

"You got it, boss."

He cracks a grin and starts jogging, liking the title and power it gives.

15.7

His seven are there, safe and sound. A lot of students had panic attacks or mentally fell apart from the memories the explosion brought up. It's disheartening to hear, but Claude knows he's made of stronger stuff. Fódlan doesn't have the same kind of celebrations as Almyra does. Claude does wonder who he'll have to watch out for as the year goes by. Lorenz, Lysithea, and Marianne appear sheltered, while the others have had to live with constant attacks or fighting just to continue their livelihoods. It's a tossup of who will be able to handle their first kill and who will be a target on the battlefield.

Claude glances over to Leonie, where she's fallen silent in thought, toying with her food. At least one person besides him who's already killed before. Hilda likely has as well, even if she isn't allowed to admit it. He'll need to get them in on watching the others after their first battle, keep an eye out for signs of downward spirals.

Speaking of, his poison is finally ready. The feeling warning him of impending doom hasn't quite dissipated. If Claude doesn't awaken from a nightmare, he's going to douse the good food tomorrow. He's been itching for a chance to test the Monastery's security measures, and what better way than the with the food? They get an increase in security once everyone is poisoned, and his reputation will take a major hit the moment Hilda connects it to him. Win-win.

For as much as he likes her, she's been upping the price for requests. She wants Claude to do something big besides turn down date request or duels. It may be cruel, but he doesn't feel guilty for the plan. Especially if it gets people to stop trying to manipulate or talk to him for their own gain.

Nope, no guilt at all.

16.1

Claude reads the letter from his uncle, the man all but confirming he knows exactly who his pen pal is. There is something about a visit, but Claude feels too betrayed to read any further.

Now he really doesn't feel bad about going and causing future chaos.

16.2

It's disgustingly easy to sneak into the kitchens. Claude goes for the soup pot, filled with enough nutrients and goodies that only nobles or people splurging could afford.

He may have planned this out a long time ago.

His first thought may not have been as tame as the consequences of this particular poison. Claude dumps it in and strolls out, no one the wiser.

No going back now.

16.3

Claude sits next to Matilda and Lorenz, across from Hilda. He slips in the antidote, but without an undiluted chug all it's really doing is lessening the effects. The closest thing to an apology he'll give for the scheme.

He takes petty pleasure seeing most of the future Eagle and Lion students eating the poisoned broth. Double checks Lysithea and Marianne didn't get any.

Nope.

All good.

16.5

Claude counters every point Seteth makes. He knows the man thinks he's poisoned the student population, but there's no solid proof. Everything is circumstantial evidence at best. Not sick: poison immunity. Was seen around the dinning hall: everyone has to eat sometime. Unknown dust and liquids found in his room: Claude has an interest in poisons and Oswald gave him permission to collect samples to send back for later exploration. Seteth has him repeat his day over and over, hoping Claude makes a mistake. He doesn't, even implies accusing a noble heir like this without proof is unprofessional.

Seteth has a knight watch him until he comes back with Leonie in tow. If the man thinks she can get the answers from Claude, then there's something wrong with him

"Do you know why you're both here?"

"No," Claude's a cheeky brat, but he knows this is a setup of some kind. "Are there more reports I need to fill out?"

"No, Claude," Seteth clasps his hands, tense. "You are both here because you are the only two students who ordered soup last night and are not currently holed up in the lavatories."

Silently, Claude curses and slips Leonie a look. She appears shocked, a rare instance of her smile gone. He can't believe he missed this, or that she had enough to buy the soup. Unless gathering food gives her a discount, which he needs to find out soon because that could be a key for a lot of plans. First, though, he plays innocent. As if Seteth hasn't been grilling him about his yesterday for this very reason, "What happened then? Rotten meat?"

Seteth gazes at them both evenly, "No, seeing as the students eating the same meat by itself are perfectly fine. If I were to guess, I would say someone placed a poison in the broth."

"And, what?" Claude smiles charmingly, calling Seteth all kinds of names in his head, "I don't see why we're here."

He doesn't like where this is going.

"Leonie," she quirks her eyebrows at Seteth's undivided attention, "why are you not sick?"

She sighs, "I had a gut feeling that I shouldn't eat it."

Wait, what?

Seteth looks very unimpressed, "A gut feeling?"

"I know it sounds bad," Claude watches her look around the room, wanting to go back to the whole gut feeling thing, "but I have a kind of sixth sense about things that want to harm me. Started around the time I fell into a poison ivy bush. I can show you, if you'd like."

Okay, so not like the Riegan Crest. It could still be some other power lost to time.

Seteth leans back, but Claude not interested in his game right now, "Alright."

Leonie stands, grabs a knife – no, a letter opener, - and tries to get Seteth to take the handle, "When I turn my back, throw this at me."

Claude's now cursing for an entirely different reason, a bit awed at her reckless determination.

Seteth loses his cool for the first time Claude's seen, "Ms. Pinelli! This is not a joke!"

He knows what's next before she does it. Leonie's almost pouting when she turns to Claude, "Would you mind doing it?"

He doesn't know his answer. Thankfully, Seteth takes away the sharp objects, "He most certainly will not! Return to your seat, Ms. Pinelli."

"You can call me Leonie," she grumbles. Claude's can't stop the hysterical sound from leaving his mouth. She's great. Claude meets her eyes and doesn't know whether he wants to demand a spar or tuck her away in a pillowed room.

