[IC] Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

Garreg Mach Monastery
First Floor

• Marketplace - A market in front of the monastery, through which merchants come to exchange goods.
• Entrance Hall - The entrance of the monastery, which connects to the dining hall and other notable locations in Garreg Mach.
• Dining Hall - The dining hall is directly adjacent to the entrance hall, through which residents of the monastery regularly eat meals at any time.
• Greenhouse - A greenhouse through which plants for cooking and gifts are raised.
• Fishing Pond - A pond through which residents can fish utilizing bait. Fish from many locations in Fódlan are gathered here: sometimes, extremely rare fish can be caught, or at times large amounts of fish can be caught at once.
• Dormitory - A two-floor facility that functions as a residence for students of the Officers Academy. While the staff of the academy tries to reduce discrimination between nobles and commoners, such prejudice still exists, and as such, the nobles almost always take up the second floor while commoners are relegated to the first floor rooms.
• Sauna - A building located between the dormitory and the training ground that functions as a relaxation facility, where residents can refresh in a steam room.
• Training Grounds - A place where knights and students alike come to hone their combat skills. Every month, a tournament is held where the winners can achieve both money and a prize as a result.
• Stables - Horses wyverns are raised here. Sometimes, students of the Officers Academy are assigned to group tasks involving taking care of the horses, pegasi, and wyverns here.
• Knights Hall - The Knights of Seiros gather and socialize in this hall. There are targets for practice as well as books and a lounge here.
• Graveyard - Behind the Knights' Hall is a graveyard where notable people who are now deceased are laid to rest.
• Cathedral - At the most rear point of the monastery, connected to the remainder of Garreg Mach via a bridge, is a cathedral where devout believers worship the goddess Sothis and the saints. Statues of the Four Saints are located here. Choir practice is held here. An advice box is also located here where students can ask for advice.
• Central Building - The most central building of Garreg Mach, it is a three-floor facility that harbors multiple locations:
• Reception Hall - On the first floor of the main building is the reception hall, where social events such as the Ball during the Ethereal Moon are held.

Second Floor
The second floor is home to several different facilities:

• Audience Chamber - This is where the archbishop often stands during their work. The professors of Garreg Mach regularly report here at the start of each month to obtain their missions.
• Advisory Room - The archbishop's advisor works here to speak with the archibishop.
• Kalonic's Office - This room is shared between the two siblings and is often where students meet with either of them for one-to-one time.
• Captain's Quarters - A room where the current captain of the Knights of Seiros--Kalliope--resides.
• Crest Scholar's Office - An office where Professor Tomai conducts his research on Crests.
• Infirmary - A facility run by Professor Kaira where the injured and the sick are taken care of.
• Library - Numerous books and historical texts are here for reading. It is also used as a study space for members of the Officers Academy. It is run by Lysander, who doubles as its librarian.
• Cardinal's Room - The main room for the cardinals of the Church of Seiros. The professors usually gather here once a week to discuss and compare lesson plans.

Third Floor
The third floor is only accessible to the members of the Church but can be reached with permission:

• Archbishop's Room - The archbishop takes residence in this room.
• Star Terrace - A balcony atop which a view of the monastery can be attained.

[Hero]

Not a single ray of sunshine fell on Fódlan that day. The funeral was brief as this was the life of a mercenary, after all. But his life had ended much too soon, taken from him before he could truly live. And all for nothing; the girl he had died saving would never again see the light of day. It was a tragedy of unspoken proportions, the effects calamitous. It would take much good will to prevent Fódlan from cracking further.

Letting out a sigh, the woman looked up at the sky. So much had gone wrong in so little time. It was clear now that no one could be trusted. For Sothis to return among the living, stricter measures needed to be put in place. Yes, that was the way. Next time, she would make sure that the child would be protected. No harm would come to it--she must take things into her own hands. She would not make the same mistake twice.

Before taking her leave, she would gaze upon the gravestone that bore one name: Byleth Eisner.

The opening ceremony of the Officers Academy took place in the cathedral of the church. An assortment of knights and members of the Church had decorated the place with a multitude of red, blue, and yellow ribbons, celebrating the arrival of the students. Although the seats weren’t filled, it was clear the number of students didn’t matter; each one was welcomed whether they were noble or commoner.

Among the clergy was a young boy who stood out among the rest. The garb seemed to swallow the child whole, but he stood proud nonetheless, as if channeling the spirits of the previous archbishops before him. His stature did little to impede him as he strode over to the center of the floor, a small smile on his face as he looked over the many faces before him.

“Welcome, one and all,” The volume in his voice betrayed his size, easily carried over the entirety of the hall with ease. “The goddess blesses us with another group of hopefuls! It warms my heart to see so many new faces here at Garreg Mach. I am Archbishop Ioannis, and I am humbled that I have the opportunity to accompany you all through your year at the Officers Academy.”

Taking a small pause, Ioannis continued, “This is but a final step for many of you before taking your place in the world, and all of us are eager and willing to ensure that this year is a smooth one. We here at Garreg Mach implore you to lean on your neighbor, to support those who may need it. While the world will always present challenge after challenge, we hope to supply you with the knowledge and wisdom to take hold of your future; no man is a nation, and we must all work together for the sake of Fódlan and the people.”

He looked over to his left side, gesturing to a taller man with silver hair. “My right hand, Sirius, will be supporting the school faculty in addition to his usual duties of overlooking the Knights of Seiros,” He introduced the man. “He, as well as Lady Arianthe, have been vital during the transition from one archbishop to the next.”

The man motioned to the boy’s right. Remembering something, Ioannis sheepishly looked to that side, clearing his throat. “This year’s faculty is a little more varied than in previous years. With Lady Geraldine’s return to Adrestia, we decided to better assist the students with more professors to lead classes. Professor Lysander Roland oversees much of the school’s curriculum and is the liaison between the school and church--that said, he has a generous open-door policy and is one of the kindest souls you’ll likely meet. Assisting him will be a nurse who serves both school and church by the name of Kaira Simeon--their offices are located on the second floor.” The dark haired man’s jaw dropped, his gaze following as his face flushed with color, quietly shaking his head as he avoided looking anyone in the eye. A green haired girl nudged him, clearly trying not to laugh as she gave the students a small wave.

Ioannis looked like he had more to say, but after a moment decided against it, once again giving the students a warm smile. “Your professors await you in your homerooms. May the goddess watch over you all.”

The Black Eagles’ Classroom

“Welcome, Black Eagles. My name is Tomai Malathice and I've been graced with the chance to educate you all this year,” The dark haired man stated, clearly disinterested in the students as he stood in front of his desk. “Like you, I’m from the Empire. I've authored several books on both the study of magic theory and crest research. Unfortunately, I am obligated to assist any that come to my door after class hours. You can come to me for any serious issues you may have, but I'm not going to mediate any petty arguments or complaints you may have.”

He turned and messed with the stack of papers in behind him, getting them into a neat pile before taking one and rapidly writing down a list of names on the chalkboard. “Professor Lysander has decided on a new initiative in an effort to ‘encourage inter-country relations’. Because people don’t mingle enough or something, I don’t know, I stopped listening halfway through the explanation,” He admitted with a slight shrug, squinting at the page in front of him. “While you’ll still belong to one house and should come to me first, on a day-to-day basis you’ll all gather here for homeroom, and at the first bell will be joining a smaller class with mixed members.”

He paused, looking up at the ceiling as he tried to remember something. “...eh, you don’t really need much more information than that. If I call your name at the end of this--oh, one thing, right,” He snapped his fingers, laying out several pages on his desk and snatching up his book. He seemed to notice something on the back cover, his expression souring. “This year, your class leader will be Her Highness, who has graced us with her presence for whatever reason. With that out of the way, you’re free for the rest of the day to talk or mingle or get to know your fellow students. As for me, I need to have a word with Professor Michail. Dismissed.”

