Chapter 145: A night on the town

The knocks continued.

"Come on, Goetia!" Harold's voice rang clear, "You can't be late to the mixer you helped put together."

He glanced the way of the door and fought back a sigh, setting aside the work he had been doing on the bow for his new clothes and rising up. With a crack of the neck, he brought about the mantle upon his shoulders once more.

Flauros assumed their rightful place upon his shoulder, ducking away into his hair and nestling themselves there.

Not that he anticipated needing them.

But on the chance that he did.

A mental flick opened the door before the next round of knocks could come through, Harold stopped with fist raised and lowered it back down, a smile soon forming on his lips.

"Oh, you're already…well…ready."

"I shall ignore the assumption that my arrival would be delayed at the event, as you pointed out, that I helped organise to begin with. I was merely laying down further efforts on other projects that I considered to be just as important."

Stepping into the hallway, he closed the door behind him.

"And need I remind you that I am capable of teleportation? It would take me no more than the blink of an eye to travel to my destination…I could cast myself to Enbarr if I so wished it."

Harold opened his mouth, then closed it. "...Sorry. I just figured because you're always walking around places as well and-hang on."

Now they were squinting at him in shock.

"...You could teleport to Enbarr?"

"At great cost, yes."

He was not going to be assumed as some manner of taxi service before the man was left with that impression.

"That's…kinda impressive."

…What did they mean by that?

Goetia furrowed his brows and stared.

"...I tell you that I could travel across this continent faster than you could process a single thought and your lone response is that it is 'kinda impressive'?"

Harold shrugged. "Well…I mean…it seems like the sort of thing you could do, you know?"

Oh.

Well.

Hmmm.

"...You are not incorrect in that assumption." He replied very slowly, realising that perhaps his own feats of greatness had been demeaning any successive feats. It was an odd notion to consider that he was too good at magic. At what point would he achieve something that would be seen as a magical miracle and only have it waved off because 'it was within expectations'?

Did such a thing even bother him?

He knew how good he was and it would only be fitting that the humans of the monastery know as well.

A thought for another time, he decided.

"Come."

He pivoted on his heel.

"We shall make our way to the venue…unless you desire to change first?"

"...Huh? What do you mean?"

What did he mean?

What did they mean?

Goetia very slowly turned and glanced up and down at Harold and examined their casual wear.

He supposed there was no actual problem, it was not grossly offensive nor was it of low quality.

There was no immediate problem.

"...I misspoke." The words came slowly, "It is merely that I have been spending time examining fashion as of recent days and still have some of my attention directed upon such a thing."

Harold nodded his head, looking far from offended.

Rather, they looked amused.

"Ah, so that was what was going on. I kept seeing you and the others head on out and coming back and was really confused but it makes sense now. So you're getting a new set of clothes for the White Heron Cup? Are you going dancing?"

Goetia sighed.

This enthusiasm was expected and he resigned himself to it long ago.

"It would hardly be proper if I did not attend and it was brought to my attention that I should find a new set of clothes to properly distinguish myself during the event for the single night. If only so that it appears I care more for it…and I did lend my aid in the preparations."

He grunted.

"Turning up to the actual event to ensure it all went according to plan would be the least of my contributions."

"Wow. You were really busy when you were filling in for Seteth, weren't you?"

Was that a surprise?

Goetia raised a brow. "Seteth held a great many responsibilities. Though the timing was unfortunate in the number that I needed to take charge of, it was well within expectations of what I would be doing. Besides, he had already established the groundwork. I merely completed it."

For the most part, at least.

He did reconstruct the entire mixer.

Evidently what they did on normal occasions was meet in the cafeteria for food and then that was it.

It was lacklustre and thus he drew upon what he knew of Chaldea instead and what they did in their social gatherings.

Though he lacked a Holy Grail.

And he was far from interested in involving any of the nonsense that would usually be involved in an unrelated Chaldean incident. It was an alarming thought that they were responsible for creating just as many minute singularities as he was, and they did that purely for some trivial reason.

Left to their own devices, he was sure that they would have wiped out a decent portion of human history for no other reason than to create a more exciting Valentine's Day.

Humans.

"So are you going with anyone?"

"What?"

Going where?

Goetia pinched his brows. "Are you referring to the White Heron Cup? It is for the students, I am attending purely as a member of the faculty-"

"Yeah, but it's still a dance." Harold chuckled with a shake of the head, "I heard that a couple of the other knights were going to be going in their off time. I'm sure some of the students are getting dates ready for the night as well. It's all in good fun…so who are you going with?"

He was unaware he was going to be attending with anyone in specific.

Staring right back at Harold seemed to convey that answer, prompting a blink from the man.

"What about Professor Eisner?"

"What of her?"

"Isn't she going?"