Meanwhile, Seteth isn't taking this as well as Claude and tries to get her request swept under the pile of do-not-touch topics, "Leonie, not only are you not ill, there are eyewitness accounts that you did not touch the soup. I trust you realize how suspicious this looks."

And, Claude's back to being pissed off at him because now the trap is laid bare to see. He knows from the days spent talking with her that Leonie isn't very open at defending or talking about herself. He's proven correct when she practically goes along with Seteth, not even requesting to try her sixth sense with a less dangerous object.

Yah, he gets the lesson of all this, Seteth. Actions and consequences. Maybe Leonie's even in on it and this whole thing has been a farce, but the moment Seteth mentions suspension-

Commoners get suspensions and then expulsions. Nobles like him can take the heat, even if most never do. Claude doesn't feel guilt but a dark anger that resonates cold in his blood at the thought of Leonie not being a member of his class. Between her strength and social maneuvering, she's an asset he can't let go, "That's very underhanded, Seteth. All of this because, what, you know of my poison tolerance?"

Leonie looks surprised, a bit worried, and feels just as emotionally blank in a way that grounds him. She was willing to have a letter opened thrown at her unguarded back to prove a point. If she's really on his side, then Seteth has put her in more danger than just ignoring the hate going around the Monastery. Claude smiles, "I doused the broth with a laxative. They'll be fine by the end of lunch."

Seteth doesn't look affected by the promise to make his life miserable, setting to writing, "Very well. Your uncle, grandfather, and mother all wrote to me to expect this. Seeing as this is your second offence, you will be assigned work at the docks every evening for the rest of the week."

Nothing Claude can't handle, even if the scent of fish in the sun burns his sense of smell.

"Claude," Leonie's soft, almost angry voice, grounds him once more, "if you didn't do it, don't take the blame. I can handle suspension until I find out who really did it."

Cute, thinks the dark part of his brain, tension unravelling. She doesn't actually think I did it. "I did it. No need for you to get in trouble."

"That is all, Leonie," Seteth waves his free hand, head down.

"If it's all the same," her lips press together, and now she really does look angry, "I'd rather stay."

"Then you can wait outside the door."

She turns to Claude, "You alright alone?"

He remembers, 'if you need an out, I'll burst in screaming.'

"Yah," he says quietly back. "I'll be right out."

Seteth levels him a disappointed look, but Claude really doesn't care. He has to regain the ground he lost with Leonie, and if he remembers correctly she hates poisonous things.

Poisonous things like me, Claude grits his teeth and accepts the punishment, taking careful note of the mention of letters. More stuff to burn.

16.6

"Are you mad?" She has to be. Has to hate him.

"At you? No. A bit peeved at Seteth, quite angry at the whole system, but we're good."

That has to be a lie, but Leonie doesn't lie. "Really? Normally people get mad when they're dragged into my schemes. Or, you know, mad I poisoned a bunch of people."

"I'm sure I'd be a bit upset if you poisoned a friend of mine, but hopefully this will make the Monastery step up their security. Could you imagine if someone had done this with a more deadly poison?!"

That's what he wanted to do at first. The fact that that's where her mind goes to, that she doesn't blame him wholly, isn't yelling or disavowing him… Claude's a bit stunned. "Wow, you… really don't care, huh?"

Leonie continues like she isn't cementing herself on Claude's side. No one's ever come out and not scolded him for a scheme. "Like I said, I can take a suspension, though I would have liked some warning. Not a fun surprise. Three strikes and I'm out, you know? So, thanks for owning up. It really means a lot."

Oh good, she got that too. Except, Claude's also realizing she may not still believe he did it. And he can't have her spreading the idea around that he didn't; he doesn't want anyone approaching him for an in because 'I don't believe you did it, Claude'. Been there, done that. "Next time, I'll make sure not to get caught."

Leonie smiles at him and, okay, yah, maybe he'll include her on the next Monastery-wide plan. Something small, to confirm she really isn't working for Seteth.

16.8

After a lot of thought, Claude believes he can place the expression Dimitri's doing better to hide when he's around Leonie. It doesn't make sense, though. He looks not like he sees her, but like he hears her.

A deaf person hearing for the first time, maybe.

Whatever is his problem, Dimitri isn't going to get her. Leonie is a Golden Deer, and Claude's going to make sure it stays that way.

16.9

The mail room is always unguarded at night, as if a lock is enough to keep people out. Claude picks it and spends the next hour gathering all the letters with Seteth's Crest stamped on it. He sorts them into two piles, ones that reference the poison incident and ones that don't.

He burns the former, reseals the latter.

Now the noble leaders will only know their precious children got poisoned if the students write home about it. They won't, assured that the Church will deal with it.

Just like that, Claude's free from taking the hit until after the year, and even then, most will forget to mention it. He also wasn't waylaid by any phantom – no one's said much about it these days – and he isn't as tired with the full moon starting the next night.

Easy.

17.1

Leonie, Claude realizes after a question to judge how much ground he needs to get back from yesterday's incident, is one of those rare people who believes in educating the masses. It isn't a fond idea amongst nobles, and the more Claude thinks on it the more he realizes it isn't just a money problem. Different education systems, different beliefs, never mind the power most nobles enjoy because their citizens cannot read or write. A big reason why commoners are so rare in the Officer's Academy – again, besides money – is that most cannot pass the entrance bar. Unlike the Empire and Kingdom, where merchants and contractors are usually a branch of a noble's family, the Alliance doesn't have room for selective learning. Noble families aren't big trees of people, and even Gloucester with the largest nobility of them all doesn't leave their capital often.

