Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd

"Research, your highness," she replied. "I've written down a few probable causes for this epidemic, however... I cannot simply just present them to the healers."

She tightened her grip on her cloak, hiding her undead form. The words of the vagabonds from Thracia echoed in her mind. The accusations. A situation she didn't wish to face again, and certainly not now when she was trying to hand over something that could save lives. There was no time for arguments and accusations when people were sick.

"You know the cause?" He asked hopeful that they might finally get some answers about what was going on. However, the next statement confused him, leading him to question "But surely the healers would be grateful for this information?"

Her answer raised the prince's hackles. The injustice of it! Why were nobles and academics so narrow-minded? As far as he knew a title did not come with brain-cells as a given.

Part of her does wonder if Dimitri means to make light of her comment, though. She doesn't really know what kind of man he is, nor of his reputation; but the way heads have turned at their arrival, she guesses it's pretty significant. At this point, meeting another foreign royal is no big deal, usually, and the difference in reception could just be their setting foot outside the monastery walls. Thinking back to when she had been chatting with Leif or Shiro, they hadn't turned quite as many heads, right? And as far as she knows, they're every bit the royalty she is! (Well, for Leif, probably a little more important.)

Plus, he's the friggin' house leader. He's gotta have been picked for a reason.

Musings aside, it was best they focus on their current goal, finding this supposed horse racing ring. It didn't help that he drew attention where ever he went, but Fee might be able to go more unnoticed. "How about we split up. You can move about the stalls and listen in, eavesdrop on groups. I'll go check the noticeboard and flyers to see if I can find anything. We meet back in 30 mins?"

It sounded like a good plan in his head. He wasn't naive enough to think a secret betting ring be loudly advertised, but instead there would be subtle clues placed where people could see and follow if they knew where to look. Stuff hidden in plain sight could be surprisingly effective when wishing to evade attention. It wouldn't surprise the prince if there was some innocuous poster for some horse related item which actually advertised the races.

The truth is, Claude does, actually, but as far as he's concerned, he didn't really need the Church and their silver-tongued idealisms to tell him that. Besides, getting places with his own hard work instead of relying on others to do the job for him was already his style before this.

He would, however, have to admit if asked, that working the soil is something he has not yet tried. Well, first time for everything, he supposes. He'll give it a shot. Besides, if the plague keeping the farmers at home resulted in the crops going to waste, that really would be a serious issue.

And well, if it isn't the famed crown prince of Faerghus coming that way, as well? Claude smiles and waves lightly to greet him; it's his usual smile for the most part, one that doesn't reach his eyes, but at the same time, devoid of any mockery or sarcasm, or anything like that. They're in the same boat, and as far as the Deer is concerned, they're not here to do anything that would be embarrassing.

"If it isn't His Highness in the flesh," he says with good cheer. "Ready to work the field? I'm curious to see how we do. Dunno about you, but I gotta admit that with this particular activity, I don't have a whole lot of experience."

Grabbing a sickle from the toolshed, he headed out to the fields where the foreman directed him to one of the plots. Arriving, he found himself next to one Claude von Reigan. Raising his hand to return the greeting, he replied,

"I am, I see you've also swapped your bow for a sickle. Careful where you swing that thing if you lack experience"

It wasn't surprising Claude's lack of knowledge of Faerghas crops for it wasn't actually a common topic of noblemen's education.

"I lack the practical experience, but I have some knowledge" Dimitri said a bit defensively "My tutor's taught me about my nation's climate and farming practises. After all, it is part of my responsibilities to ensure my people are fed. Due to the colder climates here, we actually grow oat and rye instead of wheat"

The Fine Arts division has put up a small bounty for the best painter-model duo come the end of the moon to stir up motivation! Artists are encouraged to scope out the best model and draw up the best replication of…a wyvern without actually being a wyvern? With such a specific requirement, do you approach potential partners with the truth? Or is method acting the way to go? [Grants Flying +1]

The art department was not a place you would often find one Faerghas prince but today was an exception. You might ask why a warrior academy would have a fine arts division but the church believed in creating well rounded individual as future leaders. Thus an education including the finer things was required and hence an art department.

