Work Text:
- The Planning
"Nobody knows how this tradition started," Mercedes says, her voice low. Below her, a flashlight illuminates her face, highlighting sharp angles; her eyes flashing in the dark. Trembling, Annette tightens her grip on Ashe's arm, and the boy does the same to her. "But," Mercedes continues, and here she leans forward. "Some say that it all started when the students' belongings all started going missing. Pens, homework, mundane things like that. At first.”
Ashe squeaks, pressing closer to Annette. At the same time, though, he leans forward, reluctantly eager to hear how this tale goes.
"Then, it was the knives!" Mercedes's voice rises to a crescendo. "The weapons, the-"
"I did actually misplace my dagger the other day," says Felix from behind them, and Ashe and Annette scream at the voice. Felix glares down at them. "I've been here the whole time," he says. "The both of you know that."
"I forgot," Annette wails. "I was just so caught up in Mercie's story!"
Beside her, Ashe nods frantically in agreement. Felix scoffs.
"I don't see how it was entertaining in the slightest," he says. "What, students losing things? You act like that doesn't happen now. Professor Byleth's practically running a whole lost-and-found every month."
"It was the atmosphere," Annette insists, puffing out her cheeks in a pout. She elbows the boy sitting next to her. "Ashe! Tell him!"
"...The flashlight was creepy?" Ashe tries.
"I think it's a nice touch," Mercedes nods at that. She beams. In the light, though, it paints a rather unsettling picture. In Annette's professional opinion. "Don't you?"
"A flashlight," echoes Felix in disbelief.
"It does add a sort of aura to the whole thing," Ingrid pipes up, and Ashe and Annette both yelp in fear again. Ingrid stares.
"I'm standing right in front of you," she tells them. Ashe flushes red.
"Okay, so that one might have been slightly unwarranted," he admits weakly, and proceeds to stifle a yelp as Annette jabs him in the side.
"Stand up for yourself, Ashe!" she hisses.
"What am I supposed to say?!"
And that’s when the door slams open, the lights flickering on. This time, everyone startles. Mercedes drops her flashlight with a small gasp, and it rolls, slowly, on the floor, before stopping at Dimitri's feet.
The prince blinks at them.
"...Sorry," he says, still holding the door handle.
"For the love of-!" Felix snaps, relaxing back into his original stance. "Control your strength, boar!"
"Sorry," Dimitri apologises again, looking contrite.
"It was super funny though," Sylvain adds, standing behind him. He pushes ahead, stumbling forward and setting down a bunch of empty buckets with a loud clatter.
Ingrid eyes them suspiciously.
"Buckets?" she asks dubiously, gaze trailing back up and landing on Sylvain's face.
"Hey man," he shrugs. "Water bucket on the door? Classic."
"I thought this was a meeting for planning?" Felix stares at the buckets on the floor disdainfully. "Don't try and force us into your simplistic ideas, Gautier."
"Dude. It's just a prank.”
Dimitri claps his hands together, and as one, everyone turns to him. Sylvain flops down on the ground, and Ingrid soon follows suit, far more gracefully. Felix sprawls, and soon enough, it's only Dimitri and Dedue standing, the latter ever loyally by Dimitri's side.
"Right," Dimitri clears his throat. "Thank you all for gathering here today-"
"Get on with it!" Felix interrupts, despite Dimitri only being about two seconds into his speech. Ingrid shoots a glare at him.
"Felix, shut up-"
"-as you all may know," Dimitri continues without a pause, far too used to the interruptions from his 'beloved' childhood friends, "There is a very important event coming up."
He pauses. For dramatic effect.
"Boar-"
"Seriously, shut up!" Ingrid snaps, and slaps Felix on the arm. Felix reels back with a wince, rubbing the spot with his other hand and glowering at her.
"...The prank war," Dimitri finishes, ignoring the both of them.
Mercedes gasps. Also for dramatic effect.
"Yeah, yeah, okay, so we gotta win, right!" Sylvain calls out. Murmurs of agreement fill the room. "Okay," Sylvain continues, after it's made clear that yes, everyone does indeed want to be The Best Pranking House, "so I was thinking. Quantity over quality. We go around, set up as many things as possible-"
"Boo!" Annette rejects. "If we just mass produce terrible pranks everywhere, it's just going to get real boring real fast!"
"Oh," Dimitri turns. "Do you have any ideas then, Annette?"
"Uh..." she shies back.
Dimitri frowns slightly at her lack of answer, and looks around the room.
"Anyone?" he asks.
"I propose that we place a guillotine above all their dorm doors," Felix chimes in.
There's a brief silence.
"Like, a real one?" Sylvain can’t help but ask.
"Yes," says Felix, and then doesn't elaborate.
"No," says Dimitri with a long sigh.
"Shut up," Felix tells him.
"Um," Ashe cuts in, trying desperately to bring order back to the room. "Could you...explain, Felix?"
"So the prank will be that they're all dead-"
"No," Dimitri repeats, with feeling.
"Should I remove him from the premises, Your Highness," Dedue asks Dimitri quietly. Well, relatively quietly. His voice is still audible to everyone in the room. Sylvain snorts.
"I dare you to try," Felix sneers.
"I think the dorms are a safe area," Mercedes says, effectively forcing their discussion back to the starting point. “Which means that we can’t set up anything in them.”
"Aw, they are?" Annette pouts. Then she frowns. "Wait. How are we going to get Bernadetta, then?"
"There is no need to worry," Ingrid announces, drawing herself up. "I will remedy that issue."
"Ooh, are you going to break the door down again?" Annette turns to her, starry-eyed.
"You what," Sylvain's mouth drops open, turning to Ingrid. He sounds gleeful. "Ingrid!" he cries, delighted.
On the other hand, Dimitri's reaction is the opposite.
"You what," he grits out, despair in his tone. He turns to her, disappointment evident on his face. "Ingrid."
Red creeps up Ingrid's cheeks, and she looks away, refusing to answer.
"Hmm," Dedue hums, putting a hand to his chin in contemplation. "Perhaps if we break down all the doors in the monastery..."
Dimitri looks at his retainer, aghast.
"For once, the lapdog has a good idea," Felix snorts, practically lounging on the floor at this point.
"It was simply a thought," Dedue shakes his head.
"Please do not cause property damage," Dimitri pleads to the room at whole.
“Well, after further consideration, I have concluded it to be a rather bad idea,” Dedue helpfully informs him.
“Coward,” Felix mutters.
The room falls into a contemplative silence. Dimitri glances around, inwardly wondering if he should just give up, here and now. Annette is hissing something to Felix, low and muffled, while Felix raises an eyebrow at her. Dedue has somehow gotten dragged into Sylvain and Ingrid's bickering, a long suffering expression plain on his face. And Ashe and Mercedes.
They're leaning into each other, heads bowed and clearly in intense discussion. After a brief moment, and some nods, Ashe rights himself, and clears his throat.
Everyone's attention turns to him.
"Um," Ashe says, and swallows. "We have an idea."
- The Preparation
The best thing about the days leading up to the prank war, Annette reflects, is that you can do the absolute weirdest things, and no one will question it.
Case in point: she and Dedue walking through the dining hall, carrying a basket absolutely filled with weapons.
"Why," Annette pants, "couldn't someone like Felix be doing this instead of me? Or His Highness, even!"
Dedue just shrugs. Well, as much as he can shrug, considering that he's carrying around a heavy packing of steel.
"They have other duties," he says.