"Yes," He confirmed, "I went through the effort of convincing her to attend in a dress as well-why are you coughing?"

Indeed, Harold started to beat at his chest and coughed loudly into his fist, his face turning an unhealthy shade of red. All of which occurred in the immediate aftermath of his answer, it was a rather bewildering sight.

"Y-you what now?"

Harold eventually managed to get a grip and compose himself, clearing out his throat and then shooting him an expression of pure shock.

"So you are going with Professor Eisner?"

"She is attending herself, as I understand it. I merely told her that it would be more natural if she were to attend while in some manner of casual dress. Though it did come with the stipulation that she would be able to conceal a bladed weapon within the dress in the event of an emergency."

Harold looked rather taken aback by the news.

Blinking rapidly, the man opened and closed his mouth.

Then opened it again, "What sort of emergency?"

Goetia did not know.

But he did not need to know.

"The unforeseen variety."

"...Are we expecting them?"

"If I could foresee them, I would not call them unforeseen."

"Oh, right."

Slowly, Harold nodded his head and showed a glimmer of understanding.

But Goetia now had a topic of conversation.

"And what of yourself?"

"Geu-what?"

It was odd how often that man was starting to choke on his own tongue with very little prompting from Goetia. Nothing so much as a single word was needed for them to look downright startled. He stopped and stared at them for a few seconds, tilting his head to one side and raising a brow.

Then continued, "You mentioned that knights were taking time off to enjoy the White Heron Cup. Unless your occupation has changed in the single day in which I last saw you, then you would be included amongst their ranks."

He scanned the face for emotions and read their feelings.

There was a great deal of shock and alarm, then embarrassment.

Then eagerness.

Then anxiety.

Goetia grunted as he cocked a brow.

"You have not yet asked Von Nuvelle-?"

In the next moment, there were hands flying into his face while Harold was hissing out and shooting a sharp eye all around his surroundings. As if he had just uttered some taboo secret for all the world to hear.

"Shhhh!"

Goetia eyed the hands directly in his face, then frowned.

Tolerance of Harold only extended so far, he brought up his own hand and swatted aside the limbs and looked across at the knight. "There is only so far this can go, Harold. She is the only individual I know of who is available for you to court, unless you have a good relation with any of your female peers?"

He paused for a second.

"Or male peers, I shall add on. In the event you believe I judge."

He did not.

Harold dropped his hands and shrugged. "W-well, it could be someone else, you know? What about Wiebke-"

"Absolutely not." A denial uttered in a glacial tone. "Or rather, I actively forbid you from doing so."

"What? Why? Hang on, are you really trying to-"

"I do not care whom your pursue, but most certainly not her. I say this for your own good, if for no other reason, you should not associate with her."

Despite the fact they had done so already.

Harold folded his arms. "Why?"

"...What?"

"Why can't I be friends with her? She's nice."

Goetia slowly raised a brow.

Harold's posture wilted ever so slightly, "I…well…she's been having a stressed couple of weeks. Anyone would be a bit cranky after all that."

His brow remained where it was.

"...S-she's better once you listen to her."

This was utterly foolish.

"Fine."

He was washing his hands clean of whatever this was ending up being.

"Do as you will, but know that I warned you against it. Should you find yourself wounded in the aftermath, I will not be there to aid you."

"Do you not like her or something?"

What a strange question.

"She is competent enough at the tasks that I set for her, though her personality is far from helpful. It seems as though she is motivated through intimidation, rather than other means. It should have been reflected during your time with her that she holds herself to a higher standing than others."

Harold just smiled, "Yeah, but I think that's just a bit nice."

Nice?

Goetia leaned back ever so slightly. "...Do you…enjoy being talked down to?"

He had not thought Harold such an individual.

Perhaps his advice to Von Nuvelle would be to flaunt her status more often if there was a chance of her successfully seducing Harold to her bed. For that matter, did it also explain why they were perfectly fine with the way he spoke with them at times?

…Suddenly he was looking back on their conversations from a different angle.

"Wha-no! Nononononono!"

The denial was as swift as it was strained, flushing beat red and rapidly waving his hands around.

"I-I'm not that sort of guy! I mean, I don't think I am? Errr…Wait, no, no! I'm not."

Hmmmm.

He had no reason to refuse his words, but no reason to accept them either.

For the time being, he would observe and see what else came of future interactions between Harold and Von Nuvelle.

"Look…"

With a sigh, Harold ran a hand through his hair.

"I know that she's definitely going to restore her house one day and when that happens, she really can't have someone like…you know…me."

The man shrugged.

"Look at me, Goetia…the highlight of my career is standing guard at the gate of the Monastery."

"What a dismal way of describing yourself."