It's the first time he's heard Leonie get passionate about something, and the more he thinks on it the more he can understand why she's up in arms as a commoner from the Alliance. Dorothea is practically a commoner, and she seems resigned to marrying. Mercedes is probably going to be a nun. Ignatz is a second son of her merchant family who can fall back on it if he needs to, and Raphael is expected to take over his family's large business.

Leonie, possibly Dorothea if her foster wasn't kind, and maybe Mercedes are the only commoners who wouldn't have gotten the full noble training.

Claude knows there must be a few other commoners in the other houses, but it's disturbing to realize only the nobles are required to obtain skills he's always thought of as life skills.

And in Almyra it is the same. To bad there's no easy fix, or else he might have earned Leonie's loyalty then and there.

17.3

Assisting at the docks isn't that bad. Nobody sneers or shuns him. The only downside is the smell, but honestly Claude will take that since it stops people from hissing threats at him for the poisoning stunt.

It's funny they think they can scare him. In Almyra, he'd have to fight every person who got sick, no rests allowed. Anything the people here might to do retaliate will sour their relationship with House Riegan. No noble wants to risk that.

Except Hilda, who's giving him the silent treatment, but Claude likes her too much to use his standing against her.

17.7

"Is it just me," Leonie glances over her shoulder, "or is it more quiet today than usual?"

"Just you," Claude deflects. There are less people, however those that are here are quizzing each other for the lance-specific class exams starting tomorrow. He double checked today's tournament roster. All nobles.

She hums and takes his word for it, taking a bite of her second apple. There has to be some kind of magical illusion on her bag, but the last time he tried to get a feel it shocked him, "Lance tournament ends toady. Are you coming?"

"Sure," he really should get to the write ups of his thirteen classmates, all that's left is to come up with something interesting about Gregory and Linden. Their personalities are so boring, both spare noble sons who haven't quite caught on that they were sent here to find a skill, trade, or employment that will further their family names. One enjoys talking down to commoners, while the other likes hitting things. Not something Seteth would appreciate in a report. "Hey Leonie, have you had much luck making friends with the other Golden Deer."

Her smile hides her teeth as she stops her eyes from rolling, "The students here-"

"I meant in our year."

She doesn't get mad he cuts her off, but before she can answer there's a clatter at another table. Claude catches the student running out, clutching their stomach. At least it wasn't his fault this time.

Leonie turns to face him, uncaring towards the runner's plight, "Right, so, anyone specific you're thinking of?"

At least he doesn't have to lead into it, "The ones who sat with us yesterday."

Her smile parts again, showing teeth that are very white. Right, he needs to ask about that. Leonie said she cleans her mouth, but she deflected before he could ask what. "Well, Penelope's kind-of quiet and Lauza more than makes up for it with her outspokenness. I haven't talked much with Winston or Linden but they seem… okay. I've noticed Gregory and Tristan can be a bit sexist, and I think I confuse them? It's weird, we'll be having a conversation and then suddenly they remember I'm a woman and tell me this isn't the kinds of things I should focus on. As if they don't realize the next Emperor's a woman, the King before Dimitri's father was a woman, your great, great grandmother lead the Alliance..."

Claude draws his thoughts away from the dark spiral of Fódlan's unfortunately common arranged marriages. He'll need to ask the six – because Lorenz has made it very clear he isn't tied to anyone – if they're in a betrothal or courtship. If they don't want one, then he can offer an escape from it if they wish to join him. "Where did you learn all of that?"

"My village is boring," Leonie shrugs. "As soon as I could read, I started in on whatever I could get my hands on."

"How's your writing skill?"

She beams proudly, "Not the worst."

Claude laughs, startled from wondering if he wants to ask her about marriage or not, "But not the best?"

"No one's ever the best at anything. As long as I can read it, it's good enough for me."

His mind flashes to the scratches that tried to be words of an essay. If that really is her writing, then he can get a favour from her in exchange for help. He's had the writing practice, after all.

18.3

Matilda, Reggie, and Tyre lay out the forms and notes built from previous House Leaders to their predecessors.

"Learn it well," Reggie nods to Dimitri. "Blacksmithing early has saved many a life but depleted the spending money."

Claude's enjoying how ill the two others look, finally comprehending the amount of students they are to care for. Matilda doesn't show any outward emotion, but he knows she's enjoying this display as well. Weeks with Claude means she's had the worst of it, and it's about time her fellows suffered. He tries to tap her foot under the table and gets a scowl in response. Worth a try.

"Tyre," Edelgard calls, face even whiter than usual, "is there any problem in asking fellow students to assist with these."

"No," he grunts out. "Anyone can fill these out, it only needs your signature."

Claude straightens, hissing to his mentor, "Why didn't you ever tell me that?"

"Seteth forbade me," Matilda says, cruel humor in her eyes. "He thought you would try to pass it off, and it is something you need to learn."

Seteth is right, but Claude isn't going to admit that out loud. The moment he gets the opportunity, Claude is going to delegate like a good leader should. All he needs are people to pass it off to. People who can be trusted to write for the good of their fellow classmates.

