Oct 15, 2025
PILLARS OF ETERNITY I PLAYTHROUGH [3/?]
⤷ Frost-Hewn Breach & The Council of Stars
seen from Brazil
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seen from Brazil
seen from Canada
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seen from United Kingdom
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PILLARS OF ETERNITY I PLAYTHROUGH [3/?]
⤷ Frost-Hewn Breach & The Council of Stars
i love manga. horrible shojou gay frankenstein.
can confirm that kokichi hid and was probably starving as a kid. found out that my mom used to do this when i didn’t eat and i hid under my desk while watched the whole hamilton musical on youtube + i’m 5’1. start the kokichi headcanons in the chat pls
Fjord and Jester take Marion out for a walk on the beach. It is a beautiful sunny day. The rest of the gang + Yeza and Luc tag along. Veth teaches Luc to snipe seagulls with his wee crossbow. Nugget bamfs to and fro. Fjord is protected from the harsh sun by his new hat. He shares its shade with everyone. Its brim is 10 feet wide.
Marion commissioning a hat like that because she knows he’ll wear it to impress her daughter. Yes. There’s a reason Jester was silly enough to catch Artagan’s attention in the first place and it is those genetics.
I can just imagine the look on Yeza’s face while Veth teaches Luc to shoot at those seagulls, too.
I hate EVERYTHING it's 7am I just woke up from a nightmare so I'mma do team a n g s t to calm me down:
Erza:
- She cries pretty silently
- She will hyperventilate if she cries for too long, she's also used to being quiet to avoid the drones
- Erza tries to stay indoors if she's feeling like shit mentally, it's not that she doesn't like the outdoors but it reminds her too much of that night
- She'll bake cookies and color. She likes to use water colors alot, she got a new one from Gray and she really likes using it
Lucy:
- She will cry pretty silently but sometimes you can hear her little hiccups
- If she's having a breakdown she'll hide under her blanket and bawl her eyes out
- After that she's usually pretty numb all day and out of it
- She likes to read alot when she gets like that
- Sometimes she'll go to one of her friends houses and just lean against them and read
Wendy:
- She cries loud, never growing up and learning to be silent
- She feels safer when she's by Erza's side, so she'll often knock on her door when she has a nightmare
- Wendy likes to do something with her hands after she's had a nightmare
- She likes to cry sometimes during it in small chunks because she has to get it out and she knows this
- She's usually the exact same has her usual self when she's done having her breakdown, but there's an exhausted edge to everything
- She needs a nap after she has a break down
Natsu:
- Cries quietly alot
- He hiccups sometimes but not all the time
- Doesn't like to be around others when he has a break down, it's too much of a sensory overload for him
- He can't handle being touched afterwards unless if it's a brief touch
- Likes warm things after a breakdown, will drink tea, hot chocolate, anything warm
- Likes to eat fire when upset too
- Usually isn't the same has his normal self for 24 hours, break downs are an all day affair for him
- Breakdowns are usually triggered by something small
Gray:
- Gets wired and just needs a whole hug
- Wants someone to be there when he breaks down but PTSD says: No
- He's caught between needing someone and not needing someone
- He'll usually go to Natsu's place, just because the pyromaniac knows Gray better than Gray knows himself
- Gray needs affection when breaking down but he can't bring himself to trust just anyone
- It's an all day thing when he breaks down, Gray is very much so out of it all day and will barely talk or move
hi im probably gonna head to bed but what if you guys absolutely flooded the inbox so i have stuff to do instead of focusing on class :) celeste might take a few too, but to all the asks that were sent a while ago and haven't showed up they've been claimed by celes! goodnight everyone ^^
- kokichi
Fodlan Holy Grail War (Chapter 1)
Characters present: Edelgard, Dimitri, Claude, Hubert, Ferdinand, Petra, Dorothea, Bernadetta, Caspar, Linhardt, Ingrid, Felix, Sylvain, Dedue, Mercedes, Annette, Ashe, Leonie, Lorenz, Lysithea, Raphael, Ignatz, Hilda, Marianne, Rhea, Flayn, Seteth, Catherine, Hanneman, Manuela, Byleth Pairings: Felix x Annette, slight Hilda x Marianne, very slight Edelgard x f!Byleth (Edeleth)
A/N: So... this is a lengthy chapter... and I didn’t expect to become lengthy. Most of my old chapters in my old series range between 3k - 5k maximum. This? It was 6.8k+. It burnt me out, lol. However, I had fun sticking as many characters as I possibly can for the first chapter! Hope you all enjoy this. :) I had fun writing it.
Previous Chapter: Prologue Next Chapter: Chapter 1
----
“I hope my kid gets in.”
“He’s a commoner. You know they only enlist the richest of the rich.”
“Are you sure about that? There are some students who aren’t from nobility.”
“Yeah, but they have to have a Crest.”
“That’s wrong.”
“No, you’re wrong. They need to have the Crest.”
“My daughter will find a worthy partner!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Why not just marry her off to some rich noble?”
“My grandchildren’s future would be secured if they get in.”
“I can finally find a worthy opponent.”
“I’ll never get in…”
“Cheers!”