"I know what they had to do, I could do those instead!"
They make their way into the garden, and Hilda stops and stares at them.
"...What are you-"
"Prank," Dedue says, like it explains everything.
"Ah," Hilda nods, like it explained everything. Then, "Wait, are those live weapons?"
That question, Dedue chooses not to answer.
Hilda stares.
"Oooookay," she says slowly, backing away. "Well, uh. Have fun?"
"Thanks," beams Annette. "We will!"
Hilda opens her mouth. Closes it again. Turns around, and walks away.
“Right,” Dedue clears his throat. “Now, let us bring this up to the dormitories…”
Step one, Annette thinks, doing a mental fistpump. Complete!
Felix stands, tapping his foot impatiently. Groups of students pass him, some sneaking glances of him and whispering, but with a harsh glare, Felix easily scares them off.
Sighing, he leans into the wall, and raps a quick knock.
"Are you done yet?" he hisses.
From the wall, comes a muffled voice.
"Uh," Ashe says. "A few more minutes?"
Felix sighs. Again.
"Hurry up," he says, glancing around. Goddess, people are looking. People are pointing and whispering.
Felix Hugo Fraldarius, the noble who talks to walls. He hates this school.
"All set!" Ashe chirps after a minute, and Felix shakes the thoughts out of his head. Listening to rumors are the the weak-minded anyway, he tells himself.
"Finally," Felix clicks his tongue. "So now..."
"Yeah, follow my voice," Ashe says, steadily become softer and more muffled as the distance between them increases.
"Move slower, talk more," Felix rolls his eyes. "I can barely tell where you are as it is."
"Oh! Whoops, sorry..." Ashe's voice becomes louder again. "Okay, you listening? Right, now walk here..."
“...And why, exactly, do you need this?” Seteth asks, looking dumbfounded.
Dimitri bows lowly, and Ingrid soon follows.
“Please, sir,” Dimitri pleads. “It’s very important-“
“Pranks are not important,” Seteth interrupts flatly. Dimitri flushes.
“It’s important to us,” Ingrid tries. “It’s all in good fun, Seteth. I swear, we won’t bother you any further-“
Seteth sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Young ones, these days,” he grumbles. Ingrid tries widening her eyes, staring pleadingly up at the man.
“Seteth-“
“Alright, alright!” Seteth waves a hand. Ingrid lights up, and Dimitri starts smiling.
“Oh, thank you sir,” he gushes. “This truly means a great deal-“
“So long as I don’t have to hear just what exactly you intend to do with...this, I suppose I can let the both of you off. Just this once,” Seteth allows. He narrows his eyes at them. “Though, frankly, I am rather concerned at your choice of...object.”
“Um,” Dimitri and Ingrid exchange glances. Ingrid laughs, loud and fake.
“Oh, no need to worry,” she says, wringing her arms. “I swear we won’t cause trouble!”
Seteth eyes them.
“I don’t believe you,” he tells her, matter-of-fact. Ingrid deflates. “Just…” he trails off. “I really don’t want to know.”
“Honestly,” Dimitri admits, cheeks tinged red, “you probably don’t.”
“Man,” Sylvain says, lips pursed and gaze focused on his hands. “This is way harder than I thought it’d be.”
Mercedes makes a vaguely affirmative noise in response.
“To be honest, I had thought that I’d have a relatively easy time with this, but it’s not coming out very well,” she tells Sylvain, with a little shame in her voice. Sylvain glances over.
“Dude,” he says, sounding awed, “that is so much better than mine.”
“You think?” Mercedes asks, and looks at Sylvain’s work. “I think yours is great, especially considering that you haven’t really done anything like this before.”
“Oh man,” Sylvain laughs. “Now you’re just flattering me.”
They return to their task, Sylvain with the occasional quiet cuss, Mercedes’s tongue poking out of the side of her mouth in determination. After a while, Sylvain sighs, and sits back on his haunches.
“You know what?” he says, squinting at his creation. “...I think this may be as good as we can get it.”
“You may be right on that one,” Mercedes admits, with a slight frown down at her own hands.
“Well, I mean,” Sylvain shrugs. “We don’t really need it to be better than this, do we?”
Mercedes hums, worrying her lip. After a few seconds of thought, she nods.
“I suppose not,” she says, and Sylvain leans back, tossing his hands in the air with a whoop of triumph. After putting his work down first, of course.
“Hell yeah!” he grins, and holds an open palm out to Mercedes. “High five!”
Mercedes slaps it with a giggle.
- The Execution
The pranks start with a bang: the Golden Deer somehow manage to glue every piece of furniture in the classrooms to the ceiling overnight. Apparently, Mercedes tells Annette, when Professor Hanneman walked in, Claude was just sitting in his usual place, upside-down and pretending nothing was out of the ordinary.
Needless to say, classes take a while to start that day.
Next, Felix goes out on a solo job and covers the walls of the other houses' student halls in animal blood. Like, actual animal blood.
"What else was I supposed to do with the leftovers?" he was reportedly heard explaining himself, with a (alleged) roll of his eyes.
Marianne cries.
Felix is then banned from doing anything without explicit supervision, to be confirmed by his house leader.
("The boar?" Further accounts dictate him shouting. "No, I refuse-")
And then Edelgard, with the cups…
They don't talk about the cups.
Yet, even among all the chaos, people still find the most mundane issues to complain about.
"And my socks! My socks, Linhardt!" Caspar bemoans. Annette pauses at his voice, and quickly backtracks to their table.
"Is something wrong, Caspar?" she asks, cocking her head in curious concern. Caspar immediately turns to her, upset written all over his face.
"Annette!" he cries. "It's terrible!"
"It's not that bad," Linhardt pipes up. Caspar shoots him a glare.
"It is that bad," he insists. Linhardt sighs, and turns to Annette.
"Do forgive Caspar," he says. "He has a tendency to overexaggerate-"
"I am not exaggerating!"
"Okay, okay," Annette tries to appease. "So. What was that about your socks?"
"My socks," Caspar groans.
"They've gone missing," Lindhart explains. "...As socks tend to do."
"Hey man!" Caspar scowls. "Those were my most loved pair of socks! My best pair! My everything!"
"They're socks, Caspar," Lindhart stresses. He sighs. "They go on your feet."
"I know how socks work, you don't have to tell me."
"Not what I meant, but okay. Sure, Caspar."
"Are you patronising me?" Caspar asks, aghast. "Are you patronising me, right here, right now- "
Annette makes a wise decision, and chooses to flee.
"Dude," Sylvain stares. "That is really high up. Like. Super. High up."
"It is," Ashe agrees, also staring in the same direction as his housemate.
"What is it that you two are looking at?" Petra asks, walking over. She follows their gaze. "Ah."
"Yup," Sylvain pops the P.
"That is, well, certainly up high," Petra comments. Sylvain sighs, rubbing the back of his head.
"Tell me about it," he complains. "How the hell am I supposed to study now that my textbooks are all the way up there?"
'Up there', of course, being a ledge in the Cathedral, approximately thirty meters above the ground.
"You say that like you study in the first place," Ashe says, side-eyeing Sylvain. Sylvain looks at him.
"Okay, come on," he wheedles. "I get that enough from Ingrid and His Highness. And Felix. And, actually, a lot of people, but I mean... Anyway, you don't need to join in as well, is what I'm saying."
"Your grades say otherwise."
"Uh, wow, okay. Ashe, I'll have you know that I'm, in fact, doing above average-"
"Ahem," Petra says. After drawing their attention, she points up at Sylvain's books. "Perhaps I may be of help?"