Who's he kidding? The moment Claude can, this job's being pushed onto Hilda. She needs it more than he does.

"Claude?" Dimitri calls. "How long did it take you learn the Monastery code?"

"Oh, not too long. Maybe a couple of weeks."

Edelgard chokes a bit, "Is there a cipher for this?"

"What?" Claude teases, "You don't want to learn the language of the Goddess?"

"Not if it is detrimental to my fellow students."

Reggie winces, "Don't let anyone else hear you say that. You'll get a lecture on the privilege it is to learn this stuff."

"Understood," Edelgard nods.

Ugh, Claude rolls his eyes. The both of them, so serious.

As great as it would be to make lasting connections, it seems like all work and no play for the two of them. At least his dislike for them is tempering to a moderate watch out for them. Neither has cracked a joke or told stories about the times they messed up. They seem to think Claude's the weird one for sharing fun learn-by-experience chaos.

Or maybe they're both mad about the poison thing. Leonie's done a pretty good job patching it up between the three with her disappointment in security, but the two other leaders also seem too interested in her to shunt her away.

Speaking of, he still needs to write up summaries for Seteth.

18.6

"I know," Leonie groans. "Why can't they just say what they mean?"

Raphael throws his hands out, "Right?!"

Claude comes up behind them and drops elbows on their shoulders, reaching up on his toes for Raphael's. The axe tournament is forgotten as he wants to know what's bothering them, "Hey guys, what'd I miss?"

Raphael starts bit at his appearance. It's Leonie's reaction of a wrinkled nose that bothers him, "Morning, Claude," she sniffs. "Don't tell me you worked at the docks in your uniform."

"Yes, why?"

Raphael laughs while Leonie rolls her eyes, "Just, talk to Hilda about getting some perfume. Whatever you washed with did not get the smell out."

"Good to know," Claude jokes, relaxing and removing his elbows. "After a week, you sort-of learn to ignore the smell. But really, what did I miss."

"Not much," Raphael booms, pointing around the field. "There's so few people that it started later than normal."

"It's such a shame it's the last tournament," Leonie groans. "Our first day of school is in a week. It's unbelievable."

Claude chuckles, "Not looking forward to conditioning training."

"Oh yah!" Raphael exclaims. "I forgot about that! Hey, do you think they'll really make us run laps through the forest? Or maybe something like the sprints the Knights do?"

"I hope it's not sprints," Leonie mutters.

Claude elbows her arm, "What's wrong with sprints?"

"Nothing's wrong, exactly. Just my personal opinion that they're only good for stamina building. I hope we all know how to run in a straight line, and we'd get a lot more use running up and down hills."

He can't help the laugh, "Not everyone can run as fast as us. Raphael, your score on the obstacle course was in the top twenty, wasn't it?"

"You bet!"

"See? We've already got the speed for our class. Everyone else needs to work on their stamina," Claude continues, point made and wanting to feel her thoughts a bit. "Imagine someone like Lysithea doing a run through the forest with no prior experience. We don't even know if she can run properly."

"Point," Leonie concedes in her weird way. "I guess I should probably work with her on that."

Raphael brings up before he can ask, "Hey, that's right! You and Felix are teaching sword skills, right?"

"It's mostly just Felix," Leonie answers, distracted by someone using a hand axe and unaware of Claude's building anxiety. "He took over for swords, I do a few other things. Feel free to join in, I'm sure you and Dedue could spar with gauntlets of you want the practice?"

"When's this?" Claude asks, just stopping his hand from grabbing her wrist. He folds his together, fingernails digging into skin.

"This Thursday is our last planned one until classes settle."

"Too bad," Claude's careful not to curse his luck, "I've got a meeting all day." With Edelgard and Dimitri, unfortunately.

"Sorry, Leonie," Raphael sighs, "the rest of the club is meeting after the extra credit tournaments. Maybe next time?"

"Don't feel bad," she laughs, mistaking their expressions. "If you can't go, or don't want to, it's okay. This week is particularly busy for everyone, and who knows. We could be teaching bad habits."

Claude's more concerned about the Lions hanging around his Deer, but of all of them Leonie and Lysithea can handle themselves. It's why he wants them so badly solidified on his side, after all.

18.8

In Fódlan, proposals are all about exchanging rings. Claude's heard it's all dramatic and emotional. If he gave out a ring, it'd probably be for something like a promise to someone who isn't going to fight. As much as he likes jewellery, wearing something for looks alone in combat isn't practical.

If he's going to propose – or accept a proposal – it's going to be the Almyran way. In the heat of battle, stealing them from another person's arms, or being stolen from whoever carries him.

"This is so uncute," Hilda grumbles, carried in Leonie's arms with an adorable pout. "You two owe me so much for this."

Claude is indeed having daydreams of stealing her away. Maybe sweep Leonie off her feet while he's at it. He'd get a good laugh, and it's not like it would be a real proposal.

He holds the door to the training hall for them, "You would have to stop procrastinating to look for something."

"Oh, please," Hilda pouts some more as she's placed on her feet. Chance gone. "Just because I don't run around like everyone else doesn't mean I don't do work."

"Hilda's gossip connections are amazing," Leonie just stops from rolling her eyes.

"Excuse you, I-" Hilda cuts off and makes a cute face. "Ugh. I was hoping they would not be here."

