Chapter 113: A rest before a fight
Goetia was annoyed.
It was perhaps the first instance in which he had been truly annoyed over something that should have ordinarily been such a trivial matter, yet it vexed him all the same.
"How is it that individuals can agree upon a time to arrive and yet the vast majority of them fail to meet the arrival time? What was the purpose of even making the agreement? I would have been far less irritated by this clumsy display of time-keeping if they had merely stated they would arrive as close to the assigned time as possible."
The only other person to join him at the table is notably silent, a sense of unease.
How was it that of all the people, she was the one who actually showed up first?
He wasn't sure if it was supposed to be fortuitous or embarrassing that Bernadetta - the girl who appeared moments away from fleeing from her own reflection with pale faced terror - was the only one to meet the deadline and arrive at the venue.
Closing his eyes, he took in a calming breath.
Or tried to.
It still vexed him, perhaps more than it should have.
His eyes opened up once more, meeting the gaze of the purple haired girl.
She was swift in breaking the contact, immediately dipping her chin low and staring at the table, fingers drumming along the wood and posture tense. By all accounts, studying her posture and her sense of tension, the girl was in the optimal position to grip the underside of the table and pull it upwards.
Doing so would doubtless allow her a brief window in which she could flee.
Whether she had realised this herself or it was a subconscious tactic remained to be seen, but he had little else to occupy his time with.
Unless they engaged in conversation.
Yet what was there for them to speak of?
He did not wish to engage in a topic of conversation related to their class work, which left only what could be referred to as small talk.
His mind cycled through a thousand topics in the span of a single thought, shifting through them in terms of relevance and appropriate to the current societal climate. Even taking into account gender, age, height, appearance and current technological advancement.
It cut down the original number of topics from twenty-three thousand, five hundred and eighty-one, down to four-hundred and eleven.
A marked difference, to be sure.
His eyes glanced upwards at the sky for a brief moment, scanning it and running an assessment on the weather patterns.
"...It will rain later this week."
That earned a faint hum from Bernadetta, not a true reply but it was a sign that she had heard his words and given an acknowledgement to them. It was consent enough for him to continue the line of conversation.
"Two days from now, if you wish for accuracy." He spoke further, keeping his eyes on the clouds as they lingered above his head. His weight fell back into his chair, opening his mouth and providing more details. "It shall last for approximately ninety-six minutes with a margin for error of three minutes. Depending on the change in wind speed and pressure. It shall be a light mist."
Silence once again.
Goetia thinned his lips and lowered his eyes slightly, roaming his gaze over the girl.
She was looking at him with a rather peculiar expression, one mixed with a hint of worry as well as confusion.
Perhaps confused over where the topic had come from, but it was now at the forefront of her mind.
He could tell as much when she slowly turned her own focus towards the sky and stared at it for a couple of moments. Then wet her lips and gave a faint - and decidedly nervous - huff of laughter, adjusting herself further into her chair and finally speaking.
"I-I guess then it would be better to stay in my room, then…right?"
"On the day in question, yes." He remarked, not seeing a need to change her words. "That is unless you have classes. Which you do. Hanneman is not likely to cancel them over something as trivial as rain. If it is such a concern for you, then I could merely do away with the light rain entirely."
She was staring at him now, unease mixed with incredulity.
"T-that's not…yo-you can't actually do that, can you?"
His eyes remained unblinking.
"Are you confident enough to put that theory to the test?" He asked, angling his head and jerking his eyes upwards for a brief second. "I could make it rain at this very moment, if I was so inclined. I could begin the formation of a storm…call down a great tornado on this very spot and have it dissipate just as quickly."
She was blanching now.
"...I would obviously not do that." Goetia added on to the end of the sentence, despite the fact he was stating the obvious.
Bernadetta did not look as though she believed him.
On any account.
It was a mess of contradictions.
She was rather irritating at times, and pitiable.
His single arm came up and rested flat onto the table, he paused for a moment and darted his eyes towards the marks. The black lines stare back at him with the insulting way they always do, he feels the itch spring back the longer he stares, immediately he breaks contact with them.
A flick of the mind, the cover of his cape is pulled up by an invisible force and covers the marks, but it is barely something to conceal them from the world. It is enough, the itch does not feel as potent as it previously did.
A question springs to his mind, a relation between his arm and the girl.
He is unsure if it is the same, but it is worth asking.
He supposes, at least.
"...Does it itch?"
Bernadetta looks at him in silence, then tilts her head, not quite understanding his question. Or so he assumes, she gives no answer.
"Is that why you conceal yourself from them?" His eyes rise up to meet hers, saying nothing for a few seconds. "...Does it itch when they look at you? When they stare at you…is that why you remain in your room and rarely leave? I assumed it was out of basic fear but what you have is far beyond even that. Thus I ask…does it itch when they look at you? Like a…"
Goetia paused, finding the words difficult to articulate.
It is like a sound, a noise like old metal dragged across its kindred.
A rusted spade dragged across a rough surface.
If there is such a word for an experience like that sound, he cannot find it.
"...A deeply uncomfortable feeling. So you seclude it away from sight, letting none view it."