He outright ignored any raised hands as he stood from his desk, a scowl discouraging anyone from asking anything as he walked out of the room.

The Blue Lions’ Classroom

A blond knight finished writing his name on the board, turning to face the classroom with a dazzling smile. “What a first day, am I right?” He asked the students at large, placing the chalk down as he chose to remain standing. “My name is Michail Kalonic. I’m a Knight of Seiros--it’s basically my first time here, too. From guard to professor! Who would’ve thought?” He chuckled. “Like you guys, I’m also from the Kingdom of Faerghus. Aside from that, I share Professor Lysander’s approach--my door is always open even after hours. Of course, you’re more likely to find me in the Arena than any classroom, but you know what I’m getting at.” He paused for a moment, scratching his head. “...Hm, I don’t really know what else to say. I guess I should get to the technical stuff?”

He figured he may as well wing it, walking over to his desk. “So things are getting changed up a little from my understanding. The school decided to go off a plan Professor Lysander came up with; instead of your classmates only consisting of those in the same house they’re breaking you guys up into different groups called Units. Of course, I’m still the person you should come to if you have any problems--I mean it, I’m here for you guys--but otherwise your classmates are going to be people from all three houses. It’ll be interesting for sure, at least!”

Taking a hold of the stack, he started scribbling names onto the board, diving the students into their units. “You can come over here and take a look, I suggest getting to know who’ll be in your class--I believe there’s a master list on the bulletin boards outside the classrooms, too,” He wrote surprisingly quickly, his handwriting neat and efficient. “Your House Leader is Auberon of House Galatea--that means you’ll have a few more responsibilities. See me later and I’ll let you know what that entails.”

Finishing his writing, Michail dusted his hands off as he grinned. “That’s everything from me. You have the rest of today off--we start bright and early tomorrow. If you need me, I’ll be right outside the classroom, possibly getting yelled at. Dismissed!” He gave the class a wave, practically giggling to himself as he walked out.

The Golden Deer Classroom

“Hello, hello! Settle down, settle down,” The woman’s blonde hair bounced after her as she scuttled into the classroom, heels clicking along the floors. She stopped before her desk, picking up a rod and whacking the chalkboard and underlining the name written there. “I am Euphemia Kalonic, and I’ll be leading the Golden Deer this year. Don’t worry, even though I normally teach the Blue Lions, this isn’t my first year with the Leicester Alliance. I’ll make sure to take good care of you!”

Walking down the aisle, she continued with, “As students of the Officers Academy, you are here to learn the ways of warfare. Your fellow professors and myself have made it our goal to educate you on that count and more. While you’re here, I recommend you take advantage of this opportunity to meet people from all walks of life; I don’t doubt some of you may know one another due to the Alliance's Roundtable, but this academy is notable for accepting noble and commoner alike.”

“Normally, you stick with your fellow Deer during your classes, but this year you’ll all have a chance to experience something new. Professor Lysander Roland made a suggestion that Archbishop Ioannis approved of--he thought that to encourage a positive future for Fódlan, it would be nice if the classes were more varied instead of sticking with the same house. Of course, once a Deer, always a Deer, so you don’t have to worry about alternate room assignments and I am still responsible for your well being! But now you’ll be joined by Black Eagles and Blue Lions, too. I believe the class sizes are around nine to twelve people, though how many of each class join varies. And of course, you all still have your House Leader for this year: and the lucky one--” She checked her papers. “--is future Duke Jorah Riegan! See me after and I’ll be happy to explain what that entails, okay?”

“Now, as for where you’ll be fitting in for these new class assignments…” Euphemia flipped the chalkboard to the other side but froze. Instead of an organized list of students that she had spent nearly half an hour writing in cute handwriting, instead was a (admittedly good) sketch of a blond knight on a horse--most students would notice that it looked an awful lot like one of the knights that had been in the church earlier.

Euphemia’s smile never left her face, but her eyes became decidedly icy. She slowly turned to look at her students, clearing her throat as she turned flipped the chalkboard back and approached her desk. “...will be on these papers. I’ll...go ahead and lay them all out here.” Her tone was sugary sweet still, even if she looked like she was ready to choke someone.

Once all the pages were laid out, she held her rod tightly. “Now, you’ll have the rest of today to yourselves. If you’ll excuse me, I have to speak with Professor Michail,” She dismissed the students, her smile betraying her body language as she practically stomped out of the room.

Outside of the classrooms stood Lysander and Kaira, the pair in a spirited conversation. The two stopped long enough to to watch Michail run out of the Blue Lions classroom, a giant grin on his face. Said grin turned into a howl as he was promptly thwacked by a furious Euphemia, though it was Tomai stopping him in his tracks that really caused the knight distress. Lysander and Kaira looked at one another briefly before deciding to run interference, briefly catching the tail end of an accusation of sabotage.

"Have you any idea how humiliated I was?!" Euphemia kept her voice low as she cracked the rod on the back of Michail's head.

"Stop--how do you manage to hit my unarmored spots--it's just a harmless prank!" He defended himself as he tried to duck another blow and hid behind Kaira.

"This book is centuries old and you decided to scribble all over it," Tomai said flatly, showing the group an identical sketch to the one in the Golden Deer's classroom etched onto the back of Tomai's book.

"Oh, Michail, we talked about how you should be acting in a position of authority..." Lysander sighed, shaking his head.

Across the courtyard, Ioannis watched the professors and students as they began to leave the classrooms, a sparkle in his eye. In truth, he knew it was best that he should head back to the church, but the boy was eager to interact with the students--even if they were all older than he was. A pair of knights--easily recognizable as the captain and the Archbishop's right hand man introduced earlier--stood a short distance away.

---

---

[Asura]

Adelaide von Hresvelg

_{Interacting with: @McMolly | Location: Garreg Mach Monastery - Courtyard}

---

What an exceedingly unpleasant man.

Such thoughts were not ones that Adelaide considered herself proud to have: after all, Tomai Malathice would be perhaps the singular most important member of Garreg Mach's faculty regarding her education for her stay with the Church. It was through him she would receive the dispatches from the powers that be, and the directives to hand down to her fellow students, who would inevitably look to her for leadership above all else. While the pleasantries of the court were not intrinsically linked to one's competency—and truly, his competency was all she was particularly concerned with—his dismissive nature was certain to eat away at the young heiress' patience sooner or later. Compared to the trials she had already faced, however, perhaps it was a small blessing that her only complaint thus far was the personability of a single educator.

The good professor's dismissal was sure to bring attention to her from those in attendance, and when she rose from her seat, the Empress-to-be offered a short bow of introduction toward her fellow Eagles before excusing herself to the courtyard, following what seemed to be the intended flow of things. Most of them would certainly find her on their own time, to greet their esteemed leader, and perhaps to curry some favor. Of that much, she could confidently say she looked forward. It was always a delight to see the ways different people would approach her, especially in the years after her declaration of inheritance. But it was not her eagerness for introductions to come that directed her stride as the crisp spring air welcomed her outside. It was a desire to reacquaint herself with an individual whom she already knew well enough.

Or, better said, knew as well as one could know.

"It has been far too long since we last met, dear cousin," Adelaide offered a genuine smile as she approached her older kinswoman, although they were not so far apart in age to engender too much formality, "I had heard you would be attending this year—a most fortuitous happening, and one I hope will set a trend for us. Especially given recent... setbacks."

The Vestra family were a secretive sort of folk. Their duties ensured that much. But even through the veils set up by that most shadowy underhand of the Adrestian Empire, enough information slipped through to a humble heiress. There was a time when she once had two young scions of the Vestra to call cousins. And now, for the machinations of her lordly uncle, she had but a single one. Her opinions on the matter were... mixed. Vex her though the nebulous matter did, there was one thing she was not unsure about.

