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Ingrid’s journey to the Empire wasn’t to begin for another three days. There was no reason to leave any earlier. But, as she read what felt like the hundredth letter from Lord and Lady so-and-so detailing their displeasure with the changes in Galatea territory, Ingrid couldn’t come up with a reason to stay three more days either.
With a sigh, Ingrid initialed the top of the letter to mark she had read it— though she couldn’t have recalled a word it said— and set the letter aside. That was enough for the day. She stood, gathered her things, and left her study.
This trip to Enbarr couldn’t come soon enough. Ingrid missed the rest of the Strike Force. She missed the food, the lively city, the warmth the southern winds always seemed to carry— and, most of all, she missed Hubert. Ingrid sighed again as she turned down the hallways towards her rooms. Life in Galatea would be a lot more tolerable with Hubert by her side. Even just knowing her fiancé was waiting in her rooms after a long day would be enough to keep Ingrid happy.
But Ingrid had to stay in Galatea. There was important work to be done. Proud as she was to have a hand in this work, Ingrid felt like all the real decisions were being made in Enbarr. Emperor Edelgard and the Strike Force had to contend with fledgling Almyran trade routes, turning Garreg Mach Monastery into a school for commoners, sending resources to the newly-reinstated Duscur, investigating the remains of Shambhala— and so many other things that would change Fódlan irreversibly.
In the meantime, Ingrid got reports on soil quality and letters calling her a traitor to the crown.
Ingrid stopped at her bedroom door. She knew there was a mess waiting inside. Every time she felt the urge to jump on her pegasus and take off for Enbarr early, she would scratch the itch by packing for the trip. Her closet and drawers were in complete disarray, her bags open and spilled supplies across the floor, and whetstones and small piles of rations dotted her bed. None of which Ingrid felt like cleaning up just now.
Nevertheless, Ingrid pushed the door open.
...to find a man standing in her bedroom.
It took a second for Ingrid to recognize the man as Hubert. And in that second, she slammed her door shut and pointed a knife at him, scanning the room for other intruders.
Hubert looked just as surprised as Ingrid— a bit unfair considering he was the one popping up unexpectedly in her room. Ingrid lowered the knife, utterly bewildered. “H-Hubert?”
The surprise morphed into a satisfied smile. “It’s working,” Hubert said, looking to his right. Ingrid looked too. There was no one else in the room, yet Hubert continued. “Have you noted down— not in there , the emerald book!”
“Well there’s no need to be mean about it!” Annette’s voice made Ingrid jump and she did a full turn, sure that Annette was standing just beside her. Again there was no one. “Can she hear you?” Annette asked.
Hubert looked back at Ingrid. “Can you hear me?” He asked, a hopeful note at the end of his question.
“Y-Yes,” Ingrid moved closer. “I can hear you both . What’s going on? Where is Annette?”
“She is here. But if you cannot see her…” Hubert once again turned to his right. “Take note of the viewing range the spell has. We may have underestimated.”
“ You underestimated,” Annette teased from wherever she was. Hubert rolled his eyes and Ingrid couldn’t hold in a laugh. This was exactly the kind of thing she missed living so far north. The friendship between Hubert and Annette baffled and amused the Strike force by turns. Being close with them both, Ingrid had never found herself shocked by how well they got along.
Now that she was closer, Ingrid could tell Hubert wasn’t standing in her room. He was against the wall. Or, rather— he was in the wall. It was as if Hubert had become a painting, a life-sized painting set between Ingrid’s bay window and her childhood riding competition metals. In all honesty, if Ingrid were to commission a painting of Hubert, he might look something like he did now— black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, top button undone, hands bare, dark hair still obscuring one eye.
“What is going on?” Ingrid repeated.
“Annette and I are crafting a new spell with information we gathered from Shambhala,” Hubert explained. “The goal is instant two-way communication that even those without magic can use.”
“Still working on that last part!” Annette called.
“But we are making progress,” Hubert added. “This evening’s test was to get an idea of the spell’s limitations. We have been able to use it between rooms here in the palace but had yet to try it on a different territory.”