Ashe and Sylvain blink at her.
"Are you," Ashe asks, unsure, "going to climb it?”
"Yes," says Petra. Ashe and Sylvain share a quick glance.
"Uh, you know, I really do appreciate it, especially coming from you," Sylvain winks, while avoiding a swat from Ashe with a practiced ease. "But, um, isn't it dangerous?"
"You are certain that you are not simply saying that, such that you no longer require studying?" Petra raises an eyebrow.
"Oh, she has you pegged," Ashe whispers to Sylvain. Sylvain pouts.
"I'm not into that, though," he protests. At that, Ashe flushes a bright red.
"S-Sylvain!"
"Huh?" Petra tilts her head in confusion. "You are 'not into-"
"Um, he means, er, nevermind!" Ashe fumbles, his blush blooming and spreading down his neck. Petra stares.
"Okay," she eventually says, dropping the matter. Ashe breathes a sigh of relief, while Sylvain breathes a sigh of disappointment. "In any case," the Brigid princess continues, "such a task is, as you may say, no big deal for me. In Brigid, we would often scale heights much greater than this."
Sylvain blinks. "I mean," he hedges. "Knock yourself out? Not literally," he quickly tacks on at Petra's offended look.
"Oh," she blinks. Smiles. "I have learning, now. Thank you."
"Oho," Sylvain says, a grin spreading across his face. "You are so welcome, princess."
Petra nods, and with that, she starts towards the wall.
Sylvain whistles, long and low.
"Now that's a girl with real leg strength," he whispers to Ashe. Ashe's blush, which had finally started to fade, reintensifies at that.
"Stop," he hisses. Sylvain just grins, wide and smarmy.
It takes a minute or two, but Petra does drop back down to the ground, books in hand. Sylvain claps, taking his books back with a grin.
"That was incredible!" Ashe tells her, and Petra tosses her braid over her shoulder.
"I had more difficulty than I thought," she admits, "But in the end, it posed no match."
"I'd say," Sylvain nods. "And, thanks. Now Ingrid can, once again, wrangle me into the library."
"Sylvain, don't be so ungrateful…"
"Hey, hey, I'm totally grateful, get off my back," Sylvain rolls his eyes at Ashe. He turns to Petra. "Seriously, thanks."
"You are welcome," Petra bows lightly. "I must say though, whoever has been doing this must be having much dedication."
"Oh?" Sylvain asks.
"This is a prank, correct?" Petra cocks her head. "It would certainly appear so."
"Yeah, I think so too," Ashe nods.
"As expected," says Petra. "In fact, I have hearing that Caspar too has happened to this. Er, that this has happened to Caspar too, I mean."
"Oh, the socks thing?" Sylvain nods. "Yeah, I heard about that.”
He carefully leaves out how pretty much the entire school heard about it, thanks to Caspar’s volume.
"They somehow got stuck onto the dining hall ceiling, right?" Ashe asks.
"Quite impressive, reaching up there with no notice," Petra comments.
"Yeah," says Sylvain. "Real impressive. Still no match for Edelgard and Hubert and all those spoons, though."
Petra shudders.
"Let us not discuss of that," she requests, and Sylvain snorts.
"Yeah, let's not."
"Gyaargh!"
"Lysithea?" Mercedes cries. She runs in the direction of the shout, peering past the doors and into the library. "Are you alright?"
"Y-Yeah, don't worry about me," Lysithea calls back. "Ugh!"
With a final crashing noise, Lysithea comes into Mercedes's vision. Her hair's a mess, and there's an impressive scowl on her face.
"Oh goodness," Mercedes says, a hand going to cover her mouth. "Come now, let's get you cleaned up!"
Lysithea's scowl only worsens at that, but she doesn't protest as Mercedes flutters around her, helping her straighten out her clothes, her hair, her everything.
"It's those stupid pranks again," she complains instead. "I turn around for one moment, and suddenly there’s a loud bang! And when I turn back around, my book is gone!”
“Oh dear,” Mercedes frowns. “Do you have any idea where it may have gone?”
“No,” Lysithea shakes her head. “Actually, I have no idea how it could have disappeared. I swear, there was nobody around.”
Mercedes hums in thought.
“Do you think it could be a ghost?” she asks. At that, Lysithea pales.
“Wha- Ghosts aren’t real, don’t be ridiculous!” she snaps. Her hands, curled into fists, tremble at her side. Mercedes blinks.
“Oh,” she says. “It was simply a thought. There’s no need to be frightened!”
“I-I’m not frightened!”
“Oh? Frightened of what?”
Like an enemy emerging from the fog, Claude suddenly sneaks up from behind them. Lysithea shrieks, and whirls around to punch him.
“Oh fuc-“ Claude quickly dodges, reflexes straining to get him out of harm’s way. Lysithea pauses mid-punch, before pulling her arm back with a sniff.
“You deserved that,” she tells him primly.
“I maintain that I didn’t, but whatever floats your boat, I guess,” Claude says. “In any case, care to clue me in on whatever you two lovely ladies are talking about?”
“There’s a ghost in the monastery,” Mercedes replies. Beside her, Lysithea frantically shakes her head.
“As we have just established, ghosts aren’t real, remember?” she argues. “So no! There isn’t! There’s just some- some stupid jerk roaming the halls and trying to scare people in their dumb idea of a prank!”
“Woah now,” Claude holds his hands up, asking for peace. “I’m getting some conflicting accounts here, so how about we all settle down, and you two can nicely tell mister Claude a calm, logical story. With the blanks filled in, please!”
“Oh, I’ll tell ‘mister Claude’ a story , alright,” Lysithea mutters under her breath. Claude just tunes her out, and turns to Mercedes.
“You go first,” he offers.
“Oh, well, alright,” Mercedes blinks. “Well, I was going to grab a book for one of my essays, when I suddenly heard Lysithea scream. When I ran here, she said that she’d heard a long banging noise out of nowhere, and on top of that, her book disappeared. So I said that maybe, it was because of a ghost.”
Lysithea flushes.
“I mean, that’s basically what happened,” she mumbles, before rallying herself. “But, with the amount of pranks flying around right now, it’s only natural that this is one as well! Goddess knows the amount of people pretending to be ghosts at the moment.” She rolls her eyes.
“Oh? You sure that they weren’t real ghosts as well?” Claude teases. Lysithea promptly kicks him in the shin. Or rather, tries to. Once again, Claude’s reflexes save him from almost certain doom. “Woah, woah, seriously, calm down.”
“Calm down?! How about you stop trying to make fun of me!” Lysithea snaps. Claude holds his hands up again.
“Alright! Alright! Well then, maybe if you showed me where this all went down, I could make a better judgement of the situation,” he says. Lysithea rolls her eyes.
“Yeah right,” she accuses. “You’re just going to mock me again.”
Despite her words, she does lead them to where the “prank” happened. She points at the table, sitting right next to the wall.
“Here,” she says. “I was sitting here reading, when I thought I heard a noise somewhere behind me. I got up and looked around for a few seconds, and then I suddenly heard a loud bang coming from here. So obviously, I rushed back, and my book was gone! I swear, there was no one else in here. I’d have noticed.”
“Hmmm,” Claude puts a hand on his chin. “You sure?”
“I’m sure,” Lysithea nods.
“Hm,” Claude says. He looks around. After a few long moments of silence, Mercedes cocks her head.
“So, have you figured it out yet?” she asks. Claude hums.
