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Even in the midst of war, expressions of love for those held amorously within one’s heart had their way of cropping up, much like the flora that sprang forth from the trampled mud of every battlefield that has witnessed the on-going conflict of Nohr and Hoshido. Such admissions have become even more frequent as of late thanks to the strides made by the dual-wielder of the legendary weapon Yato and his dragonstone, alongside those who had sworn allegiance to his cause. One could almost reason that their efforts had made a few allies a touch bolder these days, for it was becoming not so uncommon to hear about new bonds being forged by those who had taken up residence at the secret base tucked within the security of the astral plane.
As it would happen on this evening, shortly after those assigned to meal preparation duty had stopped serving the evening meal, a gentleman’s competition would continue as its two contenders strived to outshine the other in hopes of winning over their lover’s heart, which they shared.
“On your way to prepare a pot of tea for Corrin?” Comes a voice from the shadows, nearly causing his rival to jump out of his armor.
“Wh-whoa! Kaze, don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“I’ll have you know Lord Corrin’s tea is already awaiting him, prepared just as he likes it,” the ninja recounts as he reveals his presence, a look of satisfaction written across his face. It makes the Nohrian cavalier laugh from his stomach.
“You mean how you think he likes it? I’ll have you know he thought the tea I served him earlier was The finest he’s had all week ,” Silas boasts, to which Kaze huffs.
From a distance, observing the quarrel from the safety of the nearby orchard, the old Nohrian knight cannot help but roll his eyes, jointly amused and yet also baffled every time the competition unfolds a bit more before him. The fledgling knight and ninja had been like this for weeks now, some unexpected spark igniting between the two that propelled them both on parallel paths that had yet to wane in velocity since it began.
The squabbling taking place adjacent to the mess hall is not the only commotion the camp has come to be familiar with as of late. Any soul lucky enough to catch the suitors’ in action—whether that be in an argument, or trying to impress their leader—could not resist gossiping over the spectacle, placing bets among allies over who would successfully charm Corrin’s heart first. Even his lord’s own retainers had succumbed to such impulses, including Jakob and Flora, who stood within earshot, locked in their own heated debate.
“You cannot compare everyone to yourself Jakob,” Flora chides, rolling her eyes at the butler. “Silas clearly has the upperhand since he’s known Corrin for nearly as long as we have. Not to mention that he has far more familiarity when it comes to our lord’s aspirations and interests.”
“Nonsense. Being attentive to his feelings and needs takes precedence over all else. The fact I have to compete with Kaze to prepare my lord’s tea in the morning speaks volumes of his devotion. I have no doubt Corrin will pick up on it,” Jakob pauses, second guessing himself. “Eventually.”
“Away with the two of you,” the old knight barks, turning toward them. “Do you not have your assigned tasks to complete?”
“Says you, the warden who doled them out in the first place,” Jakob huffs, giving the old man an irritated look. A laugh pipes up from Flora, enjoying their routine little spat.
“Who do you think my lord will choose, Sir? Surely you must have a more informed inclination on the matter.”
“I am not a betting man,” Gunter clarifies, taking one last look over his shoulder to see Kaze and Silas headed in opposite directions, both self-assured they would be able to impress Corrin over tea time. Betting on one meant forgetting the most important piece of the equation: that his lord had yet to clue into he was being doted on with the heart’s profound sincerity. “Let us leave this up to him, shall we not? He may surprise us—and if he does, you both owe me a week’s worth of stable duties.”
Under their breaths, the pair lament their mentor’s challenge as they head their separate ways, unwilling to concede defeat just yet. They would be left waiting many more weeks before finally arriving at an answer, impatiently watching on as Silas’ and Kaze’s affections for their lord continued without end. Flowers from the market, arranged delicately in a way only shared between lovers. Quiet boat rides in the waters that surrounded the camp in the early hours of the morning, full of mirth and new sights rarely witnessed by their lord. Earnest confessions held before a campfire, the sound of the crackling logs just barely loud enough to veil the feelings shared to any curious passersby. On and on this went for weeks more, with many in the army growing restless as each new day revealed more obvious endeavors than the last. Although none could deny that Corrin had shaped up to be a fine tactician and an even more proficient swordsman during the course of the war, it was obvious to all—even his suitors—that he was not well-attuned to the amorous intents of others.
A poor shame, Gunter thinks as he makes his way to the war council tent where he had promised to meet his lord to assist with understanding the geography of the land where the army would make its next attack. Any other recipient would have grown weak in the knees over such confessions.
Growing up in the Northern Fortress, it was not uncommon for the great knight-turned-caretaker to give his charges a gentle nudge in the right direction when it came to navigating the torrentially perplexing matters of the world that existed outside the fortified walls of their home. It was not unlike how a mother owl pushes her stubborn young from the security of their nest so they can learn to fly, and eventually, set out on a life of their own.