After a meeting with his academic advisor, Dimitri had been warned that he was lacking in art credits for this month which would have detrimental effects on his progress. He'd been taking writing, history or language classes to fulfil requirements. This month however, the professors had decided in their ultimate wisdom to insist that all students took fine art.

The problem... he couldn't paint.

Well that wasn't quite true, just his efforts would look immature compared to the pieces he'd seen produced. "How am I going to do this?" he wondered aloud, pausing outside the door to the art room. Sighing he pushed the door open to seen pairs of students set up at easels, drawing subjects.

"Welcome Prince Dimitri" The professor greeted, preventing him from backing out unnoticed. "So wonderful to have you in my little haven. Our subject today is the great mighty Wyvern. Naturally, we can't have a live subject but this simply allows us the opportunity to use our IMAGINATIONS"

"Err, ok" Dimitri replies hesitantly in the face of her joyous explanation. "Thank you, I'll take a seat over here"

"Your curiosi-?" Her brow pinched, and instantly she craned her neck about to see if there may have been other movement, other people to be mindful of in the space they occupied, any listening ears connected to wagging tongues. 

Though there seemed none others with them in the maze, this didn't quite satisfy her, and the tucked her fingers into his elbow and dragged him to a quiet corner. "What are you doing here, if you are not aware of the rumors inside of the house? Of what the owner is up to? As a student of the Academy, surely you are not here for a social call...?" 

She trailed off, incredulous, tilting her head to one side in simultaneous confusion and vigilance, continuing to listen for other footsteps crunching against the gravel. 

"he--y " Dimitri exclaimed as he was unceremoniously dragged away to the side and bombarded with questions. "ok, ok." he said holding his hands up " I have heard the rumours surrounding the lady of the house. The church is aware of it and investigating. However my presence here is separate from that. I wanted to find the dogs, to see if the experimentation tales were true"

and potentially rescue them.

Dimitri didn't say the last part aloud as it sounded silly and naive. But the idea of hurting animals was abhorrent to the Prince. Having spoken, it was his turn to listen to Lachesis' explanation.

"My name is Dimitri" Introducing himself without the titles "I see our goals for being here align. We could be allies?"

"Me?" She repeated, primed at the ready to give a response. Her eyes moved to glare at the entranceway. "I don't disagree with anything you said. It can depend on the battle's goal. There are circumstances where allying with another is influenced by a shared aim, only assured by collaboration."

She would know. She does know. Did know. Always knew. Lilacs squinted. She'd rather be careful with her words. It was important to not reveal anything enshrined deep in the Empire as it was emphasizing what sort of leader she deigned to be. She pondered if Dimitri was choosing his sentences in a similar manner.

"Right" he said further agreeing " So assuming we were in battle with a shared goal, became allies in order to defeat a common enemy. Once they were defeated would you automatically believe me or any other ally would turn on you?"

It was part to challenge the Eagle Empress' view but also genuine curiosity on what her answer would be. It also caused him to look inwards and consider what he would do. On the one hand, he did have a natural suspicion of others following the Duscar incident showing him it was foolish to have a naive belief in the good of others. However, it didn't make sense to burn bridges and start a new battle once one is over.

"Here you go. Take care of it. I haven't seen any other books like it. Likely some degree of magic, but... such a unique energy to it."

No torture method works the same on two victims.

He had seen it drive a neighbor to madness down below.

Who was to say this would go the same?

And if it did... well, not only was it more information, but it rendered someone with such a distinct royalty to him under very easy control...

Well, Iago would not be foolish enough to lose that opportunity.

Even if that book had every right to be his...

Was giving it to the blonde boy really anything different than a slight delay?

He would get it anyhow.

"...What's the title, at any rate? My spoken Fodlani is well honed, but written is... slightly rusty. I would not mind knowing more on this tome than what I was told of it. I would gladly translate it to my native tongue, if possible, but a vocal retelling would suffice."

A lie. He could write like a scholar should. But that was irrelevant. Keep the attention on the book.

