FE Aspec Week - April 28 - May 4 2024

FE Pride Week

June 16 - 22

Python choked back a laugh. “That’s not quite the confidence you want to hear from your portrait painter, you know.” He walked up to the canvas, but Forsyth was quick to angle it away from him. 

“Oh, hush, I wasn’t even painting you! I’ll have you know, it was rather difficult trying to paint something without having it in front of me.”

“What are you talkin’ about, Luke was sitting right there for hours!”

At his mention, Lukas perked up. He’d been lounging in front of Forsyth, his eyes lowered to sift through a pile of student writings. He’d been scribbling notes in the margins, absentmindedly angling his face this way and that when Forsyth requested.

“And I am incredibly grateful for his presence. However, I did not want to capture him looking like a sleep-deprived schoolteacher –”

“– but that’s exactly what he is –”

“– so I attempted to recreate my personal favorite expression of his.”

Lukas smiled. “Oh? And what would that be?” He placed the papers aside, giving Forsyth his full attention. Lukas nodded to the canvas, encouraging him to reveal it. 

“Well… you see… the point of this whole project…”

Forsyth searched for the right words. The point of the whole project actually struck him months ago, back at Rigel Castle. 

He and Python had sat for their own portraits, which would later be hung in the great hall to commemorate members of the Brotherhood. Forsyth could have cried seeing he and Python’s likenesses full of dignity and chivalry. The whole time, though, he couldn’t shake the feeling of injustice that boiled in his stomach: Lukas would get nothing. 

Sure, his name would appear in the records as the royal family’s right-hand advisor during and after war, but his image would disappear entirely. He left the Brotherhood to fulfill his dreams long before the kingdom was stable enough to commission a professional painter. With his brother furthering the bloodline and becoming the major focus of the household, Lukas was relieved of all marriage obligations – and opportunities for a couple’s portrait. Paintings alongside any future children were out of the question, as well. 

“It’s terribly unfair!” Forsyth had cried. “Are war and romance the only means to remember a man? Is he any less worthy because he will never marry?”

“You’re overthinking things, Fors.” Python had hardly spared him a glance. “Plenty of good people don’t get their paintings done.”

“And that is just as much an outrage!” 

He brought his concerns to Lukas, who seemed at peace with the situation, as Python was. The pair’s disinterest only caused Forsyth more urgency. After a bit of deliberation, he knew there was only one path forward. 

“I shall take this into my own hands.”

They would find out he meant this very literally. He showed up at Lukas’ schoolhouse with various brushes clutched in his hands, an apron thrown over his chest. He pulled up a nearby seat, propped up an easel, and got right to it. It became their routine: once classes dismissed for the day, Lukas would busy himself with reading through his school materials, and Forsyth would busy himself with work of his own.

He’d done his research beforehand, but had never actually painted anyone’s portrait. He looked again at the finished product.

“I was hoping to capture… er… the point of this work is to commemorate your independent situation… and thus… I remembered the days after you first told me, you were the happiest I’d ever seen you. The face is still a rare one, but after that night, I’ve seen that side of you more and more. I just thought…”

He gave an audible huff. Screw it. 

He turned the canvas around. 

“I am sorry. Perhaps I should have gone with a more dignified look, like the other knights’ portraits. I am aware that I have yet to accomplish a professional’s level of –”

“It’s perfect.” 

Forsyth blinked. 

Lukas stared at the canvas. He appeared to be working out his next words. Meanwhile, Python let out a long whistle. “Lookin’ good! Not too shabby, for your first masterpiece.”

“‘Not too shabby’ is an understatement.” Lukas stepped closer to the piece, his voice full of warmth. “Thank you, friend.”

In the painting, Lukas wasn’t sitting straight-backed and stiff; it was focused on his bust, leaning a bit in relaxed movement. He wore casual clothes, none of his usual professional garments. He smiled. His mouth was a little lopsided, a little odd, pinching his eyes a bit, showing some teeth, but not all – and it was a perfect replication. This was Lukas’s true smile, not the one he put up for others to view. 