Commoners and nobilities mingled and exchanged powerful wishes and lamentations unto each other. Whether they spoke to those that wear their aromatic perfumes in large dosage or to those that wore nothing more than tattered rags, they chirped and frolicked like birds. It was as if a festival bloomed in all three nations simultaneously. Celebrations and haughty statements were tossed around like playthings. Anxiety and tears shed from the inevitable truths. Anticipations gnawed at their mangled souls.
Everyone knew what this month entails. Every five years, on the Guardian Moon (January), a letter from the archbishop would be sent to prospective students throughout the continent. Wings fluttered about over the population. Bells chimed in the background to signal the start of sunset. Stray feathers lazily descended upon the land from the orange sky. Children would squeal and leap, their hands outstretched to catch the pure object, the adults staring intently at the flock like predators. Many elders sunk to their knees, their clasped hands violently trembled, prayers muttered with incredible speed.
All for an invitation to Garreg Mach Monastery.
Its name easily rolls off from one’s tongue. Not more than 50 years had passed when the holy institution was instated as an academy for the continent, yet it managed to pridefully puff its chest. It is a prestigious academy so many yearned to attend. Only the best of the best was considered. After all, the monastery welcomed its gifted students with open arms for opportunities they would never get anywhere else. Future leaders and heroic warriors were products of the school’s program. Not a single student dropped out of each academic term. Everything must glisten in gold. Accepting mediocrity would sully their pristine image.
The Adrestian Empire, the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and the Leicester Alliance were invited to send over their best civilians. Letters were mailed out by white owls to potential candidates; details about the invitations and academic programs sunk its sweet tooth into their recipients.
“Looks like things are about to get serious,” the brown-haired grinned, his scroll crinkled in his grip. He glanced at the wide-eyed bird. Still smiling, he slid over to his right, his hand outstretched to the thin utensil. “It doesn’t hurt to spend five years in training.”
It was as if he had outlined his course of action down cold. Hesitation was never his middle name, anyway. Past the basked warmth of his private quarters, into the corridor, Hilda peered from the corner like a Peeping Tom. Hark, she was not the only person guilty! Various members arched their neck, their head, their ears craving for delicious news.
Claude von Riegan snagged a nearby feathered pen on his desk. The young lad dipped its tip into an inkpot and fluidly circled his response on the smoothed letter. His wrist haphazardly flicked within seconds for a signature.
Submission of his response granted him the role of House Leader for the Golden Deer House from the Leicester Alliance. Hilda, Raphael, Ignatz, Marianne, Lysithea, Leonie, and Lorenz were chosen by the Church of Seiros to follow him that fateful day.
“My Lord, will you be going?”
Another young male held the letter. He shifted the crinkled paper, his bright hues aimed at his closest friend. Dedue’s inquiry caused a soft hum to sing from the blonde. At that same moment, the owl tilted its head, a soft coo harmonic.
“I will,” he twirled the feathered pen, his lips firmed, and his voice solemn. “If this will let me redeem the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus to its former glory, then I will attend.”
Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd pressed his utensil unto the thick parchment. There was a circular motion of his wrist, and, shortly afterward, zig-zagged it for a signature.
Submission of his response granted him the role of House Leader for the Blue Lions House from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Felix, Sylvain, Ingrid, Ashe, Dedue, Mercedes, and Annette were chosen by the Church of Seiros to follow him that fateful day.
“Everything is falling in place,” the white-haired grimaced, her fingertips unsteadily smoothing amongst the moist palms. “I must accept the invitation.”
“Are you certain, Lady Edelgard?”
Hubert stood in her shadows. No— he is her shadow. His second posture flickered in time with the lonesome candle. She completely unfolded the scroll to the owl’s supervision. The feathered ally blinked once. She nodded. Then, the young gentleman rested a hand on his chest, the darkness discoloring the smooth beauty of his porcelain pale skin. He bowed deeper than any loyal retainer would to their lord.
Edelgard von Hresvelg stroked the application with grace and delicacy. Weaves danced upon the page in a singular motion of her wrist.
Submission of her response granted her the role of House Leader for the Black Eagles House from the Adrestian Empire. Dorothea, Petra, Hubert, Ferdinand, Caspar, Linhardt, and Bernadette were chosen by the Church of Seiros to follow her that fateful day.
Everything has been set into stone. Owls hooted their final call to the upcoming students, their wings flapped in tempo. Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude watched from high above, their pupils directed at the glistening land. The white bird was soon nothing more than a dot in the vast, orange sky. They shifted the weight on their feet, their grip tightening on the opened window's edge, their eyelids fluttered from the pleasant breeze flowing parts of their locks, all conducted simultaneously in a symphony. Now, the students must wait for the Great Tree Moon (April).
-----
Harpstring Moon (May). It has been one month since their arrival; one month at the famous Garreg Mach Monastery. Lengthy orientations and settlement were slowing to a standstill. Booming chatters and flurried excitement comfortably dipped into dignified and refined tranquility. Almost everyone had familiarized themselves with their surroundings and colleagues. Those that did not would quickly catch up.