No letting him leave with it. He could burn it! He could rip it to shreds with his weapons! He could eat the pages, throw it into the lake, do who-knows-what! And that book was either leaving here in one piece or this student would leave in pieces. The monastery would be in pieces, the CONTINENT would be-

"..."

...Iago takes a breath. No losing composure. No losing scope. He would have this book.

He will.

Even if not now.

Even if this broad stepping stone has to be cleared first.

It would be his.

Good, good. It's yours now. Guard me wisely and all you wish for will be granted.

If his brain wasn't addled from lack of sleep, the prince would have been suspicious at the new voice in his mind but at this point he didn't have the mental fortitude to question it. Then the man in front of him spoke again.

"Um... hang on let me check." He said before flipping the book in his hand to look at the spine. The letters shifted in and out of focus, not in Fodlani yet somehow he could still read it...

It became his business, though, when he was commanded to search for it and kill it. In that way, Mauvier's own opinion had become irrelevant. An order is an order; such a thing is true to the core of his bones.

But...to see signs of the beast now, his heart wavers again. Is it a terrible misunderstanding? Does this poor creature bear the burden of people's unfounded fears? Will killing it bring any peace, cleanse any sins?

What if this was the case now?

"But we were commanded to hunt it, Sir Mauvier" Dimitri countered though his heart wasn't in it. "Surely it's against the knights code to go against orders"

That's what he'd been taught by his masters back home. However, his dear father had also installed in him the importance of using his own judgment rather than blindly following like a sheep.

"I'm telling you though! It's not being spread through the air! The idea that "clouds of illness" make people sick is ridiculous! If that were the case then the disease would be spreading much farther and faster!" The other mage countered. "Look!" He unrolled a map for everyone to look at. "This is the area where the disease has taken root." He pointed to the red circle, a large area around the Broad Manor. "But there are places closest to the manor that aren't affected! Take the brewery!" He pointed to a green circle a little ways away from the manor. "That family has been unaffected, and they've still been walking around and making deliveries all over the village!

"And here!" He pointed to a house circled in green, on the other side of the manor. "The work house, where many of the field laborers live. None of them are sick, but they pass by the manor every day! If it really was the air then we should expect these people to be sick too!"

"So what's your suggestion? A curse?" The first mage scoffed.

"A curse would no doubt affect the whole village, not just this area." Camilla pointed out, analyzing the map. She was certain Leo would have found the pattern already. "And it certainly wouldn't be skipping over brewers and farm laborers." She rested her chin on her thumb in thought. "But if it's not the air, then what's causing it?" She turned to the second mage.

"I don't know." He admitted. "Not for certain. I'd like a team to conduct interviews of the area, to see if there's a link that can be established between these cases."

An apprentice walked in with a stack of papers. "More death certificates." The circle of mages and priests groaned as she dropped them on the table. "Do you want the death collectors to bring the bodies for study?"

"An affront to the goddess!" One of the priests protested. "You would butcher these dead?! And what if in your butchery you expose MORE people to the illness!?"

"Are the addresses listed on those certificates?" Camilla cut off the priest's protesting and reached for the pile to examine them herself. The apprentice nodded. "I'll start with these then. I like Dr. Snow's idea, it's far more reasonable than forcing everyone to wear flowers around their faces."

The second mage, Dr. John Snow, sighed in relief. "I would suggest that you bring someone along with you. Perhaps one of the students helping Ms. Florence? Please ask about the day to day routines of the homes you visit prior to the deceased catching the illness, and if any others in the home have caught the illness ask how recently and about their routines too." Camilla nodded in affirmation.

***

The Broad Manor, named for its broad size, seeming to be the epicenter of the outbreak in Conrad had be turned into a makeshift hospital. The largest room on the upper most floor had been turned into a war room of sorts. Tables and chairs were littered with papers and maps and pens and tomes and mages and priests who were exhausted trying to find a solution. The basement of the manor had been turned into a temporary home for the dead. The rest of the manor held the living, the sick and the healthy and the gracious owners of the manor.