Python gave him a poke. “So, now what? Where are we gonna do with it? We can’t just smuggle it into the royal gallery. And I don’t think Lukas is the kind of guy who wants to stare at it here in the school all the time.”

“Well, I… er….”

“I mean, we can certainly just go and hang it up somewhere around town, but I don’t think he’s looking for that, either.”

“I just thought he’d want it! For his legacy!” Forsyth huffed. His eyes shone with The kind of determination that the others knew not to overstep on. There was no stopping him now. “It’s important that he’s remembered through the ages! I think of all the heroes that inspired me – the way I gazed at their images in my fathers’ textbooks, gaining hope from their stories…”

“You’re hoping that Lukas ends up in some dusty textbook someday?”

“Indeed!” He beamed, not realizing that Python didn’t see it as a grand victory. “Just imagine: centuries from now, some harrowed scholar, crushed under familiar struggles. They get a hold of a secondhand book, and suddenly, bam!” He gestured to the painting. “They look upon his face and see that everything will be alright. They’ll think, ‘if Sir Lukas of Valentia can do it, and smile so purely at the end of it all, surely I can too!’”

He clenched his fists, caught up in his own excitement. His gaze was somewhere faraway, imagining this incredible future.  

Python scoffed. 

“It sounds like they’re just as much of a hopelessly sentimental dreamer as you are. They’ll probably think, ‘gods, now I need to study up on this guy too?”

“Python…”

“Or, if they’re like me, maybe they’ll think, ‘mmm, that is one fiiine –”

“Python!”

“Alright, alright. I think it’s a real nice gesture, Fors.”

Lukas had been quietly taking everything in for a while. Now he spoke. “I truly believe this is perfect. As you said – this is an expression only saved for rare occasions. It’s difficult for me to smile so genuinely. I… I never really see it myself.”

C Support

Kliff: Hey. Luthier, right? Luthier: What do you want? Kliff: Wow, and people say I’m standoffish. Luthier: Everyone in this army who wanted to make a new friend approached me within a week of my arrival. It’s only reasonable to assume that you want something from me. Er, not that I’m unwilling to oblige. Kliff: Fine. We can drop the pretenses, then. I want to learn more about magic. Luthier: I see! Well, you’ve come to the right person. I may not have my sister’s raw ability, but I’ve exhaustively studied every tome available to me. I’m confident I can answer any questions you have about magical theory. Kliff: It’s not theory I’m after. We’re in the middle of a war, remember? I need to learn new spells. Spells that kill people. Luthier: So impatient. You’re just like my sister—blessed with so much magical aptitude, and unwilling to turn a single page to use it. Kliff: Don’t compare me to your kid sister. And—aptitude? What’s that supposed to mean? Luthier: Magical talent. Latent skill. Arcane ability. It’s passed down family lines. One or both of your parents was born with the gift, and one day, your children likely will be as well. Kliff: You know what? I don’t think I need magic lessons from you. Luthier: …Did I say something?

B Support

Luthier: Kliff! Still working on your studies? Kliff: What’s it to you? Luthier: …I was trying to start a conversation. Kliff: And I’m trying to end it. Go away. Luthier: Would you just hear me out? Kliff: … Luthier: I can see how the idea of magical inheritance might be… offputting to those who aren’t familiar with it. I’m certainly not pleased about being limited by something that was decided before I was born— Kliff: Sounds like a you problem. Luthier: However, it’s a fact of life. If you can’t come to terms with something as basic as this, you’ll never be able to advance your magical studies. Kliff: Fine, then. It’s a family thing. So what? If anyone else in my family has magic, they don’t know about it. Luthier: Pehaps you should inform them, then! Magical study could make for an excellent family bonding activity… provided they’re more agreeable than my ungrateful sister. Kliff: Heh. And if they’re not? Luthier: Then consider it something you can proudly pass on to your descendants. Kliff: Wrong again, Luthier. Luthier: What? What did I say this time? Wait—Come back!

A Support

💙 My apologies, Felicia, I didn’t mean to frighten you. If I may ask, what were you doing…?

🩷 No need to apologize, I was just, um! Just cleaning. Right. 

💙 Are you certain…? You were standing in front of the mirror, with all these books open around you. 