“And this mountain range here,” Gunter addresses next, gesturing to the boundary etched upon the map in ink nearly as old as he was with the end of his baton, “how do you propose we best utilize this terrain during the expedition?”
So far, the pair have made good headway, having devised a little more than three quarters worth of a practical battle plan with only just over an hour between the current time and lunch hour. The campgrounds outside the walls of the tent are much more boisterous now than when they initially began, resulting in the odd distraction every now and again as the affairs of others trickle their way in. Gunter recognizes one pair of voices in particular as they pass by, locked in a heated debate over who was the better chef. It is then that the old knight realizes the Nohrian cavalier and Hoshidan ninja have caught his lord’s attention too, for reasons he does well to assume.
“Something on your mind, my lord?” Gunter asks after permitting Corrin a moment to recover from the interruption, which doesn’t happen without a little prompting. He can tell that his lord’s mind has left their strategy meeting entirely and has wandered off elsewhere from the way he idly fiddles with a corner of a map laid out before them—a common habit from the days spent in hours-long lessons during the bleak winters when training outside was not an option.
“Oh! Sorry. I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on what’s taking place outside, and something I heard got me thinking.”
“About the mission?”
“Rather unrelated, if I’m to be honest,” Corrin smiles shyly, confessing to having fallen victim to the interference occurring beyond the canvas walls he presently found himself in. “Those two, Silas and Kaze… Does something seem different about them? Than the usual, I mean.”
“In what way, my lord? Both have been their usual selves when it comes to practicing drills in the arena, and I have little to note in terms of how they’ve conducted themselves while taking part in daily patrols.”
“Not… related to matters of war, I mean,” the young man hesitates, trying to find his words. “I can’t help but notice that they’ve been willingly spending more time together as of late. When they’re not with me, one would swear they were physically attached to the hip, like two opposing magnets intrinsically pulled to each other.”
Gunter laughs quietly under his breath, finally taking a seat adjacent to his liege after hovering over the table for so long. “It sounds to me as though you’ve been keeping a close eye on them.”
“Well, I—” Corrin stumbles, doing his damndest to keep his composure. “I suppose it’s normal, given how… I’ve come to care for them as of late. But ever since I realized it, they’ve grown closer and closer to each other. To say anything to either of them at this point almost feels… inconsiderate of me. And the last thing I want is that tension spilling over onto the battlefield where it could put one of them in danger.”
“What gives you such an impression? They don’t come across as an item to me, my lord.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen how much time they’re spending together these days. I swear they’re always helping each other prep meals in the mess hall, or returning from town at sunset nearly arm-in-arm with gifts. And then there’s all the gossiping I hear about them when I make my rounds—the others are always whispering about Silas and Kaze until I come along, and then the topic changes immediately. Do they know how I feel? Are they trying to shield me from learning some truth I’m better off not knowing?”
As Corrin speaks, it becomes clear to Gunter that his lord has critically misinterpreted the situation at hand. Nevertheless, he does his best to stifle his quips and heavy sighs. Perhaps it was due time for the battleworn knight to assume that old encouraging role once more, for the sake of Corrin’s oblivious heart and the collective well-being of the army.
“My lord, have you considered this situation from a different perspective?”
“What do you mean?”
“Take a step back, and view their actions from a third-party’s perspective,” Gunter suggests, taking on his rigid advisor’s tone. “Considering that the both of them remain so adamant to spend time with you, could their actions not hold other intentions?”
“Like…?”
“Think, my lord. Their devoted persistence to be in your presence at the same time as the other can but mean only a few things.
Corrin’s eyebrows furrow, chin resting in the palm of his hand. Gunter remains quiet, silently hoping he would not have to make his explanation more explicit.
“If they’re not together, and they’re not trying to spare my feelings, then— Oh. ”
Gunter coughs, rising from his place and turning toward the exit of the tent with his arms crossed behind his back. From the way his lord flushes scarlet, he could tell he would need a minute.
“I’ll be back momentarily, my lord. Please be ready to continue our strategy discussion upon my return.”
With his lord’s head and heart now clear of the fog they had been cast under for the last two months, they are able to reconvene and finish their plans for the next expedition, which prove exceptionally useful in the midst of their trek. Having returned to basecamp once more following the defeat of a string of bandits terrorizing the local villages, Corrin’s army falls into its routine again, including the regularly conducted evening patrols overseen personally by Nohr’s most venerable knight. On this day, when the air smells sweetly of the bounties of summer and the dusklight hours paint the sky in a gradient of soft oranges to smoky purples, Gunter spots upon his return a trio of figures making their way toward his lord’s private quarters, hand-in-hand. A small smile twitches at the old knight’s lips as he carries on his way, leading his steed back to the stable, content to see the amorous group finally enjoying their time together.
He cannot help but feel a bit smug too, looking forward to breaking the news to Jakob and Flora that neither of them had won their little bet they had made, and both owed him a week’s worth of stable duties.