"I am glad those setbacks have, all the same, seen you to me safely, Viddle."

Many students were beginning to mill about the courtyard, and yet despite their prying eyes, the future ruler of all Adrestia opened her arms all the same and beckoned inwards with delicate fingers such that she could share the smallest moment of warmth with her blood before others came to join their conversation.

[Scribe of Thoth]

---

Roaming the hallowed grounds of Garreg Mach was an experience that surpassed even the highest of Auberon's expectations; every corridor and room seemed alive with the Goddess' presence, and his heart beat ever faster in religious ecstasy as the day's events progressed and increasingly important members of the Church hierarchy were presented to him. To stand in the cathedral itself, in the presence of the Archbishop, no less, was to feel unworthy. It was if the gaze of the Goddess Herself was boring down upon on him there, and Auberon found it a challenge to even raise his head completely as Ioannis welcomed this year's class.

The classroom itself held less distraction for the boy. Without statues of the saints watching his every move, Auberon could almost pretend he was in any other mundane room in the world. Besides, he was in attendance for a reason and it wouldn't do to disrespect the monastery and Church itself by not committing his full attention to the curriculum he'd been graciously allowed to partake in. Michail seemed friendly and personable, and his status as a Knight of Seiros assuaged any doubt of his competency, even if he may not be responsible for their entire education at the academy.

Still, Auberon was stupefied for the first few moments after Michail had finished his announcement. Surely he'd misheard - the professor must've said Auberon of House Gautier. Or... Aubrey of House Galatea. Okay, he didn't think there was even an Aubrey in his family, but still. No, the board definitely had him listed there at the top. The Goddess truly was an inscrutable mistress; classes had yet to even begin and She had already blessed him with a once-in-a-lifetime duty to help shape the future leaders of Faerghus. Auberon quietly placed his hands together in prayer and reverently lowered his head.

"I am honored by this opportunity, my Lady. I will not fail You or this nation," he murmured almost imperceptibly under his breath. After paying the proper respects to the Most High, Auberon stood and made his way up to the front of the class, trying to catch everyone's attention before anyone left to spend their free time elsewhere. "Excuse me," Auberon addressed the room with neither imperiousness nor timidity, toeing the line between fellow student and uplifted authority as best he could, "Evidently I'm to be the House leader of the Blue Lions this year, so I felt I should probably introduce myself."

He waited until he'd captured at least some of the students' attention before continuing, "For those I haven't met, I am Auberon Casimir Galatea, heir apparent to the Countship and bearer of the Crest of Daphnel. I'm a bit surprised at this appointment, in all honesty, but I hope that I can live up to your and Professor Kalonic's expectations of me nevertheless." Auberon brought his fist down on an open palm for emphasis, "If any of you ever need anything from me or have concerns you'd like to share, please don't hesitate to seek me out; it's our collective duty to help better each other and ensure, Goddess willing, that the Kingdom's future is in good hands. Thank you."

Of course, Auberon had no idea what the duties of House leader actually were, and judging by the glimpses he'd caught of Michail being confronted outside, he probably wouldn't have a good opportunity to ask until later in the day. He had the utmost faith in his ability to meet the challenges put before him - the Goddess would not have chosen him otherwise - but convincing the other Blue Lions of this was a different matter. Surely a more deserving noble than he must be in attendance, yet when the blond turned his attention to the names on the board, he couldn't find one. The names he recognized held no titles higher than Auberon's own - save potentially Kellen Fraldarius, though he was somewhere around fourth in line to the Duchy by primogeniture if Auberon remembered correctly and unlikely to take offense at the appointment besides - and the ones Auberon didn't recognize came from families of lesser status or were lowborn outright.

Speaking of, the names grouped with his seemed to take the bulk of the commoners. Orhneaht and Ballard certainly weren't families he'd ever heard of, though it's not as if he bothered to memorize the name of every upstart merchant household that might have the wealth to send their child to Garreg Mach. He supposed it made sense to group the two of lowest birth with two of the highest if they were so intent on everyone mingling that they combined the classes from each nation, but Auberon wasn't very fond of presumption and he doubted the true reasoning mattered as much as the reality he had before him. Admittedly, he didn't have particularly high hopes for their performance, but it would be an excellent opportunity to practicing interacting with the smallfolk for when it came time for him to rule.

---

[Mcmolly]

Widolaic von Vestra

_{Interacting with: @Asura | Location: Garreg Mach Monastery - Courtyard}

---

Well, they said never to meet your heroes, and insofar as Viddle had heroes, professor Malathice was close. Initially she’d been quite excited to hear he would be heading their studies; many of the books in her collection were authored by him, and she attributed much of her interest in learning magic at all to how thoughtful and engaging his dissertations were. His disinterest in teaching didn’t surprise her too much—who wouldn’t rather be doing what they love instead of just talking about it—but nonetheless she found herself just a smidgen disheartened as he walked out of the room.

Oh well, there was a whole year ahead for things to change. Change was good, change was exciting. She knew better than most how close-quarters and a shared goal could change a person, who was to say any of them would be the same in a few months’ time?

The lot of them filtered out, and Viddle’s eyes scanned in an attempt to connect faces to the various names she’d seen on scribbled notes and dossiers of foreign families. Though she’d attended her fair share of Adrestian gatherings, her interactions with the peoples of other nations had been severely limited growing up. Her family’s concerns were focused most importantly on the inner workings of the Empire, but for how long that would be enough, she wasn’t sure. Soon the day might come where close and friendly relations with the rest of Fódlan might save more than a few lives.

Especially considering…

“Adelaide!” Viddle’s smile filled her eyes, and with perhaps a bit less grace than she ought to have shown, she accepted her cousin’s offer and hugged her tightly. She paid that grace back with a perfectly practiced curtsey, and the briefest attempt at calming the bounce in her heels. “Indeed, it’s been much too long. I’m afraid I didn’t have many chances to visit this past year, but now it seems we’ve plenty of time. Goddess, look at you! It’s so good to see you in fair health.”

She still remembered when Adelaide fell ill, so harshly and so long after the plague’s deadliest years. House Vestra had scrambled, concerned that it had been an attempt on her life, but the young heiress had overcome it, and awoken seemingly stronger than before. Some were offput by Adelaide’s zeal; there was, after all, no shortage of tyrannical megalomaniacs in Fódlan’s history. But tyrants were cruel, and as long as Viddle had known her, she never thought of Adelaide as cruel. Only honest, and earnest. Perhaps that was why she liked her.

“Exciting, isn’t it? So many people to meet, so many things to learn. Where do you even begin with an opportunity like this?” she looked out at the courtyard, smiling still. “Well, I suppose you’ve already got plenty of ideas.”

[Achronum]

---

Journeying Up

“Oh Holly, love, oh Holly, the rout has now begun
And we must go a-marching to the beating of the drum
Come, dress yourself all in your best! And come along with me,
I’ll take you to the cruel wars in yonder Barony…”

The merry strumming of a lute accompanied a marching tune emanating from a caravan on the road, a string of heavy carriages and soaking up the Adrestian sun as they lumbered slowly up the road toward the Oghma Mountains.

“Oh Harry, dearest Harry, mind well what I do say:
My feet, they are so tender! Oh, I cannot march away.
Besides, my dearest Harry, I am with child by thee—
Not fitted for the cruel wars in yonder Barony…”

The music seemed to go unappreciated by the glittering mounted knights accompanying the caravan, but the source was utterly oblivious to their weary looks. It was a tan, smiling blond man riding alongside one of the carriages, having foregone his saddle in favour of lounging along the back of his horse like a couch, idly fingering a lute on his chest.

“I’ll buy you a horse my love, and on it you shall ride!
And all of my delight shall be walking at your side;
We’ll stop at every alehouse and drink when we are dry,
Stay true to one another, get married by and by.”