🩷 E-exactly! It’s a mess, so I was just cleaning all of that, no need to –

💙 Oh my, they’re all romance novels! I see…

🩷 No! You don’t see anything!

💙 All these pages you have open… your pillow in your arms… were you… practicing kissing, by any chance? 

🩷 ACK!

💙 Haha, I remember growing up in Hoshido, all the little children would practice kissing with their pillows, too. I didn’t realize the custom was shared with Nohr.

🩷 Gods, this is so embarrassing. To be caught doing something so childish! Why can’t I get anything right? (leaves)

💙 Oh, Felicia, wait! I didn’t mean to embarrass her. I actually thought it was rather cute...

B Support:

💙 Felicia, there you are! I’ve been meaning to speak with you lately.

🩷 Ugh, if this is about the other day, there’s no need. I have been mortified about it ever since…

💙 Why are you ashamed? As I said, that’s a very common practice in Hoshido.

🩷 Yes, for kids! Kids who are clueless about romance and doing something silly with their friends. It’s not the type of practice you’d expect from a grown woman who should certainly know how to kiss by this time in her life. I’ve already proved myself a failure at everything else, I suppose it makes sense I’d be falling behind when it comes to romance, on top of all that.

💙 What makes you a failure?

🩷 I’ve never kissed anyone before. Like, really kissed them. I’ve fallen in love and tried to do it right, but every single time I leave like a coward when things get too serious. If even kissing is difficult for me, there’s no way I could do anything more…

💙 … Are you calling me a coward, as well?

🩷 W-what? Of course not, milday! Why would you say such a thing? 

💙 Well, I have no experience with kissing either.

🩷 *sigh* Lady Azura, you don’t have to try and make me feel better. You’re the most competent, gorgeous, charming, and calm woman in the whole army. Surely you have hordes of suitors at your heels! You must have experienced everything that romance has to offer, by this point. 

💙 You flatter me, Felicia. But there’s no need to put yourself down so harshly. From what I’ve gathered, you and I are very similar. I never had experience with those types of things because I never wished for them. Everyone seeks different things in a relationship.

🩷 Yes, but everyone wants to kiss their lover!

💙 Not everyone…

🩷 I told you that you didn’t need to make me feel better. If you’ll excuse me. (leaves)

💙 Ah, I really thought we were getting somewhere this time.

A Support:

🩷 Lady Azura, could we speak for a moment? I’m feeling a little guilty about how our last conversation concluded. 

💙 Oh, what is it Felicia?

🩷 I was so caught up in my own worries, and I wasn’t truly listening to you. When you said we were very similar… did you mean, you also weren’t looking for the more physical aspects of a relationship?

💙 That is correct. You’ll need to pardon my assumptions about you. I do hope I did not overstep.

🩷 Not at all! B-but, doesn’t that frighten you? I’ve always feared that I’m not enough for others. Any time I think about confessing my love, it seems like I’ll need to be more, do more, than I want. So I’ve never acted on my feelings for another.

💙 It certainly can be confusing, at first.

🩷 When I’m falling behind with my duties as Corrin’s maid, Jakob just tells me to practice, practice, practice! I had hoped the same would ring true for these struggles. But no amount of practice or preparation has helped me, yet. If it’s true, and you also haven’t had experience like that… Well, how are you so content with not being enough?

💙 Why, because I am enough. When you find a partner, you find someone that completes you. Neither of you demand anything from the other. You communicate and compromise, as any relationship. But if there’s something you simply cannot give, they need not ask it of you.

🩷 Hm… that is a nice thought… 

💙 So if you don’t want to kiss anyone, or do anything else that may seem unappealing, that doesn’t make you a failure by any means. That just makes you, you. No practice necessary.

🩷 Thank you milady, I’d never thought of it that way before. I have some thinking to do, I believe.

💙 I’ll be here anytime you wish to talk.

S Support:

🩷 Lady Azura, I have a confession to make.

💙 A confession?

🩷 Well, two actually. My first is that… on the day that you caught me practicing kissing… well… it was because I had hoped to kiss you. 

💙 Oh!

