Chapter Text
The adrenaline of combat fuelled Est’s strikes, wooden polearms clashing in splintering noise as her fiancée blocked and parried her lance thrusts and swipes.
Abel was on top form as always and despite fighting dismounted, forced her onto the back foot. The pair pushed each other back and forth in Castle Askr’s vast training ground, neither giving an inch.
Eventually, the Panther delivered a particularly strong lunge that Est could not parry, the blow forcing her to the ground. The spar was over.
Quick as lightning, Abel’s lance was discarded and a hand outstretched to help her up, fierce determination exchanged for the kindness and concern Est had fallen in love with.
Abel pulled her into an embrace which she melted into, the dull clanking of their breast plates colliding audible. After a moment, they separated wordlessly and sat down side by side on the dusty arena floor to catch their breath. Fighting had a peculiar way of conveying emotion in a way words couldn’t. Sparring brought out all the pent-up emotion and affection they held for each other.
As they leaned against the stone walls of the arena, sipping water and enjoying the gentle burn of exertion, four figures filed into the training ground.
At the front of the pack were a pair of teenagers arguing fiercely; a blonde boy and a raven-haired girl, both adorned in regal attire. Next was another girl, this one sporting purple hair and dressed in blue. She chattered excitedly with the most curious character, a tall man with murky green hair and an impassive expression.
The group assembled in the centre of the training grounds, the man’s eyes taking in their environment. Spotting the Archaneans, he gave them a brief nod of greeting. Est waved nervously while her partner gave him a lazy wave and a smile.
Est knew none of their names, such was the vastness of the Order nowadays that it was impossible to become acquainted to everyone, even for heroes as she and Abel were.
The tall man clapped his hands to get the group’s attention. The girl in blue straightened instantly, as if in the presence of a military commander. The other two apparently didn’t get the memo and continued their quarrel.
“Larcei. Owain. Class is in session.” He announced, voice firm. Both quieted and faced him sheepishly.
“To begin”, he addressed all three youngsters. “Find a training sword and give me your best. One at a time.”
“That’s it?” The well-dressed girl, Larcei, asked impatiently “I thought you were going to teach us your Fódlan sword fighting techniques.”
‘Fódlan?’ Est thought.
“Patience, Larcei.” The man responded calmly, “Without knowledge of your current abilities, I will be unable to teach you further. You will all require different guidance.”
And so, they began. Each of the three students took turns challenging their instructor. He would give them all time, thirty seconds or so, to attack his guard, analysing their stance, speed and strength. Then, every time, he would retaliate, repelling their strikes and batting the younger fighters away, ready to take on the next student.
As the cycle continued, Est turned to her fiancée, who was also watching closely.
“Hey, Abel, do you know who that guy is?”
“That’s Professor Byleth,” He replied, still watching the action with interest. “He only arrived a couple of weeks ago, but it looks like his tutelage is already in high demand.”
“Do you think he would teach me?” she asked. “To use a sword, I mean.”
He looked at her curiously. “I don’t see why not,” he replied. “What’s brought this on?”
“Nothing in particular…” She paused. Est was never a good liar, and Abel knew her too well.
“Palla and Catria arrived recently, from the future,” She explained. Abel nodded. “Well, they’re both experts with swords and lances. I know they’re both older, but…”
“You don’t want to be left behind.” Abel finished for her. Est nodded.
“It’s always me that causes trouble for them. The least I can do is to be able to fight strong, so they’re not always looking over their shoulders.”
Abel wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You’re not a burden, Est. Not to your sisters, not to anyone. Not to the Order of Heroes and not to Macedon. Trust me.”
Est couldn’t help but embrace him. “Thanks,” Est said, a wide smile on her face. “But still, I need to keep learning.”
Abel returned her smile. “I’ll leave it to you then. I’ll catch you later, alright?” He planted a kiss to her cheek before raising himself off the ground, collecting his lance and leaving the training grounds. Watching his retreating form brought a small blush to her cheeks. “I don’t deserve him”.
Est turned her attention back to the class. The training session had ended and the group of four was huddled in a small circle. Then, one by one, they filed out of the training grounds until only Byleth was left. Having never met the man before, Est approached him with a little trepidation.
“Excuse me, Professor Byleth, do you have a moment?”
He straightened up and turned to face the Pegasus knight, extending a black-gloved hand in greeting.