The song should have continued, but instead he let his voice peter out into melancholy, fingers playing gently on the lute until the sound almost faded into the clopping of hooves. Heaving a long, contented sigh, he finally opened his wine-coloured eyes, looking wistfully into the window of the carriage next to him.

“Clarissa, will you marry me?” Jorah asked casually, still picking quietly at the lute strings.

The woman in question paused her reading, the question blindsiding her. A whirlwind of emotions ran through her in that brief second before she closed her book and shifted so that she could face Jorah properly. She rolled her eyes at his lackadaisical riding habits, but couldn't help smiling fondly at her friend.

“If you were a different man and I a different woman, perhaps. But I certainly would not do you the disservice of denying your heart its horizons and I certainly would not permit myself accept a proposal so languidly delivered.” Clarissa chuckled at the question, putting her book aside on the cushion in favor of Jorah's strangeness. It was starting to grate on her anyways and Jorah, as frustrating as he could be, was always a welcome source of entertainment. “Why are you suddenly entertaining the idea of marriage, let alone with me?”

Jorah made a little hurt noise, clutching his heart and letting his lute dangle off the side of his horse as if he’d been shot in the chest. The horse, fortunately, was a patient beast accustomed to his antics, so it paid him no mind and plodded dutifully along.

“You wound me,” he complained, sitting up at last. Of course, he was sitting backwards, but it was a start. “I thought it was perfect. A long journey, music… and the chance to solve both of our problems!”

He leaned over into the carriage window, propping himself up on the windowsill with his free arm. He looked much more like a snake oil salesman than a lovesick fool proposing to his beloved. “Just think! We get married, I make you Archduchess, you get to lead the Roundtable and the duchy of Riegan to glorious prosperity, and I never have to hear my father complain about the future of the family ever again!” He beamed at her, proud of himself. “It’s the perfect plan. Marry me.”

Clarissa covered her mouth as she laughed, shoulders shaking. “Firstly, your father will be with the Goddess and he'll still find a way to complain about the future of your family. You're not giving the man enough credit; I'd not be surprised to get a letter from you after he appeared to you in a nightmare. Secondly, you know full well any suitor I entertain will need to come to Edmund, rather than expecting me to attend him. I doubt that would bode well for relations between our people should that happen.” Clarissa settled back, pulling her red hair back away from her face.

“Thirdly, I'm not one of those blushing maidens you sneak out to entertain when you're bored. I won't let you get away with whatever you wish just because you play a pretty song and smile in my direction.” She flicked his nose to emphasize her point. “Though, I suppose you'd make a good distraction for escaping some of the less engaging conversations I find myself in at state functions. If I could get you to willingly attend, that is. But the answer is still no, lover boy. You'll have to find some other poor damsel to keep on your arm, though you're always welcome to come hide at my home If you need a break from everything.”

“So you admit my songs are pretty,” Jorah replied, smiling wide as he pulled himself out the window and righted himself on his horse. He gave Clarissa an easy shrug. “I’ll take that as a maybe, then. Door’s always open if you change your mind!”

Taking the reins at last, Jorah strapped his lute to his back, gazing out at the Oghma mountain range steadily rising before them. It was an unfortunate reminder of the purpose of their trip, but he wouldn’t let it get him down. Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment, drinking in the crisp springtime air, the Adrestian sun on his face, and the uplifting drumbeat of hooves - all hallmarks of adventure. It was kind of a shitty adventure, under close watch by his retinue as they marched him off to a new prison for the next year, but after years stuck in Derdriu, anything beat staring at the same old city walls.

“We’ll probably get there in a day or so,” he commented after a long pause, opening his eyes. He glanced over to Clarissa, holding his chin in pantomime thought. “How long do you think it’ll take for me to get out of there..?”

“We'll, let's see. Comparing your decade of escape artistry to Garreg Mach's centuries of experience and taking into account your pigheaded determination… A year, give or take. I couldn't imagine my childhood friend abandoning me to the cold, frigid mountains or have you found another to be taken with so quickly.” Clariss teased. She couldn't help the delighted bubbly feeling in her chest at the thought they’d be at Garreg Mach in a day. It was a dream of hers - studying in the shadow of the holiest place in the world, standing amongst the headquarters of the Central Church and basking in the divinity she imagined radiated from every statue, every stone.

“Though, perhaps you'll find yourself enjoying your time at the Academy. If not for the studies, at least for the people. You have the perfect chance to meet a melting pot of Fódlan's finest, brightest, and, in some cases, wealthiest.” Clarissa offered excitedly, a bright smile pointed his way as she took his place leaning on the windowsill. “Meeting new people and experiencing a new place is exactly what you like, even if you do have to suffer through school work. There are still be plenty of practical lessons for you to work your energy out on.”

Clarissa’s excitement was infectious, bubbling out of her and into Jorah like an overflowing spring. Jorah felt her giddiness as his own, his chest starting to flutter even though the prospect of a year of supervision and school excited him none.

“You know, you really make it hard for me to maintain my resentment when you get like that,” he teased, unable to help the giddy grin that broke over his face.

She had some good points, though. Despite all the bitterness that accompanied his trip, he was so elated to get out of Derdriu at long last that he never really convinced himself to be angry about it. Realistically, he and his father both knew how this would end: he'd be a miserable failure at Garreg Mach, his father would disown him at last, Delia would take over the family (as she should have all along), and Jorah could sail off into the sunset without having to worry about his father’s disapproval ever again. How Duke Riegan thought this was a good idea was beyond him; he dangled disownment over his son’s head like a threat, but the prospect of a broke and nameless life of wandering intrigued Jorah much more than it frightened him.

“But I suppose you're right,” he admitted, shrugging. From the corner of his eye, he gave Clarissa a sly look. “I hear some of the prettiest girls in Fòdlan live around Garreg Mach. Granted, a lot of them are in the convent, but I’m sure we can work something out.”

Her eye twitched.

“Jorah von Riegan, you will absolutely not work something out. You will leave those poor women alone and maybe, just maybe, consider settling in before permitting your provocative intent demand center stage.” Clarissa snapped, meeting his look with an unimpressed glare. “I doubt you’ll have much freedom to explore any such dalliances anyways; Garreg Mach is known to put their students through their paces thoroughly so even you may find yourself too worn… No, what am I saying? You delight in the chaos you sow and you’ll find that as relaxing as I find a quiet evening with a book. I pray they know what they signed up for.” Clarissa sighed, a shake of her head as she conjured up images of the trouble Jorah was bound to get in.

“And if they don’t, I’m sure they’ll find out soon enough. You’ll be the reason some of those professors will leave with more gray than they started.” She huffed a little laugh despite the annoyances her future held. “At least I won’t be bored. Not that standing in the holiest of holies and learning in the shadow of the Central Church would be boring by any means, but our future classmates and rivals leave plenty to be imagined. I haven’t quite had the time to dig into who all is attending, even from the Alliance, so it’s still all an exciting surprise!”

Studying at Garreg Mach had been a dream of hers for the past five years, one she finally seized the opportunity to realize. And now, staring up at the looming mountains they marched inexorably towards, she felt a twinge of nervousness. The Alliance was familiar ground. She knew the paths to tread, her footing sure and steady, and she knew where to go and… She didn’t keep her Crest quiet, but she certainly didn’t declare it in every passing conversation. She’d found meaning and purpose in the burden in her blood and every step she took was a testament to her dedication to the Goddess’s calling. Yet now she carried this curse to the heaven’s themselves. Was this a mockery of the Goddess’s will? Her eagerness too forward? Perhaps she should be penitent or fearful.

“I’m glad you're attending with me, Jorah.” Clarissa spoke it softly, eyes on the mountains ahead. “I’m going to miss going to our waterfall though. We’ll need to find a new hideaway.”