Harold raised a brow. "It took me nearly six years of working to get promoted…and that was because my superior was killed and the next best person was also killed. I only got this promotion because there was basically no one else. Don't you get it? I'm…I'm not the sort of guy that Lady Nuvelle needs."

Goetia frowned deeper and deeper.

"...Are you content with that?"

Harold did not answer, but he did not need to.

Human beings.

So frustrating at times.

Fujimaru never let such things as the impossible stand in his way before, striding forwards without looking back and never once thinking of anything beyond the goal of living.

Perhaps he was spoiled.

He was also mildly annoyed at seeing Harold unable to take that step, despite the clear feelings they had for Von Nuvelle.

"...Have you even asked whether she would be interested in-"

The man sent him a sad look. "I don't want to burden her with that sort of thing, Goetia. Not while she still needs to work on building up her house. It means a lot to her and I'm not going to rush on in and distract her from that."

"You are purposefully making yourself unhappy."

He stopped walking, taking hold of Harold's shoulder and yanking them around to face him directly.

"This is…disgusting to see."

Removing the hand, he frowned deeper and deeper.

It was revolting.

The self-depreciation he would have expected from anyone else.

Not from Harold.

Especially not from Harold.

"If you can somehow earn my favour without considering anything, then earning the affection of Nuvelle is-"

"Goetia…it's fine."

It was not.

His hand curled into a fist.

Then it relaxed.

"...If that is your final say on the matter, then I will not waste further words on the subject."

With that, Harold let out a breath.

"Wow, that got really heavy, didn't it? Sorry if that's spoiled your mood so far."

It was not his mood that should have been a concern.

…Did this warrant personal intervention? He was hesitant to make a choice but on seeing Harold value themselves so dimly…

Goetia felt his resolve build.

Already he had made efforts to build up the self-esteem of both Bernadetta and Marianne because he was disgusted by the lack of confidence within them, there was little reason for him to exclude Harold from this list.

Rather, he was surprised there was even a debate.

So long as he found Harold within his sight, this would not be a problem quickly removed.

He would build up the confidence of Harold and establish a true relationship between him and Von Nuvelle.

Whether or not the man realised those were his intentions or not did not factor into this decision.

Byleth had been to these before.

"No you haven't."

Yes, she had.

"No, you really have not."

Sothis sigh was rather exasperated, "What you have been to are the drunken antics of a tavern crawl with your fathers coworkers and and your own peers. You have not been to an organised gathering with more distinguished company."

She could feel the flat gaze of the Goddess on the side of her head.

"For one, I doubt this shall end in a brawl."

…That was not for certain.

As long as there was drinking going about, then there was always the chance that someone was going to end up punched. It might not have been because of anything hostile either. The people of her old company sometimes punched one another during drinking games for one reason or another.

They remained friends the next day.

What a weird thought, she realised.

Glancing over to those who were entering the hall and raising a slight brow at a couple of them.

'What about those two?' She asked into her head, waiting for a response.

Sothis was much slower in answering this time.

When she did, it was quick.

"They do not count. They would fight even without the presence of alcohol."

Yes.

But it probably would not turn physical.

Her side glance at both Hanneman and Manuela went unnoticed as the pair of them strode across to the buffet table.

Barely looking at one another as they walked across, it was rather strange to see them just completely ignore the other. Like if they saw the other person and knew they did so, then they would fight.

Wasn't this supposed to be relaxing or something?

She took a bite from the little meat slice on her plate.

Huh.

It was pretty good.

"Enjoying yourself, Professor?"

"Hmph?"

Oh, it was Rhea.

"It's fine."

She shrugged her shoulders, she had been to much worse than this.

It was pretty calm.

"Used to these being louder, though."

Rhea let out a soft chuckle, "I assume that is thanks to Jeralt?"

She nodded.

"I see, then he did not change all that much over the years. That is a…comfort, I suppose. Then again, perhaps there are some habits that a person could afford to lose as the years pass them by."

A brief pause, then the Archbishop frowned as she brought a silver goblet of something to her lips, halting briefly before speaking.

"...I never got the chance to ask, but does he still have the habit of trying for rather…dangerous games when slightly inebriated."

Dangerous games?

Byleth slowly tilted her head to the side.

She supposed that would depend on what she called dangerous, she knew her father would never be so reckless if he wasn't sure.

Probably.

Maybe?

…Then again, throwing knives when drunk was always pretty silly.

"...Did he throw knives?"

"Knives?" Rhea brought the goblet away from her lips, brows raised. "Oh, I recall one instance when he used an axe on poor Alois."

…He did what now?

She could feel Sothis shift in the back of her mind.

Byleth was sure there was a very reasonable explanation.

It was just a little hard to spot at the moment.

…Where was Alois?

Her eyes slipped away from the Archbishop very quickly and flicked around the room as she searched out the man in question. Locking onto him and then shooting a brief look back to the woman.

