Chapter Text
Dimitri had come to the monastery for revenge and nothing else.
Some part of him fought back. It dared to enjoy student life on his behalf. Dimitri did not crush it and send it to a far corner of his brain, like he wanted. Instead, he utilized it—turning a vulnerability into a strength, like a good king would. That enjoyment became his outward face. It ate meals and frequented the training grounds. It made acquaintance with Annette and Mercedes, fooled Ingrid and Sylvain, and welcomed Ashe with open arms.
Others saw right through it. Felix scowled at the sight of him. Dedue simply carried on.
Edelgard was there, too. The two of them came to an unspoken understanding, an unmeasured distance between them that could not be crossed. If she pretended not to recognize him, fine. He could barely recognize himself.
Dimitri hated every second, but his fate was not for him to decide.
The mercenary who had saved his life was appointed professor of his class. Something stirred in Dimitri. He hadn’t expected to learn much in the first place, but still found it rather concerning that their professor had essentially been plucked off the streets. No matter. At least the mock battle proved that Professor Byleth knew how to fight. She could teach him that, if nothing else.
Academics were another problem. On the first day of class, she awkwardly stood in front of the room until Dimitri had to put on his face and guide her though the structure of their lectures.
It was a rough start, but it had started. His vengeance would follow soon enough.
***
As part of the curriculum, every student at the Officer’s Academy was required to perform a certain number of weekly service hours. The start of every semester saw students bouncing from place to place, searching for a regular chore they could enjoy for the rest of the year, and so the first few weeks of any school year was typically marked with a mild chaos. This held particularly true for the stables. As a fact, the stable area was larger than the cathedral itself. Many new students seemed instantly drawn, and would spend afternoons gushing over the horses, or simply getting in the way, much to the irritation of the workers. Keeping the horses for the entire order of the Knights of Seiros was arguably harder than actually becoming a knight. There was no space for the uncommitted. The regular staff had to be firm with their rejection.
Many of the students were young nobles who had yet to realize that the staff were not their servants. Too often, a bright-eyed teenager would wander into the stables and demand work with the horses. Once handed a shovel and bucket, they would stammer and slink away while complaining of their noble sensibilities.
Maintaining the stables was truly a graceless job. It was dirtier than gardening and more strenuous than cooking. By the end of the Harpstring Moon, only the most serious prospects remained—usually a mix of nobles who had practiced equestrian as children, as well as commoners who didn’t mind dirtying their hands in exchange for learning horsemanship.
This year, a downcast girl who fit neither category had stuck around.
She was apparently a noble, but didn’t carry herself like one. When pulled into conversation, she would mumble one-word responses and quickly excuse herself. When asked to tighten a harness, she hesitated and fumbled with the straps for a minute before the exasperated requester did it himself.
A passing stable hand took more than a second to recognize her voice. He rounded the corner, surprising her.
“Who are you talking to?”
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “It was just...Dorte. I talk to him sometimes, when I’m...um...feeding him.”
“Ah. Alright, then.”
There was silence.
“I’ll, uh, see you around," he said, and walked away, not even attempting to hide his bewilderment.
She was glad to see him go. The less time anyone spent around her, the better. It didn’t matter what they thought of her, so long as it caused them to keep their distance. All she wanted to do was live without being a bother to anyone.
Dorte wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but at least he didn’t pry. And since her Crest didn’t seem to affect animals, she wouldn’t feel guilty about spending so much time around him.
It took a couple of months, but Marianne had made her first friend at Garreg Mach.
***
Dimitri had been hoping for an uneventful school year, but it turned out that that the Officer’s Academy was incapable of such a thing. The school taught the scions of Fódlan’s second estate, who had brought their baggage with them. A surprising amount of the continent’s intimate politics was dictated from the desks of teenagers. It was relatively common for classes to go out and involve themselves in the military affairs of their students’ home territories.
Dimitri had known that the Church of Seiros held great influence among Fódlan’s nobles, but didn’t realize the extent of their methods until he witnessed Ashe pointing an arrow at his adoptive father. The church had a tendency to make conflict personal, ostensibly to discourage it altogether. Really, it served as a warning: clean up your messes, or we’ll clean them up for you using your sons and daughters. Since that incident, the Blue Lions had been ordered to subdue a pack of bandits led by Sylvain’s brother. As an added touch, Annette’s father had been tapped to assist them. It was far too contrived to be a coincidence.