🩷 I noticed my feelings a long time ago, but any time I tried to admit them, I got too nervous that I would fall short. I thought if I tried extra hard, maybe I could show you that I could give you anything you needed.

💙 Felicia, I hope you know that I will never ask you to be anything other than yourself. You’re absolutely perfect the way you are. And it's very sweet that you wanted to do something out of your comfort zone for me. You work harder than anyone here, I believe.

🩷 Of course I wanted to! I’ll do anything for the people I care about.

💙 I know. That’s why I admire you so much. I’m really glad the two of us could talk. It’s been so long since I’ve met someone so much like myself. Maybe it’s for the best that I stumbled in on you, hm?

🩷 Oh no, I’m still horribly embarrassed by that!

💙 Haha! And what of your second confession?

🩷 That’s right – my other one was… ack ! It was going to be a love confession, but I guess you already know that now! Ah, I’ve gone and done it all backwards…

💙 I don’t mind in the slightest. My answer, of course, is yes. I’d love nothing more than to be yours.

🩷 I just love you so much! I promise you, I’ll do whatever it takes for both of us to be the most comfortable.

Forsyth’s tiny hands trembled, clutching the gift that he’d bought with his very own money. His father didn't need to know.

Python scrambled down the big oak tree to meet him. He tugged at the dress his father probably made him wear for the holiday. His hair had already come loose from it's braid, likely caught on the twigs and leaves of the tree. Forsyth waited anxiously at it's base for him to come down.

When he arrived, Forsyth shoved the box forward. He startled both of them with the force of it.

“I – I – I have this. For you. Will you – I mean – I would –” Forsyth’s cheeks burned red. It was clear what he was asking. There would be no other reason you’d give someone a perfectly wrapped package of sweets on the Day of Devotion unless you were asking them the question.

Python looked down at it. The two had been friends for so long, it took only a second for Forsyth to understand exactly what it meant. 

“Oh…” He felt his stomach twist up in a knot. His throat started to constrict. “I know Father doesn’t like you, but he doesn’t much like anyone. S-so we can make it work!”

“Fors…”

“We could keep it a secret!” Then, in desperation, “we could – we could run away together!”

“Fors!” Python whined. “C’mon, you know we’re too young for that!” With one hand he took the chocolates, and the other took Forsyth's arm. “We’re supposed to be climbing trees and playing pranks on Teacher – not doing gushy grown-up love stuff.”

Forsyth bit his lip. He didn’t think it was gushy at all. He didn’t trust his voice to speak; with one word he may just start bawling right here. The last thing he needed was to be scolded for being so emotional. 

Python beamed as if he hadn’t just shattered Forsyth’s heart into a million pieces. “Let’s just take it slow, okay? We’ll have plenty of time for all that when we’re older, okay?”

He coaxed a small nod from Forsyth.

“Speaking of! I heard Teach left the schoolhouse window open – have I got the perfect plan! We’ll share the chocolates after, okay? You’re my best friend, we should split them.”

I don’t want to split them. Forsyth let himself be tugged along. I wanted to give them all to you. To give everything to you.

He grit his teeth as they ran. He wasn’t the type to accept defeat after a small setback like this. So, Python wasn’t ready. That was fine. One day he would be. And Forsyth would be there. It was like every book he’d read: the steadfast knight would get the beautiful lover, if he was just patient enough.

He said a quick prayer to Mila, that one day they’d stop being friends, and true love would win out.

—

“Python!”

Forsyth’s hands trembled, his fists balled up in fury. 

“I am sick and tired of this.”

“Oh you’re tired of this? Then quit fucking confessing every single year. Every year it’s the same speech, and the same shitty plan to run away together. We’re not in some fairy tale, Fors. Just give it up.” Python moved to take a sip from his drink, turning his back. Though they’d both come of age, it wasn’t ale. Though it wasn’t ale, they both spoke as loudly as if they’d each had a barrel to drink. It was a good thing Python’s father was out all night; there was no one in the tiny house to hear them argue.

Forsyth grabbed the cup away before he could take a sip. It earned him a hard look, but a direct one. “I’m not tired of confessing, I’m tired of this type of disrespect!” He placed the drink down a foot away. “You can’t just be honest with me and tell me why I’m not good enough for you – it’s infuriating!”