Edelgard and Hubert. While Claude's practically over the weird dislike of Edelgard, Hilda's annoyance towards them is only getting worse. Still, Hilda acts nice enough that it only looks like Leonie's the one she has trouble with. "Do you really not like them?"

"I am not fond of them," Hilda admits, "though it is not that I dislike them. Our social circles do not intermingle often. That, and they have done nothing to search for Monica."

Claude's mouth shuts with the jab in his side. He curls over a bit because ouch, didn't think Leonie was stronger than his faith shield.

Said fighter asks sweetly, "Will you be alright keeping peace for a few hours in their presence?"

Claude finishes coughing and glares at his now-potential axe wielder. No matter how impressive, she let Hilda get away, "What was that for?"

"I think she had a crush on Monica and I don't want to set her off."

…

Claude knows he isn't controlling his features anymore – and he'll be angry at himself later – but right now it feels hard to breathe, "A- a crush? As in, Hilda was falling in love with…?"

Leonie looks worried, nodding slowly, "Well, yah. I mean, I'm not certain. But a lot of times Hilda looked to Monica like she hung the moon and stars. Or whatever the saying is."

He knows his chance isn't non-existent. Knows it the same way he knows who will be in the main class of Golden Deer next year even if he cannot remember and doesn't want to accept something like fate. Knows he'll still look at Hilda and see beauty, a bright mind, and skilled fingers.

"Oh," it doesn't make learning that Hilda has eyes for another person hurt any less. It doesn't make the thought of her and Monica together anything less than a phantom wound that, strangely, he wants to lash out because of. "Okay. Guess I just never noticed."

"I mean…" the look on her face is soft, a hesitance that grounds him because Leonie never does things by half, "I could be wrong."

He knows she's right, and it's a little blaming that she would pretend to second guess for him, "No, no, it makes sense now."

"Claude," she stops, the edge to her voice much less. He spots bumps rising on her skin, but she doesn't look effected. "Are you okay?"

It's been a long time since someone asked him that. What is this, a pity party? Claude goes to walk on, "I'm fine."

Her fingers are light around his wrist, easily broken. Not the strong grips he's used to from others, demanding his attention. Pulling or pushing, bruising or careless. Almost like she trusts him not to walk away even when he's upset, "Try again."

He could walk away but the touch, the lack of emotion from it, is enough to reign in his own anger for now. The more he focuses on her hand, the less he feels overwhelmed by the senses around him. Claude nods slowly, looks into her eyes and doesn't see hate or disdain. Leonie only looks worried.

Well, we can't have that.

"Alright, not fine fine. Maybe a bit shocked. I did not see that coming. How desperate she'd been? It makes sense. If it was h- if it was someone I loved, I'd be worried if they disappeared like that too."

"Okay," Leonie releases. He flexes his wrist, wishing she'd held on as the faint emotions in the air come back. Most of his anger must have been from the losers; he can hear someone shouting about a foul. The downside of having the empathic sense, you risk losing yourself to the feelings around. "If you need some time alone or-"

"No, I've got this." Claude plasters on his usual smile, fighting internally to sort out how he really feels about Hilda's crush vs. what's been amplified. "Let's go watch the tournament." When she stares a bit longer, he adds, "Please."

Leonie sighs, smile kind, "Let me know if you need an out."

Claude imagines giving her a hug, wonders for a moment if that's why Bernadetta sticks so close to her. After so many years of never feeling emotions, he's pretty good at ignoring them. Slips like this have rarely happened since his training, even then Claude has a lot of skill separating his emotions from others.

Maybe Hilda really does effect him more than he wants.

For just that moment, Claude wishes he knew Leonie was on his side. More then that, he could really use a friend right now. "How about we take lunch outside the Monastery."

"Want to go to the village? There's a café I wanted to check out, my treat."

Is this what friendship is? Claude tries once more to scare her off, "I'm going to buy one of everything."

Leonie chuckles like it's a joke, "As long as you let me try some, why not?"

He thinks she's supposed to hoard money and hate the flaunting of it. Leonie isn't supposed to lie and is supposed to hate poisonous things.

She isn't supposed to look small and feel unnoticeable.

'Where is Leonie?'

"Great!" Claude throws an arm over her shoulder and relishes that she doesn't shake it off like everyone else would. Like everyone else has.

Leonie is right here, and he's going to keep her at his side for as long as he can.

Claude thinks she's supposed to be loyal.

Hopes he still has a chance to earn it.

18.9

"Did you tell Leonie that you are the next Golden Deer House Leader?"

Claude jerks his head up from the blank paper that will eventually be a writeup for one of his classmates. Blinks like a doe, "Well, good afternoon to you too."

"Claude, this is serious," Edelgard hisses, quickly closing the door and hurrying over. Dimitri watches on his side of the table with his usual awkwardness. "She knows that I am the next leader of-"

"She made a logical guess," Claude rolls his eyes, "that I haven't dissuaded. What, did you want me to lie to my classmates?"

"For something as serious as this, it is imperative Seteth does not hear it from the students."

"Really?" he can't stop the chuckle. "If anyone put two thoughts together, they could guess we're the next House Leaders. It would be the worst kept secret if Hilda hadn't been running the gossip mill since day one. Even Lorenz still thinks he has a chance."

This draws the princess up short. Dimitri takes the opening, "Can you give Hilda my thanks, then? I had wondered why none of my fellow classmates have been asking about the position."