Jorah couldn’t suppress the startled laugh that bubbled out of him as Clarissa’s mood suddenly shifted, giggling at the rush of indignance that filled his chest and subsided just as quickly. Honestly, after so many years, he was surprised he could still get such a rise out of her! But he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

But he wasn’t blind to the hint of anxiety that crept in as she spoke, either. That was another unfortunate habit of hers: anytime she thought too long about something, she found something to worry about. That was why Jorah, as he’d often recommended to her, simply chose not to think about things much at all. Life was so much breezier that way!

“A place as old as Garreg Mach is bound to have some secrets,” he mused, stroking the short stubble of his traveling beard. Clarissa had a point; he knew every stone in the walls of Derdriu, but nothing about Garreg Mach. The prospect of probing such an old and storied place for nooks and crannies got his mind racing even now, his eyes searching the distant peaks for hidden valleys even at this distance. “Surely mountains have waterfalls, right? And they’ll have good strong horses to… borrow. I’m sure we’ll find someplace suitable.”

“But honestly, I’ll be surprised if you even remember my name once we get there,” he teased, taking on a dramatic tone. “You’ll surely see the storied halls of Garreg Mach, delve into their bottomless stores of ancient knowledge, and swiftly forget the charming, handsome boy from the dalliances of your youth. Sad, but inevitable. Such is the way of star-crossed romances.”

“Jorah, I would never! Even if I wanted to, you wouldn't let me forget you. I have no doubt that if we didn't meet in a day here, I'd find you picking the lock to my door or playing as ridiculously as you could in the middle of the night just to irritate me into seeing you.” Clarissa laughed at his dramatics. “We will need to find time to explore the monastery because I agree it must have some ancient history tucked away, and I want to know it. Thankfully, I have a charming, handsome boy from my youth who so happens to enjoy more than his fair share of mischief as my friend. Garreg Mach won’t keep its secrets from us!”

Jorah chuckled, the smile on his face growing much more sincere. “No ma’am!” he declared, throwing his arm forward like an officer declaring a charge. “Garreg Mach won’t know what hit it!”

Beaming in the afternoon sun, Jorah suddenly remembered that he hadn’t finished his song. It being bad luck to leave a marching song incomplete, he whipped his lute back into his lap, strumming the same tune with a vigor to it that the prior lilting melody lacked.

“Oh, cursed be the cruel wars, that ever they should rise!
And out of every county press many a man likewise;
They took her Harry from her, likewise her brothers three,
And sent them to the cruel wars
In yonder Barony…”

Crossing through the storied gates of Garreg Mach found her equal parts awed and homesick, the surge of adoration the hallowed grounds elicited undercut with a bittersweet tang. It was difficult to say why; she’d hand picked the officials handling her current obligations and she’d promised letters home regularly. The journey wasn’t particularly hard on her either. Between her familiarity traveling and Jorah’s reassuring, but equally provocative, companionship, she found no issues nor did they encounter anything unsettling. Clarissa shook her head and took a steadying breath when it hit her.

She couldn’t smell the sea.

The mountain air was crisp and refreshing, but the lack of the salt sweet scent that pervaded home left her missing it dearly. It was a constant in her life, even in Diedru, and it almost felt like she was missing something. Clarissa laughed at herself. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine the air of all things would make her homesick.

Thoughts of home quickly disappeared as her excitement consumed anything else, and walking the halls of the monastery only served to fortify it even further. The air of serenity pervading every nook and cranny and she basked in it. A content smile spread across her face. She basked beneath the watchful eyes of the saints, in the presence of the Goddess that echoed in every footstep and laugh, and a sense of rightness settled on her shoulders. This was where she was meant to be, exactly as the Goddess wanted it. The smile wouldn’t leave her fave knowing the bishop was right, and she beamed at the end of the Archbishop’s speech. The Goddess truly did bless every one of them.

The classroom was a more familiar affair and he listened to their Professor eagerly. She appreciated Professor Kalonic’s direct approach and brisk handling of affairs. Clarissa had little patience for people who circled around conversations and drew them out simply for the sake of obfuscation. Especially when they repeated themself. The idea of mixing the houses together certainly piqued her curiosity and she found herself looking forward to the opportunity to meet the others they would be in class with. An excellent opportunity to grow, network, and get a glimpse of matters in the other nations that an outsider's view simply didn’t provide. Just one more step towards her final goal.

Of course, what goes up must come down and indeed it did. Her good mood shattered as Jorah was announced the House Leader. They chose Jorah over her? The heir who didn’t want his position, who spent so much time running away from his responsibilities the Duke locked him in the capital, who couldn’t face anything serious without a joke and a dismissive laugh if he couldn’t blatantly ignore it? She’d spent years developing her leadership skills, establishing herself as a rising power, and putting her House and her people in the forefront of change and growth and they chose him? She cared for him as much as she cared for her own brother but even he’d admit he wasn’t suited―Jorah probably wouldn’t even want it anyways!―handling the responsibilities. She had half a mind to go after the Professor and demand she reconsider.

Clarissa deflated quickly though. Those thoughts were entirely inappropriate and rude. Jorah could step up to the responsibilities just fine; he was adaptable and knew when he needed to focus on a goal. She shouldn’t be surprised. She’d wanted the position terribly but as usual, she had that irritating little complication that always kept her one step behind. Of course the Church wouldn’t want someone with the Crest of the Beast leading their students. Willingly put the blood of a betrayer in leadership? What a joke. She should probably count herself lucky they even accepted her then. Clarissa gave a tiny shake of her head, trying to clear out the resentment and resignation that settled over her like a blanket, and focused instead on the challenge. The Goddess gave her the opportunity to prove herself and like every time before that, she would rise to the challenge before her. She made a mental note to spend some time in the cathedral before they turned in for the evening.

“With time for ourselves, it’d be best if we made formal introductions. I am Clarissa von Edmund, heiress to the Margravate of Edmund.” Clarissa offered their classmates a curtsied, her only adjustment to the uniform a longer skirt than normal. The mountains held a chill all year round and she was quick averse to the idea of being half frozen for the year. “It is an honor to work together with such a diverse group and I hope that, true to Alliance philosophy, we find a way to meld our differences together in a way to make all of us stronger.”

[Obscene Symphony]

_{@Scribe of Thoth}

For Lienna, the past few weeks had been a torrent of firsts: first time sleeping in a keep, first time eating pork, first time having her hair cut by someone who knew what they were doing, first time having her measurements taken, and more. So much had happened it was hard to believe it was real; in fact, just about the only thing reminding her she wasn't dreaming was the horrible stone in her stomach.

Indeed, among her other ‘firsts’ since finalizing her engagement to Count Francis was a decidedly unpleasant one: her first time riding in a carriage, and consequently, her first realization that she got roadsick. The few hours’ ride from Hima to South Gautier had been awful enough on that rickety fur trader’s cart, but the trip from the Count’s keep to Garreg Mach took days and wasn't any smoother. Lienna had always thought a real carriage would be more comfortable, but the wretched thing pitched and yawed with every bump in the road, the horses stank, and the walls and roof that were supposed to protect her only made her feel like she was suffocating. Her single attempt to ride alongside the carriage on horseback ended before it began when the beast was too spooked to let her mount it, so she'd been doomed to spend the whole trip trying to keep her dinner down.

By the time they finally arrived at Garreg Mach, she was as white as a sheet, trembling, and vowing never again to set foot in a carriage. She’d had the driver stop a ways off from the monastery walls so she could stumble out and finish what the last leg of the trip had started, and spent a good few minutes in the shade of a tree by the roadside, nursing a waterskin and waiting for her head to stop spinning. Her uniform jacket had fallen casualty on the way, not that Lienna missed it; the stiff collar felt like a hand around her neck, and the trim fit of the thing greatly contrasted the ratty furs and smocks she was used to. The shoes were no better with their hard soles and heel, but that couldn’t be helped; commoner or not, even she wasn’t about to stumble into Garreg Mach Monastery with bare feet. At least the skirt was agreeable enough, long enough to reach her ankles and only snug at the waist, and the shirt would probably become a favourite. She’d been apprehensive about the breathable cotton at first, but the loose-fitting sleeves concealed how bony her arms were and now that she was here, she didn't expect the cold to be a problem. If this weather kept up, she could probably stow that jacket away for good.