“Well, I have a theory,” he starts. Lysithea raises an eyebrow.
“So?” she prods. “Spit it out.”
“I mean, I’m not absolutely sure…”
“I don’t care,” Lysithea scowls. “Just say it already!”
“Well, clearly, the thief is inside the walls!” Claude cheerfully explains without actually explaining anything. Lysithea stares at him, gobsmacked.
“...Really? Really?!” she raises a hand to smack him, but Claude dances out of reach. “And here, I actually thought you were being serious for once! Ugh! Good to know that you’re always an asshole!”
With that tirade finished, she turns on her heel, and storms away.
“Hey, I actually am- oh, nevermind,” Claude sighs, shaking his head. He turns to Mercedes. “Well, how about you? Thoughts on my theory?”
Mercedes blinks wide eyes at him. Then she shakes her head, as if to clear her thoughts.
“A-Ah, well, I think it’s certainly interesting!” she says, voice wavering just a bit.
Claude narrows his eyes at her. Mercedes smiles wider in response.
“...Hm,” Claude nods eventually, and drops the topic. “Well, good to know that someone believes in me. Good talk. See ya.”
After a jaunty wave, he makes his way out of the library. Mercedes watches him go, then lets loose a big exhale.
“...He really can be scary at times, can’t he…” she sighs.
Before long, and despite everything else that’s going down (a highlight being Marianne somehow convincing all the horses to unionize), talk begins to spread of the disappearing and reappearing items, and the strange sounds that accompany them.
And despite the mass majority believing it all to be an elaborate prank in motion, rumors of ghosts start running rampant.
Leonie sighs, as Alois laughs loudly, and equally fakely. In the darkness of night, the sound is loud and echoing in the otherwise empty hallways.
“Boy, oh boy, students these days huh?” he says, a forced smile fixed on his face. “Why, back in my day, we would just stick gum on each others’ seats! None of this stealing business or,” he swallows, “g-ghost nonsense!” he finishes.
“...Er, right,” Leonie says. “...Hey, Alois? You don’t actually believe that ghost crap, do you?”
“W-W-What?” Alois squawks. “Me?! Of course not! I am a pinnacle of knighthood! If I just go around falling for every prank I see, I’d be-“
“Ah, Alois!” a cheerful voice rings out from behind the man, and Alois whips around with a loud yelp.
“Who goes there!” he shouts, before his eyes adjust, and he sees just who’s in front of him. “O-Oh! Your Highness! Do forgive me!”
“Oh, it’s quite alright,” Dimitri reassures him. He looks up at the both of them. “Is something the matter?”
“We can help,” Ingrid pipes up from beside him.
"Ah, well, no worries!" Alois lets out a belly laugh. "For we don't-"
"Actually, that'd be great," Leonie cuts him off. Alois whips his head around to her in wounded disbelief. Leonie ignores him, continuing, "See, Alois here thinks that the pranks-"
"We were simply trying to figure out just how the students have been pulling off such marvelous jokes!" Alois hurriedly lies. Leonie raises an eyebrow, but doesn't correct him, letting him keep whatever shreds of dignity the knight has left. "After all, in order to be better than the opposition, one must know the opposition!"
"The opposition?" Dimitri echoes, confused.
"The pranksters, of course!" Alois explains. "I always pride myself on my jokes, but now all you young'uns are up and stealing my thunder! I must conduct myself better if I ever want to keep my title as the funniest in the school!"
Ingrid eyes him.
"That pun was a reach," she tells him. Alois deflates.
"Can't blame a man for trying," he mumbles.
"Anyway," Leonie cuts back in. "Would you guys mind accompanying us?"
"Sounds like a plan," Dimitri nods. "Sure, we'll help you."
"Thanks," Leonie nods. "Seriously appreciated."
Of course, what they forget to take into account is the fact that one can't simply seek out an anonymous prankster, and actually find them.
"Man, this just isn't working," Leonie sighs, approximately ten minutes into the hunt. "Do you think if we put down something for long enough, it'll eventually get taken as well?"
"I don't think it quite works that way," Ingrid says wryly. "Not even ghosts are omniscient, after all."
"H-Huh? Are we concluding that it's a ghost?" Alois asks, wide eyed and voice pitched higher than usual.
"Uh," Ingrid says, and shakes her head. "It was just a quip, don't get too panicked."
"I'm not panicked!"
"Sounds like something someone who's panicked would say," Leonie mutters, voice low enough that Alois can't hear her. Ingrid sends her an amused glance.
"Well, it's clear that we're aren't getting anywhere," Dimitri frowns, placing a hand on his chin. in thought. “Perhaps if we-“
Thump.
“-split up, it would be easier,” he concludes, either not noticing the sound, or just flat out ignoring it. Ingrid nods, while Leonie frowns, considering the idea, while Alois…
Alois is wide-eyed, gaze frantically darting around their surroundings.
“Did you hear that?” he asks, visibly trembling. Leonie furrows her brows.
“Huh? Hear what?”
Thump.
“That!” Alois nearly shrieks this time. “It came from the ceiling!”
“Maybe it’s just a raccoon, or something,” Ingrid suggests.
“In the ceiling?”
“Raccoons can get anywhere,” Ingrid stresses, shuddering at a stray thought. “Trust me. I would know.”
Dimitri laughs.
“Ah, you speak of the incident that happened when we were twelve, yes?” he asks, smiling in fond reminiscence. “I remember that day as well. You-“
Ingrid, flushing, slaps a hand over his mouth.
“I thought we agreed to never speak of that again!” she says. And then she quickly retracts her arm, like she’s been burned. “Ah- Sorry, your highness. Old habits. You know.”
“Ingrid, you know that I don’t care about formalities such as that,” Dimitri says. He sighs. “Honestly, sometimes all of you guys-“
“Okay, okay, sorry to cut in on this heartwarming moment and all,” Leonie interrupts. “But like, I’m pretty sure if we go on any longer, Alois is going to shake himself out of his own skin.”
Everyone turns their attention to the sole adult of the group. Pale-faced, with the whites of his eyes showing clearly, and hunched over as if to make himself a smaller target.
“...I’m alright,” Alois tries to defend himself, weakly.
“Evidently not,” Dimitri tells him bluntly. “Let’s go look for whatever may be causing that noise, shall we? Perhaps it will assuage your fears.”
“Geh- I- Alright,” Alois sighs. “...Sorry. For troubling you, your highness. ...And you two as well, Leonie, Ingrid.”
“Oh, no worries,” Ingrid shakes her head. Leonie nods in agreement with the other girl.
“...Well, how are we going to get up to the ceiling, though?” Leonie asks after a short pause. Dimitri shrugs.
“Perhaps the sound is simply someone walking around upstairs,” he reasons.
And so, they take the stairs up. If anything, it’s even creepier on the second floor. Long, cramped hallways, and darkness around every corner. Alois shivers, and yelps at the slightest provocation. Ingrid offers to hold his hand, but Alois rejects the offer with a firm shake of his head.
“No, I’m not that pathetic,” he says.
“If you say so,” Ingrid shrugs, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Just let me know if you need anything.”
At that, Alois laughs loudly, suddenly distracted by a thought. Ingrid’s hand slips down, passing over his chest and back to herself.
“Now that reminds me of this joke I heard once-“
“Save it,” Leonie tells him.
Alois deflates, again.
“It doesn’t seem like anyone’s here,” Ingrid says after a while of searching. She trots back over from the wall she had been examining, searching for any possible defects and the like. “Maybe we-“
Thump.