There was a flicker of knowing in her eyes.

"He would have a great many stories to tell of your father during his time here at the Monastery, though quite how many he shared with you is not something I can say…nor would I imagine he would approve."

Another frown worked it's way onto her lips.

Byleth shrugged. "It is fine. I've probably seen him do worse, anyway."

Rhea stopped.

She had meant for that to sound like a reassurance, but looking back on it, suddenly the rather perturbed stare she was receiving made a lot of sense.

Hmmm.

Maybe her father really was more reckless than he let on?

She had better ask Alois about the axe throwing.

She was sure there was an exaggeration.

"Oh yes, the hatchet!"

That was not a promising start.

Nor was the way Alois' face lit up with recognition the second she asked about whether her father threw an axe at him.

"Did he never tell you that story? Then again…he might not have been able to remember it, he was a fair bit drunk at the time…"

Rubbing his chin, the man put on a briefly thoughtful expression, then shrugged.

"How did you know about it though?"

Very slowly, Byleth pointed her thumb over her shoulder to where the Archbishop was, or near enough, and she saw the man flick his eyes over there. He blinked twice in surprise, then let out a laugh.

"I did not think the story was so famous, haha! But yes, captain Jeralt was convinced by the people of a town we were at to put on a show while drinking and then he comes up to me and puts an apple on my head and tells me to stand very still."

Byleth blinked very slowly at him.

He really went and did that?

Oh.

Somehow she was unsurprised by it all, but perhaps a little disappointed that he would do something like that while he was drunk.

Maybe if he was sober it would have been fine.

"But he missed my head completely and almost caught me square in the chest."

With a hearty laugh, Alois thumped a hand into his torso, "Had I not been swift enough with ducking out of the way, that Inn would have ended up as my grave and I tell you something, I never want to bury the hatchet that way again."

He stared at her expectantly.

…Oh, was he making a joke?

She missed it.

…No, she really missed where the joke was supposed to be.

"...Were you upset?"

"What? Not at all." Alois shook his head, taking another sip of his drink. "It was a rather fun evening outside of it all."

Hmmm.

Well, as long as he had…

…Wait a second.

Byleth minutely furrowed her brows as she noticed something amiss with the story.

She had known her father could get drunk, but she'd never seen him so drunk that he would miss a throw that badly.

Maybe he was really, really drunk?

But she had never actually seen him get to the same level of drunken stupor that she saw some of the others get to. She never got to that stage either when she had a drink, but that was for apparently different reasons.

So then how did…?

"...Was he aiming for the apple?"

Alois paused mid-sip, bringing down the mug and staring at her. "Beg pardon?"

"It's just that I have never seen him miss before."

"What? Oh, he's a master at throwing knives and hatchets. Even in the training yard I never once saw him miss a single throw before. Truly, he is something of an exceptional marksman at…"

The man trailed off and went silent.

His frown deepened.

Oh, maybe he was seeing the same problem.

"...You know? You're right. I never have seen him miss…and it doesn't seem like him to miss that badly, even if he had been drinking…does it?"

No, it didn't.

The two of them shared a brief moment of silence as a rather uncomfortable thought dawned on them.

"...He must have been really drunk."

Byleth decided she would work under that reasoning.

"Because the alternative is that your father tried to murder the man in a tavern with an axe?"

Sothis 'helpful' words were not far removed from the truth.

Come to think of it, her father always looked sort of annoyed whenever he was speaking with Alois at all.

…Did he hate them?

"Of course!" Alois countenance brightened up immediately with a jolly laugh, "I suppose there is a first time for everything! To think that even Captain Jeralt could get to that state. It must be why I never saw him try something like that again, must have really had him shaken up with that mistake."

Right.

Yes.

Byleth slowly nodded her head up and down.

"Come to think of it, I haven't seen him yet."

Had he not?

Byleth looked around very slowly and quickly noticed the same thing.

"...Maybe he's buying hatchets."

Alois choked, swiftly turning away and coughing out.

It sounded like a laugh.

Byleth nodded her head up and down at the clear display of humour that was being shown, which meant that her joke had landed pretty well.

She was happy about that.

Sothis snorted somewhere in the back of her mind, "At least your attempts at murder are less obvious."

'I'm sure there is a good explanation.'

"And what is it?"

'I don't know. But I am sure there is one.'

Though she might have also been joking about her father buying hatchets, she didn't actually know where he was at the moment. She was sure that he would be coming but perhaps he was taking his time?

Oh, well.

She might as well get some food from the table before it was all gone, or before her father showed up.

Then it really would be gone.

Plate in hand, she strode towards the buffet table of little snacks and then stopped when she walked right up behind someone. Looked like a cleric with messy red hair.