Lady Rhea ordered executions with the same poise she used to lead sermons. Students would graduate with the knowledge that they would always be under her watchful eye. It was a subtle and persuasive way of gripping the whole continent, to control the nobility without lifting a finger, and perhaps as a result of this, the church had no shortage of enemies. The students were asked to supplement the knights during the crises that the monastery seemed to attract on a regular basis. Besides the usual monsters and bandits roving the area, a brazen infiltration by the Western Church had occurred last month, ending when Professor Byleth recovered a long-lost Heroes’ Relic. Professor Hanneman had let slip to his class that her bloodline was supposed to be some kind of genealogical impossibility, and soon rumors were swirling abound. Dimitri could still barely bring himself to care.
There was definitely more to his teacher than met the eye, but what did it matter if she had an unknown Crest? If anything, the added attention was just making it harder to accomplish his own goals. Between classes, missions and training sessions, he barely had time for his own research. Even his free days were interrupted by events that required his attention as house leader. On one such day in the Verdant Rain Moon, he was intending to go to the library after lunch when Ingrid had asked him to attend a strategy meeting for the first House vs. House tournament of the school year.
That was how Dimitri found himself one of three nominated to represent the Blue Lions. So much as he liked to be prepared, holding a strategy meeting for a mere practice tournament seemed a little excessive, but Ingrid had insisted. At least he was being attentive, unlike a certain friend of theirs.
“Let’s go over this one more time,” Ingrid said. “What should you do if you’re matched against Ferdinand?”
“Hit him with a lance,” said Sylvain.
Ingrid’s hands balled into fists.
“What? It’s one-on-one lance fighting. How much strategy could possibly go into it?”
“It’s the principle of the thing!” Ingrid said sternly. “It doesn’t matter if this is practice, you still need to think one step ahead of your opponent. If you don’t strategize, you’re going to lose!”
“We’re going to lose,” Sylvain corrected her. Ingrid’s hands balled into fists again.
“Perhaps this strategy meeting has served its purpose,” Dimitri cut in. “We should go down to the training grounds now and warm up. Does that agree with both of you?
“Of course, Your Highness,” said Ingrid immediately.
“Yeah, yeah. Some practice would be more useful than sitting around in a class and talking about it,” said Sylvain.
Dimitri nodded. Ever since they had learned of their inevitable confrontation with his brother, Sylvain had been deflecting nonstop. It reminded Dimitri of his own frustration. Their missions carried stakes of life and death. There was vengeance to be pursued, and yet here he was, playing at some inconsequential training tournament. Dimitri didn’t want to criticize Sylvain for his attitude when he surely felt the same way. But at the same time, he wouldn’t have wanted to insult Ingrid by calling the meeting a waste of time, because nearly everything at this school was a waste of time anyway.
As predicted, the Blue Lions dominated the lance competition. Dimitri easily won match after match, and Ingrid narrowly missed out on qualifying for the finals, but she still put up a positive record. The two of them retreated to the sidelines to recuperate and watch the semifinal rounds. The outer edges of the training grounds were packed with students sitting or standing in groups. The tournament had drawn quite a large crowd of spectators, and many students who weren’t even practicing with lances had shown up regardless to cheer for their friends.
In the center of the courtyard, Sylvain and Leonie slowly circled each other, neither one willing to drop their guard. Leonie was glaring at him, as she did all her opponents, except none but Sylvain had responded by grinning so obnoxiously. Leonie suddenly flicked her lance to the right and Sylvain, anticipating an attack, turned to block the hit. It was a fake out, and Leonie jabbed her lance at his abdomen. Sylvain spun away from the blow, but she still caught him on the side of his stomach, staggering him and knocking the grin off his face. Her follow-up high slash was barely blocked in time.
“Hey, fellow house leader,” someone said. “I don’t suppose you’re up next, are you?”
“Hello, Claude,” said Dimitri. “This is the second semifinal match, so, yes, I will be fighting next. I say, I must commend the Golden Deer. You had an extremely strong showing today.”
Claude smiled and shrugged with exaggerated modesty. “You flatter us, your princeliness,” he said with a wink. “At least we beat the Black Eagles. You know, I’m surprised you didn’t hold back against Edelgard, considering...”