Camilla shouldered her bag and flipped through the papers as she made her way to the lower floors, searching for Ms. Florence. The sound of the nurse's gentle but firm voice made Camilla's ears perk up. "No, we can't use that water Dimitri. It smells awful, I don't trust it to be clean. I'm sorry, you'll have to get the water from a pump other than the one nearby."

Ms. Florence, as kind and compassionate as they came, had trained many of the nurses working in the hospital. She insisted on cleanliness, strictly enforcing that everyone was to wash their hands and keep their clothes cleaned. She demanded things be cleaned in lime and bleach and boiling hot water before they were to be used again. Beds were routinely remade and rewashed. All of the cleaning created a considerable amount more work, hence the need for plenty of extra hands.

"Ms Florence?" Camilla called. "May I borrow one of your volunteers? Dr. Snow seems to have an idea of where to start, but I'll need some help."

"Of course." She smiled warmly. "Dimitri why don't you go with her? Maybe one of the locals could tell you where to find another water pump while you're out? There must be another one close by, other than the main one."

Camilla waited for the young prince to follow, giving Ms. Florence a warm smile. "Thank you. Take care."

A voice called out distracting him from his thoughts. It was Ms Florence who was the healer in charge of caring for the sick. "Dimitri, we need more water!"

"I'm on it" he called back, grabbing a spare bucket next to the door. Exiting the building, he made his way to the pump in the square outside the manor. It was well used by the locals and he had to wait for the person in front of him to finish filling their own bucket. Placing the pail on the cobblestone, the prince gave the handle a few good pumps. There was a gurgling sound then water gushed out. Dimitri wrinkled his nose at the putrid smell coming off the water but it looked clean enough.

Once full he returned to Ms Florence, he put the bucket down on the floor. "Who needs help next?" he asks keen to get back to his duties knowing that there was likely sheets to be cleaned or floors to be mopped. Ms Florence walked closer and had a similar reaction to the smell coming off the water that he did.

"No, we can't use that water Dimitri. It smells awful, I don't trust it to be clean. I'm sorry, you'll have to get the water from a pump other than the one nearby."

"I'm sorry, I did check it looked clean despite the smell but I'll dispose of it right away" he said apologetically. "No, dump some lye in it and we'll use it to clean. Shouldn't waste it. But go with Ms Camilla here to find a new water source. And take a clean bucket.

Several people from the village in Conand have wandered away into the nearby woods. Staying out all night at this time of year is a death sentence, so their loved ones urge you to go out looking for them. Others, however, think that this is the best way to prevent this mysterious illness from spreading and insist on stopping you. Maybe you even agree with them. However, you eventually notice that priests in peculiar robes have been proselytizing just outside the village. They have calm, gentle demeanors and confide in you that they follow a god far more receptive to the common people than the goddess. Should you choose to follow them, they lead you to a temple deep in the woods, filled with corpses bent in prayer beneath mounds of fungus. You recognize at least one of them to be one of the missing people from the village. The priests do not deny this, insisting that they have been granted immortal life where the goddess has turned a blind eye to their suffering. Such is the blessing of the Church of Lacrimosa, and the priests in their ever-patient, ever-gentle way, persuade you to accept their invitation to join their covenant. [Grants Faith +1]

It had been a tiring few days and Dimitri was ready to hit the sack. What with running around delivering supplies, helping bring in crops and looking after the sick, the prince was dead tired. However, no sooner had his head hit the pillow, there was a banging at the door. Grumbling under his breath, he arose to answer finding a group of worried and arguing villagers on the doorstep.

"What is it?" he enquired, preparing himself.

"People are missing in the village" One person exclaimed "I saw them going towards the woods" Another added "Well then they're as good as dead and we should leave them to fate" came a third voice. On and on it went, back and forth as the crowd was split between searching for the missing and keeping the village secure.

"I can go look for them if it will help" Dimitri offered against his best judgment. It was agreed upon and after having donned his cape, the crowned prince headed off.

"hope he doesn't run into any of those robed figures"

That last comment was said just loud enough to carry to his retreating ears and caused a slight pause in his step. Thinking about it there had been some strangers around recently, black robes covering their faces and handing out papers from street corners. Could they have something to do with this. Perhaps he should see if he could find one of those papers...