Once again, the sound comes from the ceiling.
Leonie blinks.
“Is it on the third floor?” she asks. Dimitri frowns.
“If it was all the way up there, I can’t imagine it’d be audible from the first floor,” he says.
“Well, maybe the culprit just walked up when he heard us coming.”
Alois laughs, uncertainly.
“Oh boy,” he says, reaching into his shirt pocket. “All this thinking has left me all sweaty! Let me just…”
He trails off, brow furrowing.
“Just…”
After rummaging through all his pockets thoroughly, he looks up at the students, a little wild around the eyes.
“It’s gone,” he says.
“What’s gone?” Ingrid cocks her head.
“My handkerchief! It’s gone!”
“Calm down,” Leonie sighs. “You must have dropped it somewhere.”
“Ack. How careless of me,” Alois winces.
Try as they might, however, Alois’s handkerchief is nowhere to be found. With every step they take, the man grows more and more pale.
“Do you think it was-“ Alois starts, but Leonie cuts him off.
“Even if it was a ‘ghost’, or whatever, surely you would have noticed it floating out your pocket!” she chastises. Alois quivers.
“W-Well, you never know!” he defends himself. “Perhaps-“
Bang!
Alois jumps with a screech.
“Oh,” blinks Ingrid. “That was a loud one.”
“Let’s go,” Dimitri barks. “It came from behind us.”
And when they double back to check, they find a white handkerchief, laying on the floor. Alois’s face goes so white, he seems seconds away from passing out. Dimitri bends down, picking the cloth up.
“This wasn’t here just now,” he muses. He turns to Alois. “Alois, here, this is yours, right-“
But his arm meets empty air, as Alois runs down the hallway and heading vaguely in the direction of his quarters.
“Keep it!” the man yells, his voice shrill. “It’s probably haunted anyway!”
Dimitri just barely manages to keep himself from gaping. Beside him, Leonie groans, her palm meeting her forehead with a loud smack.
“Oh for the love of- Alois! Wait up!” she calls. Briefly, she turns back to Dimitri and Ingrid. “Sorry about this you guys. And thanks.”
With that said, she turns back and starts running after Alois, calling out for him again.
“Alois! Wait up!”
Dimitri stares after them.
“Well,” he manages, still holding the handkerchief, “that was...something.”
“Quite,” Ingrid nods, standing beside him with both her eyebrows raised in confusion.
"Swords, huh," Dorothea grumbles, pouting, as she makes her way to the training ground. "Ugh," she frowns. "Why couldn't Professor Manuela assign me magic instead? It's so much more interesting…"
As she draws nearer, she hears the sounds of distant voices. Perking up, always ready for gossip, she picks up the pace, pressing her ear to the doors.
"Seriously, can't you think for yourself even once in your life?" Felix's caustic voice comes clear even through the thick wood. Dorothea suppresses the urge to groan.
"Oh, not him again…" she sighs. On top of already being an asshole on a regular day, this Felix doesn't seem to be in a good mood. Not to mention that if she trained with him anywhere near her, he'd definitely sneer at her. And that'd be awful.
"I owe His Highness everything," Dedue replies. Dorothea thinks it's Dedue, anyway. It's not like she knows the guy very well, but at the same time, who else has such a deep voice, and addresses His Highness in such a respectful manner?
"Living solely for someone else is pathetic," Felix snorts. "Honestly, dog-"
Dorothea pushes open the doors.
"Hey," she smiles prettily at the two men, trying to diffuse the tension. "What are you guys talking about?"
Felix scowls at her.
"Don't get in the way," he snaps. Dedue frowns at him.
"Do not be rude," he chastises.
"Shut the fuck up."
"Okay, okay," Dorothea holds up a pacifying hand. "How about everyone takes a step back, takes a breath-"
"My words extend to you as well, woman," Felix sneers. Dorothea bristles.
"Wow, okay, I was just trying to be nice," she snaps. "Jerk."
"My apologies," Dedue bows lightly to her. "Felix is not in the best mood at the moment."
"Oh, Dedue, you don't have to apologise," Dorothea flips a switch, turning to the man with a smile. "You're not the reason that Felix is such an ass, after all."
Felix glares, but doesn't address her. He turns to Dedue, instead.
"You aren't my damn keeper," he says. "Don't try and take my burdens onto your shoulders, or whatever is it that you're doing."
"I assure you," Dedue says cooly. "I am not doing anything of the sort."
"Oh? Then don't act like it. Go away."
"I have already told you," Dedue says, and this time, Dorothea can make out a thread of frustration in his voice. "His Highness has assigned me to supervise you for the day to ensure that you don't go overboard with pranks. Again."
"Oh please, I don't want to hear that from it, " Felix rolls his eyes. "Besides, do I look like I'm about to prank anyone? I'm done with that. I'm training, here."
"Frankly," Dorothea points out. "You don't look like you're training at the moment at either."
Felix's scowl worsens at that.
"That's the problem!" he bursts out. "Some idiot didn't do proper inventory, I'm guessing, and my sword is gone ."
Dorothea blinks. Then looks around at the racks of weapons, with various swords hanging from them.
"...Right. Ooookay," she says, raising an eyebrow. Felix lets out an offended scoff.
"Not just any sword," he insists. "My sword."
"Still don't quite get it, but I mean, you do you," Dorothea tells him. "Is it your personal weapon, or like-"
"It belongs to the school," Dedue corrects.
"...Okay, yeah, I really don't get it," Dorothea confesses.
"Of course you don't," Felix snorts. Dorothea glowers at him.
"Hey, at least I know how to practice with more than one sword," she says. "Unlike you, you little, hissy, tantrum throwing noble!"
"Then practice."
"That's what I was going to do, before you went and-"
"Enough," Dedue sighs. "Dorothea, I apologise for the trouble. Felix, we will go search for the sword."
"What's this 'we' thing?" Felix narrows his eyes. "I told you, I'm not going to wander off and do whatever the hell you and the boar think I'm going to do. The rabid ones here are you two."
"Nonetheless, His Highness's orders are orders," Dedue says. "No matter how much either of us dislike it, I will stay by your side for today.”
"Ugh," Felix rolls his eyes. "Just...stay far back. Far, far back."
"Oh, Dedue," Dorothea frowns. "Don't worry, I'll accompany you."
"You'll do no such thing!" Felix snaps.
"Excuse me?" Dorothea glares. "Last I checked, I was talking to Dedue, not you. Not to mention that I, frankly, don't care about what you think. I'll do whatever I want, thank you very much.”
"Hmph," Felix looks away.
"There's no need for you to trouble yourself on my behalf," Dedue tells her. "I am quite used to silence."
“Aww, you're a sweetheart," Dorothea smiles. "No worries! I'd be glad to keep you company!"
"Ah. Well, I suppose in that case, you are welcome," Dedue nods. "Though, I must warn you. I am a man of Duscur. Being around me would only cause negative rumors to arise."
"Oh, don't concern yourself with little old me," Dorothea waves a dismissive hand. "I assure you, I'm perfectly able to take care of myself should anything happen."
"Hmm. I see," Dedue says. "An admirable trait."
"Oh, you flatterer, you!"
"I am simply stating the truth."
Dorothea giggles. "And so modest as well! Oh, if only you were a noble, you'd be the perfect catch!"
"Um."
"Well, if you two are done yammering on," Felix cuts in. "I'm leaving. Do what you want."
