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Bullshit.
The girl introduced to the Black Eagles class is not the girl who went missing a year ago. Even laid up in bed recovering from his injuries, he knew the moment he smelled her. That is, the moment he didn't smell what he should have if it were the real Monica von Ochs.
But even if he hadn't been stuck in bed for nearly a month, what could he do about it? Only one person at the monastery who's fully human can detect people's Crests, but would Catherine even know any different? Would she have spent enough time around the real Monica to be able to tell? And what if she said something to Rhea?
She's not as panicky as Seteth, but if she knew I was using a Nabatean ability like this she wouldn't be too happy.
He's forced to sit out the Battle of the Eagle and Lion with Manuela, but he cheers for his classmates. Monica sits next to him, loudly cheering for "Edel", and he actually cringes. Especially when she smiles sweetly at him, asking if he's become good friends with "Edel."
That's not her nickname. And with her this close, it's not just the lack of the familiar scent that bothers him. It's a prickly feeling in his blood, his suspicions of who was in the Monica costume confirmed. After the battle he watches her run to Edelgard, only stopped from glomming onto her by Hubert's death glare and Prof holding up a hand.
Randahl can't say he knew the real Monica that well, but he can't imagine she was this annoying.
"That's not her."
It's hours after the victory feast. Everyone's gone to bed and Randahl is about to go down to the Abyss to check up on the Ashen Wolves when Edelgard stops him. There's a look of pain in her eyes, even as they narrow with anger. Randahl, remembering how she comforted him after a nightmare that led to him falling down the stairs and bruising his ass, quietly leads her to the kitchens and makes them some tea.
"You sensed it, too?" he asks once they're sitting down. Edelgard nods.
"The real Monica never called me Edel, for one thing," she says. "But it's more than that. I could sense it almost immediately...her smile, it feels unnatural. Monica was always cheerful, but never to the point where it makes Annette from the Blue Lions look lethargic and depressed by comparison. And..."
She falls silent, staring into her teacup, and shivers.
"And?"
"It's not even her. It's a monster wearing her skin." The last word comes out choked, but amazingly she doesn't break down in tears. "That aura of darkness, a prickling malice cloaked in a sickeningly sweet smile. I've witnessed that malice before, felt that aura..." She trails off again, setting the cup down hard on the table.
"Edelgard?"
"I...I don't like to talk about this. It was hard enough telling the Professor, but..." She takes several deep breaths before she looks up at him. "You told me your secret after we found the Sword of the Creator. So-"
"No, Edelgard, you don't have to if it's that painful," he says. "It's okay, really." She shakes her head.
"A group of dark-robed mages came to the Imperial Palace, took my siblings and I underground, and ran experiments on us," she says. "They wanted one of us to bear a certain lost Crest, to become their idea of a perfect, all-powerful ruler so they could control the Empire."
He knows which Crest Edelgard refers to, the one Rhea's held onto for years trying to bring back its original bearer.
"They locked us in cages, fed us only enough to keep us alive, and every one of my siblings died or went insane as their blood was forcibly altered to hold that Crest. Only I survived...possibly because I was the only one with the Crest of Seiros." She doesn't go into detail, but Randahl still shudders, feeling ill as he imagines such conditions. Edelgard once told him she despises the Crest system, they are the thing responsible for this brutal, irrational world we live in, but the Church proclaims them blessings from the Goddess and people lap up the lie because they know they'll be punished if they don't.
He'd wondered what made her feel so strongly, but he almost wishes he didn't.
"I'm so sorry."
"Don't. It's in the past, nothing I do now will bring back the lives lost," Edelgard says. "I need to focus on the future. To make sure nothing like this happens again."
He nods, and they both fall silent, sipping their tea, Edelgard occasionally looking up at the ceiling.
"Monica was one of my closest friends when I was a child," she says at length. "She looked up to me like crazy, even though she was a year older than me. She'd write me letters from the Officers Academy, try to visit me from time to time. She couldn't wait for me to attend her graduation ceremony."
"Everyone thought she'd just run away," Randahl said. "Did anyone ever consider she'd been kidnapped?"
"If they did, they just assumed it was bandits or assassins." Edelgard sighed. "They gave up searching for her after just a few months, I heard. She'll come back when she's ready. Meanwhile, all this time..."
He's put the pieces together. The ones who experimented on Edelgard killed her friend, put one of themselves in that friend's skin, and that one clings intensely to Edelgard possibly to keep tabs on their "success." And they can't do anything about it, because the disguise is so flawless. Sure, people question why she's so cheerful and close to Edelgard, but not enough to investigate her.
You'd think they'd have learned after the business with Professor Jeritza.
"Is there anything I can do to help? I mean, when she starts hanging all over you?" he offers. Edelgard sets her empty cup down.
"If you could act like you really need my help with your assignments or your training," she says. "But Hubert's already keeping a sharp eye on her. I imagine he suspects something as well..." It makes sense, given Hubert's natural affinity for dark magic and keeping tabs on anyone who might cause problems for Edelgard.
"I can do that!"
Edelgard smiles a little.
"Thank you. And...thank you for listening to me. About everything."
Randahl smiles.
"You listened to me when I told my story, and you let me cry on you about my father. We're even now."