“I am honest. I’ve told you, this has nothing to do with you. It’s me who–”

“Oh-ho, don’t give me that tired cliche! Every year, it’s another cryptic excuse, another roundabout lie!” He flung his hands in wild gestures, his voice pitching. “You say you’re not ready for commitment, yet you spend every day with me regardless. You say you would make a terrible housemate, yet you stay over at my home for weeks at a time. You say you’re not ready to be with someone, yet I catch word that you shared a bed with the innkeeper!”

“What, you jealous or something?”

“That is exactly what I am. And how dare you act like I’m the crazy one for it!” Tears threatened his eyes, but he pushed through. “I have been by your side your entire life, looking out for you, caring for you, giving all of myself over to you! And here you are, laughing in the face of my love! Like - like it’s another one of your jokes!

“Oh, you're jealous, huh? So is that why you do it? You do all that for me just to get laid at the end of the day? Well if you’d said that sooner, I would have happily –”

“You know that’s not what I meant!”

“Then what do you mean?”

“It doesn’t make any damned sense, Python!”

“It does, if you would just pipe down and listen when I –”

“Pipe down?” 

“Yeah! If you’d let me finish a damned sentence this will all make sense!”

“Fine then, go ahead and finish – give me one good reason why you don’t want to be with me!”

“When you’re acting like this I could give you a hundred!” Python swatted his cup away, spilling the drink all over the floor. He stormed out of the room.

A heavy silence fell over the house. Forsyth gathered his things. He left. He finally let his tears fall.

It was simple, he decided. All he needed to do was accept the fact that this relationship was going nowhere. Python didn't love him, and he'd just need to imagine whatever reasons he could. They should simply end things before they got any more hurt. 

End our friendship...

He cried through the night, unable to even muster a word to Mila. 

—

“Python!”

Forsyth’s hand was steady as it took the man’s shoulder. The pair locked eyes. 

“Run away with me.”

The wind rustled the leaves overhead. Usually the area was bustling with chaos as the new building was erected, but Python was the only one to stay back today. Forsyth would have teased him for the irony, if it hadn’t presented him with the perfect opportunity to ask his question.

Python rolled his eyes. “Har-har. I thought today was Day of Devotion, not Flostym Fools'…”

“Huh?” Forsyth’s expression flashed with confusion, then horror. “O-oh! Not like that, of course! Oh gods, I meant… the Deliverance.”

He spread his hands. “It’s clear we’ll never get the approval we seek to join. So I propose we do it in secret. Everyone will be distracted by the village festivities tonight. If we don’t come home right away, everyone will assume it’s for… the festivities. It will give us a reasonable head start. We won’t need to worry about them catching up to us by the time they finally realize we’ve gone.”

He looked eagerly to Python. 

“Heh, using all the hype around love to make our escape... you’re a true ally after all, Fors!”

Forsyth’s look soured. “L-listen. I swear, I would never ask you that again. I mean, we got over that years ago. I nearly lost you to that argument, and I shall never make the same mistake again. I know how much pain I put you through, and I would never dream of –”

“Hey. I know. You had a lot on your mind, then.” He let out a loud sigh. “Which is why I’m gonna come along with you. Somebody’s gotta help you find that special someone, right?”

“Do you mean it? Wait, what is that supposed to mean?”

With a hearty laugh, Python pulled him into a hug. Forsyth held him close. Reality may not follow a path like the perfect little fairy tales he read as a child, but that made it no less perfect.

“So… that’s a yes?”

Python leaned back so he could study his face. “You’re really serious about this, huh?”

“W-were you not?”

“Eh, I’m not serious about anything…” He offered his hand. “But I’m in. I’m always in.”

Forsyth accepted it, clasping it within both of his. He found himself too choked up for words, though he didn’t care if anyone saw him cry. He wiped tears from his cheeks and smiled at Python’s kindhearted teasing.

The second step is for someone else to make the decision. This is the hard part, because you don’t have any control over it, but it’s also the easy part, because you don’t have to do it yourself.