Lady Rhea, standing in her bedroom, slowly exhaled. Birds chirped in volumes that penetrated the glassed barrier, their small bodies soaring to everlasting freedom. Tis’ the season for Spring to reach the finishing line. Their eventual retirement would pave way for the new, blistering season. She blinked. Both of her hands were raised, fingers intertwined, palms impressed, and head lowered; her silent prayers ushered into nothingness.
“Lady Rhea, how are you faring?”
Seteth stood at the doorway. Rigidity colored his posture, his bright hues gently lay to rest upon the holy maiden’s figure, to which it was drummed with the afternoon heat. She remained still and unmoving from her prayer. The same could not be said about her thin lips, its movement as casual as it could get.
“You need not worry about me, Seteth, but I am well.”
“I see.”
“How are the students?”
The songs from those birds increased in frequency. Melodies tinkered to their eardrums, their notes bouncing about within their heart, their natural passion embracing their souls. Seteth smiled in response.
“Noisy as ever.”
He could only use euphemism to describe it all.
The first month was beyond hectic. “Noisy” hardly captured the real image. Light tremors reverberated throughout the monastery. Overwhelming energy eradicated the lonesome premise once home to mere foot soldiers and bodyguards. Everyone had their eyes on each other. Crow’s feet were an epidemic as they exchanged formal greetings; some informal, such as Mercedes and Annette, where friendly hugs and kisses were given and received. An aromatic smoke wafted from the large cafeteria, sucking the population’s majority into its already-crowded site, the hopes of alleviating the chaos from outside.
“H-Hey! Linhardt, why aren’t you letting me grab thirds?!” Caspar’s reach trembled, his sight glued to the meaty target. “I’m really hungry!”
“Did you forget that there are other students in line after you?” Linhardt shook his head. “We need to leave some for them.”
“It’s a first-come, first-serve basis.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I’m going to starve!”
“You will not.”
“Yes, I will!”
“I suggest you change your eating habits then. It won’t hurt missing one drumstick from your diet.”
“LINHARDT!”
It is unfortunate traffic began to jam from the inside, its chaotic nature having shifted to a new location.
“Oi, are you both done yet?”
Felix felt his vein bulge from his head, his piercing eyes sparing no one. His metallic tray gloried its empty content before the bickering duo. Their shoulders slumped as their jaws clamped. Caspar would normally argue. It was his nature to counter a sharp response with another sharp response, albeit slightly weaker. Yet his blood stiffened at the sight. Linhardt shook his head again.
“Oh dear… It’s time we find a seat.”
An apology was delivered swiftly to his doorstep and they promptly removed themselves from the counter. The young male rubbed a couple of fingers against his temple, a huff escaping.
“Thank God they’re gone. They’re so annoying.”
“Felix, you shouldn’t say that!” Annette popped her head in with a bow. She gazed upon the sword-wielder with puffed cheeks. “Besides, they’re just getting food.”
“They were holding up the line, Ann.”
“You could’ve asked them politely.”
“Well, it’s too late for that now.”
“I think you should change your scary expression.”
“Oh, really?”
“I admit, it’s not as scary as Dimitri, but you should really smile more often.”
He scoffed. Felix plopped a chunk of sliced steak onto his newly placed plate riddled with greeneries and bread. His eyes slanted, turned towards Annette, and proceeded to drop a large quantity of meat onto her plate, despite her earlier objections.
“I would never be like the Boar Prince.”
“If you say so. I still think you should smile more in public.”
“…”
“Felix?”
“Annette,” the two have stepped away from the elongated counter, swooped down to press his lips upon her cheek. It left a tingly aftermath on Annette’s rosy cheeks, her feet tangled from an accidental crooked misstep. Felix freed one hand and intercepted her fall. Their faces were in short proximity, their breaths puffed amongst each other’s skin. Flames sharply ignited their skin with a roar as he whispered, “I want to shower you and only you with my smiles.”
“F-Felix…”
“Wow~ Take it to the bedroom, you two.”
Felix and Annette snapped their heads up. Seated from one of the table’s end, Leonie, Hilda, Marianne, and Ashe watched the two interact. Hilda smirked, her tongue holding no restraint. Besides her, the weary blue-haired student anxiously tugged on the pink-haired’s sleeve. Inaudible utters tumbled out of her parted lips, her pleas unheard by the female. As for Ashe and Leonie, they did their best to eat in silence, yet their ears perked for worthwhile events. Felix narrowed his eyes.
“You got a lot of nerve saying that to us, Hilda.”
“Felix—”
“Relax, Ann, I’m not going to hurt her.”
He approached the sitting Golden Deer. Though his hands were occupied, his mouth was not, and he happily made use of it. Verbiage intent on reprimanding filled the silent void Hilda purposely created. She plopped her chin on the palm of her hand, unblinking, and possibly bored out of her mind. Hilda did not bother to stifle her yawn either, letting it loose for the whole world to witness. Marianne felt parts of her soul fly out of her body, and dread shadowed over her eyes.
“Hilda, please apologize to him…” Marianne pleaded, her tugs becoming more apparent. “We… don’t want to cause trouble again…”
“Again…?” Annette raised a brow. “It’s only the first day we’ve been here.”
“Um… well… We accidentally broke a merchant’s axe…”
“How so?”