"That does explain Ferdinand's recent hope," Edelgard mutters, taking the empty seat at the table. "Still, I do hope you can dissuade Leonie from speaking of it until the class rosters are announced. She hasn't guessed about the… placements, has she?"

"No," Claude smiles like it doesn't bother him, "but I don't think anyone would unless they know someone who got in. This has been a rather recent tactic from the Church, hasn't it?"

"I believe you are correct," Dimitri nods to himself. "Besides House Leaders, I have not heard of anyone being placed before the conditioning. Even then, none of the stories ever had someone placed before the first week."

"It is odd," Edelgard purses her lips, "but there have been a few noble children over the last decade who have claimed this situation to me. However, I did not expect half the class to be chosen already."

Another mystery, Claude thinks. Why change up the system, and how has it not damaged the Church's reputation?

He finds himself looking forward to the year. More so the access to the library, but most currently a private room. Then, he won't have to pretend to sleep anymore.

.

-Master Tactician

King of Unification.

It's funny, even with the smallest of changes the important people are still born. Something in Fódlan makes sure they are still born. Even if their biology changes or their upbringing has a few differences from the last time, it's still them.

Khalid is Claude.

Claude is Khalid.

Even if his blood is different, his essence still holds the memories.

With the moon drifting away, the Crest of Riegan still remembers.

Together, a body can be affected.

Here is a fraction of what his blood remembers.

I.

He has to save his brother.

Khalid runs through the halls, silent as he can be, not knowing how but knowing there is an assassin after his brother.

Something bad happens if he doesn't make it in time. Khalid doesn't know what, but he's scared enough of it that he doesn't want to find out.

Khalid runs faster.

II.

Khalid's run away from home. He travels through villages and small towns, sneaks across the border, and tries to immerse himself in Fódlan's culture.

It doesn't go well. He can't speak the language, can barely read a thing, and when they hear him speaking Almyran the guards are called or rocks are thrown.

The racism cuts and burns, but Khalid – Claude – will always pick himself back up. He tries, again and again. Eventually he makes it to Riegan territory.

They are looking for an heir, he's looking for a way to unite their countries. Win-win, or so it seems.

By the time he's going off to the Officer's Academy, Judith is the only person he sort-of trusts, and only because her teachings helped him from dying more than once in the Alliance meetings.

Cutthroat negotiations indeed.

III.

He and Hilda arrive at the Monastery together. Ignatz, Raphael, and the Goneril sponsors arrive a week later since that is when the guards could be spared to travel with them.

Lorenz, Marianne, and Lysithea arrive in carriages. Lorenz with his servants, Marianne with her uncle, and Lysithea with piles of books. Seteth confiscates half of those piles not too long after.

He gets told of a new arrival and goes looking. Claude finds her digging through the donation bins with Ignatz and Raphael, all looking for old uniforms to wear. Nothing will fit Raphael, everything is too big for Ignatz, and-

"Are you just going to stand there, or do you need something?"

"I'm just here to meet the new arrival," Claude walks in. "Hey Ignatz, Raphael."

They greet him while the young woman puts her hands on her hips, bright smile aimed his way. For all she should stand out with orange hair, tanning skin, and piercing eyes, she's rather small in a way that comes from lack of constant food. All muscle, no fat. Her presence feels small, even as she tries to make herself look bigger with a voice no one could miss, "Claude, huh? I'm Leonie Pinelli! Nice ta meet'ca!"

IV.

There is somewhere he needs to go.

"Claude, wha-"

"Where is he going? Claude!"

Someone he has to meet.

"I was personally planning to develop a deep and lasting friendship on our journey back to the monastery before begging for favors."

The new teacher can't be any worse than the last one.

"Don't tell me. You chose this class just to get to know me better, right? I'm flattered, really."

It's odd how enamoured the class gets around Teach. Stranger still, how jealous Leonie becomes. Every other sentence from her revolves around Jeralt in Teach's presence.

Claude wonders when he became the normal one in the room.

V.

He notices a pattern:

They win the mock battle.

Ashe joins before they fight his adopted father.

Teach gets Relic that can split mountains.

Sylvain fights his brother for the stolen Relic.

Oh, sure, their class has people joining left and right. Claude almost feels sorry for Edelgard and Dimitri, but he knows if it were the other way around, neither would feel the same for him.

He finds himself warming up to Teach, and when he gets the diary, he thinks maybe his professor is becoming more like a friend.

(But he can't think about that now because one of his is tied to the hospital bed and it's his turn on watch-)

VI.

Teach is missing, Rhea is dead or missing, Dimitri's gone crazy, and any adult in charge is either too wounded or stuck in the Monastery trying to fight back. As the only one with official acting power – no matter how lowest rung on the ladder – Claude has his work cut out for him managing evacuees, supplies, and where they're to go before the Empire overpowers them.

They will get overpowered. The Knights of Seiros are already scattering to follow Seteth, Catharine, or Alois's get-out plans. The way Edelgard's going, devout believers will likely get executed and noble children will be political prisoners. Which leaves Claude in a very, very dire position.

He would get everyone into Alliance territory if he could. When the Empire does find their obvious encampment, Claude will cut and run because he refuses to let Edelgard take over Fódlan in day. Until then, he has to move people. Get Marianne and Hilda out of here as fast as possible so those seats are secure. Lorenz and Lysithea are wildcards with their territory on the border. Most of the Lions are all nobles, and getting them even halfway over the map is a splitting headache waiting to happen. Dimitri's so far gone that he'll probably take off and ruin whatever plan is in action.