“Considering...?”
“Well, you know...”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Claude,” Dimitri said.
Talking with Claude always felt like a trap. Claude could seemingly spin a conversation any way he wanted, and in a way that sounded natural until the other person realized they had unwittingly revealed something crucial. On the same day they had met, Dimitri ended up recounting his childhood before he realized that the grinning boy was mentally taking notes. Thankfully, he hadn’t mentioned his relationship with Edelgard, but Claude could definitely sense there was something between them.
Dimitri bit his tongue. Even friendly banter before a friendly competition was simply a cheap tactic meant to rile him up, and so he wouldn’t take the bait. Claude smiled again, too wide this time. “Well, whatever. I just dropped by to let you know Leonie can be a real sore loser. Maybe you should just give her the win.” Another wink.
“Of course, I’m sure she would extend the same courtesy to me,” Dimitri said smoothly.
Claude laughed at his retort, before turning his eyes back to the fight. Sylvain was curled up on the ground while Leonie slashed at him repeatedly.
“Geez, I think he’s dead,” said Claude. Ingrid laughed, then looked guilty for a moment. “Anyway, good luck out there, Dimitri. I mean it.” With that, Claude sauntered off to join the rest of the Golden Deer, who were cheering and whooping as the judge declared Leonie’s victory. A small, inexplicable twinge of jealousy struck Dimitri. The Blue Lions weren’t much for loud cheering and hollering. He couldn’t imagine Dedue screaming above a crowd to support him.
Sylvain slowly padded over to them and leaned a hand against a pillar, panting. Ingrid handed him a cup of water, from which he drank gratefully, before she asked him, “What did you notice about her aggression?”
Sylvain seemed not to have heard her.
“Sylvain?”
“I think she just woke something in me.”
Ingrid rolled her eyes. “You’re completely useless. Your Highness, you saw what I’m talking about, right?”
Dimitri nodded. No further coaching was needed. He grabbed his weapon and walked out onto the field. The end of Leonie’s lance traced a pattern through the air as she hopped from foot to foot, still clearly pumped from her victory. Her forehead and neck shone with sweat.
“Are you up next?” she asked him breathlessly.
“Yes, it would appear that way. Do you require a short break before we begin?”
“No!” she practically yelled. “Come on, let’s go!”
The judge looked to him for confirmation, so Dimitri unsheathed his lance. Leonie touched her fist against his, and the two squared off. Just like with Sylvain, she watched him like a hawk, waiting to strike at the first weak point she could find. Dimitri made his face calm. He had actually practiced his facial expressions prior. They were handier than one might expect.
Leonie was too skilled an opponent to risk opening himself up, so he simply kept his lance up in a defensive stance and waited. She tried throwing out feints, but Dimitri didn’t flinch. After about a minute, Leonie must have realized that he didn’t intend to move. Something about her glare changed. Dimitri readied himself as she gritted her teeth, before she quickly tightened her grip and lunged at him.
He could barely keep up with her fierce flurry of jabs and sweeps. Their lances had blunt wooden spearheads to prevent injury, but Leonie repeatedly aimed for his face, determined to overcome her weapon’s harmlessness, and Dimitri narrowly ducked a thrust that might have put out a tooth had it connected. Expecting another high blow, he kept his lance up to protect himself, only for Leonie to smack at his shin. He sucked air through his teeth, still waiting for an opening. When Leonie went for his face again, throwing out an impatient overextension, he was ready. He lashed upwards with his own lance, knocking her weapon skyward. She managed to hold on to it with her inside hand, but her left side was completely exposed, and Dimitri followed up with a powerful slash to her ribs, causing her to swear in pain. Another slash sent her sprawling backwards to the ground, clutching her bruised side. A look of utter shock adorned her face.
The roar of the audience came alive again in Dimitri’s ears. Leonie scrambled to her feet, indignant, but the judge had already stepped in between them to end the match.
“What kind of person would just stand there and defend?” Leonie shot at him. She was panting, and spoke between labored breaths. “The point of the tournament is to show off your skills. You can’t just stand there and not attack! If we had run the timer, you would have lost! By decision!”
“Agreed. Fortunately for me, you gave me an opening,” Dimitri said.
Leonie sighed, then grabbed his hand and shook it rudely, if such a thing was possible. “And you’ve been practicing since you were a kid, right? So it’s hardly fair to begin with.”