Maybe she could strike up a conversation?

"Hello."

The nun stiffened, then turned around with a look that was decidedly not friendly.

"Wha-ergk!?"

Byleth raised a brow at the cleric woman who took one look at her and paled rapidly.

She did not even know a person's skin could go that white. Nor naturally at least, and then suddenly there was sweat trailing down their brow and cheeks, with a stammered words, they turned about and walked back off.

That was weird.

Was she scary?

'Sothis? Am I scary?'

Sothis did not answer her.

Instead she just laughed.

Byleth frowned on the inside and looked off towards the way the woman had fled, they were casting back nervous glances. The second they made eye contact, she turned back around and resumed her rapid retreat from the table and off to some corner of the room. Like she was putting as many bodies between her and Byleth as possible.

…That was odd.

Maybe she was scary?

She looked down at the knife on her hip, then back across.

Was it because she was armed?

…No, that probably wasn't it.

Oh well.

Maybe later?

…Where was Goetia as well?

"They have reason to fear me."

"That is not the best thing to tell them when I am trying to make you seem friendly and approachable."

Goetia took a very long look at Harold.

He needed to, after hearing that remark.

Harold looked right back at him, meeting his gaze for a few seconds before quickly breaking away and sighing, hands running over his face.

"Alright…but they at least need to know you're not going to glare at them so hard they're going to burst into flames, right? I work with these guys and every time I tell them how nice you are-"

How nice he was?

Goetia very slowly raised a brow, his lone response to that remark.

Harold stopped again, then cringed.

"...I mean…nevermind, I meant what I said. You are nice, Goetia."

"While I do not doubt your capacity for reading, Harold, it is your understanding of words which is now starting to concern me. Through any and all definitions, I am not approachable and nor would I want anyone approaching me unless it is for a task that only I am capable of doing."

Of which, he did not believe that Harold's co-workers would have many of them.

He did not desire to go out and fraternise with the knights of Seiros any more than he needed to.

Currently, Harold alone was the exception.

"Yeah, but it sort of bothers me." With a glum face, the man folded his arms. "I can see how nice a person you are, Goetia. All anyone else seems to see is the foreign man with glowing red eyes and scary magic."

Goetia stared at him again.

"Harold?"

"Yes?

"I am a foreign mage with magic beyond their comprehension and illuminated eyes."

"...Well, yes." Came the abrupt response. "But that doesn't mean…erm…well…"

Apparently common sense was finally dawning on them as they stopped and frowned, rubbing the back of his head, Harold made a puzzled expression and quickly blinked.

"...Are you trying to be scary on purpose?"

Goetia rolled his eyes, "I do not need to perform much to trigger the primal fears of humans. If they are truly so interested in speaking with me, then they can approach me under their own power. I will not alter my approach merely so the common guard will have the courage to trade words."

His eyes flicked back to the knight as he passed them by.

"You, at least, had the capacity for doing so despite my reputation and continue with such approaches. If they are not capable of the same level of effort, then I do not believe they are worth speaking with."

Harold grimaced, "That sounds a little harsh…"

"Would you prefer I lie about my personality?"

"...No, I see your point now." With a sigh, the man picked up the pace beside him once more. "But have you thought about smiling more often?"

"...No."

"Not even a little?"

"No."

"Just a tiny one?"

"No."

"But what about-?"

Goetia turned on them with a blank expression. "Given the last three answers I have given on this topic, how would you speculate my next answer would take form?"

Harold raised his hands in surrender, a flicker of mirth on their face.

It was not quite known to him whether Harold was doing this on purpose or if they were truly curious on the subject. It was difficult to tell where the thoughts blended together, all he was aware of was a great deal of amusement emanating from the knight and that was the extent of it.

But there was also some marginal disappointment as well.

So they did have an interest in it, but were not downcast over a failure.

…He suspected Harold would try again today.

"I'll talk with some of the other knights-"

"Do not force them to speak with me if they do not wish it." Goetia frowned, that was certainly something he did not need. "There is no value in such an interaction and as soon as the reason is no longer pressing, they shall not approach me again. It would be a pointless waste of time."

"Or they could become your friend?"

"..."

"...An acquaintance. A friendly acquaintance."

"Hmph."

Friendly acquaintance?

He needed no such things.

What could he even speak with them about that he could not already discuss with Harold?

He door to the hall was pushed open, striding inside and already finding the venue full other those around the monastery from a variety of different professions-

"Am I scary?"

He was barely even two steps into the room before he was ambushed by whatever that question had been.

Eyes whipping about to the speaker, he stared at the earnest face of Byleth.

Which was evidence enough for him that she was being serious and nor making some odd joke which he would never conceive.

Unless this was Sothis idea of humour.

In which case, he did not understand.