What a mess.

Surrounded by muffled sobs and harsh whispers, Claude also feels their fear, worry, and anger. He is as on edge as possible with people asking him what to do. He doesn't know, and the more he struggles to cut away their feeling the less he has time to think through plans. Without checking, he pushes into a tent that feels empty because he needs a moment alone to process and think, a filter from the onslaught.

Leonie looks up at him from kneeling on the ground, split lip, with bruises and dirt all over her. The few cuts left aren't bleeding, but there are tracks staining her skin and a very telling hole in her pants over her knee. She has one hand on a hunting knife, the other on the opening of her patchwork bag.

There is a silence, which disturbs him because Leonie is only ever as quiet as her presence when she's badly hurt. In a moment of panic, he blurts, "I can't do this."

"Okay," Leonie responds like it is that simple. "If you can't, you can't. Do you want me to stay?"

Claude drops down next to her in an answer, rubbing his face and hating how there's an ache from an injury healed by his faith shield. Better than dead. "The Empire is going to come for us."

"Yep."

"All the nobles need to be gone before that."

"Political prisoners, right? Yah, I can see how that would go badly. If she takes over Fódlan, I'll probably die trying to assassinate the Empire leaders. No way do I want to live in a world where Jeralt's killers win."

Claude feels the hysterical whine burst at how serious she, "Leonie-"

"I am doing better," she assures him, abrupt in a way that's familiar. "If I slip, you guys will pull me out. But in order to do that, we need you all tucked away in your fancy manors. Who do you want me to nab to talk tactics, boss?"

His mouth is dry, but he swallows anyways. Claude lets himself breathe and feel brave. "Hilda and- Marianne. I guess Lysithea- you know what? Get the whole original class. Last meeting before we split up."

"Still got our five-year promise," Leonie says, and he's glad she does. That promise meant a lot to him. If only Teach- no, he needs to focus on this.

On last hooray together. They won the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, they can outsmart the Empire easier with the Kingdom on their side.

VII.

Khalid is into his second year as King when he sees her in the crowd entertaining children. She has the gall to wave and wink. Each being led in opposite direction of the other. Which means he has his spies track her down to her hotel room where he slams open the door.

Leonie yelps, her pendant and the cleaning rag dropping from her hands as she scrambles for a weapon. It doesn't take to long to register the intruder, "Claude, what the f**k?"

"It's Khalid, now," he saunters in, guards shutting the door as he waves them off. "How did you even find me?"

"It wasn't that hard, Your Highness," Leonie rolls her eyes and goes back to cleaning the pendant Jeralt once gave her. "I got Hilda drunk enough to admit you were born in Almyra and picked up rumors as I took jobs. Speaking of which, she's mad at me now too because for some reason she thought Claude was your real name."

"Hold on, you knew it wasn't my real name?"

"I knew it had to be something that started with a ck sound," Leonie gives him an odd look. "The fact your mother disappeared and then you show up out of nowhere? Either you were kidnapped or running away, and both means you're not supposed to be recognized as whoever you were before you became heir to your house."

Khalid's face hurts from smiling, he laughs and splays on the bed next to her, "I missed this. Thanks for not yelling at me about hiding this stuff."

"Is that what Hilda did? All she told me was that you two got in a fight after you told her all your secrets and then proposed."

Khalid winces at the sore memory, "Not my finest moment. How is she?"

"She's thrown herself into studying politics and management, and now I get why. Write her a letter, Khalid, or else she's going to be practicing this stuff for the rest of her life trying to live up to the expectations of a Queen and I want to be someone's bridesmaid d**n it."

Khalid laughs some more and tells her he will, after they've moved her stuff to the palace. She's his guest now, no take backs.

VIII.

On the last night of her visit, Khalid pulls out his best and strongest alcohol. They joke it's as thanks for restraining herself from drinking his country into debt, both ignoring how much she's done in reducing crime in both the capital and surrounding villages.

For all she powers it back, Leonie doesn't even seem tipsy.

"It's a secret Captain Jeralt taught me," she says with a bright grin and another swig to hide the pain. "A magic trick."

"Not a party trick?" Khalid asks casually from his comfiest chair.

"Nah," Leonie eyes the fireplace from her spread in the less comfy chair. "I had to learn those all on my own. Wasn't going to go around throwing knives at my people, you know?"

"You'd have won."

She throws her head back with a laugh, long orange hair frizzing out of its braid, "It's not about winning. It's just, it's not what you do! Even when you're sad. Especially when you're sad! If you throw things at people you like, you'll regret it!"

"Hey, hey, hey," Khalid tries to pull the conversation back to other things. Away from the lessons Shamir and the others taught her, "You know, I've always been curious."

"About?"

"The story. How you met Jeralt."

"I've told you-"

"Poachers, yah, but what's the story. The story, story."

Leonie falls silent, an unusually serious frown marring her confident looks. She takes a whole, unopened bottle, "I'm not drunk enough for this."

Proceeds to chug down a drink that could put his strongest generals out after a few glasses. Khalid gapes, the fuzzy part of his brain wondering if her blood is alcohol now.

Leonie belches, "Okay, so, when I was younger, kids in the village started disappearing. Just, snapped up in the middle of the night. Gone. And then one day, I was taken too."

Khalid feels a cold chill going down his spine.