There is more silence, Bernadetta is no longer meeting his eyes and is instead looking down at the table.
There is a shift in her posture, he notices it. Her body has tensed up further than before, perhaps without realising it. A tighter embrace, one that means he has prodded upon a subject that is both close to her heart, and weighing heavily upon her emotional state. The crux of the matter, and the origin of his frustrations.
Goetia was unsure what he was supposed to do at this point.
Therefore, he waited for an answer.
"...I just don't like going outside."
It is a whisper, one barely audible.
But he hears it all the same.
It is not an answer that reveals the whole truth, he understands that just as well as she does. Goetia knew that she would understand that as well. Put in a position where both of them see through the feeble answer for what it is.
He feels it, the desire to push through and demand further elaboration.
But he stops himself.
A mental wall shields the girl from the bombardment of questions he wants to ask her, instead he looks at her in silence.
She is everything he hates about humanity.
Such pure terror but at the same time…
…at the same time, she was everything he pitied about them to.
He never saw beyond that pity, beyond those terrors and fears.
Silence between them was offset, his fingers drummed up and down to fill the void now made by his topic of conversation. Yet even he understood that it could not be left as it is now. The others would arrive soon and they would see the aura of the table, it would prove more problematic to leave her in this state of emotional distress.
It solves his problems if he relieved her of the distress.
…And seeing her in this state is uncomfortable for him.
It is akin to a physical assault on his senses, a battering upon his eyes.
His left hand came across, moving into his sleeve and finding what he searched for. A gentle embrace around the item as he pulled it back out, extending it across the table and sitting it before the young girl. She did not react immediately, not until he pulled away his fingers and revealed what he had deposited before her.
There was a reaction then, when the small red bird let out a faint chirp and looked up at Bernadetta, another tweet as it stumbled towards her.
An ingrained reaction, one born out of the expectation for food.
Yet she always seemed more at ease around Flauros, so he displayed the finch to her.
He did not know the words that could bring comfort and end her misery, thus he was forced to rely on his current familiar.
Another chirp and a stumble, the feathers of the finch ruffled slightly as it continued to look up at the girl.
Then a faint sound came from Bernadetta, a huff of air blasted the bird and caused a visible flinch in it, but Flauros remained undeterred. Chirping and moving closer, eventually turning their head down to the closest hand and zeroing in on the nearest finger. A moment later, it pecked down with a light nip towards the digit, nothing more than a testing bite to see if it was edible.
Bernadetta flinched at the sensation, pulling her hand back just an inch stopping and moving it back forwards. Her right hand slowly came up, moving across and reaching a finger towards the bird. Flauros stared up, then pinched at the finger again and caused a faint giggle to come from the girl.
"He's getting a bit bigger now."
She sounded less troubled.
"Hmmm." Goetia hummed, nodding his head along with her words. "The current rate of development is within expected parameters. Though their flying capabilities have yet to reach their peak for use, I am confident that they will reach that stage. Given their comfort in proximity to you, it bodes well for further training."
He reached back across the table, scoping the finch up with little resistance and pulling back towards the shoulder cape. The fabric parted as he returned the bird to the holding just under the clothing.
Bernadetta tracked the moment, then wet her lips and glanced between his face and the home of Flauros.
"D-do you really keep them there all the time?"
"As I have said before, I do not travel anywhere without him."
Perhaps she had not believed his words, but he meant them.
Though there would soon come a point where concealing them would be both pointless and a waste of resources. Yet it was not that time yet, Flauros still had at least several weeks left of growth within them. Until they were ready to fly, he would keep them concealed. Perhaps longer to maintain an edge when it came to observation.
The fewer who were aware of the capabilities of Flauros, the more he could exploit them.
But that was not where his mind wished to be at the moment, the purpose of this gathering was to avoid topics related to work or research. It was a focus on interpersonal relations and little else.
…He had no idea what this girl truly did in her spare time.
It was not a case of lacking a complete picture, he was utterly ignorant as to what manner of hobbies she had. He knew of her collection of false animals meant for children, but that was as a result of the moving of rooms. There was nothing that he had personally sought out in regards to information regarding her life beyond the classroom.
"...Do you have hobbies?"
Bernadetta looked back towards his face, momentary hesitation danced across her features before it shifted into an unease.
"D-do you?"
She threw the question back at him.
He was not prepared for that, whereas he should have been.
A brief moment to ponder the question and then he drew his lips thin. "I am employed with Anna. I…create wooden toys for children. I am unsure as to whether that would fall into the category of a hobby. It is not necessary, my finances are already covered by the wage supplied by the Monastery, but it was something I did for my own personal benefit and continue to do so."
"Oh!" She perked up a little, a trace of life entering her eyes. "I've heard about those…the funny looking snake thing?"
"...The hydra." He corrected her. "And yes. I have been replicating animals I am familiar with and have experience with. I judged it would be inappropriate to make models of the Demonic Beasts of this land, thus I determined it would make greater sense to incorporate those that the people of Fodlan would be less familiar with. Therefore they would not have personal attachment to them and I could avoid unnecessary conflict."
Bernadetta said nothing once he had finished speaking, merely looking at him with furrowed brows.