“It looks to be working fine,” Ingrid said with no small amount of awe. Combining Hubert’s resources and magical prowess with Annette’s knowledge and enthusiasm had always produced fantastic results. Ingrid didn’t know why she was surprised anymore. “But— why test it on my wall?”
The prideful tilt to Hubert’s mouth disappeared. “I— That is, we decided that, as Faerghus is the largest of the Empire’s annexed lands, it was important to determine if the spell could reach—”
Annette appeared on Hubert’s right. “He misses you,” she said with a gleeful smile. “He said that six months was entirely too long to not see you and if this spell worked for even a second—”
“ Annette .”
“— then it would be well worth it. And I miss you too!” Annette’s smile softened. “I have a new sweet bun recipe I want you to try as soon as you get here. No one in the palace appreciates Faerghus sweet buns like you do. Empire ones just aren’t sweet enough!”
“I miss you too, Annette,” Ingrid said with a giggle. Tea and sweet buns with Annette sounded like the perfect post-travel snack.
Hubert was glaring down at Annette but Ingrid could see a faint blush spreading. She’d had a whole war to get accustomed to spotting that particular shade of pink. Ingrid raised a hand and placed it on Hubert’s shoulder. Unyielding wall met her hand, sending a pang of longing straight to Ingrid’s chest.
As if sensing her distress, Hubert turned his eyes to Ingrid, glare falling away. “I miss you too,” Ingrid said quietly. Pressure mounted behind her eyes and she tried to will it away.
With a gentle smile, Hubert raised a hand to hers, pressing their palms together— though of course Ingrid couldn’t feel it. She couldn’t feel his touch or his warmth and yet, just seeing Hubert was enough to light a fire in Ingrid that she hadn’t experienced in months.
“Ah— Hubert!”
Ingrid jumped back in time to see Annette leap to the side, only half of her visible on the wall now. Both she and Hubert were staring down at something on the floor. “That rune’s going out!” Annette crouched to look closer.
Hubert knelt beside her. “Why this one? Most of the magic is coming from—”
“Yeah, but if this one’s going out, then that means—”
“It’s exacerbated by the distance. What if we used—”
“Oh! That would keep it stable!” Annette scrambled out of view with a cry of, “Where’s my quill?!”
The image flickered like a candle’s flame. Ingrid put her hand back on the wall as if she could pin Hubert down, stop him fading. “Hubert? Can you still hear me?”
Hubert looked up when she spoke, lips moving urgently, but Ingrid couldn’t hear a word. Panic began to fill her. The spell couldn’t be over so quickly, she had only just gotten over her shock! They should be allowed a few minutes of conversation at least. Letters only provided so much comfort— Ingrid wanted to hear Hubert’s voice again.
“I can’t hear you!” Ingrid called, as if her volume was the issue.
Hubert placed his hand back over hers but had turned to the right, likely barking directions at Annette again. Ingrid hit the wall with her palm. “ Hubert !” The image only flickered again. Hubert looked down at the runes, then back up at Ingrid. Anguish flashed across his face and he stepped closer, nose almost to the wall now. He mouthed something.
Ingrid felt a tear slide down her face. But she managed a smile when she said, “I love you too.”
Then Hubert was gone.
And Ingrid was left standing before a blank wall.
She sniffed, wiped her face with her sleeve, and turned to survey her room. It didn’t feel like an insurmountable mess any longer. It felt like a project unfinished.
Within the hour, Ingrid had packed up her remaining bags and hauled them to the stables, snapping orders left and right. Servants and stablehands scrambled to prepare her pegasus, several asking if she wanted them to fetch her father or siblings before she left.
“No,” she told them all. “Just tell my elder brother the territory is in his hands for now. I shall be gone for some time.”
Chill Faerghus air filled Ingrid’s lungs as she took off into the clear night sky. As she skirted treetops and tasted freedom again, Ingrid resolved that, next time Hubert cast that spell, Ingrid would be on his side of the wall.