“Regardless, you are extremely talented. If needed, I would be happy to train together,” Dimitri offered.
Leonie seemed cross. “Pass. You know, lances aren’t even meant for infantry. If we were on horses, I definitely would have won.”
“Is that so? Perhaps I should take up riding, in that case.”
Leonie huffed and stormed off just before Ingrid and Sylvain ran up to him. They put their arms around his shoulders and rallied, with Ingrid grinning from ear to ear, and Sylvain blowing kisses to the cheering crowd. Dimitri glanced over to where the rest of the Blue Lions were spectating. Everyone, even Felix, was standing and applauding, not going wild as the Golden Deer would have, but still showing their support. Dedue actually looked happy for once. That was a prize enough in itself. Dimitri smiled. Around them, the crowd began to filter through the doors back to the monastery.
“Hey, what happened to Little Miss Runner-up?” Sylvain said into his ear. “I wanted to ask her to dinner. You know, get some...pointers.”
“She went back to her housemates. Actually, I’m afraid I may have offended her in some way.”
Ingrid turned her head. “Why, what did you say?”
Dimitri disentangled himself from their collective hug. “I’m not sure. I merely complimented her skill.”
Sylvain groaned. “When a girl is mad, you don’t compliment her. Trust me on this one.”
“I was just agreeing with what she said! Well, I suppose I also offered to train with her.”
Now Ingrid was the one who groaned. “Your Highness, you’re so...
“Patronizing,” said Sylvain.
“...Well-meaning,” Ingrid finished.
Sylvain shook his head. “Well, if she’s gone, I guess I gotta ask you to dinner instead. Come on, Your Highness, we can make it a date. I’ll teach you how to lie to women.”
“I’m afraid I cannot partake in something so unsavory. And besides, there is still something I must do before I eat.”
Sylvain look disappointed. “Suit yourself. Hey, Ingrid, you wanna go get dinner?”
“Of course, Sylvain,” she said sarcastically. “I’m so honored to be your third choice of dining companion. By all means, lead the way.”
“Hey, it’s not like that!” he protested.
As the two descended into bickering, Dimitri slipped away and blended into the crowd. Dedue, and the rest of the Blue Lions, would doubtlessly want to congratulate him, but he had no time for such matters. With only a few hours of light left in the day, he fell away from the crowd and headed for the second floor.
***
The library was one of the few places where Dimitri could let down his face and be himself. The endless bookshelves seemed to muffle his noise and his presence, for which he was grateful. He often took time during evenings to continue his endless search for answers. The tournament had not tired him out any more than his usual training, so he was fine dropping by for a few quick hours of research.
After only a couple of months, he had already examined every book regarding Duscur and her people. Unfortunately, all of it turned out to be prejudiced or incorrect garbage. All accounts conformed to the official story, which he already knew was a lie. Still, the library was possibly the most exhaustive resource in all of Fódlan. If answers existed, they would be here. They must be.
It shamed him to think that Ashe’s suffering had given him inspiration. If Lord Lonato’s records had been studied by an outsider, perhaps they could have recognized the signs—troop movements, policy changes, forced conscription, increased quotas, anything within official documents that pointed to the inevitable. Perhaps the rebellion could have been prevented. But while it was too late to help Ashe, he could still use the idea to try to decipher his own mystery. The library held comprehensive legal documents from all over the continent. There was a number of Imperial nobles who Dimitri wanted to investigate, and he was perusing a hefty book of tax records when Professor Byleth wandered in and spotted him sitting at a desk. Dimitri shut the book on reflex.
“I heard the Blue Lions won the lance tournament. Congratulations,” she said dryly. Most everything she said was either blunt or dry.
“Oh, thank you, professor. What brings you to the library?”
“You do. Your friends told me you haven’t eaten yet.”
Dimitri sighed. “True,” he admitted, “although...I don’t suppose by ‘friends,’ you mean Dedue?”
Byleth’s expression revealed nothing. “You’re fortunate to have people like him, Dimitri. I don’t want to have to drag you to eat. I’m sure he doesn’t either.”
Dimitri shoved the heavy tome back into its spot on the shelf, then turned to walk with his professor. The library was nearly empty, but he still waited until they were in the hallway outside before he spoke up. “Of course, I am at fault. I apologize. I did not mean to worry you, or Dedue, as I intended to eat dinner after finishing up here.”