She eventually felt well enough to stand again, but her stomach was reluctant to settle, and she’d be damned if she met her new classmates and professors holding her belly like a woman with child. The solution was found in a gift from her new fiancé: a long, deep brown sash, made of fabric that shone in the light and thin enough to see through. The gift perplexed Lienna; she didn’t understand why the Count bothered trying to woo her when their engagement was already finalized, and the sash itself would be useless against the cold, thin as it was. But as it turned out, it could serve a purpose: she wrapped it tightly around her abdomen, binding her belly from waist to ribs, and tied it off to the side in a limp bow. If nothing else, it might stop her stomach from quivering.

Not that it didn’t try. Lienna hadn’t been to church in years, but even she felt the weight of history and piety when she set foot in the cathedral. It wasn’t like she remembered the church back home; the church in Hima had been a second home for her until her grandmother fell ill, but every step here felt like an unwelcome intrusion on holy ground, the eyes of the saints heavy and judgemental when she passed under them. It was so bizarre and uncomfortable that it even distracted her from the unbelievable scale of the place, and when the young Archbishop’s speech finally concluded, she was one of the first ones out.

Luckily, that strangeness seemed to end at the threshold of the cathedral. She was able to relax a little once she got to the Blue Lions classroom, discomfort nudged aside by awe that Garreg Mach managed to transform even something as humble as a classroom into the stuff of fairy tales. The stained glass windows were unlike anything Lienna had ever seen, casting a rainbow of light across the ancient masonry; she couldn’t imagine the price of the books lining the walls, bound in leather and etched in gold, far finer than any she’d seen at the church back home; hells, even the tables and chairs were crafted with skill beyond anything Lienna had ever hoped to lay eyes on. It took a conscious effort not to drop her jaw at every new furnishing or artifact that caught her eye; while commoners were present at the Academy, she didn’t want to advertise her status just yet by openly ogling the furniture.

The cavalier professor clashed with the focused atmosphere of the room, but he was brief enough; he simply introduced himself and the House Leader before scurrying out the door. Said House Leader was somewhat less charismatic, quick to take Michail’s place at the front and launch into a stiff-yet-flowery introduction about securing the Kingdom’s future. Lienna looked on with lidded eyes, waiting to be dismissed; the boy carried himself like a storybook general and spoke like a priest, and despite her new station in life, Lienna had a knee-jerk impatience for the highborn and the holier-than-thou that already coloured her opinion of the House Leader. Of course, to give him the slimmest benefit of the doubt, it was also possible that the twist in her stomach when he spoke was just a remnant from the carriage ride.

She knew it would probably be prudent to get on good terms with His Excellency Heir Apparent Auberon von House Leader at some point. Lienna recognized the name “Galatea”, but not its origin; she could infer from the boy’s attitude and his appointment to House Leader that it was probably one of Faerghus’ noble families, but she couldn’t think of anything about them save a vague, sourceless familiarity with the name itself. The only Faerghian noble family she knew other than Gautier and Blaiddyd was Fraldarius, the name of the family territory bordering Gautier to the South. From her seat, she squinted at the chalkboard, searching for the name. From the brief review Hima’s priest had given her, she recalled that Houses Gautier and Fraldarius often intermarried; if a Fraldarius was attending, there was a chance they were a relative of her fiancé, or some other relation who could otherwise be useful to her in the future.

Unfortunately, the professor’s chickenscratch was nigh-incomprehensible, and while Lienna thought she saw a surname that started with ‘F’, she couldn't make out the rest. Ugh, and they chose this guy as their professor? She'd have thought such a lofty institution would at least have chosen someone who could write. She suppressed a groan; the prospect of asking around for names and titles made her head spin, and introducing herself to everyone like a child appealed to her no better. Dammit, why couldn't things ever be easy?

Fine; she supposed her crash course in high society started now. Rising from her seat as smoothly as she could manage, Lienna did her best to stand up straight and made her way to the front of the room under the pretense of looking at the board. Should she curtsy? No, no - Auberon was set to be a Count and she a Countess, so they should be on equal footing… probably. She decided against it; if she was going to err, she’d rather come off as rude than groveling, and the curtsy she'd practiced exactly once wasn't exactly up to snuff anyway. Instead, she offered the House Leader one of those barely-there noblewoman smiles the handmaidens at Francis’ keep kept giving her and introduced herself.

“A pleasure to meet you, Auberon,” she greeted, trying to mimic that nice-but-distant tone she had grown accustomed to from the ladies of Francis’ household. Polite, but not too invested; from her short time in the keep, it seemed to her that the role of a highborn woman was to like everything and everyone a little but to like nothing a lot. “I'm Lienna Orhneaht, betrothed to Count Francis Gautier. I look forward to the coming year with you and the rest of the Blue Lions. Is anyone you know attending this year?”

Lienna hoped the question didn't out her too quickly. Surely highborn kids had cousins all over the place, and many of them went to the Officer’s Academy, right? There were probably lots of students who knew each other, especially within the same House.

[Asura]

Adelaide von Hresvelg

_{Interacting with: @McMolly | Location: Garreg Mach Monastery - Courtyard}

---

With such heavy expectations ahead of her, Adelaide took a moment to relish the hug she shared with her dear cousin. It was not as though she would have many such moments in the coming months, after all. When they parted, she couldn't help but flash a smile at the way Widolaic curtsied to her as if they were still in the halls of the Imperial Palace. How many more curtsies would she be subjected to before even the first day was over? More than she wanted, perhaps, but with any luck, just as many as were expected. Widolaic was family, and she could be given a pass for their familiarity, but not all those who would wear Adrestia's colors were so lucky. There was a line to be had, as a ruler, between how much one was loved and how much one was respected. Adelaide had every intention of being both in the heart of her subjects, but respect was the far quicker—and perhaps far more important—feeling to cultivate.

"We begin by making peace with the fact there is precious little time for all we wish to accomplish," That much was as true for the scant year spent at Garreg Mach as it was for life itself, "But acknowledging that we need to accomplish as much as possible all the same."

Her cousin was not wrong. The heiress certainly had come up with a plan of action on how she would approach the coming months. What great leader would not? But another terrible truth on the matter of planning was that no matter how diligently one planned, the future always had a way of shifting inscrutably this way and that. No plan survived first contact with the enemy.

Fortunately, her enemies were a matter of the future. In the present, her plans focused more on those who were all but assured to be called allies.

"I will need to make the rounds once we have been given some free time. Meet with those who will swear me fealty one day. I have it on good authority that this year's batch of Eagles has no shortage of future ministers, and the one who is not destined to lead a ministry is destined for my hand."

Adelaide had not put much consideration toward her own marriage. Not even when Engel was still among the living. It had not skipped her mind entirely, of course. Indeed, the diligence she had known toward her studies as a girl was in honor of the man who would one day call her his bride. But by the time she had a notion of what exactly a husband was, the matter had already been set in stone for her. There was no greater value, in her mind, in ruminating over it.

But then Engel von Hresvelg joined his brothers and sisters, and Adelaide was without an intended for the first time since she could toddle. There was talk here or there about who would step up and seize her hand, especially once the Emperor had officially adopted her as his lawful heir. The amount of scheming and hand-wringing behind the scenes must have been a terrible thing to behold. Something more the purview of her dear cousin than herself. But Widolaic had been... indisposed at the time, and a predictable candidate was put forward not so long before her seventeenth birthday.