Then, after several seconds, she made a noise of understanding and nodded her head up and down.
She still had not answered his question.
"What of you?"
"Me? I…uh…nope. Nothing." She answered, a smile as brittle as rusted iron. "Bernie doesn't do anything at all. She sleeps and hides away. Don't bother looking at her."
He did.
Look at her.
Goetia found that believing her claim was both impossible and unwise, he did not believe she lacked anything that could be described as a hobby. Merely that it was something she perceived as embarrassing.
"I have known individuals with far more dubious hobbies than whatever you currently perceive."
"I don't have any hobbies." Another wooden answer, the girl went stiff and expressionless.
So she was still determined to give him nothing? That was her choice, he had time enough to endure whatever defences she put up to forestall him. With the patience to last three thousand years, he doubted a teenage girl with social anxiety could withstand against him for very long.
In which case, he needed to pull them apart at the root.
"Then, outside of learning, you hide away in your room and stare motionless at the ceiling until you are called upon again."
As expected, fresh comprehension blossomed over her face. Realising only now what her admittance that she had no hobbies truly meant.
He did not give her the chance to provide another excuse.
"Or perhaps you recline yourself into a chair and instead have adopted the habit of gazing at the stone walls of your room. Admittedly, I am aware of several hobbies that involve watching paint dry. Quite literally, and the individuals somehow found joy in that. I cannot understand it, but it was their own choice."
A tilt of the head.
"But I cannot include you in their ranks. For your room has no paint."
Another beat.
"Nor are you currently staying in your room. They are not yet finished with the repairs for the Monastery living quarters, though it will likely be only another few days of construction. Surely you and Marianne do not spend your hours alone in the room in silence."
"...Yes?"
"That is phrased as a question."
"..."
"Silence is not the ally you think it is."
Her head dipped low.
Goetia frowned. "Are you so adverse to speaking to me of your personal time? Are you partaking in something that is considered to be socially unacceptable? I can assure you that whatever you believe to be disgusting to your peers, I will not care for."
"It's not-!" Bernadetta jolted up, then closed her eyes and dropped down to the table, her arms placing themselves between her forehead and the wood. It was only his enhanced hearing that allowed him to pick up on what she had said, but he heard it clear as if she had shouted it.
"...I draw."
Progress, though it sounded more like a confession.
Her tone of voice only served to irritate him further, it was supposed to be a transaction based upon mutual openness and instead it felt like he had interrogated her. Her emotions were like a whirlwind of fear, distrust and anxiety. Such was the extent that he immediately cut off any sort of empathic connection with the girl within mere seconds.
The feeling had been nostalgic.
…He was unsure how he felt about that.
"...Why are you afraid of me?"
The girl froze, but he did not give her the chance to reply.
"You do not need to deny it. I can see it clearly. If it was something as simple as fearing what I could do then I would understand it. I have long since demonstrated myself to be more than capable - and willing - to kill."
His brows furrowed.
"But your fear of me started before we even met. No, it was the first time we met you were utterly terrified of me and I had done nothing to earn that."
She looked at him oddly…or was she terrified? He could not tell.
"If it was wariness of individuals like myself, foreigners, then I could understand that but it was not something based on that. Even when time had passed and I proved myself, or assumed I had proved myself, to be non-violent…your fear of me remained."
"I…"
"Do not speak now." The words slipped out so quietly and yet so forcefully, as thought a physical weight came with them. Enough that the girl stopped moving or even speaking. "Not until I am finished. What I am saying is that…I am an individual deserving of terror. I have done things that many humans would recoil at…"
He looked at her.
Truly looked at her, for the first time.
"But you knew none of that. Your fear of me, which was greater than those who knew the full scope of my actions, was born of…nothing more than a single glance."
Her eyes ducked away from him, a flash of guilt through them.
Not just that, but he felt the brief pulse of the emotion through her mind.
"...Why am I so feared in your eyes?"
Bernadetta remained quiet. Quiet for so long that he assumed she would not answer him.
Then she did, somehow mustering up the courage to respond to his question.
"...Because you're a scary person."
A childish answer.
Utterly childish.
He looked down at her with pinched brows. "...Is that the sole reason?"
There was no attempt to mask the incredulity in his words, he could not believe that it was for a reason as simple as his appearance. Not even born of his race - his perceived race - but purely based upon how he looked? This was not even the form that he would have been most comfortable in.
She was terrified of this form-
"And you're…" A faint mutter. "I can't handle people like you…the…you're intimidating."
It occurred to him that she was not speaking of his physical appearance, or at least not completely. Instead she had been speaking of his personality. Suddenly it made a great deal more sense to him why she would have been so ill-at-ease around him. Especially with her personality flaws.
Goetia was not ignorant as to his nature.
His personality was designed to be that of a King, it was made in the image of a King.
He was a King.
Perhaps there was little surprise that his very presence would have been utterly overwhelming to someone such as Bernadetta.
Yet that was not enough, it could not be enough.
"...I am intimidating." The words were parroted back to her, yet his eyes parted from the girl and settled instead on the sky. Looking up towards the passing clouds and allowing himself to forget the girl in front of him even existed.