He turns around, and strides out, leaving Dorothea and Dedue scrambling after him. Well, not something so outwardly clumsy like that, if Dorothea would say so herself. But close enough. Kinda.
"So, wait, you're just going to walk around the school? Aren't you going to, you know, ask anyone?" Dorothea calls.
"No."
Well, if nothing else, it was a very concise answer.
"That makes absolutely no sense," Dorothea shakes her head. "Look, who was doing inventory again?"
"Hilda," Dedue replies.
"Ah," Dorothea says with a wince. Oh dear. That meant it could be practically anyone, then. "Well, we'll just ask Hilda, then!"
"I refuse."
"Felix, what is your problem?"
"My problem, at the moment, is you," Felix grits out.
"You know what? The feeling is mutual! You're a problem!"
"Good, then."
"Good!"
They fall into a silence. Dedue coughs.
Goddess, Dorothea thinks, this is really awkward.
But she had already said she's going to accompany them, so she is . No way around it. No backing out. Dorothea's no damn quitter, and she's going to prove it, even if it means putting up with the most intolerable noble in school. In her humble opinion.
“Sooo,” she eventually speaks up again. “What...exactly are we doing, again?”
“Finding the damn sword. Is your memory that shot, woman?” Felix asks snidely. Dorothea huffs.
“You can’t just expect it to just be- be lying around in the grass somewhere!” she argues. “Someone must have taken it. You sure that it’s not out on a mission, or-“
“It’s restricted to the training grounds,” Dedue clarifies.
“Ahhh,” Dorothea nods. She glares at Felix. “Why can’t you be helpful like him?”
“Because fuck you.”
“Fuck you,” Dorothea snaps, a rare curse slipping out of her mouth.
Felix shoots an unreadable glance back at her.
“How are you supposed to get a husband with a mouth like that, huh?”
On second thought, it was definitely a mocking one, Dorothea decides. Asshole.
“Oh, I assure you, this language is one reserved solely for y- Ah!” Dorothea cuts off with a yelp, as she trips over something. “Shit!”
“You were saying?” Felix is smirking now. Dorothea stares daggers at him, as she picks herself up from the ground. Dedue helps her up, and Dorothea looks away from Felix for a brief moment to thank him, a bashful smile on her face. Then she turns back and resumes her deathglare.
“Oh shut up,” she scowls. “I just wasn’t looking…”
She glances down.
“...Hey,” says Dorothea. “Isn’t this a sword?”
Sure enough, a familiar wooden hilt is lying on the ground, the blade covered by bushes.
“Wait,” Felix steps forward. “Don’t pick that up.”
“What,” Dorothea snorts, already bending down. “Worried that I’ll damage it? I know how to handle a sword, Felix.” She rolls her eyes for good measure.
"Dorothea-"
There’s something in Felix's voice. Something that isn't just petty annoyance. And perhaps if Dorothea had heard it earlier, she would have thought twice about grabbing the sword.
But it's already too late. Dorothea draws out the sword, and is promptly greeted by a blood-stained blade. It’s long dried, rusty and brown, but it’s blood nonetheless.
Dorothea drops the sword with a shocked yelp.
“Hey, psst!”
Lysithea looks up from her book. Beside her, Ashe also turns.
Caspar is waving at them, standing next to the library door.
“Come on guys,” he says. “Let’s head back to the dorms. It’s getting late.”
Lysithea tightens her grip on her book, and she frowns at Caspar.
“Need somebody to hold your hand, Bergliez?” she sneers. “Last I checked, we didn’t have a curfew.”
“Hey man,” Caspar says, shaking his head, “you‘ve heard about all those bloody weapons they’ve been finding around the school, haven’t you? I’m not taking any chances.”
“Oh? And here I thought you’d be running around, trying to punch anyone vaguely suspicious,” Lysithea snidely says. “It’s obviously another one of those stupid pranks anyway. Another jerk trying to imitate some vengeful ghost, or whatever.”
Ashe shudders.
“Gah, don’t remind me,” he pleads. Lysithea looks away with a hmph.
“A-Anyway,” she quickly backtracks. “I don’t need you to accompany me, or whatever! I’m just fine on my own, thanks.”
“Geez, alright,” Caspar rolls his eyes. “Ashe?”
“Well, it is getting rather late…” Ashe looks up at the clock. At that, Lysithea whips around to look at him.
“W-Wait, you’re leaving too?” she asks, eyes wide. Ashe shrugs.
“Well,” he hedges. “...Yes?”
“E-Er, in that case, I’ll accompany you,” Lysithea says quickly. “I mean, you’re scared of ghosts too- I-I mean, you’re scared of ghosts, right Ashe?”
“Um…”
“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you!” Lysithea reassures Ashe, who looks nonplussed. “So let’s go.”
“Wow, you sure changed your mind fast,” Caspar mutters. “Anyway, come on then.”
“Oh, actually, just let me get something really quick. You guys go on ahead, I’ll catch up in a second,” Ashe says. Lysithea looks at him, and then nods uncertainly.
“Alright then,” she says. “Be fast, okay!”
Ashe just smiles.
Lysithea strides over to the doors, and together with Caspar, they leave the library.
“Sooo,” Caspar starts as they walk down the hallway. He stares at Lysithea, letting the question hang in the air. After a few seconds, Lysithea takes the bait.
“What?” she snaps. “Hurry up and say it. I don’t have forever, you know.”
“About those ghosts-“
“Ghosts aren’t real!”
“I never said they were,” Caspar says. Lysithea glares.
“Shut up.”
“Hey, I just think that being honest with yourself is a trait everyone could stand to learn-“
“Shut up!”
“Okay, okay, I get the picture!” Caspar rolls his eyes. “Ugh. Sor- ry for trying to start a conversation, I guess. See, this is why I like to fight. So much easier.”
“If you think I’m willingly engaging you in a battle of the fists, you have another thing coming,” Lysithea tells him.
“Sheesh! I get it, already, no need to-“
And then Ashe screams.
Lysithea screeches, jumping back into Caspar. Caspar sucks in a sharp breath, eyes going wide. At once, they both turn around, facing back.
"Ashe?" he calls out.
No response.
"Ashe!"
"H-Hey!" Lysithea glares into the darkness. "If this is a prank, it's not funny, you know!"
Still, silence greets them.
"A-Ashe?" Lysithea stutters, heart thumping a mile a minute. "Haha, okay, I- You got me! You pranked us, so now… please…"
Caspar grits his teeth, and takes a step forward.
"Ashe," he starts, "if you're there-"
Just then, a thump cuts him off. Lysithea yelps, and latches onto Caspar's arm. Caspar winces at the tight grip,
"W-What was that?" Lysithea asks, voice trembling. Her nails dig into Caspar, who lets out a small squeak.
Another thump. Closer.
"...Ashe…?" Caspar calls out slowly.
And then the thump is right next to them. Coming from inside the wall.
This time, it's Lysithea and Caspar who scream.
“Claude!”
Claude groans, as the banging on his door only grows louder.
“Claude! Get up!”
“I’m awake!” he yells back. “Just give me a minute!”
“Hurry up!” Lysithea’s voice is shrill and scared. That, really, is what finally gives Claude the incentive to move, rolling off his bed and onto the floor. He hits the ground with a loud thump, groaning, but hey. It’s a good wake-up call, if nothing else.
He rushes through swapping his pajamas out for more appropriate clothing, though still far more casual than his usual academy outfit. When Claude swings the door open, donning a simple shirt and shorts, he finds both Lysithea and Caspar huddled in front of his dorm room.