"I do not suppose you are familiar with Johann von Aegir? I must confess, I know precious little of the man who would someday sire my children. I suppose that might explain his convenient presence at the monastery this year: his father has surely insisted he win my favor before the year is concluded."

[Obscene Symphony]

_{@Achronum @Hero @webboysurf}

The journey from Derdriu to Garreg Mach was a lengthy one: with the Oghma mountain range blocking off access from the east, the caravan had go south through Gloucester and across the Great Bridge of Myrddin into Imperial territory, then hang a right at Gronder Field and trek back up north to the mountains. The road was well-traveled, at least, but it was a grueling trip nonetheless, made no easier for the guards accompanying the caravan by the state of their charges.

Jorah von Riegan was in a fantastic mood.

Despite the circumstances surrounding his enrolment at Garreg Mach, the weeks leading up to his departure had been an agony of anticipation, and by the time they finally set out on the road, Jorah felt like he could have sprinted the whole distance himself. Especially with Clarissa by his side, he was even more airy than usual, not a care in the world as the Riegan caravan lumbered down the road, except maybe to urge the driver to go faster. Ever averse to closed spaces and eager to drink in the scenery he hadn’t seen since he was sixteen, Jorah spent as much of the trip as he could riding alongside the caravan on a horse of his own - albeit tethered to the carriage axle. His father must have given the guards a stern talking-to, because no matter how much Jorah bargained and begged and nudged with his Crest, they wouldn’t let him ride freely. They were right to do so, of course, but that didn't make it any less disappointing.

But despite being pulled along like a captive, Jorah’s spirits never dipped. When he wasn’t pushing Clarissa’s buttons, he was strumming the lute his father had weakly tried to hide from him, serenading the company with every tavern dirge and sea shanty he could remember. Sure, he might have been the source of the circles under the eyes of the guards, but he knew from experience he’d test their patience whether he was singing or not, so he considered it a net gain. At least Clarissa admitted his songs were pretty!

The crossing into Imperial territory was particularly exciting, and had Jorah straining on his horse’s tether more than any other leg of the trip. He’d never been to Adrestia, but laying eyes on Gronder Field brought to mind the stories he’d heard from his father’s Academy days of the grand mock battle held there each year. Naturally, Jorah was fascinated by anything that could lift the Duke’s spirits to such heights - even if they did always come crashing down once the story was over - and drank in as many of the sights as he could, eyes glued to the horizon until they finally happened upon the mountain keep at the end of the road: Garreg Mach Monastery itself.

While he wouldn’t pretend to be profoundly struck by the age and holiness of the monastery, he was greatly impressed by its scale; the monastery rose from the Oghma mountains like it grew from the very rock, its own spires jutting into the sky alongside the mountain peaks. The place was lively, too, with a busy village at the base and people and animals all over the place. Despite having heard of its surprising population, Jorah had expected a painfully quiet, boring monastery full of stern, pious monks and impatient nuns. What he got instead felt like a miniature city all its own, vibrant and alive with all sorts of normal people. He’d heard the place described as “Fódlan in a nutshell”; if that was true, he couldn’t wait to explore every inch of it.

The address in the cathedral was novel - Jorah scarcely believed that what he’d been told about a twelve-year-old Archbishop was actually true - but what really caught his attention was the feel of the room. It was totally different from the day-to-day buzz of city crowds; the new students of the Officers’ Academy radiated every emotion from excitement to dread, like a buzzing bell curve of nervous anticipation that had Jorah’s gut all aflutter, practically vibrating in his seat. He wasn’t sure if it was a good feeling or a bad one, but the excitement of feeling something different in a crowd eclipsed any of his borrowed reservations.

Oh, and the classroom! Now there was a place he wouldn’t mind going every morning. True, yes, he had originally planned on shirking his classes as much as he could get away with to explore the monastery and adjacent town, but when Professor Euphemia bounded in all bouncy blonde hair and slender legs and high-heeled shoes, Jorah couldn’t think of a better place to start his day.

“I’ll make sure to take good care of you!”

Ah, Garreg Mach was already exceeding expectations.

“...and the lucky one...is future Duke Jorah Riegan!”

Wait. What?

Jorah blinked, sitting up from leaning his head on his hand and glancing around the room. Okay, he hadn’t really been paying attention to the Professor - not to what she was saying, anyway - did she want him for something? He’d normally be thrilled for a lady like her to call on him, but the very distinct crash he felt in Clarissa’s mood next to him told him that she might have been saying something important. He was left to puzzle over the address and Clarissa’s rapid, concerning decline from anger to melancholy until the papers Professor Euphemia was circulating around the class explained everything.

Jorah von Riegan - House Leader, Golden Deer

“What?!” Jorah blurted out, clutching the paper closer to his face and reading it over again. Surely this was a mistake. She said Jorah Riegan, and he was Jorah von Riegan, so there must have been another student with a curiously similar name who was chosen for House Leader, right? He looked around the room for anyone who looked like they were thrilled to be in charge, but saw no one. Cichol’s teeth, no wonder Clarissa was pissed!

Jorah could empathize, fuming in his seat with as much potency as a whimsical delight like himself could manage. His dastard father set this up, didn’t he? Ugh, Clarissa was right! Duke Riegan could be dead in the ground and Jorah still wouldn’t be free of his iron clutches! The man probably thought this was brilliant, a great way to whip his son into the leader he always wanted him to be. Just perfect, make him responsible for the students of the Alliance and get an extra set of eyes on him to keep him from slinking out of class. One of those “elegant solutions” Duke Riegan was known for. Absolutely ideal!

Jorah was contemplating methods of shamefully begging Professor Euphemia for reassignment (it would probably be impossible - his father probably dropped a Derdriu galleon full of money into the Archbishop's lap to make this happen - but it might at least be fun trying) when she spirited herself out of his reach, leaving only him and his remaining classmates, some of whom were already - disturbingly - looking to him for guidance.

What a terrible idea.

Clarissa, Goddes shower upon her all gifts and graces, broke the ice for him; an admirable effort, especially considering the dramatic turn her feelings took in the moments after the announcement. That air of subdued acceptance made Jorah sad; he recognized that mood of hers, and he didn’t much like what it usually accompanied. But if she was going to be good enough to take it in stride and set the stage for him, he’d oblige. Until he worked something else out, at least.

Tossing aside Euphemia’s paper dismissively, Jorah rose to his feet next, turning around to face the greater part of the room as he cleared his throat. Just as he did so, he caught a glimpse of a face that surprised him so much it made him choke: the curly blond head of Oskar Goneril was beaming at him from the back, looking very much like he was trying not to laugh as he offered his partner in crime a double thumbs-up. The stupid grin was contagious; Jorah almost burst out laughing himself as soon as he saw it, and as quickly as it had fallen, his mood soared once again. The absolute shitheel, Oskar never told him he was coming.

“Thank you, Clarissa, that’s an excellent idea,” Jorah greeted quickly, half-choked with still barely-contained laughter. He took a deep breath to compose himself before springing up on top of the desk in front of him, introducing himself to his classmates in a manner much more like himself.

“As some of you may have heard, my name is Jorah von Riegan, and while some of you may remember me as heir to the Duchy of Riegan - or more likely as a distraction at the Roundtable - it looks like this year, I’ll be playing the role of your House Leader.” He smiled winsomely at the class, finding to his surprise that he had at least passing familiarity with all of them - especially the poor Ordelia girl, whose presence was almost as much of a shock as his own appointment as Leader.

“As such, my first act under this new mantle of authority is this: you are all hereby ordered to attend a party tonight to kick off the year and hopefully, to get to know each other a bit more intimately.” He flashed a mischievous look at nobody in particular, accompanied by Oskar “oooo”ing immaturely in the back, before pointing toward the door. “My second order is to spread the word about our little get-together to everyone you can find. I want every student at the Officers’ Academy - all three houses - in attendance. Sound good?”