"...Setting aside the fact that our conversation has only just begun, in what capacity of fear are you asking?"

Byleth blinked very slowly at him. "...What?"

"Do you mean from a physical standpoint or a theological standpoint, and is this in reference to myself or a generalisation of those around the Monastery?"

Another slow blink.

Hmmm.

"I don't think you're scary, Professor Esiner."

The comment from Harold was at least somewhat useful, but it did little to mollify the emotions of the woman in front of him.

Quite where she had come to this strange conclusion that she was fear inducing was odd.

Even if it was incorrect.

Byleth's eyes remained on him, "Am I scary?"

She asked once again.

Goetia thinned his lips. "I am not intimidated by your presence, no."

"...What about other people?"

"...They have more reason to fear myself than you-"

"You're avoiding the question."

"I am of the assumption you do not wish to hear the answer."

Byleth's shoulders dropped rather abruptly, even if her expression did not even so much as twitch.

With a sigh, he stepped off to the side and flicked his eyes for her to follow him. Which she did, at least.

"Your personality is hardly something to be fearful of, it is merely that your physical characteristics and existence within the Church itself might lead others to speculate…"

No, this was not going to aid her.

Even if he was correct.

Rather, he did not understand why this was so important to her at this current time and place.

Unless…?

"Humans are social creatures that seek out the familiar, the social gathering has only recently begun. There is still an acceptable period of time for you to find individuals who would not otherwise approach you and speak with them. The entire premise of this event is to remove the barriers between the different groups."

That was also why he convened it here.

With more food.

And alcohol.

Byleth nodded her head very slowly, "...So they are just nervous because they haven't spoken to me before?"

"Most likely, but I cannot do more than speculate without having personally witnessed whatever event transpired to lead you to the conclusion that your mere existence inspired fear."

He allowed a brief pause.

"Even if there are a multitude of reasons why it would."

Byleth looked at him.

Sothis was scowling right behind her.

What? Did she expect for him to lie to her about the entire reason why the clerics of the Church might be intimidated by the notion of the vessel of their genuine God walking amongst their number? Even if they did not know, there was the matter of Byleth's clear wielding of great power.

Being the child of Jeralt factored into the issue as well.

The lack of physical expression.

Even if he knew her as an individual, he would not deny that there were many characteristics she possessed that would lead other humans to fear her.

None of which was likely prudent at the moment.

She had been working here long enough to assuage fears, or so he would have assumed by now.

Still, if there were still those who feared her, then it was more evidence of their own foolishness.

She was as human as they were - were it mattered - and was as likely to cause them harm as any of the others around the Monastery.

At least they would have good reason to fear him.

"Take the chance to speak with others and express your personality, that will either convince them to treat you no differently than Catherine, or they will remain ignorant and stupid. In which case, it is likely for the best that they fear you…otherwise they would be inclined to speak with you and I believe your time could be better spent not entertaining such idiocy."

Those were his thoughts on the matter.

From the beginning, he had no intention of speaking with those who did not approach him.

But he had said as much and did not need to say more.

So he shrugged and looked away, "But the choice remains entirely within your own hands, if it is so great a concern."

Byleth stared at him for a short moment after that, he could not accurately determine what she was feeling.

There was a range of emotions, but a final accounting brought about understanding and acceptance.

She acknowledged his words.

"Okay…But you don't think I am scary, do you?"

"I believe we have covered this already."

Did she want him to say the words?

What manner of juvenile assurance was this?

He pulled his lips thin, then turned to face her more directly.

"No. I do not. Is that what you wished to hear?"

She nodded, her lips quirking upwards for a mere fraction of a second before it evened out.

Sothis lost the scowl on her face, but that was secondary.

Hmph.

He did not believe Byleth would require such words, but evidently the self-affirmation of humans remained even with those who had the wisdom of a Goddess within their mind. Or perhaps it was all the more necessary for her, especially because of her origins.

Goetia thought on that for a moment.

"If you would find some odd comfort in the words, then I shall provide them. I do not and - I suspect - will never fear you."

That was the honest truth as he could say at this moment.

Even at her height, he would not fear her directly. The individual known as Byleth was not someone he would fear.

His eyes flicked off as an individual spotted him, making their way towards him.

"I seem to have attracted attention. I shall speak with you another time, if that is what you desire."

"Have fun."

He heard the glib note in her words and elected to ignore it, instead striding off to meet Seteth halfway.

"Goetia," The man greeted, "I wanted to tell you that I appreciate the work you did in covering for me…I can understand that it…piles up."

Was that their concern?

Nonsensical.

"I can assure you that the information I dealt with was far below what I am more accustomed to dealing with. The greater concern came from those who were indignant at my temporary position, but logic and reason defeated their bias."

Seteth cocked a brow, "Did it, or did you threaten them?"