He is informed of the marriage three days after he turns eighteen, and the announcement receives rather more fanfare than his actual birthday. He later finds out that it had been in the works for eight months, his own involvement only an afterthought. He nods along.

The third step is to try and get used to it. Look for the bright side. Do your best. Scrape out what happiness you can and tell yourself that it’s enough. Try to believe it, too.

They sit together in Talia’s ornate bedroom while their parents hash out the details.

“I know it wasn’t your idea,” she says quietly, “but… I like you well enough. And I think you like me well enough. It’s worth a try, isn’t it? To find our own happiness?”

“Yes,” he says, like second nature, agreeing but also agreeable. “I think it is.”

The fourth step is to watch it fall apart. Your relationship, your happiness, your ambitions—these things will decline slowly but steadily, in step with the political decline of the country you live in. It will get worse before it gets better.

He and Talia used to go for picnics. They both preferred open fields to banquet tables, but the silver spoons came with them in the wicker basket. They would sit under the blue sky and talk about what they’d read recently. Their tastes were never quite the same.

His family used to like the picnics, too. Now they just say he isn’t doing enough. he wonders how it can be not enough and too much at the same time.

The fifth step is to run away. Watch for your chance and take it. Mask your intentions under what is asked of you, always useful, always agreeable, always a second son. Smile and nod and run like hell.

“You’re joining the Deliverance? But—Lukas—“

He doesn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t have a choice.”

“When will you be back?”

“I can’t say. I might not return at all.”

If she asked, he would say “because I might die”. But he also leaves his engagement ring on the table.

The sixth step is to be happy, against all odds. Wash your bloody hands and smile, for real this time. Sit with your friends while they sing campfire songs and gossip and never, ever ask you when you’re getting married.

Python corners him once, alone, with a single-minded focus. He wants to know, so Lukas tells him.

“Honestly, Python? I’m not sure if I love her or not.”

He expects some kind of scolding. He does not expect Python’s simple answer to make everything fall into place in his mind.

The seventh and final step is to settle your affairs. Write a curt letter to the family that sent you away; disappoint them with the news of your continued existence and promise they won’t be seeing you again. For the second letter, waver a while longer before finally giving in and asking your friends for help.

“Keep it short—no fancy words, nothing too nice,” Python says. “You’ve made up your mind. You can’t have her thinkin’ you might come back now.”

“But it ought to at least be polite!” Forsyth argues back. “He said himself that she was completely pleasant about the whole thing. There’s no call for rudeness to her—unlike that awful brother—“

“Hold on,” he says. “I think I’ve got it.”

Python and Forsyth accompany him to mail the letter to Talia. Afterward, the three of them go out for drinks, just as Python promised once upon a time.

My faves had a kid but they never had sex. Thank you Naga 🙏

He used to think he just got unlucky, stuck in a tiny village where no one understood the concept of personal space. He dreamed of the day he’d escape them, get out, go anywhere but here, and meet people who were actually decent.

Then he started going to school in the next town over, and with each new person he met, that dream died in front of him. Each and every one of them—over-familiar like Gray, clumsy like Tobin, naive like Alm, or disgustingly romantic like Faye. He hated it. He came back to Ram Village with a disappointed letter from his teacher and a new will to tolerate these idiots so he could safely ignore the rest. He might not fit in, but at least they know him well enough to leave him alone while he’s reading.

—

The war comes on suddenly, like a storm rolling in overnight, and things change. Kliff learns what fire spells can do to a human being, and Gray stops joking about hitting Tobin with his sword, and Faye picks up a lance for the first time, insisting she’ll do whatever it takes to protect her friends. Tolerable acquaintances become battle-allies, people you can trust to have your back. People who could die beside you, any day. There’s no room out here for petty bickering, but sometimes it also feels like there’s no room to get attached. When the war is over, Kliff thinks, they’ll go their separate ways. He probably won’t even miss them.

—

Tobin flags him down at camp one day. “Hey, Kliff!”

He rolls his eyes. “Tobin. I thought you knew not to interrupt me while I’m studying.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I have questions about magic! That counts as study time, right?”

Now Kliff is intrigued, though he refuses to give Tobin the satisfaction. “Since when do you care about magic? I thought it was too complicated for you.”