“Hil— I…. crashed into it—”
“Marianne! It was me, silly!” Hilda had done a complete 180 and swerved her attention to the shorter female. The energy that lay dormant bubbled to the surface, her arms pulling her friend into a tight embrace. Marianne felt her strength wither as her eyes widened. The sensation of her weight was still in her arms as Hilda glanced over at Annette. “It was me. I broke it. Not her.”
“…really?”
“Yes! I actually broke it with my bare hand!”
“Are you sure you aren’t covering up for her—”
“I. Did. It.”
“Hey! Why are you ignoring me!?”
“Pipe down, Felix,” Leonie waved her fork. “I’m trying to eat here!”
“Oi, Hilda started it!”
“And you continued!”
“Why are people so— You know what? Nevermind.”
“Hah? Could you elaborate on your unfinished statement?”
“I think this conversation is over, comrade.”
“Fine!”
Felix and Leonie fumed. Imaginary puffs of air emanated the dramatists. Soap opera would want to take note of their interactions for the next spectacular feature. Ashe began to laugh after settling the metallic mug onto the table.
“It sure is lively.”
“Lively? I think it’s outright noisy.”
The orange-haired promptly slugged his shoulder. Ashe ran out of language, incoherent sound effects elicited, and his hand furiously rubbing the affected area. His endurance is above average. He had an innate ability to run longer, burn faster, and bear far more than an ordinary boy similar in age and stature. If given the chance, his splendors would be renowned at the monastery. Yet he underestimated the power of a person called “Leonie.”
“Ow… You don’t hold your punches back, do you?”
“Why should I?”
“…”
Women are scary! Leonie especially! Such prowess that bundled and coiled in the young girl… How is that possible!? Sweat flew from his head dramatically as Leonie jabbed her fork into another piece of protein, its squelch muted from the rowdy setting. Felix fingers ran through his black hair, Annette appearing back by his side and pulling on his arm.
Ignatz and Raphael, who sat on the opposite end, pinned their gaze upon the small group. Flailing of arms, subjectless exclamations, and unnecessary lamentations painted the group as a form of entertainment.
“Ignatz, you think they’ll ever stop?”
“I don’t think so…”
“Why can’t they take it out on the training ground? I heard it’s good for sparring.”
The young boy shrugged his shoulders. As if on cue, the level of noise had risen. Vocals were lost amidst the background, his lips moving without sound.
“— - –—"
It went on for a couple of seconds, hinting of its lengthy content. Raphael was unable to grasp any of them; not a single peep was grasped and stuffed into his eardrums. He leaned forward, his muscular chest pressed upon the extended furniture, and tried to hear his artsy friend.
“——-—"
Raphael frowned. Under normal circumstances, one would speak up. This was not the case for the mighty brawn.
In contrast to their curiosity, Mercedes and Ferdinand could not bear to look. The mantle of responsible dependency rest over the duo’s shoulders.
“This is turning out to be a lively first day,” Mercedes giggled, her spoon scooping bits of the honeyed porridge. She tucked a stray strand behind her ear, her long eyelashes fluttering. “I hope it will stay this way for a long time.”
“It will happen if you strongly believe in it,” Ferdinand motioned.
His absurd confidence resonated in her heart, the healer shooting a glance. An amused hum stroked his taste buds once he took another bite from the salad bowl, oblivious to the probing gaze. She tilted her head. There had to be discrepancies with his proclamations and reality. Mercedes is a devout believer for religion and charity, but even she knows about the harsh conditions real-life posed.
“How could you be so sure?”
“Because I am Ferdinand von Aegir.”
“…oh! I… see.”
Did she expect something deeper from him?
“…”
He beamed. She reciprocated with a beam of her own. Maybe she was asking too much from him.
Nearby the four eaters, a black shadow zipped by. None of them had sensed the abnormality. Another shadow scurried after the first foreigner. That was when their sight and auditory senses kicked in.
“Was that Sylvain?” Raphael blinked. “What’s he doing?”
“I’m not too sure… It’s probably not something good, knowing him.”
“You think so too, Ferdinand?”
“I can attest to that, fufu~”
A shudder ran down Ignatz’s spine. “Y-You’re kind of scaring me, Mercedes…”
“PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE!”
Students standing and nestled near one of the four doorways nearly went into cardiac arrest, their hands immediately resting over the wildly thumping organ. Glares and bewilderment shot at the fatigued girl. Bernadetta had burst from the cafeteria. Under normal circumstances, she would cower from their dagger-like stares. However, their eyes were the least of her problems…
“W-Where… Where can I go?!”
She had to run. She had to hide. She had to disappear.
Hot behind her trail was Sylvain. The young noble tossed his hand out to the doorway’s border. He grunted, his firm fingers curled inward, and swung his body out into the open with a sharp turn.
“Bernadetta!” he hollered. “Come back here, will you!?”
The fluttering of loose-leaf papers threatened to fly away like a bird from his grip, an entrapped victim desiring for release. Sylvain’s fast feet neared the writer, but he was careless. Smooth as the road may be, the pathways were littered with specks of debris, with some large enough to warrant a red flag.
“WHOA!”