An inquisitive fellow Blue Lion had been the only obstacle to be faced that morning. With a sharp wit and quick thinking, he was recruited as an unlikely companion, instead (perhaps, unwilling too). Now, the pair are deposited many kilometres beyond the high walls of the monastery, looking for clues to the entertainment hidden in the area.

Smiling in anticipation, Fee wastes no time in postering the locals for any sort of equestrian rumors. How discreet her attempts are are unclear; but judging by her not-so-quiet whispering, perhaps there's a reason that after a half-hour, no new information is gleaned.

She trots back to Dimitri's side, and nods her head dejectedly towards the main street. She sighs dramatically: "I guess we should go check out the market, first..."

Her pace is noticeably slower than when they first arrived, but she manages to keep up with his longer strides. She doesn't really know why Dimitri agreed to what she had pitched as "secret entertainment", and nothing else. Maybe the mystery is alluring to him. She has no idea...

"So like, should I call you Mister House Leader?" Fee jokes. "You know, since we're both royalty and all..."

Now all that was to be done was to find the location.

As he had headed into the town, he'd was spotted by a green-haired lady. She had a quick tongue and before he could even utter a protest, he'd been grabbed to join her in the hunt for races. Well, it benefited him anyway so might as well go along with it.

Half an hour later and they were no closer to getting any answers. "I think we may need to be more subtle in our approach..." Dimitri suggested gently. "Perhaps we should try listening and see if we can overhear any intel rather than asking outright."

Though he didn't say it, Dimitri admitted privately that it likely didn't help that he was a well known face in the area, naturally raising people's suspicion of revealing anything.

"Dimitri is just fine" he responded when asked. Assuming it to be a joke, he teasingly asked "And what may I call you...your highness?"

There was an epidemic in the Holy Kingdom, even though hiding in Abyss, Thrasir still heard about it. Through research (.... and experience) the lich had information she could provide to the mages in charge of looking for the cause, but given what she was (especially after how the prisoners had reacted to her in Thracia), she wasn't certain her research would be accepted. Thus she faced a dilemma.

The curse of the bleeding heart. She shouldn't feel this obligation, she was dead, she didn't care.

Stop lying to yourself. Silence, Veronica.

Thrasir needed to find someone to hand the information over in her place. Finding that proxy though... who would the mages trust, especially over an undead lich? It was Dimitri she spotted first. Hopefully... Inhaling an unnecessary breath, Thrasir pulled her cloak around her body tighter, and headed in the Prince's direction, papers freshly written and a slim book in hand.

"Prince Dimitri!" she called. "Might I have a moment?"

Not that the monastery's mages had found anything of use thus far. The prince wouldn't say they were useless, goddess knows he couldn't do a better job, but he knew the people were desperate for answers.

For now, carrying these sheets was the best he could do.

Just then, he heard a voice calling his name.

Back in Garreg Mach, speculation arises that faith magic will never accomplish anything with the current epidemic. Indeed it never could, this passionate group of apothecaries claim, because magic is inferior to medicine! The Health Committee at the academy is on the job trying to concoct their own remedy to the symptoms the investigative team in Bergliez reports, but they need to stock up on various resources for their trials. They can grab the medicinal plants just fine, but what they need an extra hand in is retrieving the meat, liver, and beaks of flying demonic beasts. Swift and good at dodging attacks, the only reliable way to down them is with bows, and so every archer in the monastery is being put on the hunt. [Grants Bow +1]

"No no no. Prince Dimitri please don't touch that" The healer was shooing the Blue Lion house leader out of the alchemy laboratory with a waving motion of their hand. He'd gone into the room and upon seeing a bubbling pot over the fire, picked up a ladle to stir it with. No sooner had the spoon touched the liquid than it had been slapped out of his hands and he'd been thrown from the room.

"I was just trying to help." He said in defence and apology. The chemist gave a long sigh before responding.