Apparently logic and reason was not quite as great a tool against bias as he assumed.

Hmph.

"They reported me to you, did they not?"

Very slowly, the man nodded his head and sighed. "Among other words, they made claims of threats made against them-"

"He was incompetent. If he failed to show improvement until I was forced to threaten his employment, then clearly he holds no passion or desire for betterment in his current office."

That individual in question was an irritant.

Demeaning the role of archivist as beneath their status.

So long as they were employed in the Monastery, nothing was beneath their status.

With a thin frown, Seteth said nothing but there was a mere flicker of disapproval in their eyes, even if they did not speak it aloud.

"...Regardless, I am thankful all the same. It was…"

A silence followed, Seteth visibly searching for his words with flickering eyes.

"...an unusual experience to separate myself from the concerns of the Monastery after so long of dealing with them. I am not sure if I have been missing the reports that pass my desk or if I am dreading to see them again."

Goetia offered a grunt, "I would argue it is the assurance that the work is being completed to the same standard that you hold yourself to. Even if I am the one who holds the office in your absence, you have constructed the system around your own person."

"Ah, that might well be it." Seteth's smile was wry, "Trusting your own judgement above others? It sounds arrogant."

"It is natural and you should feel no shame in such things."

Even if it was somewhat foolish.

Primarily because he was the one who took on the role.

If there was one individual in this entire Monastery who could assume the same role as Seteth and complete the function to the same - and superior - standard, it would doubtless have been him.

"If you say so," Seteth muttered under his breath so low that Goetia almost did not hear him.

"Nevermind all of that now," Resuming with a louder tone, "I would question why you decided to alter the initial plan of the mixer as well as the venue it would be held at. Normally it is not as auspicious as this."

Goetia grunted back, "I would assume that normally, you do not deal with as much turmoil as this either."

To that, Seteth nodded his head.

Excellent, they understood.

"I understand you are still willing to lend your aid to the preparations for the White Heron Cup?"

"What few preparations remain," Goetia replied, "as the work you left in your departure was already a solid foundation. All that needed to be completed was the arrangement of supplies and deciding on judges for the performing dance…and musical talent."

"Which we did not receive."

Goetia thinned his lips, "...I am capable enough of fulfilling the role and it would serve as much of a spectacle."

Seteth levelled him with a rather dull stare and blinked very slowly, "Am I to assume that we shall see floating instruments playing themselves in the hall?"

"Yes." He saw no reason to deny them that.

It prompted a small chuckle and a shake of the head from the man, "Yes. I believe that certainly would be a greater spectacle, but it might serve to insult some of the regular performers we have in attendance. It has been seen as a minor honour to be invited to the Monastery to perform for the officers academy."

"That was before our budget was divided in repairing damages to said monastery and academy. Unless they wish for us to leave sections of the monastery unrepaired until future dates? It serves as justification enough."

Seteth gave a short nod and sipped his drink once more.

Goetia was assuming it was one of the non-alcoholic beverages he had treated with Anna with to supply.

But he would make no assumptions.

She had been counting down the seconds since he appeared before he would make his way over to her.

It was some simple inevitability.

Though she was surprised it took as long as it did, but he came to her all the same.

"Goetia." Greeting him with a touch of a smile as she drank, "You seem to be enjoying the festivities."

He grunted back, "Rhea."

And immediately dropped any and all formalities, then again this was probably the one instance he could achieve this in public without there being heads turned.

"The evening appears to be a success thus far."

"Hmmmm."

Another hum?

She raised her brow very slowly. "Have you been speaking with everyone, Goetia?"

At that, her tone might have been a little condescending, but he did turn to her directly and flash his eyes rather irritably.

"I do not intend to seek those out whom I have no interest in speaking with-"

"Ah, so you have interest in speaking with me? I am delighted to hear that I am sought after company."

His expression flattened.

…Teasing him was rather amusing.

"I jest." She replied sweetly, flashing an innocent smile.

"Hmph." It earned her another signature grunt from him, "The same could be said for yourself. A chance to speak without the stigma of Archbishop attached to the forefront of your alias and…are you drinking beer?"

"Yes." She very purposefully took a long sip before lowering it down, "It is a good make, I must say. Though the wine was certainly appealing, I thought it best if I were to seen mingling with my staff while having a more common drink."

"...I…see."

He looked rather shocked.

Did he not realise she could also appreciate the taste of more common alcohol?

Hmmm.

Then again, the face Catherine had made when she saw her walk past with a pint had been worthy of a painting.

She would have hung it somewhere if she had the means to do so, but alas…it existed only in her mind now.

Pity.

"...Have you been met with success?"

"...Not as such, I am afraid." With a sigh, she lowered the cup. "It seems that even in such a casual environment, there are not many who would wish to approach the Archbishop and speak on such brazen terms with her…well…with few exceptions but you do not count. You do it outside anyway."