“Okay, okay,” he tries to pacify them, noting their unusual pallor and wide, wild eyes. “What’s the matter?”
“Ashe is missing!” Caspar cries out. At that, the door beside them opens, and Sylvain’s head pops out.
“Ashe is what?” he asks, blinking blearily. “Sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you guys just woke me up with all that shouting… Anyway! What happened?”
Lysithea spills. By the end of her story, several others have come out from their rooms, also woken by all the noise. Murmurs start among the gathered students, but Claude quickly takes action, raising a pacifying hand.
“Hey, hey, everyone calm down,” he says. Once the hallway is quiet, he starts speaking again. “Alright. So if what I think is happening is actually happening here, everything should actually be fine.”
“And that means what, exactly?” Lysithea hisses, voice still trembling. “Are you trying to say that I missed something?”
“No no, I’m just looking at the bigger picture here,” Claude hurriedly corrects. “And I think, based on that, that this is just one whole big prank.”
“...By Ashe?” Caspar asks dubiously. At that, the murmurs start up again, sounding incredulous.
“Nonono let me speak,” Claude hushes them once more, sounding exasperated. “I think that it’s the Blue Lions as a whole. Am I right, or am I right, Sylvain?”
Sylvain quickly raises his hands in surrender, as all the attention turns to him.
“Hey man, don’t look at me,” he defends.
“Hmph,” Lysithea turns on him. “You know, for someone whose housemate just went missing, you seem awfully calm about it.”
“There’s no use panicking about it now,” Sylvain reasons. “We should really just go find Ashe. Take action, and all that.”
“Oh, I think I might have an idea where he ‘disappeared’ to,” Claude makes air quotes. “Buuuut, just to make sure. The reception hall sound plausible to you?”
He looks at Sylvain, who just throws his hands up in the air.
“Seriously man,” he says, “stop.”
“I mean, judging from my own experience of the vent systems in here, that seems like the farthest place he can get to at this point in time,” Claude says. “Though, who knows! Maybe Ashe is a far more experience vent trawler than me, in which case, good for him!”
“...What?” says Lysithea.
“Come on, come on, walk with me,” Claude coaxes. “Let wise old mister Claude tell you the ways of the world here.”
“Do you always sound like a patronising dick?” Caspar asks bluntly. Lysithea shoots him a glare.
“Hey, show some respect!” she hisses. “Not that you’re wrong, but shut up!”
Claude grins fondly. Lysithea promptly elbows him, and the hit connects this time.
“Well?” she snaps. “Hurry up then! We don’t have time to waste.”
“Right, right,” Claude winces, and starts making his way downstairs. “I mean, come on. Vents, amirite? Syl-“
“Dude.”
“Okay, okay, I get it!” Claude laughs. “I think it’s rather obvious, though. Items somehow appearing up in places when everyone reports seeing no one put them there? All the sounds coming from the walls? Sure is a coincidence that Garreg Mach has a pretty intricate ventilation system, with large ducts, huh? You know, Lysithea,” he looks at the girl beside him. “I really wasn’t kidding when I said there was someone in the walls, back then.”
“Huh?” Lysithea says. Then, “Oh. So that’s what you meant.”
And then she tries to kick him, but Claude nimbly jumps out of the way.
“You should have just said it, then!”
“But it was so fun seeing your reaction!”
“Jerk.”
“Also, also,” Claude starts talking again. “The bloody weapons. So technically , Seteth did confiscate them all, but I snuck a peek at some of ‘em, and let me just say, that blood looks days old. No way they’re the same weapons that got vamooshed. I think, they were replaced with replicas that had blood prepared on them. Anyone else remember Annette and Dedue walking the halls with that hugh basket of weapons? Not to mention, Felix’s little animal blood stunt at the start of this whole shebang. Connect the dots, yet?”
He looks at Sylvain.
“Seriously man, for the last time-“
“Look,” Claude says, stopping in his tracks. “I’d say I’ve put together a pretty damn cohesive argument, here. The least you can do is acknowledge it.”
He and Sylvain lock eyes, neither one of them backing down. Finally, Sylvain looks away with a sigh.
“...All I’m going to say is,” he puts a hand on his hip. “You might not want to go into that reception hall there, buddy.”
“So I am right,” Claude says, satisfied. Sylvain snorts.
“Hey, I didn’t say that,” but he doesn’t elaborate further.
With that settled, the group troops their way to the reception hall in a mildly awkward silence. Lysithea casts glances between Claude and Sylvain, torn between which one of them to direct her fury at, while Caspar just stares at Sylvain, as if he can wring out the answers via looking alone.
They push open the doors to the hall. Immediately, Claude’s gaze climbs up to the ceiling.
“...So?” Lysithea asks. “Where is he?”
Claude holds out a hand.
“Wait,” he says, straining his eyes. If he looks carefully, then… “There,” he breathes.
A hint of gray, peeking out above.
Claude approaches, walking confidently. He stops at the ground below, and turns.
“See?” he says triumphantly. “I’m a genius, I know.”
And then Lysithea’s eyes widen.
“Claude, above you!” she yells, but not soon enough. Water comes cascading down on the future leader of the Alliance, drenching him and splashing everywhere. Claude squawks inelegantly, as the impromptu waterfall crashes down on the ground.
The hall is dead silent.
Slowly, Claude looks up, dumbfounded. Up above, high and clinging to the ceiling bars, Ashe waves, holding a now empty bucket.
"Dude," says Sylvain, shaking his head with a wide, wide grin. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
The Blue Lions as a whole are then banned from the rest of the war, on the account of "going much too far". Seteth had sighed and shook his head in tired disapproval, while giving the whole spiel.
But hey. In spirit, they totally won.
- The Actual Planning
“So,” Sylvain says, after Ashe has finished his explanation. “You want to pull a fast one on Claude. Claude von Riegen. That Claude?”
“Well,” Ashe shrugs. “Technically, it could be anyone clever enough to connect the dots, but I figure Claude’s just the best fit for it. He's smart, and also nosy enough to go looking for answers."
“And you don’t think this’ll massively backfire on us, somehow?” Sylvain asks dubiously. At that, Ashe shrugs again, even more helplessly this time.
“It might,” he admits. “But if it does work…”
“It would actually be rather ingenious,” Felix says, nodding along. Ashe beams at him, and Felix flushes slightly, looking away. He coughs, clearing his throat. “Well- anyway, it’s a bold plan, I’ll give you that.”
“I am concerned about the moral implications,” Dimitri starts, but he’s quickly cut off by Annette whooping.
“Sounds great!” she cries. “We just have to make sure that everything goes according to plan, and it’ll be perfect!”
“Easier said than done,” Felix scoffs. Ingrid nods.
“The amount of if’s and maybe’s this plan holds… I acknowledge that it’d be good if we could , but the chance is miniscule, you have to admit,” she says. Ashe shrugs, a third time.
“Like I said, it’s just an idea,” he tells them.
Dimitri sighs.
“To be fair,” he admits. “It is the only idea we have at the moment. Unless…?”
No one speaks up. Dimitri puts his head in his hands.
“Okay,” he eventually says, muffled. “Okay.”
When he looks back up, all he has to say is, “...Well, I suppose I would enjoy seeing the look on Claude’s face if it happens.”
“So it’s a go?” Sylvain asks, and nods at Dimitri’s affirmation. “Alright then. Cool. Cool. So like. How are we gonna do this, again?”