"I can see that but this is delicate work, it requires patience and finesee. If you want to help why don't you go out and collect some ingredients for me instead."

With that he was handed a gathering pack, bow and list of monster parts. "I need as much of these as you can find. I'm sure a skilled fighter like yourself should have no problem hunting these down."

"I'm not really an ar-..."

The door was slammed shut before he could finish. "-cher"

Sighing, Dimitri went to the monastery gates, looking over the list. There he saw a glamorous lady also with heading out. Running he caught up, yelling out to get he attention.

He's certain that Elusia has its own festivities similar to any other nation, but the church where Mauvier spent his formative years offered no such privileges. There was only training, studying, vapid prayer services.

Mauvier wants to be honest and open, but he does not wish to speak of a Before and After.

"Much of the same," Mauvier answers. "I made snowmen, when I was very young. On feast days, my mother made the most wonderful meat pies. And my father - "

He pauses. His throat has become tight. Why would Mauvier ask such a question, if he cannot answer it in turn?

Then, there is a snap in the distance. It's not necessarily the beast they're hunting, but it's enough of a welcome pivot for Mauvier to hold onto.

Did Mauvier have problems with his father too? Such a question remained unspoken for he had no right to ask. He had his own past to contend with as well.

"Our prey Sir Mauvier?" Cocking his head the prince listened carefully. They were on a hunting trip. Distantly he could hear a few twigs snapping. Their quarry.

"Over there" he said quietly pointing northwards. He begun creeping in that direction before stopping suddenly.

He looked down

"Sir Mauvier..."

Iago was blank enough a slate that no one above should have any reason to know him, to hate him yet. A quick cloak, a turned down head (oh, how he hated pretending to be anything else,) an obscured mask (which was the most infuriating of all,) and... here he was. The library above.

And it was...

"Wonderful."

Books contained magic. Books allowed his torture, his place in the world. And this?

This treated them right. With the luxury they deserved!

But... still, one caught his eye.

Or, rather, one recaught it.

This was a book he had seen. Not in Nohr, but below. Deep in Abyss, strange, weird, wrong, in all the right ways.

He had seen someone who he had 'sold' it to go mad, and have to be put down. Coincidence? Perhaps. But Iago was sure it was correlation, no, causation!

And, as a result, he had attempted to reclaim it. Because that is a tool he could use in the future. Drop a tome into a rebellion's center and watch as the leaders tore themselves apart. Iago wasn't even sure how metaphorical that would be. But like sand from an hourglass, it slipped through the narrowest of gaps. He hadn't seen it since he sold it. He was sure someone burned it.

But... why was it here!? Of all places, just... left out! Mages tended to prefer the library, and any talented mage would tell you an amateur is a much bigger threat than a practiced mage.

Like how an adult snake uses only the required amounts of venom.

So, he takes quick steps, murmuring under his breath about having 'his greatness having to be reduced in a setting like this,' hand reaching for the book, eyes locked onto the pages, when-

Eyes. A pair of blue, staring down at him. He was seen. This... boy, was nothing. Nobody Iago knew.

He looked like if Xander had never reached maturity. Never grew resistant to the ploys of Garon, over time.

He could use someone like this.

But first, he would have to handle this conversation.

"I... apologize. Were you intending for using this book? I had been sent to... collect it."

This boy would have had a place in Garon's Nohr.

He c-WILL have a place in Iago's.

Now to play the diplomacy game. One he hated, but was talented at nonetheless.

Entering a new aisle, Dimitri noticed a book he didn't recall from a previous library session. The cover was ornate and seemed to radiate with power.

'Come take it. Look at it.'

The voice caught him unaware but he obeyed it without question. It was the simplest way to get the voice to stop. Reaching out a hand he took the book of the shelf, just as another was about to do the same.

"Oh, I'm sorry" He apologised to the stranger in front of him. " I ... er... was just going to take a look at this book. " No mentioning the voice, it wouldn't do the kingdom good for people to see that the crowned prince was crazy. He held the book out "I haven't seen it before and it looked ... informative but if you were sent to collect it..."

'No! You must look at the book'

The insistence in the voice almost made him drop the book.