He stumbled forward. Life danced before his eyes, Sylvain’s arms frantically mimicking wings, his frail balance with gravity fractured. Sweat poured from his pores and his breath hitched. Multiple half-steps pitter and pattered in front of one another while incoherent outcries sputtered. By the time he reconnected with the earth by kissing its pavement, the papers had all flown away to its yearnful freedom.
Bells chimed throughout the academic ground as tens of scribbled sheets scattered the clear blue sky. Day owls hooted, its wide eyes estimating the distance of its haphazard counterpart during its flight. Five of the wonderful creatures flapped and urged forward into the open plane.
High above the training ground, they traveled with sporadic battle shouts emitted from Ingrid and Petra. Two partners clunk and smacked their wooden sword.
“Haaaaah—!”
Petra swung the blunt end down. Ingrid immediately adjusted her posture, her knees bent, and her right foot slid backward. The knight raised her weapon vertically.
‘ CLUNK! ‘
Comma sweats crawled down to her chin as Ingrid felt her wrist creak. Petra’s feet returned back to earth, but not without applying an extra layer of pressure onto her opponent’s wooden sword, her arms shoved forward with a grunt. Ingrid nearly bit her lower lip, a tiny lump traveling down her throat. The Brigid princess is strong.
“Take this!”
The knight instantly reduced her strength. Petra’s figure lurched forward from the unexpected loss of equilibrium, her stability with gravity disrupted. Ingrid sidestepped to provide room for her fall. She elegantly twirled the training wood at hand and thrust it outward to “stab” Petra.
“Oh my gosh…” Dorothea watched from the distant, her hand covering her mouth. Petra had twisted her body enough during the collapse to avoid the assault. The songstress clutched her chest, small clumps of her brown hair clung to her moist forehead. “This is so stressful to watch.”
The two wonderful ladies sparred to test their might and the two had asked Dorothea to be the judge. But… who should she cheer for? Petra came from her house, but Ingrid was always there for her since the day they stepped foot. It didn’t help that they were both a beauty. Luscious hair, bountiful maturity, toned figures, delicate fleeting touches— Wait, why was she thinking about that?! She underwent her own mighty battle as the clunking of the wooden blades continuously overlapped.
Surprisingly, not one page had descended upon the monastery’s ground. The owls gave another hoot. High above the marketplace, they traveled and Lysithea, Lorenz, Hubert, and Dedue stood amongst the growing crowd.
“Ugh, I think that’s unfashionable,” Lorenz shook his head, his hand resting on his forehead. “I would expect better from you.”
“That’s rude to say that to them!” Lysithea elbowed the taller male. She furrowed her brows. “You know they’ve traveled far out here to sell their goods. Give them a break.”
“Unfortunately, if they were passionate, their products wouldn’t like this.”
“Lorenz!”
“It belongs in the U-category for ugliness.”
Unfortunately for the two, the merchant they were squabbling in front of began to see red. His shaky hands extended outward to the broom. The still shadow of fury washed over his eyes, his wooden stick slapped the stall’s pole. Both visitors felt beads of sweat fly out of their heads at the newfound sight. Death rarely crossed their minds, but today was one of them.
“It was nice visiting your shop, mister!”
Lorenz was about to follow the praising Lysithea when— oopsie! He was shoved towards the furious owner! A shriek slipped out after a narrow escape from certain doom, the stick walloped the ground mere centimeters from bodily contact.
“LYSITHEA!”
Hubert and Dedue glanced over to the rowdy Golden Deer.
“My, how unpleasant,” Hubert grumbled. He snapped shut one of the two spellbooks in his hands. “If Lady Edelgard would be disturbed by these silly activities, I would have to do something about it.”
“I object,” Dedue crossed his arms. “I understand where you are coming from, but that is not the correct way to serve your lord.”
“Excuse me, did I ask for your opinion.”
“No, but it is something I had to say.”
Hubert narrowed his eyes. “I think it would be wise for you to keep your opinion to yourself, Dedue.”
“…”
Dedue resisted the temptation to sigh. Out of all the students he had met, he knew they would have a rickety relationship. Perhaps they will never see eye-to-eye, and perhaps that will never happen. Nonetheless, their upmost loyalty to their lord was commendable. Hubert respected Dedue for serving Dimitri, and Dedue respected Hubert for serving Edelgard.
Past the students, more students arrived from all three nations like little ants through the gate. The gatekeeper’s cheerful “Welcome!” brightened their spirit for their new life. They were going to spend the next five years working, challenging, learning, loving, and forging bonds. It was an opportunity not many were granted.
They came in all different sizes and shapes. Some were from nobility. They were given special treatment by the Church, their accommodations sate the high-leveled expectations for their living conditions. Many possess some form of Crest, whether it be minor or major. Some were commoners. They were given resources by the Church, their accommodations sate their basic necessities for their living conditions. Very few possess any form of Crest.
House leaders were handpicked and determined by the archbishop, Lady Rhea, since day one. Edelgard von Hresvelg, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, and Claude von Riegan would act as this academic term’s house leaders.
Edelgard von Hresvelg would become house leader for the Black Eagles.
Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd would become house leader for the Blue Lions.
Claude von Riegan would become house leader for the Golden Deer.