Goetia did not even look apologetic, merely staring at her in silence.

"...But I shall say that it has been a rather pleasurable evening thus far, perhaps worth looking into changing future mixers to reflect this one? Though with the White Heron Cup so close now, one would figure there is too much festivity."

"It seemed appropriate." Goetia replied slowly, "And during their campaign against me, Chaldea would frequently wander off to some far off corner of the world to engage in utterly irrelevant and trivial actions. Ranging from singing concerts to an evening where they went gallivanting across a small country merely so one of them could fulfil their bewildering desire of being a charitable old man."

There was…a lot in that sentence.

But it was the first part which caught her attention.

"...Did you base this evening off the actions of your enemies?"

Goetia nodded, "While the origin is dubious, the end result cannot be denied."

…Well.

She could say little to that.

"...You are not going to get drunk, are you?"

She snorted, "Goetia…I could drink the stores to their final drop and it would not be enough to give me so much as a tingle."

"...Perhaps a comment you should not be making in public, a simple no would have sufficed."

Was he worried about her public image at a time like this?

How charitable of him.

"So I understand you are going to the White Heron Cup."

Goetia cocked a brow, "Yes? Is it common knowledge by this point?"

"Along those lines, yes." She replied, taking another short sip. "But I am surprised all the same. You do not strike me as much of a dancer."

"I have never danced before."

Yes, her thoughts exactly.

"And you are going to a dance?"

"Yes."

She raised a brow very slowly, tilting her head to the side.

"Is your plan to merely seclude yourself away at the side of the room and stare out across the students while they dance?"

He nodded again.

"Hmph. Pity."

Now he was frowning, "It is a night for the students to enjoy themselves, just as this mixer is for the staff and knights. My own attendance would detract from that-"

"The staff are going as well and I planned to attend also."

"That is entirely your own choice."

"You should dance."

"...I fail to see where you pulled this suggestion from."

Then his eyes slowly lowered onto her drink.

"Or perhaps the answer is right before me."

She almost choked on a laugh, seeing his semi-disgusted face with the vague implication she was a drunk was rather insulting, but it was the brazen nature of it all.

He never did change.

And then a little bird popped its head out from under his hair, tweeting and looking around.

"Oh? I see, you are rather incorrigible, Goetia."

Gently, she raised her left hand and held it out, Flauros was quick to leap to her outstretched finger and chirp rather contentedly.

"Even now, you cannot bear to leave your friend alone?"

Goetia sent Flauros a sharp look, one which she managed to avoid them seeing by giving a brief turn so it was at the back of their head, rather than the side.

"We were speaking of the White Heron Cup. I am already attending and have selected new clothes for said attendance, there is no more I need to accomplish."

"Were you not the one who spoke of good cheer in times of turmoil?"

"...There is a marked difference."

"Is there? I am afraid my senses are so dulled by drink that I cannot see it. More's the pity."

She brought the drink to her lips once more,

"You have Sothis' dull wit."

And stopped.

Lowering the mug and wetting her lips, she shot him a small look.

…He was being serious.

"...Thank you."

"That was not a compliment."

But she would take it as one anyway.

"-an't believe you didn't tell me!"

Oh?

Both she and Goetia turned to the rapidly approaching disturbance.

Ah, it was Catherine and Shamir.

"I don't see why I needed to."

"Wha-?" Catherine was left sputtering after that response, then quickly pointed to Goetia and advanced on him. "You! Why?"

Goetia showed not an ounce of fear or trepidation in speaking, "I will need specifics if I am to answer-"

"You made her a judge for the White Heron Cup!"

"I finalised early preparations, yes." Goetia confirmed. "Why?"

"You-what-how?" Catherine turned on Shamir in shock, "I didn't even know that you liked dancing."

Shamir raised a faint eyebrow. "...Hmph."

Rhea noted how that was not an answer, hiding her smile behind her cup.

Her eyes slid towards Goetia.

It was rather odd that he chose her to be a judge.

Oh, well.

She spied her father and advanced on him.

He glanced her way, then raised a mug in greeting before going for a sip.

She waited for a few seconds, then decided it was best to just get it out of the way.

"Did you try to kill Alois?"

He paused and looked at her, "...Is he telling the axe throwing story again?"

It actually happened?

She nodded her head up and down.

With a sigh, he responded with "It wasn't like I was trying to…alright, I was having a bad day but I didn't throw it that hard and it would have struck him in the chest with the top of the head so it was fine."

He paused for a moment.

"...I think?"

That didn't sound very reassuring.

"...He'd been telling jokes all day." Jeralt grunted back and went for another drink, "I think that justifies it."

Byleth didn't know if it really did.