“Do you know what time it is now?”
“Well...” Dimitri trailed off. Whoever designed the library had neglected to include windows. The two descended a flight of stairs to the open-air terrace adjoining the Officer’s Academy, and Dimitri was surprised by the darkness of night. It was far later than he had thought. The students’ designated dinnertime was long over by now.
“I hoped to retrieve you before midnight.” Byleth said, with the barest hint of snark in her voice. “Remember, we have class in the morning.”
“Ah. Thank you, professor. I apologize for causing you such trouble.”
“Enough apologizing,” said Byleth. “This is your day, Dimitri. I’m surprised you didn’t go out and celebrate with your friends after you won.”
Dimitri hesitated. “To be honest,” he said, “I’m not much for extravagant celebrations. It simply seems like a waste of resources, especially in a school setting...and, in this context, I’m wary of appearing boastful.”
“What context?” asked Byleth. Dimitri had to remind himself that she genuinely did not know.
“I have been training with the finest tutors since I was a child, whereas many of my opponents today were mere beginners. For me to effortlessly win a school-level lance tournament, and then parade my victory in front of others, I feel would be a matter of poor sportsmanship.”
Byleth’s expression still didn’t change. “I see,” she said, “but allow me to correct one thing, Dimitri. It was far from effortless. It may seem that way to others, and even yourself, but I’ve seen the amount of training you do. You have a right to feel proud of your hard work.”
“Ah. Thank you,” Dimitri said, unsure if she was complimenting him or not.
The pair had reached the mess hall, still illuminated by candlelight at this hour. The hall was completely devoid of people save for a blue-haired girl standing by a pillar. Her head swiveled to Byleth and Dimitri ahead of the sound of their footsteps. She looked rather lost.
“Good evening, Marianne,” called Byleth. The girl opened her mouth, startled. Her mournful eyes trembled as if she had been caught doing something wrong. Dimitri vaguely recognized her as being of the Golden Deer house, but didn’t recall seeing her at the tournament that day. Up until this point, he hadn’t even known her name.
“Did you miss dinner as well?” Byleth asked her.
“Um....” Marianne began nervously, “I’m not sure how to...get food. I thought the kitchens would be open...”
“They are,” Byleth stated plainly. “There’s just no one at the front of house. You have to ring the bell.” She stepped up to the counter and picked up a plain brass bell Dimitri hadn’t noticed. A single ring and a cook poked her head out from the back room.
“Hello, professor. Working late again?”
“Something like that. Can we get three plates, please? Leftovers are fine.” She turned to explain to the two students, “The kitchens are open all day and all night, and they’ll never turn away a mouth to feed. Of course, students are typically in bed at this hour, so the night shift is mostly meant for guards, as well as overworked professors.”
That was her brand of humor. Initially, Dimitri had believed Professor Byleth to be emotionless and uncaring, but she was far from that—quite the opposite, actually. Her emotions were present, just concealed. Like him, she simply had trouble with facial expressions—they might have been the one thing she was truly terrible at. Her inexperience in the early days had gone, and, at this point in the school year, she was already more respected than Professor Hanneman or Professor Manuela. Even students from other houses turned to her for guidance.
How she had made acquaintance with a recluse like Marianne, Dimitri couldn’t imagine, but at the same time he was wholly unsurprised.
The cook came back with three plates of lukewarm vegetables and broiled meat, in small portions. Byleth handed a plate to Dimitri, then to Marianne, and Dimitri could have been imagining it, but when Marianne accepted her plate she mumbled an apology to Byleth under her breath. The three of them pulled up chairs at the end of one of the grand dining tables with Byleth sitting across from Marianne and Dimitri.
“How are you, Marianne?” asked Byleth.
“I’m doing well.”
“How are things in the stables?”
“They’re...doing well.”
Her voice was quiet, as if she was afraid of being overheard in the empty room. Byleth looked at Dimitri pointedly.
“Marianne, is it?” he jumped in. “I don’t believe we’ve been acquainted. I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, leader of the Blue Lion house.”
“Pleased to meet you. My name is Marianne von Edmund,” she said, not meeting his eyes. Her response sounded like it had been rehearsed at some point.