“And so… we meet again, Dimitri,” Edelgard lowered her teacup. She sat opposite of the blonde, her lilac hues keeping tabs on his every action. “Though I cannot say I didn’t expect this.”
“I agree,” Dimitri chuckled. “Since you did not return to my kingdom, I predicted this might happen. You’ve changed though…”
“In what way?”
“Your hair—”
“That might be for another time.”
The abrupt cut off slashed hard. Dimitri blinked a couple of times in silence, his teacup returned to the clothed mat. Loveliest of all trees ruffled from overhead as a breeze smoothed their exposed skin. He lowered his eyes, a heavy weight nestled between his shoulder blades.
“Perhaps another time.”
Though silence should have followed, Claude intertwined his fingers, chin rested on them, elbows on the table, and tilted his head.
“What shouldn’t be saved for another time is how you both know each other. Spill me the tea.”
“I don’t know, Claude,” Dimitri bitterly smiled. “It’s a long story.”
“I agree. It might sour our teatime session too.”
“Aw, you’re both no fun,” the young man smirked. “Why not tell me? I promise to tell you something in exchange.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know… Maybe about my past too.”
“Hoh… That’s quite a trade.”
“Trust me. Here, I’ll give you a little snippet, free of charge,” Claude straightened his posture and coughed into his fist. “Not too long ago, I bumped into two fabulous people. They were of nobility, yet they seem to know each other.”
“Claude…”
“One was a cute little princess, and one was a grumpy looking prince.”
“Claude.”
“And I hope we could become good friends.”
“CLAUDE.”
Edelgard and Dimitri overlapped, their cheeks flushed. Claude placed his hands behind his head and winked.
“It’s a good story, don’t you think?”
-----
Now, a month scampered forward, to where Seteth, Rhea, Flayn, and Catherine stood inside of the holy church ground. Seteth was bent down, his fingers brushing black ink on the pristine surface, faint squeaks occasionally cracking the still atmosphere. Flayn bent forward in a similar fashion, hands behind her back, and observing the process. Those paired bright hues, accompanied by a smile, flickered between her older brother and the ritual drawings.
“I’m excited to see who the new professors and staff are.”
Garreg Mach Monastery had a tradition every five years: the Garreg Summoning Ritual. Led by the Church of Seiros and its headmaster, Lady Rhea, this was one of the many options to tackle economical strategies. Funds from the Church were finite; there was only so much their nails could scrape in from donations. So they turned their heads towards a new shining beacon.
Three students from nobility, who would naturally become house leaders, were invited to complete the mandatory summoning ritual. Being chosen as house leaders were not an easy feat. The students had to derive from a long legacy of lineage fit to rise to the role. A large quantity of magical energy, called mana, was required to fulfill their position. This was so they can summon their professors.
Unlike other academic institutions, Rhea expressed this unique tradition for over 50 years. The act of calling forth their instructor would help bolster the students’ performances with a teacher fit for their personalities, attitudes, and beliefs. It was the perfect substitution for conducting costly background checks and hiring of adjuncts and tenures.
“To be honest, Flayn, I’m a little worried who they will be. I still cannot get over the fact one of the students summoned a thief!”
“He was stealing a lot of our supplies, wasn’t he?”
“Unfortunately.”
“If I hadn’t caught him, the church would have been in a pinch.”
Seteth paused. He glanced up from the fresh circle, his chuckle apparent. Catherine, on the sideline, cracked her knuckles.
“I would’ve pummeled him if it weren’t for Flayn.” No moral restraint… a rather prominent feature in very few warriors like her. “The fact that he would take Lady Rhea’s belongings deserved more than a simple execution.”
So long as it was in the name of Lady Rhea, she would chop up her limbs and offer it up to the holy maiden.
“I am certain that would not happen again.” Rhea stepped forward once Seteth rose from his crouch. “I have prayed to the Goddess for good fortune. I can sense that this year will be one that will forever be remembered.”
Catherine’s knuckles suddenly whitened, her grip tightening on the relic’s handle, and jawlines outlined from the smell of fresh meat purifying the distilled air. The double doors creaked. Sharp eyes penetrated the sturdy chests of the incoming house leaders. Claude and Dimitri each pushed one half of the majestic, tall barrier, Edelgard walking between the tall boys. It was picturesque.
Seteth and Flayn returned to Rhea’s side as the archbishop silently motioned her hand down to Catherine. A grunt as she eased her hold, but not without a displeased exhale. The top-ranking Knight served under the name of Seiros stepped back. Her eyes had not left the three students, however.
Archbishop bowed.
“Greetings, House Leaders. I hope you have familiarized yourself with the Officers Academy.”
“I think we’ve had plenty to check around,” Claude said. “One month is enough to make us experts for any visitors.”
His jokes were not received— Rather, Rhea rolled over and onward from his witty remark. She slowly looked at the marked ground.
“I have also requested that you participate in the Garreg Summoning Ritual. You all were required to bring three items that you wish to use for the tradition.”
Then, she returned her gaze to the trio.
“You will be their Master and they will be your Servant. But you will refer to them as your Professor.” Her eyes were crinkled. “Are you prepared?”