Tobin settles beside him, keeping a safe distance, but not bothering to ask whether he minds the company. “Well, I don’t really get it. But I want to learn. You know—for the war.”

He sighs. “I don’t know what Alm or Gray did this time, but you’re better with a bow than you’re ever going to be with magic. Focus on getting better at that.”

“Healing magic,” Tobin corrects. “I want to learn healing.”

“What? Why?”

“C’mon, seriously? I’m worried about you guys! I want us to go back to Ram when this is all over—all of us, together. Even if we’re not all planning to stay.”

“…All right, then. I can try to teach you.” Kliff grins. “Though I wouldn’t count on your ability to learn it.”

—

Faye catches him off guard in the middle of an overcrowded mess hall. She’s saying something, but he can’t understand her over the din of too many hungry soldiers. Eventually, she gives up and beckons to the door.

Kliff follows her, plate in hand, out to the cool night air. “What was that for?”

She shrugs. “You looked like you wanted to go outside.”

“I—” He pauses. Mess hall never used to bother him more than any other time around camp, but now that they’ve been getting more recruits, it has been getting louder and louder. He’s never liked loud noises, either. “I guess I did.”

Faye walks a little farther away from the tent, towards the woods. He follows her, and they settle together at the forest’s edge—still in earshot of the camp, but safely away from the clamor of the mess hall.

“I miss Ram,” Faye says quietly, after they’ve been eating for a bit. “Seeing this many people in one place reminds me how far we are from home.”

Kliff snorts. “It just reminds me of school. They always crammed too many people into the common areas for lunch.”

“So you didn’t like leaving then, either?”

“I liked going to school,” he answers. “I didn’t like the people there.”

“What kind of people do you like?”

He thinks on this. “The quiet kind.”

Faye smiles and nods. They eat the rest of their meal in silence.

—

Gray looks out for him during fights.

At first he’s convinced Gray is just showing off, jumping in dramatically and kicking down a mage in mid-chant before they can fire another spell at Kliff. But then it happens a second time, and a third time, and Kliff is more than certain that it’s intentional.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Kliff says, the next time Gray takes a blow for him.

“Do what?” Gray asks. “Look super cool while I’m saving the day?”

Kliff regrets that Gray is too focused on the battle to see him roll his eyes. “Protect me. I can look out for myself.”

“Oh, that? I’m just practicing for next time one of the girls needs saving.” Gray pauses to skewer another incoming mage. “Gotta keep my skills sharp and all that!”

“Gray, I’m serious. Can you stop joking around?” Kliff fires off another spell, stopping an approaching cavalier in their tracks. Now there are no more distractions—Gray will have to talk to him.

Gray turns to face him. “Look, I know you can take it, okay? But that’s not your job. If you’re up in the front lines taking hits, you won’t have the energy to cast your spells. So you do your job, and I’ll do mine, yeah?”

He sighs. “Fine.”

“Great! Now how about a ‘thank you’ for saving your ass?”

“In your dreams.”

—

Alm brings him a book from town.

“Here,” he says, unloading it off a pile of rations and weapons. “They had this on sale at one of the booths. I thought you might get some use out of it.”

Kliff inspects it. It’s a neatly-bound red tome, with gold embossing on the front. It looks well-used, but it’s holding together nevertheless. He flips it open, skimming the table of contents, and frowns.

“I hate to break it to you, but this is a book on magical theory. It’s not going to teach me anything I don’t already know about battle casting.”

Alm looks a little offended. “I know,” he says. “I just figured you would like it. You liked learning about magic at school, didn’t you?”

“I did, but—” He frowns again, turning the book over anxiously in his hands. “We’re in the middle of a war. Did you spend army funds on this?”

“Don’t worry, I spent my own money on it. No funds wasted.”

“But—” Kliff stammers. “Why? What’s the point? What do you get out of this?”

Alm sighs. “It’s just a gift. We may be at war, but we’re still people. I want you guys to be happy—at least, when we’re not having to kill people.”

“Oh,” Kliff says. “Uh. Thanks.”

Alm smiles, bright as ever. “Any time.”

—