He was intimidating.
What a novel suggestion.
It was something he had not even aimed for and yet had been able to achieve.
"...Understandable." He replied back to her, lowering his head and looking at her. Then he nodded once and dipped his gaze to the table. "My personality is incompatible with your own, our respective backgrounds have changed us. Or shaped us. Whatever word you would use is fitting."
Goetia inhaled, then exhaled.
"And how would you suggest that I become…less intimidating."
She looked rather taken aback by his request, eyes wide and shaking. "Y-you…huh? What…wait…this is a trick. You're trying to trick me, aren't you?"
He suppressed the twitch of annoyance which flashed through him.
The belief that he would actually need to trick the girl vexed him, but his logical side kept that contained. If he snapped at the girl, then he would undo whatever progress he had been able to make so far.
"I am not." He replied, slowly and quietly. "I would not ask something of this nature unless I was genuine. I am curious as to how I would go about becoming less intimidating, in your own opinion."
Whether he put any of her words into practice was a different matter.
"U-uhm…" Bernadetta fumbled over her words, picking herself up and drumming her fingers along the wood. Eyes darted left and right, almost as though searching for an escape route. They intermittently fell upon him but never lingered, when they did he was rewarded with flashes of disbelief and further anxiety. "T-that is…uhm…"
Goetia exhaled. "I shall consult Dorothea. I suppose she would have an answer for me."
"H-have the finch out."
He paused, then raised a brow. "...Excuse me?"
"T-the finch…" She muttered back, quiet but gathering strength to push out the remainder of her suggestion. "H-have it out…sit it on your shoulder or-or your hair. Yo-you wouldn't look scary with a little bird on you…"
No.
He would look like an idiot.
"...Did I misspeak without realising?" He asked aloud, squinting at her. "I asked how you would make me less intimidating, not how you would transform me into a street performer."
A wince from the girl, she shrank down and ducked her head to avoid his glare.
"I'm sorry! Please don't kill me-"
In the instant she ducked down, he extended a bounded field around them which concealed her words. It was fortunate that he did so. Otherwise her cries of terror would have alerted the entire street to what was going on. As it stood, the girl looked a bit distraught to the outside observer but nothing else.
A huff escaped him.
Reaching once more into his cloak, he pulled forth Flauros once more and held the finch in his hand. The small avian scuttled onto his index finger and sat down. Puffing itself up and looking around for a moment, then giving another faint chirp.
The noise was enough to snap the girl out of her panic, her eyes slowly darted up and towards the bird.
She relaxed a little, her eyes darting between the bird and himself.
There was a different emotion that settled in his chest this time, one that felt like burning.
It was not quite anger, but it was far beyond irritation.
The weight of the girls stare felt a great deal heavier this time around.
He was not sure why it had changed.
Closing his eyes, he took in another breath.
He knew what Fujimaru would have done.
Yet moving his lone arm felt as though he was trying to lift a mountain, as if his entire body had understood what he was attempting and was now engaging in open rebellion against him. The seconds ticked past, slow and painful. His arm was forced to climb higher and higher until it was resting above his head.
His finger capsized, the weight of the bird settled onto the top of his head.
Slowly, he lowered the arm back down onto the table and opened his eyes.
Even moving his eyelids was a challenge, the urge to consider this experiment in learning of Fujimaru a failure and depart from this place was exceedingly appealing. Not before wiping the minds of every single human in the general vicinity of him. He could allow none to recall what had transpired here.
He met the eyes of Bernadetta, she stared back.
"Why do you look so shocked?"
She jolted, then blurted out. "I didn't think you'd actually do it!"
Her words tumbled out.
Goetia frowned. "Then for what reason would you even ask to begin with?"
She looks close to folding in on herself, a flood of emotions makes him internally recoil from her once again. The surge of such contradicting and unpleasant feelings is too much for him to endure, the nostalgic feeling sickens him. Yet within moments he opens the link once more.
…He cannot help it.
Closing his eyes, a sigh ripples from the back of his throat. "In future, it would be best to avoid asking for something unless you truly wish to receive an answer or see it done."
He moves his left hand back up towards the bird, as he opens his eyes he pauses as he notices something.
Bernadetta has frozen solid, her eyes locked somewhere over his shoulder.
He similarly stops moving, for only now does he hear the sound which eluded him before.
A snicker, the sound of laughter muffled by something. A tone of voice he can place instantly, his senses surge outwards and immediately confirm what he suspected and dreaded. In that moment, all he can do is level a thousand silent curses to whatever deity controls the aspect of fate in this world and what he had done to possibly earn this cruel insult.
It is a curse that lasts mere moments, before the logical part of his mind reminds him that he did this himself.
His left hand slowly lowers itself back to the table, his eyes facing forward and into the distance.
He turns his body, with such a lack of urgency and grace that he expects to hear his bones shudder under his skin. It does not happen, but when he is faced with the faces of the many children behind him, he is certain that he shall be grinding his teeth in frustration and anger at this humiliating spectacle he has turned himself into.
Some semblance of control floods into his mind, he directs his eyes towards the closest one - who is also the least subtle with their grin - and narrows his gaze onto them with a burning irritation.
