“Edelgard, before you say anything, I would first like to establish that this was an excellent idea.”
whether that statement was intended as a defense or a warning remained unclear. the gift itself arrived in the form of a large portfolio case, one substantial enough to suggest architectural plans, military maps, or perhaps the complete written history of House Aegir. Ferdinand carried it with visible pride before setting it down and undoing the clasp with a flourish that suggested he had been anticipating this moment for some time.
inside rested dozens upon dozens of photographs. (he is one of the richest in Adrestia. money can find a photo-artifex handler in this day and age!)
at first glance, they appeared completely incomprehensible. each depicted a different blackboard somewhere around Garreg Mach—classrooms, lecture halls, seminar rooms, even a few that appeared to have been temporarily relocated outdoors for reasons that likely made sense only to Ferdinand. every surface was covered from edge to edge in chalk. paragraphs. diagrams. arrows. historical references. flowcharts. equations. marginal notes. entire essays. the sheer volume of writing was enough to make even the most diligent professor question their life choices.
“you may notice,” Ferdinand began, unable to conceal his satisfaction, “that I was forced to borrow twenty-seven separate blackboards. twenty-nine, actually. two were lost to an unfortunate encounter with the weather. I had not anticipated rain becoming an active participant in the artistic process.”
one by one, he began arranging the photographs across the table. "the thirtieth so happened to be yours." no need to borrow that one.
what initially resembled the feverish work of a scholar three days removed from sleep slowly transformed as the pieces came together. the dense walls of writing were not independent at all. entire paragraphs curved into shadow. historical timelines became clear outlines. military diagrams formed the folds of the coastal regions. citations, observations, and carefully measured chalk lines converged into something far larger than any individual board. an image appeared.
up close, the image dissolved into thousands upon thousands of individual words. Ferdinand folded his arms and regarded the finished arrangement with unmistakable pride.
for a moment, the usual confidence in his expression softened. his gaze drifted over the assembled portrait, lingering on sections of text only he would immediately recognize.
“every board contains something I have observed. memories. accomplishments. qualities I somewhat respect. some are significant moments. some are completely mundane. a conversation I remembered. an argument we had. a decision you made. a time you proved me wrong.” his laugh was quieter now. there were quite a few of those, admittedly.
he rested a hand against the edge of the table.
“all of them mattered enough to write down.” laid bare in thousands of words spread across thirty blackboards.
“happy birthday, Edelgard.”
only after a brief pause did his grin return in full force.
“and before you ask—yes. I spent an entire week measuring classroom dimensions and calculating viewing angles to ensure the perspective aligned correctly across every photograph. I assure you, creating a portrait of this scale while accounting for lens distortion was considerably more difficult than expected.”
he looked entirely serious.
which only made it worse.
Surprise weaves in the form of a wordless reply.
When she had proposed for him to write everything down, she hadn't fathomed it to this degree (though, she realizes she should have; Ferdinand was always one to go above and beyond). The ever-observant eye traces each line as if the text itself is a book unbeknownst to even her. She walks around it; right, then left, hovering between going closer and staring at Adrestia from far away. It is the people that make their land. It is their people that carve the future; that know not what they do, until they will.
If it took an entire week just to obtain measurements and angles, Edelgard cannot begin to picture the other extents involved. He had even written down ineptitudes! That is how a person grows. That is what makes this land so great— Where humans thrive by their own hand, in their own unique ways. "It pleases me you enjoyed my suggestion," she observes. If there is one thing she knows about Ferdinand, it is that he listens. It also so happens to be one of the traits she finds admirable about him.
"I'm nothing short of impressed. Honestly, I'd have never considered using those boards to make a larger picture in this way." Maybe she should have. A hand perches up to her mouth to stifle a giggle. The irony in her having learned something! "The thought you put into this is immeasurable. I recognize that." She smiles, then meets his gaze. It would be a shame to have to tuck all these photographs back into the case. To do so is hiding the moon from the stars. Still— That is his knowledge. What one chooses to do with it is their choice. She's glad to have it shared with her.
"Were this not completed, dare I'd think to suggest this moment would have made an excellent addition." As for whether or not she speaks in jest, Edelgard's way of speech makes it difficult to conclude.
The princess plucks one of the photographs on the end and brings it into her palms with gentle ease. Its boundless text has her squinting to see every line; every word, every assumed thought. As she places it back into the proper spot, she takes a step away and rests a hand on her hips. "You've learned much, all of which is by your own accord. Don't be too prideful just yet— Like I said before, I eagerly await to see all of this executed." A beat. "And, thank you. I do mean it."
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