Dimitri, Claude, and Edelgard nodded. Their silence following afterward notion the archbishop to beckon them forth.
“Best wishes, my children. May the Goddess watch over you.”
One at a time, they stood in front of the archaic circle, their hands and pockets filled. Compatibility may play a heavy influence on their soulful incantations, but the students’ chosen objects held some degree of control over who their professor would be. They exchanged glances. The question now lies if Lady Luck would bestow her magic for them.
The first to stand is Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. He pieced the three chosen objects with great care upon the circular design. A monocle, a parchment on tactics, and blood from a dying boar preyed the markings. His vial had tipped upside down after a complete stride. Dimitri stuffed the stained glass into his pocket, the metallic iron smeared his and his friends’ olfactory. The Prince of Faerghus raised his hand.
Stanza after stanza riddled the tense environment. Sky blue light illuminated beneath his feet, a gust of wind swirled around the noble, his navy cape flapping in the air. Searing heat crackled into the back of his hand, his brows scrunched, and his stifled cries noticeable. Dimitri’s chants maintain stability. There would be no interruption that would snaffle his delivery.
Bright light blinded everyone on the premise. Edelgard and Claude were forced to shield with their arms, their eyelids squeezed shut for good measures. Catherine, Seteth, and Flayn grimaced from it. Rhea calmly stood out with her holy demeanor. The entire church disappeared for a few seconds from their sight, the sky blue blanketed their vision.
Fine mist surrounded a tall man. The summoned Servant stroke his gray beard, his monocle glistening in-sync with the sunrays, and his thick coat covering all parts of his body, leaving very little room for skin exposure. He spotted the panting Dimitri, the mark of the command seal tattooed on his burning skin. Little attention was given to the others as the elder chuckled.
“So, it appears that I have been summoned by a young gentleman.” He bowed deeply. “I am Hanneman, Archer class.”
“An Archer, huh… You don’t look like one.”
“You think so?” Hanneman cupped his chin. “Then again, you speak of the truth. I am well-versed in the art of magic. As you can tell, I am nothing more than a scholar when I was alive.”
Dimitri nodded, his shaky hands coming to a standstill. It appears that the person he had summoned was not meant to be summoned into this class.
“Yikes… That’s one heck of an L you’re gonna have to take,” Claude shook his head. This bemused the new professor. Yet Dimitri responded in his place.
“I find possibilities where others see limitations, Claude. This is a gift from the Goddess.”
That earned Dimitri a whistle. The Golden Deer House Leader smiled—genuinely in fact—it stroked the blonde’s heart to a slight flutter!
“You might be right… this might be an impressive result in the end.”
Seteth proceeded to cleanse the circle in preparation for Claude as they continued their conversation. Edelgard, who had remained mute, stared down at the palms of her hands. They were violently trembling as if an earthquake descended. Was it from her nerves? She instinctively curled her fingers inward and jammed her nails. In the background, Dimitri pat Claude’s shoulder as he was next in line.
Claude von Riegan took out his belonging. A wooden flute, a package of herbal medicine, and an alcohol bottle. The first two objects held the least shock value compared to the third for both Dimitri and Edelgard. When they expressed wonderment, Claude responded with a playful tone, his hand cautiously spilling the alcoholic content.
“Random chance. I have a feeling this is going to go well.”
“I don’t think you should be horsing around with this…”
“Relax, Dimi, I got this.”
He mimicked his friend’s action after settling the empty container on the ground. Hand extended outward, his lips parted, and golden light circulated the ritual. The wind blew into their figures once again as his chants became louder. Compared to Dimitri, he was able to bear through the flaming sharpel from the forceful engraving of the command seal for the most part.
This time, the newcomer was a woman. Dressed to impress, her beauty radiating in conjunction with her angelic voice, the Servant boasts her skillsets to the witnesses.
“I am Manuela. Songstress, physician, Caster class, and available, I look forward to working with you, Claude.”
Boastful? Perhaps, but Claude sees the positive trait from it. Though some may think otherwise.
“How haughty.”
An unusual remark from Hanneman. Dimitri, Claude, and Edelgard diverted their attention to the older male, his features tinged with displeasure. Manuela felt a strong pulsation from the corner of her head. The Caster opened her mouth, paused, then clamped it close. She dryly swallowed and waved her hand.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, Hanneman. Wouldn’t want to look back in front of my new Master.”
Claude felt a nervous chortle erupt from his throat. His and Dimitri’s Servants are going to have a field day with each other… Their eyes shifted to the quiet female. Not a peep from the princess. Her nerves must have gotten the best of her, her figure stiff as a stick. They wonder… what could make her so nervous?
Their pondering continued as Seteth wiped and swept the remaining materials from the ritual. Rhea motioned once more for the final summoner. Edelgard inhaled deeply. She held it. Then, she exhaled.
Finally, it was Edelgard von Hresvelg’s turn. In her grasp were three items. Just like Dimitri and Claude, they were special in their own way. They picked it with careful consideration. For Edelgard, she had found these materials from the Red Canyon. Ferdinand and Hubert had accompanied her for the abrupt trip. Compared to Claude and Dimitri, she felt a strong, magnetic pull to the location. It was almost as if it were calling for her.