There was a time a glare such at that would have stopped even a hero of legend in their tracks.
Dorothea suffers none of that.
Instead her smile widens and her shoulders tremble, not from fear, but from mirth. Her lips roll inwards and he can hear the muffled sound of laughter in the back of her throat desperately trying to spill out.
"You are late."
Goetia declared with a voice cold ice and hard as steel.
Dorothea remained unmoved by his words, her eyes drifted up and lingered at the top of his head. Where he could feel the finch shuffle around in his hair to get itself more comfortable.
"...I think I arrived right on time."
His glare intensified, but he made no effort to comment upon the bird sitting on his head.
Instead, Goetia opted for an entirely different method.
He would not acknowledge the bird at all.
"The time was agreed upon and it was only Bernadetta who arrived. That speaks volumes for the abilities of all of you." Sweeping his gaze over the assembled faces, his frown deepened as he noticed that two of them were missing still. "Where are Petra and Ferdinand?"
Dorothea twitched at the latter name, a subtle thing but he noticed.
The emotions he sensed changed as well, confusion and annoyance flared briefly before being smothered.
"I spied Petra speaking with Ashe before coming here." Said Dorothea, smiling as though aware of a hidden joke. "She said that she would join us soon and that she had something to deal with first…as for Ferdie…I'm not entirely certain where he has landed himself."
Goetia turned towards Caspar and Linhardt, raising a brow at the pair of them.
Caspar was still staring at the top of his head, engaged in a staring contest with the finch. Wide eyed and unblinking.
Linhardt at least answered him, though it was only with a shrug of the shoulders to indicate that he had little awareness of the answer.
Given that the remainder said nothing, Goetia supposed that he would merely need to wait.
Tracking down Ferdinand was an effort he did not want to expend.
Turning around, he gestured silently towards the table.
Shuffling behind him, the others moved and seated themselves down. He noted that Dorothea immediately placed herself next to him and, in the corner of his gaze he saw her focus was still lingering on the top of his head. Looking between the bird and his face several times before she looked away from him.
He would have thought she would ask.
Evidently she was not as interested as he expected her to be.
"I shall apologise for losing track of time." Edelgard started as she seated herself down, "Especially as this was an idea that I agreed to ahead of time, but there were some matters I could not get away from until later."
"The demands of an heiress are still many, I expected your arrival to be later than the others."
Edelgard hummed in affirmation, then leaned forwards. "But I am pleased that you arrived on time, Bernadetta. I understand that you have little affection for such gatherings, but I am glad you were present."
"It…" The girl wet her lips, looking at the table. "It wasn't like I could hide…"
No, she could not.
His fingers drummed on the table. "Are we waiting for the others to arrive before we place orders?"
"Oh, did you not order anything yet?" Caspar asked, speaking up for the first time. "And I think we can wait a couple minutes for Ferdinand and Petra, right?"
"...We can." Dorothea agreed with a nod of the head, then whispered to Goetia. "You're not ordering tomato soup."
"I am allowed to order whatever I want with my money." He shot back not even a moment later.
"Yes, but this is a lunch outing. You can be adventurous…" She trailed off, her eyes danced to the top of his head. "...Your choice in hats aside."
"Flauros is not a hat-" He cut himself short and closed his eyes. "I will examine the menu and make a decision, but if there is nothing else that appeals to me I will be selecting the tomato soup. That is the only compromise I am willing to offer and it is only because I am making efforts to continue this experiment in bonding."
Caspar coughed, then leaned to Linhardt. "What did he-"
"Goetia is only going to order something new if he thinks it will taste nice and only because he's joined us for lunch." The boy translated without missing a beat.
Caspar nodded his head with understanding.
He ensured a mental note of thanks was sent the way of Linhardt, it saved him the effort of simplifying his own words and Goetia was in no mood to repeat himself. Especially if it was the benefit of the single boy.
"So!"
A loud chirp in his ear, he glanced at Dorothea as she looked back, devoid of anything that could be called apologetic.
"Floor-os?"
"...Flauros."
"Isn't that what I said?"
"...No." Goetia replied with the single word, and then glanced back to the table, eyes closing. "I obtained them several weeks ago during the trip to Enbarr. I discovered them from a fallen nest after leaving the camp and determined that It would be a waste for them to perish when I could find value in their existence. So I took them with the intent of making them a familiar in my employ."
His eyes opened, then recalled he had not explained the concept of familiars to this particular group of youths.
"...An animal that I command." He clarified.
"So…a pet?"
His eyes snapped to the speaker, then narrowed. "...No."
Caspar just looked puzzled, head tilted and leaned forwards, sweeping his eyes over the table and meeting the gaze of the others. "That's not just me thinking that, is it? That just sounds like he felt bad for the bird and adopted it as a pet."
"That is not what transpired-" Goetia paused, then curled his lip and hardened his gaze. "Are your ears merely an aesthetic feature? With the frequency that you avoid internalising a single word that I say, I am bewildered as to whether the only time you are capable of learning is if someone has to physically beat the lessons into you."
