Chapter Text
Byleth watches, face perpetually blank, as the students file out of the classroom. His students, he corrects himself mentally. What Archbishop Rhea was thinking, appointing a stranger to form the next generation of Faerghus nobility and captains, was beyond him. A young, 20-year-old stranger. Younger than some of the students and barely older than most others.
However, he has a sneaking suspicion that questioning the Church, or at the very least the Archbishop, was not a decision to be taken lightly.
As Annette, the last of the students, finally walks out, Byleth allows himself a sigh of relief. The first day had gone… better than expected. The Professor had spent the day learning about his students, their strengths, their weaknesses. And he could make an educated guess as to their potentials. They were each skilled in their own way, each with a path to call their own.
The students, the children thought Byleth, were young and naïve. Ashe, especially, he could tell, may perhaps be too idealistic for his own good. The young archer was bright-eyed, a bit timid, but held fast to his touted beliefs.
Not that Byleth had any issues with the chivalry and honor and nobility, but life as a mercenary has taught him one thing: the world can be a cold, unforgiving reality. And Garreg Mach Monastery is molding them to be the next leaders of that reality. He hopes that when the moment comes, the revelation will not break them…
“Professor!” a voice startles Byleth out of his reverie. Looking up, he could see that Dimitri, leader of the Blue Lions and future king of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, stood in front of him.
“Forgive me if I am out of line, Professor,” Dimitri continues, “but the others and I wondered if you would join us for a meal in the Dining Hall. We, as a class, would like to get to know you better. Of course, you are free to decline. We were only hoping – “
Byleth cut him off with a nod, sensing the student may start rambling and spiraling. “Give me a moment to gather my materials.”
“That’s wonderful! I believe they are serving onion gratin soup today. I cannot wait.”
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A short walk later, in the dining hall
The dining hall is lively; it would appear that the lunchtime service is in full swing. And Dimitri was right, the onion gratin soup smells lovely.
“Hey, Professor!” Sylvain yells as soon as Byleth sits down. “I see that his Highness managed to convince you after all.”
Byleth does a quick head count of the students around the table, and one was definitely missing. “Where’s Felix?”
Ingrid chimes in, “At the training grounds. He said something about needing to get more practice in. I tried to convince him to eat, Professor, but he usually doesn’t listen.”
Byleth gave a nod, making a note to speak with Felix later. Dedication is admirable, but there is something to be said about pushing oneself too far. The meal continued well, with the conversation largely dominated by Sylvain’s antics and Ingrid or Annette trying to stop him from flirting with passing by women. Dimitri joined in with the banter, but Byleth figured he was too focused on enjoying his meal rather than talking. Dedue and Ashe were trying to walk Mercedes through some recipe; it did not seem like they were having much luck.
All of them tried to get Byleth to participate, to varying degrees of unsuccess. It was not that he didn’t want to interact, but rather that he himself tried and failed to integrate. Despite this, the swordsman felt the atmosphere growing on him, and unexpectedly, he felt himself relax.
Eventually, Annette pipes up, “So Professor, the mock battle is a few days, isn’t it? Aren’t you only allowed to bring in four of us? Can we know who?”
“Don’t mind if I listen in on your little strategy meeting, Teach,” Claude said, walking over. He wore his constant easy-going smile, but Byleth saw the gears turning behind his eyes. He also saw the way that they had been darting to Dimitri as he spoke. Was there something there that he was missing?
“Ugh, Claude, go away,” Annette tries to shoo him off, “Don’t you have somewhere else to bother people?”
“Okay, okay. Yeesh,” the Golden Deer archer replies, smile never leaving his face, “I was just coming over to say hello to Teach here. I am still disappointed you didn’t take over the Golden Deer, but it seems like the Blue Lions are in good hands. I’ll see you at the mock battle.” Claude walks off.
Once Claude steps away, Byleth finally answers, “I will need some more time to assess each of your abilities. From there, I will build our strike force of who I believe will mesh well together.” That reply received understanding nods from the students.
The meal wrapped up soon after. Strangely enough, Byleth found standing up and leaving the warm environment difficult. Strange indeed.