“How can I help you?” the curt response and his emotionless face weren’t particularly friendly, though maybe he was just like that. She shook his hand, surprised to find a gentle grip that contradicted the strength she witnessed a moment ago.
“Well, Abel and I saw you training with some of the other heroes just now and I was hoping you might give me some help with my sword training. That is, if you’re not busy or anything.”
He seemed to process her request for a little while. “I can do that.”
Hearing that, Est brightened. “Thank you so much, Professor!” She exclaimed. “When can I start? Do you have time now?”
He seemed slightly taken aback by her suddenness. “I was planning on getting something to eat once I had finished training with the others. I can meet you here after that?”
“Okay!” Again, Est’s excitement bubbled over. “I’ll go ahead and get warmed up then.”
Byleth seemed satisfied with that, giving her something approaching a smile. “Ah, that was to be my first lesson. Well done.”
By the time the professor returned to the training grounds, Est was preparing a set of dummies in a row against the back wall. Other than the two of them, the place was still deserted, a relieving sight for the young knight. She hadn’t picked up a sword for years and the fewer people around to see her struggle, the better.
Byleth’s footsteps were quiet, and Est only noticed his approach from the movement of his dark overcoat. When they met eyes, he nodded towards her pleasantly. She thanked him for taking time out of his day.
“No thanks needed.” He replied, walking towards the rack of practice blades. “Now, let’s start with choosing the right sword to start with.” Instantly, Byleth was in teaching mode. It seemed to Est that he was the type to apply a hundred percent of his attention to each particular task, leaving precious little for distractions.
“It is vital that you choose a sword that suits you. These wasters contain weights, so they feel similar to their real counterparts. Give them a couple of swings.”
“Yes, sir!” Est straightened up, nervously approaching the sword rack.
“Also,” Byleth added. “There’s no need for titles. I’d rather my students consider me their equals.”
He caught Est’s confused glance. Perhaps the concept was foreign to those from other worlds.
“As far as the Order is concerned, all of us are equals.” He clarified. “It’s that same philosophy I used to teach in Fódlan. Everyone is equally valuable and worthy of each other’s time and advice.”
Following his declaration, silence rung out across the arena for a moment.
“Okay,” Est breathed. “That’s a different approach to schools back home,” Est smiled up at him. “But you might be right.” She nodded to herself. “Okay then, Byleth. Informal it is. Now, give me a hand with these training swords!”
“Whew!” Est panted, collapsing into a seated position on the sun-baked warm stone floor. For in introductory lesson, Byleth had thoroughly put her through her paces. Est considered herself adequately disciplined for a soldier, but he had thrown that belief out of the window. His warm-ups and drills alone were extensive, not to mention the sparring that came after.
Est recalled feeling like a bit of a veteran compared to Byleth’s younger trainees she and Abel watched earlier in the day. She was part of one of Archanea’s most successful military outfits, after all. But after a punishing afternoon, a she completely respected the battlefield prowess each of them possessed.
But no matter how tough the going got, it was never too much. She never felt that she wanted to give up. Byleth was hardly a cheerleader, but had a funny way of pushing her to her limit, but never over the boundary to fatigue.
The pair now sat in the corner of the training grounds. Since they’d finished the lesson, the arena had filled up somewhat. Presently, they were watching a pair of Hoshidan ninjas engaged in a competitive bout of target practise.
“Good progress today, especially for someone unaccustomed to the weapon. You should be proud of yourself.” Byleth broke the silence.
“You’re not just saying that, are you?” Est asked earnestly.
“Why would I?” He replied curiously. “From where you started this afternoon, you’ve come a long way. It’s clear some of your lancework is transferable to swordsmanship. That said, it’ll be a long road if you want to apply this to serious combat.”
“Of course,” Est leaned back against the wall contentedly. “I might never catch up to someone like Princess Caeda. Just improving, and applying myself to something new is enough for me.”
“An admirable attitude.” Byleth hummed to himself. “I assume you’ll want to continue?”
“Mm, please. If you can make time for me.”
“Of course. If you catch me at a good time, it’s fine by me. Feel free to join in with the others in the morning, if you feel like it.”
Est gathered her belongings and began to climb to her feet, stretching and yawning heavily. “Alright, that’s it for me today.” She held out a hand for the professor, which was accepted. Once he was on his feet, she looked him in the eyes seriously.
“Thanks for everything today.”
“It’s fine, Est.” He smiled down at her. “It was my old job, after all.”