With a red face, the boy sputtered before shooting back. "W-well, I'm not one of those smart people like Linhardt, alright? Besides, I'm not trying to be either, I'm going to be a knight so…there!"
"And you believe that knights are devoid of wit?" Goetia frowned. "Tactics play a key role in any battle, as does having intelligence."
Raising his left hand, he brought his index finger up and pointed towards the bird that still resided in his hair.
"That is what Flauros is for. Reconnaissance."
There was mild confusion across the table.
"You mean…a literal birds eye view?"
He was pleasantly surprised that Dorothea was the first to truly understand what he meant, glancing to the girl and giving his reply in the form of a single nod of the head. She made a small face of understanding, then reciprocated the nod of the head, glancing towards the bird and made a small face at it.
She reached up and extended a finger, he could not see what transpired, but he assumed it was the outcome the girl hoped for, given the smile that soon spread across her lips.
"And here I was thinking that you had just adopted this little guy because he was cute~"
Singing the end of her words, she continued onwards in the same manner of voice that one would have used with an infant.
"Don't be sad, Floory-"
Goetia nearly hacked.
Floory?!
"-Gotie doesn't mean anything by it. Yes, you're a little cutie~ Yes you are."
…What was this?
What was happening?
"...Remove your hand from my personal space."
"I'm Floory's personal space." She did not even hesitate with the answer, with an insufferable smirk upon her lips.
His eyes darted to the table and he found himself with expressions of mirth, with Caspar snickering to himself while Edelgard looked on with thin amusement. Of all of them, at least Hubert lacked any sense of amusement. Rather, his eyes lingered on the bird with a thoughtful expression - one might even say, scrutinous - before they fell upon him.
The dark haired man turned away a moment later and glanced at the table.
"I will return Flauros to where he resides if you continue with this."
"Oh?" Dorothea pulled her hand away, then looked at him with a frown. "Surely you wouldn't teleport this little bird to some dark and scary place so suddenly?"
He raised a brow, but understood why she had come to the conclusion.
"No. I would simply return him to the nest in under my right sle-"
Goetia shut his jaw a second later.
Something flared within him that the sentence had been a mistake, but he was unsure why. Yet it was too late to do anything about it, the key pieces of information had already been deployed. He could already feel the attention of the table turn as one towards his right side, their eyes lingered on the space where his arm would have been.
Conveniently covered by his shoulder cape, Goetia kept his expression devoid of emotion.
Silence was the best tactic now.
Or wiping their minds.
That would suffice.
Dorothea leaned in from the corner of his vision, her eyes fixed on his right side and brows furrowed in puzzlement and intrigue. For a brief moment, she sent a questioning - even demanding - look towards him. The silent request for him to confirm what he had just declared with physical proof.
Goetia did not move.
His eyes snapped towards the approaching sensation, a welcome reprieve, and immediately caught sight of both Ferdinand and Petra approaching them. The latter of the two slowed her steps and squinted at the top of his head for several seconds, then continued onwards with a noticeable look of confusion on her face.
Ferdinand either did not notice or did not care, Goetia decided the former was the more likely of the two.
"I am apologies for my lateness." Petra began, then paused and frowned. "I mean, I am sorry for not being on time."
"You have arrived within acceptable margins." Goetia replied, he heard a small sputter from across the table and turned his head towards Edelgard.
The white haired girl looked suspiciously innocent, there was no evidence that she had done or said anything.
Unusual.
Petra nodded her head, then moved around the table and towards a spot at the edge, sliding herself close and then rolling her lips. Twice her eyes darted between his face and the top of his head, then she finally leaned forwards. "Forgive me for asking. But is this a Fodlan tradition I am not knowing about?"
"Is what a Fodlan tradit-Goetia? There is a bird on your head."
That answered the question of whether Ferdinand had known about Flauros.
"Did you hear that, Gotie?" Dorothea made a shocked gasp. "There's a bird on your head! I'm shocked, I say. Shocked!"
This was problematic, he was in no way willing to endure whatever spat Dorothea and Ferdinand had going on between them. Rather, having it occur before him was uncomfortable given that he was aware of the thought process of the ginger haired boy in question.
A distraction to turn their attention away from their troubled relationship was needed.
What was best in this situation?
…Humour?
…His mind worked furiously as he considered how best to respond with what he understood of the concept.
Then he spoke.
"No, you are Dorothea Arnault."
Dead silence.
Flauros gave a small chirp from atop his head.
Goetia looked around the table and found himself subjected to wide eyed looks.
"...What?"
"...Did you just make a joke?" Caspar asked, with a note of disbelief in his voice.
Goetia frowned. "Was it not obvious?"
The shocked looks remained.
Apparently it had not been obvious.
He frowned, considering the effort a failure. Distracting as it had been, and it had served the primary purpose of shifting Dorothea's focus away from Ferdinand before she could levy further concealed jabs, it had failed to yield a single laugh or feeling of amusement. Thus it had failed.
"...I believe we are not prepared to order." He declared, reaching up and taking Flauros back into his hand, a mental flick and the cape parted and revealed to those sitting in front of him that he did indeed have a small thatched nest made of sticks and fabric strips hovering at his right side.