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A week later, morning before the Mock Battle…
“Dimitri, Ashe, Mercedes, and Annette. You four will be our participants in the mock battle.” The Professor spoke, voice passive.
He and Dimitri would serve as a strong frontline with ranged support from Ashe. Mercedes and Annete would bring up the rear as the spellcasters. Together, they would form a versatile group, ready to face any composition from the Golden Deer and Black Eagles.
Byleth could already see the glare of disappointment, marring Felix’s face. The boy was too competitive, he thought. For what purpose, Byleth still hadn’t quite figured out.
Ashe looks around nervously, “Professor, are you sure? I think maybe… um, well, I’m just saying that maybe there are others more skilled than me? What about Felix?”
“I am sure,” Byleth spoke while addressing the entire group, but it was clear his words were meant for Ashe. “I believe each of you has potential. Now I just need you to trust in your training, your allies, and yourself.”
“He is right,” Felix, who had remained quiet, spoke up.
“See! Felix agrees with me. You should put him in. His skills with his sword will be useful for us. And I am not as – “
“I meant that the Professor is right, Ashe. You have been getting better. I trust that you’ll carry the Blue Lions to victory,” Felix places a strong hand on Ashe’s nervous shoulder, a confident smirk on his face.
“… Thank you, Felix,” Ashe replies, a smile slowly lighting up his face. Was that a blush Byleth saw on Felix’s face? “I won’t let you down, Professor.” Ashe looks at his hands and clenches them.
Byleth gives him a firm nod, proud of how far Ashe has matured in one week.
Sylvain, being Sylvain, bursts the moment by wrapping an arm around Ashe’s shoulders and pulling him in with a smile. “Glad you could see reason, Ashe. Can’t have our favorite archer doubting himself now, can we? Now, if you really want to impress the ladies…”
Sylvain continues to inanely chatter about some (rather shitty) fighting tips. Ashe laughs at his antics and half-heartedly tries to shove him off as Sylvain starts leading them off towards the field. Left behind, Felix lets his hand fall limply from where it was on Ashe’s shoulder, a carefully blank stare on his face. Slowly, he starts walking towards the practice field, followed by the others.
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During the mock battle…
The rules were simple: either surrender or first blood to take out a combatant. No lethal force.
Byleth is assessing the situation around him. The Golden Deer had failed to stick to Claude’s strategy and broke formation. Ashe and Annette made quick work of the stragglers from a distance as Byleth and Dimitri advanced towards the Black Eagles, taking out Dorothea and Ferdinand. Mercedes is in the back, holding the group together if they make a mistake. Claude, Hilda, and Hanneman have pulled back to their small palisade to regroup.
Edelgard is without her most trusted retainer, who had supposedly suffered from a sprained ankle the day before; Hubert was replaced by a green-haired mage that Byleth does not recognize. While he was no Hubert, he was clearly skilled. Dimitri’s advance had been slowed as the mage rained fire from afar. And to their left, Claude and Hanneman let loose volleys of Wind and arrows.
The Blue Lions have been pinned in the tree line, and sooner or later, one of these suppressing shots will find their mark. Byleth knows he needs to move his students. Now.
“Annette, Ashe, Mercedes, cover us! Dimitri, you take Edelgard. I will take out the mage. Now!” Upon seeing that his students understood, Byleth was the first to leave the trees to charge towards the Black Eagle’s fortress. The green-haired mage looks startled, understanding dawning that the professor is rapidly approaching him.
Byleth weaves through barrage after barrage of fire and arrows. From a distance, they are inaccurate, but no less painful if they met their target. Byleth closes the space between him and the student before he could loose a truly well-aimed strike. Byleth takes the flat of his blade and slams it into the back of the student’s calf and then his side. He falls with a sharp gasp of pain, hands raised in surrender.
Dimitri has engaged with Edelgard, but they seem to be evenly matched. And Professor Manuela periodically fires in a blast of Nosferatu that Dimitri dodges. Byleth runs towards Manuela, sword at the ready. With him at point-blank range and ready to strike, Manuela raises her hands and surrenders.
“No need to take a pointless hit,” she laughs. “Well done, Professor.”