“Firstly,” Mercedes starts. “Just like in the story, we’ll take some of their belongings. Oh! But then we’ll put them up on places super hard to reach, so it seems more spooky that way.”
“Spooky?” Sylvain leans over to whisper into Ingrid’s ear. Ingrid smacks him on the arm. “Hey, come on, I was being serious!”
“Shut up, Sylvain.”
“Ingriiiiiid, come onnnn.”
“So, what, we just take some of their belongings just lying around?” Annette asks uncertainly. “Won’t they notice?”
“It may seem surprising,” Dedue says. “But people have a tendency to be unobservant at the best of times. In addition, we should also, so-called ‘prank ourselves’, to throw people off the trail.”
Sylvain raises his hand.
“I volunteer my textbooks!”
“Sylvain!” Ingrid glares.
“What? Just temporarily!”
“In any case,” Ashe says, bringing them back on topic, “I know some tricks as well, so you guys don’t have to worry too much.” Sylvain’s eyebrows fly up at that.
“Woah, okay, now I’m curious,” he admits. “Always the quiet ones, huh?”
Ashe flushes.
“J-Just for this,” he defends himself.
“Oh, really now-“
“Drop it, Sylvain,” Ingrid elbows him. “Show some tact.”
“Firstly,” Sylvain protests. “I was just saying! Secondly, do you think I even know what that word means?”
“Are you trying to brag about it?”
“I mean like…”
“I must admit,” Dimitri says, to the background track of Sylvain’s shrieking as Ingrid throttles him, “I do have some moral qualms about this path of action.”
“Coming from you, that’s a laugh,” Felix snorts. “Besides, it’s not like they’re losing it forever. We're meaning for them to be found. No need to go all justice-y on us, boar.”
“I think,” Mercedes says. “So long as it’s all in good fun, the Goddess will forgive us.”
“Er, hold on, just when did the Goddess enter the conversation again?” Dimitri stammers, his eyes wide.
“Well, I just said that she’ll forgive us, so it should be fine!” Mercedes smiles benevolently.
An awkward silence descends upon the room. Sylvain and Ingrid pause in their little slapfight, self consciously moving away from each other and adjusting their own clothes. Annette inadvertently breaks the silence with a short cough.
“Sorry,” she whispers.
A beat.
“Ah, um, right,” Ashe nods quickly, as though trying to convince himself. “So after I steal the- er. Well. Um. A-after I, er, steal their belongings — and actually if any of you are willing, I can show you the basics of that as well — all of us can pitch in to use the vents to hide them. The ducts in here are rather big, so it should be relatively easy to navigate.”
“Uh,” Annette raises a hand. “So, maybe it’s just me, I don't know, I mean, is it a thing that I just never caught on to? But uh, anyway, I don't know how to...well, ‘use the vents’, as you call it.”
“Definitely not just you,” Sylvain chimes. He pauses, and then tacks on, “Or, maybe both of us are the weird ones! I’m not ruling that possibility out.”
“There’s no denying that you’re weird, Sylvain, but no, I haven't the faintest how to navigate a vent either,” Ingrid admits.
“I'll teach you,” Ashe reassures. “It's actually rather simple once you get the hang of it.”
“Pardon,” Dedue cuts in. “But I don’t think that I would be cut out for that sort of work.”
As one, everyone turns to look at Dedue.
The man returns their gaze stoically, his two meter tall body dwarfing the majority of them.
“...Okay, slight change of plans,” Ashe backpedals. “Everyone except Dedue. And,” he says, casting a glance at Sylvain, “maybe you’ll be excluded as well. We'll test it out.”
“Aaaactually,” Sylvain says with a cough, “I’d be pretty okay not testing it…”
Felix snorts.
“Backing down, Gautier?” He smirks at Sylvain.
“Shut it, Fraldarius,” Sylvain retorts. “Just ‘cause I don't want to go traipsing around in some cramped, dirty spaces-“
“It’s really not that bad,” says Ashe. Sylvain shoots him a flat stare.
“No offence, dude,” he says, wrinkling his nose, “but it’s the vents.”
“Well, you just said that you’ve never been in there before, so how would you know?” Ashe points out logically. Sylvain pauses.
“Uh,” he says. “I know because…shut up?”
“I can and will beat you up,” Ingrid reminds him. Sylvain sighs.
“Don’t I know it,” he laments. And then, belatedly, “Sorry Ashe. Jokes. You know.”
“Unfortunately,” says Ashe, “I do know you, Sylvain.”
“Right, so,” Dimitri claps his hands, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. “After that, we need to put the bloody weapons into play, right? I know most of our families’ have spare weapons lying around, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to acquire that. What we really need however is the blood.”
“I’ve heard that Seteth actually keeps a few bags of animal blood on hand,” Ingrid pipes up. Everyone turns and stares at her.
“But...why?” Annette pops the question on everyone’s mind. Ingrid just shrugs.
“I don’t know, it’s just something I heard.”
“Er, right,” Dimitri coughs. “So then, I can get the weapons, and Ingrid, you can convince Seteth to hand over any spare blood. He likes you, after all.”
“What, no!” Ingrid protests. “If I have to do that, then you must come with me, Your Highness! He can’t kill you, you’re too important!”
Felix and Sylvain snort. Dimitri winces.
“But I-“ he flounders, looking around the room for assistance. Not even Dedue spares him any mercy, however. “Oh, fine,” he sighs.
“If I may,” Dedue jumps into the conversation. “We are trying to get Claude’s attention, correct? Perhaps it would be convenient if we could get his attention, by doing something outlandish in public…”
“...Like carrying weapons around!” Annette finishes excitedly. “Ooh, good idea, Dedue!”
Sylvain looks between the two.
“Okay,” he says dubiously. “Did you guys meld minds while we weren’t watching? Because that does not seem like the logical conclusion to that sentence.”
“You’re not a logical conclusion,” Annette shoots back.
“Wow. I don’t even understand what that means, but I’m offended.”
“Ashe,” Mercedes speaks, bringing the room back under control. “So, you will be the one surprising Claude, correct? In that case, perhaps we should make a ‘fake Ashe’ so that he lets down his guard.”
“Er, if you want to!” Ashe says. “I mean, it would most likely help, though it seems a bit excessive…”
“Great!” Mercedes beams. “I’ll start work on it right away!”
“I’ll help!” Sylvain’s hand shoots up as he enthusiastically volunteers himself.
“Oh, that’s so sweet of you!”
Felix mimes gagging, as Ingrid drags a hand down her face with a groan.
“Sylvain…” she mutters.
Dimitri clears his throat.
“The final plan will be as follows, then,” he announces. “Ingrid, you and I will approach Seteth. Annette, Dedue, you two carry the weapons, and bring it back to my dorms. There, we can coat them in blood and then hide them until the time comes. Mercedes, Sylvain, you do...the things. Ashe, for now, map out the vents. Felix, you accompany him, and keep an eye out.”
“All clear?” he finishes, glancing around. He’s met by a sea of affirmatives.
Dimitri nods.
“Right then!” he says, then stretches a hand out. Following quickly after, everyone else starts stacking their hands as well, placing them on top of one another. Predictably, Felix is the last to join, but after a glare from Ingrid and a well-placed elbow from Sylvain, he sighs, and reaches out.
“Okay, then,” Dimitri nods. “Let’s do this!”
With that, they bring their arms up in a cheer — some members more enthusiastic than others. (Felix.)
“Blue Lions!”