Lowering the chick into the nest, he closed up the view and rested his hand back on the table.
Ferdinand blinked several times, then lowered himself down. "I cannot help but feel as though I arrived at a most inopportune time. Akin to opening up a story and finding myself staring at the final chapters."
"That is typically how walking into the last few sentences of a conversation would feel." With dryness in his words, Goetia sent a small look the way of the boy before he paused and glanced down at the hands.
The slight evidence of scraping at the fingernails, where they had been dragged across something rough.
He straightened. "You have been aiding the builders again."
Ferdinand blinked. "How did-"
"Your fingernails show signs of damage."
Immediately the boy looked down at his hands and gave another bewildered blink. "You-that is a rather impressive observation. Yes, I was lending myself to the builders once more, though the work was not nearly as strenuous as the last time. They have very nearly finished repairing the damage to the wall. All the remains are the roof tiles."
Goetia hummed. "The progress has been acceptable."
"High praise indeed." Edelgard noted, then turned to Ferdinand. "And you have done this before?"
Ferdinand nodded his head. "Myself, Goetia and Cyril did."
"You did?"
He felt the surprise in Dorothea's eyes.
Ferdinand continued on, smiling widely. "Indeed. Watching Goetia work twice as hard despite having only one arm was rather inspiring. I found myself struggling to match his pace, and to think you could do all of that without the aid of magic."
Goetia frowned. "Utilising magic to such a meagre degree would have been pointless and would have defeated the purpose of the exercise…Besides, if I had done so, then I would have made the purpose of the builders redundant."
A frown, then an understanding nod of the head. "Of course, all the same, they were grateful for the labour we provided."
"And how much were you paid?"
"Paid?" Ferdinand shook his head. "Not at all. I volunteered."
"...You…did all that…for nothing?" Dorothea was looking at Ferdinand rather strangely, brows furrowed. "...Really?"
"They were rather surprised as well, but they agreed. If it was for monetary gain, I am already wealthy enough…I merely lended my aid in support of those who needed it, and to represent the Empire in the efforts to rebuild."
Dorothea made a small face, then hummed. "Ah, so it was for the sake of publicity."
Goetia felt the emotions roll off her, disappointment surged to the forefront of her mind. Though her face did not show as such, merely resignation.
It was puzzling for him.
He could not find fault with Ferdinand's reasons."
She then turned to Goetia and raised a brow. "And you?"
"...I was the one who damaged it during my…battle." He replied slowly, giving a small shrug of the shoulders. "It was only right that I make amends for the damage."
"I believe that few would have expected you to do such, given you already-"
"Expectation played no role in it." He explains to Edelgard when she speaks up, "It was simply something that I chose to do. There is no other reason for it. Had I moved myself solely based on the expectations of others then I would never be granted a single moment in which to think for myself."
The girl raised her hand, then waved it down. "I understand. In any event, I am certain the monastery is glad for the aid and regardless of the reason, we shall at least praise the diligence of those in our class for lending their strength to the rebuilding efforts."
Edelgard pointedly shot a look towards Dorothea, only for a moment, then broke it away.
With a single cough to clear her throat, the heiress folded her hands together. "Now then. I believe we should actually follow the advice of Goetia and find someone to take our orders before the sun goes down?"
There's a few grunts of affirmation.
Then Dorothea breaks the silence. "So how did your talk with Ashe go?"
And then Hubert rolls his eyes.
It is the first real emotion he has seen from them since he got here.
Petra blinks, then straightens. "Ah, yes. We did speak to one another for some time. Right until Ferdinand found us. It was a good speaking and I look forwards to it again. He is a very nice person."
Hubert gave a wry chuckle. "Perhaps we can use this newfound trust to our advantage?"
Edelgard playfully swatted the shoulder of the retainer. "Come now, Hubert. There is no need for that sort of thing…besides, I would prefer to avoid the smug expression of Claude if he were to find out what we were doing. That is the sort of tactic he would doubtless use-"
There's a beat of silence, then Edelgard slowly turns her eyes onto him.
"...I do not suppose either Lysithea or the Professor have approached you?"
Goetia raised a brow. "They have, yes. Though there was no discussion of tactics. Lysithea merely inquired as to why I selected your class instead of her own and Byleth…"
He trailed off.
That interaction still puzzled him.
He glanced across towards Ferdinand and raised a brow. "Does the interaction with her make sense to you?"
Ferdinand wore a thoughtful expression, then shrugged his shoulders. "I am as lost as you are, Goetia. I am sorry to say…"
"Oh?" Edelgard looked between them with intrigue. "Did something occur between you two?"
"...I believe in her own words she threatened to 'beat me up'."
Edelgard stared at him, then let out a huff of amusement. "I believe she was merely relaying the same manner of declaration that you granted Ser Catherine. I do not envy the attention, however."
Goetia would have answered, but Dorothea whispered into his ear.
"She does~"
He found himself puzzled by the words, glancing to the brunette and then to the pale haired heiress.
"What?" Edelgard blinked, then shot a frown the way of Dorothea before leaning forwards. "What did she say?"
"Nothing~"
This was…bewildering.