No longer needing to worry about ranged support, Dimitri swings more aggressively and clips Edelgard’s shoulder. The princess lets her weapons drop, recognizing that she has lost. Her eyes burn with a silent fury, masked only by cordiality.
Dimitri lifts his lance in triumph, “The Black Eagles are down, Professor! Now for the Gol –,”
“Professor!” Mercedes’s voice rings out!
Spinning around, Byleth sees that the Golden Deer had attempted to take out their back line as he and Dimitri were occupied. But it looks like Mercedes and Annette took them down, as they now stand there waving and smiling. Ashe also sits with a smile, but he is clutching a bleeding arm. Likely a hit from Hilda’s axe.
But more importantly, it looks like each of the remaining Golden Deer have a mark on them as well.
Jeralt’s voice calls over the clearing, “The Mock Battle is over! The Blue Lions win!”
Byleth lets a rare smile grace his face as Dimitri lifts his lance higher and cheers. Mercedes is already walking over to Ashe to heal his bleeding arm, and Professor Manuela tends to Edelgard’s shoulder. Byleth sees that the green-haired mage he struck down earlier is still lying down. ‘I should really learn his name,’ Byleth thinks. Out of concern, he walks over.
“Are you alright? I hope I didn’t hit you too hard earlier.”
The student was lying still, not moving. Now, Byleth was actually worried, and he crouches beside him to shake his shoulders and check his vitals. As soon as Byleth lays a finger onto him, the student groggily opens his eyes, blearily blinking.
“Hm? Oh, is the mock battle done?” the kid asks. The little shit had been sleeping... On the battlefield. “I take it that the Blue Lions won?”
Byleth, for once thankful for his cold face, keeps the annoyance from showing on his face. “You chose to take a nap in the middle of an ongoing battle?”
“Well, Edelgard pulling me into this disrupted my scheduled nap. And you hitting my calf eliminated me from the match and numbed my leg so I can’t walk…” He pauses for a yawn, “So, I decided to have my nap here.”
Byleth could only blink at the sheer stupid logic. “What’s your name?”
“Linhardt. I take it that you’re the new professor, Byleth. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” the mage, Linhardt Byleth now knows, yawns again.
“No, we should head back to the Monastery. I think you have had plenty of nap time.” Byleth stands and offers the mage hand up.
With a groan, Linhardt tries to take it and stand, but his right leg really does feel like jelly. He promptly falls back down. His green hair now frames a red face, flushed with embarrassment.
“I wasn’t exaggerating when I said you numbed my leg…” he mutters.
“Then let me help.” Byleth slings one of Linhardt’s arms over his shoulders. Together, they start making the trek back to Garreg Mach.
“I’m sorry for being a burden, Professor,” Linhardt almost whispers. His face is still beet red. “This must be a great first impression.”
After a beat, Byleth replies, “It is. You did a good job in the mock battle. You held us off for a time.”
“Thank you, Professor, I…” Linhardt trails off. The moment settles into awkwardness as the near strangers don’t really know what to say.
“I am sure the Adrestian Empire will be proud to have you lead their Magic Corps someday.” Whatever the right thing to say was, Byleth is now certain that wasn’t it. He can see Linhardt become crestfallen, and his eyes seem to stare off.
“Right…” Linhardt’s voice is as soft as a whisper, “… I just battle today so that I can battle again tomorrow…” Byleth tries to figure out what to say, but thank the Goddess, he is saved by Professor Manuela walking over.
“Byleth, thank you for taking care of my student. Let me handle it from here.” Byleth shifts the limping Linhardt over to Manuela. He still looks like his thoughts are off in the clouds somewhere. Confused, Byleth goes to join his house for their celebration.
~---~
That night was one of the most enjoyable of his life. The students celebrated the Blue Lion’s victory as one. Of course, there were some in the other houses who were more bitter about their loss than others, but overall, the mood was lighthearted.
Amidst the revelry, Claude managed to weasel Byleth into making a wager. If Byleth could eat more noodles than Raphael, then the Golden Deer would handle any Monastery chores of the Blue Lions for the next day, and vice versa.
To the students’ further amazement, and Dimitri’s disbelief… Byleth won. Jeralt had to carry him out of the dining hall that night.