"They took three of us, and the whole time all I could think was don't let them get us in a secondary location. So I fought, and they tied me up. And then I- I- hahaha…" Leonie stares unseeing into the fire, "When I was a kid, a man broke my jaw because I talked too much."

"Ouch," Khalid croaks out, an irrational anger filling his body. It happened, she's fine, but he still wants to tear apart anyone who wants her to shut up.

"Yah," Leonie agrees, "Apparently they weren't supposed to damage us? Ugh, he didn't live much longer anyway. They brought us to their encampment the next day, and that's when Jeralt and his people saved us. They'd been following along, caught up. Killed them all, rescued half of the taken kids. No one, uh, no one could heal my jaw until we got back to the village, so he – Captain Jeralt – he stayed with me. Taught me a lot. S'how I'm so great at sign language."

"That…" he isn't even sure what to say to that, "is one heck of a story. He ever find the other kids?"

"Not… all of them," Leonie hums, twirling the empty bottle over a finger. "I keep an eye out. Going to chase down another lead when I get back to Fódlan."

"Another lead?"

"It won't be as easy as finding you, but I'm sure I can find something."

"Hey now, I was not easy to find! I was hiding in plain sight!"

Leonie laughs, and they move on to lighter topics as she somehow manages to sober up and crack another bottle.

He thinks she could win the position of Queen easily, even without a Crest. He tells her so, and Leonie turns it down with a melancholy, "Maybe in another life. I'm too old to learn how to run a country."

"You're not old."

"Sure, Khalid. I'll believe that when you can say it with a straight face."

IX.

"Hey, Teach."

"Claude," comes the greeting, green hair parting as green eyes leave the paperwork. "Have you come to say goodbye?"

The King of Almyra wonders if his emotionally stunted friend knows how rude it is, both calling him Claude when he's said not to and choosing paperwork over seeing him off. Khalid can understand being busy, but it could be another year before they see each other, "Well, yah! Since you couldn't make it, I thought I'd drop by. I also wanted to talk about the book the Church published, the one you wrote. Verdant Wind? I read it all last night."

The Archbishop's head tilts in a polite way, eyes lighting up a bit, "What did you think?"

"A real page turner," Khalid clenches his fists behind his back, reigning in the quiet desperation, "but I couldn't help but notice how a lot of the things we did went unmentioned."

The light fades into something wary, "What do you mean?"

He doesn't want the confirmation. Doesn't want to feed into the idea that maybe their teacher - who had no idea about the country's entire religion up until they first met - isn't doing an honest job leading Fódlan. The more he read, the worse the feeling in his gut, "Well, the history book briefly explains your year teaching us, and then it skips towards the end of the war."

"…And?"

"And there was a lot more in between," Khalid explains, pushing down the horror because maybe Teach doesn't realize how much it hurts. The talk of the five-year slumber has always been avoided, it makes his old professor agitated and brisk, but to completely ignore it is a new level. "Any of us would have been happy to tell you what we had been up to. Did you even ask?"

"None of you were here," is the answer. As if it makes writing, twisting, and publishing select parts of history okay.

"We would have come if you had asked," he says, finally allowing some anger. Khalid walks into the room a bit, voice rising with emotion. "Lorenz spent years redirecting his father's attention and coming up with ways to keep the Empire from invading further. Ignatz created an entire spy network, while Raphael helped smuggle people and goods safety through the borders. Marianna and Lystithea created an entire ward system to alert us to Empire forces, which kept the Alliance from falling like half the Kingdom. Leonie-"

He knows the moment he's said her name that he loses the Archbishop. She will always be a sore spot for Teach, and likewise the first crack in the Golden Deer's faith in their professor. Khalid wonders if time and distance really has given him perspective, or if his old professor was always like this. Maybe it's the power and responsibility going to Teach's head, but either way it's as heartbreaking to realize his friend isn't the person he remembers as it was read the small blurbs about their lives at the end of the books.

"None of you were here, Claude," the Archbishop repeats with a sigh and goes back to work. "I did the best I could with the little outside information I had. It is history as I remember it. I do not see the problem."

Khalid bites back, but that's the issue. He really does have to leave soon, the convoy should be packed by now. Still, he has to ask the last thing, "Hey, Teach, why didn't you make it to my wedding?"

The look he gets is the one that once endeared them all to the professor. Now it makes Khalid want to throw himself out a window. "I'm busy, Claude. I don't believe I have left the Monastery at all in years. It has been a lot of work to get the country to run as one."

He doesn't say, I know. Doesn't say, I run a country too. Doesn't even mention all the times he's come over here as an act of goodwill between neighbors.

Khalid just feels disappointed as he waves, "Good luck, then. See you at the next conference."

Green eyes don't watch him leave, and Khalid forces himself to let go of the bitterness. He has to at least act like the leaders are on good relations, lest it feeds the fear and anger of both peoples.

X.

The first hint something is wrong is the lack of backlash about her blurb in the back of the book. The letters have stopped coming, and eventually they all begin asking each other and their friends if they've seen her. A few pick up old trails, but there are never any leads. It's as if she's vanished.

Khalid would have gone back to Fódlan to look if he hadn't been running a country, working hard to create friendships with the neighbors. He would have searched for her if he could spare the spies, but it is like she vanished. With no clues and no help from his dreams, some nights he reminisces and asks the open air:

"Where is Leonie?"