It starts without warning. One morning you spit out a mouthful of flower petals, the next you feel thorny vines scratch at the walls of your rib cage. After that those vines overcrowd.You begin to claw at your throat, finding your breaths come out in difficult, stumpy heaves as you ache for your suffering to end. That is to say: a strange onset of disease has overtaken the monastery, striking seemingly at random. Or is it random, truly? Many speculate that unfulfilled adoration is the cause whereas others point out it need not be only love. Those strongly disposed to emotion find that their symptoms worsen, rage, bitterness, sadness, despair, longing—all bringing the taste of flowers in your mouth to a head. What can fix it? For those feelings to be heard, no matter what they are, to the person whom they best concern. [Grants Any Skill +1]

It had not been a good night for the blue lion prince. Despite the cooler weather, his room had felt stuffy making it hard to breath. Yet it wasn't hot, just claustrophobic as though suffocating. Dark mark under his eyes spoke of his restless night as Dimitri shuffled down the corridor. He felt awful.

As usual, when insomnia struck so did the voices. The insistent callings of the dead, urging for revenge, to find justice. Usually in these time he found solace in the church, staring up at the stain glass window or in the library, diving into the texts of the time. Today's lack of energy favoured the chapel.

Entering the dark interior of the church, he felt his breath shorten again. Instead of feeling more at peace it was the opposite. The anguish grew inside him till it burst forth.

And so, here he was. In Garreg Mach's church of all places.

He doesn't find himself at the cathedral often, favoring the library or his room in his free time. He wasn't an awfully religious person anyway, but something about all of this draws him there. And to a pile of petals on the tiled ground that weren't the hydrangea petals he'd gotten used to seeing spilling from his own mouth.

“Have you seen this before then?” He asked “I’ve heard rumours but dismissed them. I assumed I didn’t meet the criteria for the condition to affect me”

There was no space for love while his ghosts remained unfulfilled in their desire for retribution. Once that was complete he could look to the future as such frivolous things as love.

“My apologies Professor” he said head bowed in apparent contrition. “I was unaware of this new initiative by the Academy though I can see its merit. Perhaps I should look into the opportunity as well. “ There was a snicker from somewhere behind him as though someone thought the idea of him teaching hilarious. “Please begin you lesson”

It wasn’t his best apology but he was feeling unsettled by the change. Then again he knew the Empress to be a competent teacher though strict in her instruction. He hasn’t forgotten her sharp rebukes to correct his (many) dancing faults.

Taking the paper offered, he sees nothing on it. A joke about Adrestian tactics being non-existent briefly crosses his mind but common sense prevails and that’s where it stays.

“Well if you’re willing to share” Dimitri begins sketching out the rough features of Gondor field. He uses symbols to represent the 3 differing armies. “A good start would be to form a temporary alliance with another army so together you can move in a pincer motion to take out the other opponent” he starts to say “however there is inherent risk in doing this as it relies on trust”

With her hands now freed, Edelgard brings one to rest upon her chin while the other steadies her elbow: "I see. What you say is true.. If someone protects you once, does that mean they will do it a second time?"

'Yes' cannot leave her lips. That is only a lie.

"Battlefields are unpredictable. A rapid alliance can easily turn against you." Her finger taps the side of her cheek, bringing her gaze to the ceiling. "The way best begun is by assessing your army's strengths and weaknesses to best utilize their talents. We may be unable to pincer attack this way, but there are other more noteworthy merits. If they are already fighting on my side, that means they are placing their trust in me. Assuming I am its leader, that is."

He’d given an honest answer even if it wasn’t one he’d personally sanction. Alliances sounded good on paper but he’d learnt a painful lesson about trust already and did not wish to repeat it.

So Edelgard would analyse the capabilities of each army. Then what? Before they could ponder this more, she had turned the questioning back on him.

“Well it would depend on the goal of the battle. “ he started. “What are we fighting for? Is there a common enemy or some reward to be shared?” These were the basic tenets of diplomacy taught by his school masters as a young child. United through commonalities, focus of what connects rather than divides.