“How have you been settling in at the Officer’s Academy?” Dimitri asked.
“I’m keeping up with all my classes. Oh, um, and I volunteer in the stables.”
“Ah, the volunteering,” Dimitri remarked. “As a house leader, I am exempted from volunteer work, so it’s interesting to hear everyone talk about their experiences. What do the stable hands do, on, say, a regular shift?”
Marianne stared into her plate of stale food. “I’m sorry, but...I don’t know. I don’t actually know how to manage any of the equipment. All I do is help with minor things, like feeding.”
“Really? Well, I wouldn’t consider that minor at all,” said Dimitri. “Providing food is an honorable and dignified occupation.” He forced a laugh. “Why, consider how the professor just dragged us to dinner!”
Any other dining companion would have smiled at the line, out of acknowledgement or politeness. Marianne seemed unconcerned with either.
“And besides, Marianne,” Byleth added, filling the silence, “no one expects a first-year student to do such complicated work. The hours you put in are already more than enough.”
Marianne looked up a little bit. “Really?” she asked, unsure.
“Yes. Professor Hanneman mentioned it to me at some point, that you’re actually leading your class in volunteering,” Byleth said casually.
Marianne’s perpetual frown eased into an almost-smile. She tucked some hair behind an ear before glancing around bashfully, and when her eyes caught Dimitri’s for a fraction of a second he realized he had been staring. He immediately snapped his gaze back to Byleth, out of shame or something else he didn’t know.
“Professor, who leads our class?” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“It’s not a competition,” Byleth reminded him. “But...Mercedes.”
“Ah,” said Dimitri, self-conscious. The answer should have been obvious, had he given it more than a half-second of thought.
Byleth leaned back, rested one of her elbows on the table, and lectured, “As house leader, you should probably be concerned with which student has the least service hours. That would be Felix, by the way. Regardless, I’m proud of all of you...and especially you, Marianne.”
“What? Why me?” Marianne said, surprised. It was like she had expected them to forget she was there after not talking for thirty seconds.
“Many students have trouble adjusting to school life,” Byleth explained. “Of course, it’s an unfamiliar place, full of unfamiliar people, and on top of studying...it can take a while before you find a place to belong. Whenever I see you in the cathedral or stables, Marianne, it’s like you already belong there.”
“Oh...” Marianne trailed off. It dawned on Dimitri that she didn’t know how to react to praise.
Byleth smiled. “No one can adjust perfectly. Believe me, it’s my first year too, so I know this well. Working with horses in the stables...it’s something you can do for the rest of the year, or even the rest of your life. Many students would be envious of your direction.”
“I’m sorry,” Marianne said automatically.
“What for?” said Byleth.
“For...” Marianne shook her head. “I wouldn’t want anyone to be envious of me. And I don’t have direction. Please, don’t use me as a positive example.”
“Don’t downplay your abilities. The professor wouldn’t say that if it wasn’t true,” insisted Dimitri. He meant it as a reassurance, but Marianne only looked more fraught.
“I’m not so sure...” Marianne’s voice trailed off again. She poked at the remains of her dinner and let the subject die on her tongue.
Over the course of their meal, Dimitri had noticed that Marianne seemed physically incapable of talking and eating at the same time. As a result, almost half of her food had been left uneaten while Dimitri and the professor had already finished their plates. Despite this, Marianne stood up from the table and bowed her head to each of them. “Thank you, Professor. Thank you, Dimitri. I really must be going now.”
“Of course. Take care, now,” said Dimitri.
“Yes. Good night, Marianne,” said Byleth.
Marianne deposited her plate on the kitchen counter and quickly strode away into the night. Dimitri and Byleth remained at the table, sitting in silence until Byleth slowly gathered their empty plates and utensils. She glanced at Dimitri as she did.
“I like her,” she said.
“Yes,” Dimitri agreed.
“She has adjusted well, that is the truth,” Byleth continued. It didn’t sound like she expected a response.
Dimitri pushed his chair in and walked with Byleth to the kitchen counter. His professor stacked Marianne’s plate on top of the other two, then rang the bell once, summoning someone to bus their dirty dishes. The cook took their tableware with Marianne’s plate still sitting on top, the vegetables swimming in cold, oily liquid. They were the leftovers of leftovers.
“Professor, one last thing,” said Dimitri. “I was considering going into riding...”