A rustic piece from a shattered sword, a torn patch from a dark overcoat, and… that was it.
“Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation Let my great Master Hresvelg be the ancestor”
Rhea widened her eyes when she spotted the white-haired unsheathing the dagger from behind.
“Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.”
Its slithering blade shone as Edelgard brought it high above her head. Catherine reached for her sword, her wrist prepared.
“I hereby declare Your body shall serve under me.”
The tip moved in a curvature. A crimson line was left in its wake, the blood oozing out of her self-infliction.
“My fate shall be your sword.”
She tilted her hand despite the throbbing aches scratching underneath her cut.
“Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail If you will submit to this will and this reason… Then answer!”
Gentle vermillion light encapsulated everyone present. Its rays brightened with each drip of her blood, her offering sating the slumbering Servant. At that same moment, a fiery ignition dragged burning hot iron on the back of her hand. Edelgard bit back a whimper. She grabbed ahold of her extended wrist with pinched features.
“An oath shall be sworn here! I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven. I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!”
A gust far more powerful than that from previous sessions threatened to fling the students away. Seteth and Catherine had embraced Flayn and Rhea respectively, their feet rooted to the vibrating floors. Dimitri and Claude struggled to keep afoot. Their narrowed eyes peered through the slits as Edelgard forced herself upright. The grip that kept her wrist in place squeezed until her blood circulation drastically slowed.
“From the Heaven, attended to by three great words of power Come forth from the ring of restraints, Protector of the Holy Balance!”
Just like Dimitri and Claude’s session, white light enveloped their five senses.
“…”
Smoke lingered in the air, but at the center of the summoning circle, no one had appeared. Everyone waited with bated breaths. Seconds transitioned into a minute. The silence was all that resulted. She glanced down at the back of her injured hand. The aching red mark resembling that of an unknown Crest seared into her skin. Yet this excruciating process yielded no Servant.
“…why?”
Edelgard sunk to her knees.
Had she failed? Was this all a fluke in the end? Edelgard groveled at the tainted ground, her magma-red blood engulfing the entirety of her wounded palm in its flames. The command seal was still present. What did she do wrong? Tears spurted from her lacrimal glands, those salty substances hurried to separate from her skin and onto the flat surface. Claude and Dimitri exchanged worrisome glances.
“Edelgard…”
“Princess…”
They approached the withered youngster. They stood nearby but found the inability to engage sympathetically. After all, their Servants lingered from behind. The boys were able to call forth their professor, and Edelgard was unable to. They would never be able to understand her anguish.
“This isn’t fair…” she hoarsely whispered. “Did I do… Is this karma?”
“Karma? Don’t be silly,” Dimitri shook his head. He kneeled to her level and eyed the female. He was not sure what she meant by karma, but it crushed his heart to see his childhood friend defeated. “Your Professor might come. You still have your command seal.”
“That means nothing if they don’t appear.”
“Is this thing rigged?” Claude’s attention diverted to the older adults. He motioned towards the weeping girl. “This isn’t supposed to mess up, right?”
Rhea shook her head. “This is the first that had happened before. All professors were able to be summoned the past nine times.”
“You didn’t have to include that last part, you know.”
“Hey, don’t speak to Lady Rhea like that, young man,” Catherine stepped forward and viciously pointed his finger. “Know your place.”
Claude huffed. He shrugged his shoulders and abandoned insanity. “I apologize. I’m a bit frustrated too for Edelgard—”
‘ BANG! ‘
It was immediately accompanied by a distant crackling of heavy logs tumbling on top of each other. Students and staff alike perked their ears. Claude and Dimitri immediately assisted in Edelgard’s recovery, their Servants swiftly turning to the source. Precautions were taken as their chosen Class weapons were pulled out. Catherine completely unsheathed her Thunderbrand, its electricity crackled and popped without restraint. Seteth shielded both Flayn and Rhea with his arms, his body ready to absorb any potential damages.
Once the dust had settled before them, they were greeted with a spectacular sight. The Goddess Seiros must have shone her lucky stars to the warrior. Stones and obliterated woods formed as a piece of disheveled furniture. Arms resting on the natural armrest, palm pressed on the Sword of Creator’s hilt, and cheek leaning on her elbowed hand, she slowly opened her eyes.
“…”
Could this be…? Edelgard’s jelly legs wobbled as she approached the arrogantly seated woman. The roles were reversed. Edelgard collapsed onto one knee, head raised to the female like a Servant as the Servant exerted regality like a Master. Navy hues dragged its gaze to the fallen. She examined the student with scrutiny.
“Your blood…” The newcomer had gotten up from her seat, kneeled, and instantly greeted the magus with a kiss on the gash. Normally, this would be viewed as romantic, but not a lick of emotion crossed. When she parted, sticky fluid clung to bits of her chin. “I’m bad at healing, but this is the least I could do.”
Perhaps this is part of an innate skill the Servant has. The shallow infliction had dissipated, leaving behind a bloody mess of leftover iron.
Then, she got up, sword still at hand. Edelgard watched in awe from below as the Servant quietly spoke,
“Byleth. Saber class. Tell me… are you my Master?"