He glanced across the table and met the eyes of Bernadetta, it was a strange thing that he could see - empathise - with the girl more in this moment. They were both equally lost as to what was transpiring around them.
Conversations proceeded around him not long after that.
And then the waiter came and took their orders.
Or tried to.
"Tomato-"
"He'll have the venison."
He would?
Goetia turned his eyes onto the back of Dorothea's head. "...Toma-"
"Or perhaps the duck roast?" She ventured further, placing a finger on her chin. "Which do you think sounds better?"
"...The toma-"
"Hmmmm. Edie, what do you think?"
"I'm of the opinion that the chicken pie seems appealing, something he might appreciate."
What was going on?
Goetia turned his head towards the girl, who stared back at him without a hint of apology.
"...Am I speaking to myself?" He muttered, low and annoyed. His eyes swept back to the waiter - a young girl with short black hair - and opened his mouth to speak. "Tomato So-"
"Hey, Goetia." Caspar spoke from across the table. "They have a large steak, I'll split it with you."
What was…was this some manner of practical joke?
He rolled his jaw and looked around the table, discerning who else would stand in his way.
None of them gave any indication that they would act, but it could be all of them.
"...T-"
"Is that baked potato as well?"
That comment came from Hubert, it was a faint thing but loud enough that he could hear it, leaving it doubtless the remark had been intentional.
Closing his eyes, his left hand moved up and pinched the bridge of his nose hard between his fingers.
"...What fish do you have?"
He would deny all of their suggestions.
If he was going to be forced away from Tomato soup, then he could still deny them this meagre victory.
Herb crusted salmon was what he had ordered.
His hand dropped down to the table, his eyes blank.
They all looked so pleased with themselves.
"...I hope you understand that this will be reflected in your next training session."
With those words, they no longer looked pleased with themselves.
Good.
His lip twitched upwards for a brief instant, barely a smile, but it was there all the same.
"How…" Casper leaned forwards and sent him a rather odd look, mixed with unease and trepidation. "You said they were weakened, right? How…how strong were they when they were…you know…"
Goetia rolled his jaw from side to side. "A single Servant would have been more the capable of killing all of you within the timeframe of ten seconds. Of the ones I constructed, the Assassin class - Sanson - was nothing more than an executioner, but even he would have killed you."
He realised there would need to be clarification.
"That is not to say he was extraordinarily strong in life. It is merely that the fame of his existence translated into the strength of his shadowed existence. The more well known an individual was, the more calling upon their image will increase their strength, because of the belief attributed to them."
Blank gazes.
But he assumed they had understood what he was talking about.
Ferdinand cleared his throat. "P-perhaps we should face a fewer number of them then? I believe eight was…"
Yes, given how one sided the battle had been, he was inclined to agree.
"I will lower the number to two." He agreed, then paused and put further thought into it. "The Caster and the Assassin will remain the two you face. A mage and one who wields a blade, those two will be challenging enough for you…sending you to face a shadow of Siegfried - regardless of his nature as a husk - or the copy of an insane Lancelot was a poor estimation of your strength on my part."
Especially because they were the most well known knights of their respective lands.
His words seemed to bring some level of relief to the faces of the students, even if they said nothing outright.
"Alternatively, I could have you face a single opponent."
"Single?"
Bernadetta perked up ever so slightly, staring at him in a way akin to hope.
"A single one." He confirmed. "The Berserker, a class famous for lacking rational thinking. Akin to the individuals you fought when putting down the rebellion of Lonato. They are strong, yes, but they lack complex actions. That is to say, even when summoned correctly, they are insane and little more than tools."
Edelgard looked at him oddly, then slowly nodded her head. "I believe much of this is still lost upon me…you said you encountered these individuals before?"
"Yes."
"Then…these are figures drawn from your memories?"
Goetia drummed his finger on the table. "The explanation would be both long and irrelevant. Suffice to say it is an image drawn on the memory of a wide populace of those familiar with the deeds and skills of the specified figures. From that, one could conjure forth the image of the individual. A mixture of real history and commonly accepted beliefs related to them."
Of all of them, at least Linhardt and Dorothea seemed to be following along, but he could not be certain for the latter of the two.
"...Can we go back to talking about the single fighter?"
Goetia hummed and nodded. "Yes. The single fighter would be a Berserker. They would fight more in line with a rabid animal, but the lack of direction would make them easier to predict and counter…in theory, that is to say. Combat is rarely so predictable."
"...Let us fight the single strong opponent, I believe they would be a good substitute for what to expect when fighting Dimitri."
Edelgard suggested, her tone hardened as she looked to him.
Goetia nodded back to her. "Good. I have already selected a relevant figure for you who, if my understanding is correct, is vaguely related to the divinity of the Goddess of Fodlan."
That garnered attention from around the table.
"Really?"
"One from my own lands." He further elaborated before he was met with accusations of trying to conjure the image of Seiros. "He will suffice, famed for his strength."
Fujimaru Ritsuka had faced them when they were at the command of a proper master with a suitable source of magical energy.
Twice.
Once in Fuyuki and another time during the third singularity.
Though Goetia expected less successful results when the Black Eagles fought the shadow of Heracles.