He surveyed the class for approval, objections, or questions, ignoring any of the latter two and taking the former as his cue to end his debut. “Excellent. Dismissed!” He pointed at Oskar. “Except you, Oskar - you’re in detention.”

With that, Jorah nodded to himself and jumped back down to the floor, crossing his arms triumphantly. “Not bad for my first decree, eh?" He asked Clarissa rhetorically, inwardly bracing for whatever indignance would follow, but too proud to shut up. "Maybe authority suits me after all."

[Mcmolly]

Widolaic von Vestra

_{Interacting with: @Asura | Location: Garreg Mach Monastery - Courtyard}

---

As exciting as change could be, Viddle had to admit that there was a certain comfort in Adelaide’s unflinching nature. She guessed her cousin had been thinking about this day for quite a while, perhaps even before she was invited. Long-laid plans often necessitated that a person’s resolve be unmoved, and people were quick to mistake perseverance for stagnation. That said, if anyone could endure the year ahead of them and emerge exactly as they were today, she guessed, it would be Adelaide.

At the very least, Viddle was always happy to have a goal. Working with the future empress, like as not there’d be plenty of those to go around.

“Ah,” she said, nodding at the mention of their fellow Eagles. “In fact, I did notice some familiar names on the roll. I believe the Varleys, Gerths, and Hevrings all have their heirs here; they’re an interesting bunch. I think you’ll get on well with most of them.”

Fiona von Varley and Victor von Hevring were pleasant enough, though a part of her worried what a meeting between Adelaide and Veronica might look like. The Gerth heiress wasn’t particularly known for her tact and deference, and Viddle doubted she spent much time around people she could not command around. Oh well, perhaps if Adelaide did not change this year, Veronica would change double, and goddess willing that would be enough to close the gap.

When Adelaide asked after Johann, Viddle couldn’t help smirking at her brusqueness. It was a fair question though, who wouldn’t want to know about their future spouse? Viddle certainly had. Once the marriage between House Aegir and Hresvelg was arranged, she’d looked somewhat impulsively into the man who would marry her cousin, partly out of curiosity, and partly out of concern. The rumors surrounding his rise to consort were myriad, and discerning fact from fiction was like sifting salt from seawater, especially when it came to the lives of royalty.

“Familiar? Not personally, no. But from what I hear,” she said, a subtle yet knowing emphasis placed upon the word. “He’s nothing like his brother. He has a knight’s heart—or so I’m told—with all the honor and ego that can entail. If that’s true, you may be in for quite the courting.”

[Hero]

_{@Scribe of Thoth}

Stories always paled in comparison to the real thing, this much Derec knew. Even still, Garreg Mach had a serenity that no tale could ever do justice; from the grand cathedral to the bustling marketplace, it was almost everything he had hoped for. Here the borders between lands were nonexistent and both commoner and noble walked side by side. In a sense, it was the perfect escape for anyone looking to hide from the world. Not that he was hiding from anyone in particular, but at the very least he could probably sleep better at night not worrying about any possible assassins sneaking into his room past the guards.

The Archbishop's speech was nice, but Derec found it hard to concentrate when the words were coming out of a child half his height. At least he looked like he was having a nice time. Speaking of which, their professor was certainly a character. He had heard of a Knight of Seiros joining the ranks of the Officers Academy, but he figured it would have been as a combat advisor. The fact that he was going to be the one in charge of the Blue Lion House was...not worrying, but not really comforting, either. His last name sounded familiar to Derec, too, but he couldn't place it. It must not have been any major noble house of Faerghus. Maybe it was a lesser known branch?

The professor left the room so quickly that Derec almost wanted to follow suit, but it was probably a good idea to find out which students he would be spending the year with. He stood from his seat and approached the chalkboard, towering over most of the other students. Finding his name wasn't too hard, but he did raise his eyebrow at only seeing 'Ballard'. Well, the Royal family had yet to formally recognize him, so maybe he had been expecting too much. Then again, Lord Leon had said he was free to use the Blaiddyd name, and he had the crest to quiet anyone who thought he was unworthy.

The house leader decided to introduce himself, and Derec watched with great interest. Galatea, now that was a name he did recognize. At least he sounded like a leader! He finished with such a flourish that Derec couldn't help but clap, though he realized his mistake shortly afterwards as he was the only one. "Oh--okay," Derec stopped clapping, turning back to the board. In theory, the best thing to do was to avoid the nobility--no doubt he wasn't exactly popular with those who would stick to the original heir--so he figured he should stick to his classmates.

And of course that meant he was placed in a unit with not only Faerghus nobility but Alliance nobility and even the Imperial Princess from the looks of the Black Eagles. "Great," Derec mumbled, scratching the back of his head. Galatea and Fraldarius? Really? Why not add in Gautier and Dominic while they were at it? How was he supposed to lay low?

He figured he may as well try to bring about a good first impression. But where would he start? House Leader Galatea? It certainly seemed like the obvious answer, but Derec would rather know his enemy first and foremost and the Galatea seemed problematic. He approached the blond somewhat reluctantly, running a hand through his red hair to smooth it out.

"Well said," Derec decided a little compliment to hopefully butter the guy up would help. "And well met, I'm Derec Ballard. Looks like we'll be in the same class unit for the year."

[Asura]

Adelaide von Hresvelg

_{Interacting with: @McMolly | Location: Garreg Mach Monastery - Courtyard}

---

Adelaide glanced thoughtfully across the courtyard, which grew all the busier as others began to filter their way from their classrooms out to whatever leisure awaited between education and prayer. An interesting little taste of what was to come. But it was not of potential recreation that her thoughts lingered. It seemed as though Widolaic had heard about as much about Johann von Aegir as she herself had. Not a surprising thing, considering her cousin's relative isolation from the greater Empire. All things considered, there were worse fates for a young maiden of noble blood. Some were married to tyrants and villains only interested in their dowries and the promise of a Crest-bearing lineage. Others found themselves engaged to men many years her senior. Even Adelaide herself had nearly faced such a fate, albeit a kinder one than the typical affair. Engel himself would be nearer to thirty than twenty-five by the time she came of age to properly wed him.

A man with a 'knight's heart' was an easier weight to bear, no matter how politely dressed a term it was. She could do worse than a consort who fancied himself a chivalrous sort. Even if he turned out to be a particularly pompous man, as those of his line tended to be, as long as he made up for his pride with valor and loyalty, all could be forgiven.

"I suppose I should consider myself lucky, then. I've always preferred honor to duplicity, and ego to cunning. It's far easier to keep a handle on an honest, arrogant man than it is the alternative," It all sounded a little cruel when stated out loud, but she was sure the pragmatism of her statement was not lost on someone of Vestra stock, "As long as he doesn't allow his pride to get in the way of my ambitions, I'm sure our match will at least be a tolerable affair."

That was a matter that would need to be handled as it came up, and not a moment sooner. Tilting her head so she could glimpse instead at her dark-eyed kinswoman, Adelaide offered the mage the smallest hint of a playful grin. It wouldn't do to just speak of her marital woes, of course. Others present had yet to set their romantic affairs in stone.

"What of you? You are to be a Marquise now, once my dear uncle has stepped down as head of the Vestra. Has he mentioned setting you up with any enterprising young gentlemen? Or should I expect to see you prowling the monastery's halls between classes like some sort of huntress?"

[Scribe of Thoth]

---

This was all a joke. A giant divine joke played at Rudolf's expense. It had to be. It was bad enough that he'd been forced to attend the Officers' Academy for his last few months of freedom before they slapped a gilded shackle on his head and called it a coronet, but his last hope at being outed as a fraud and denied his hated birthright was a flippant man who probably wouldn't notice him even if his Crest made him light up like the noonday sun, let alone its real effect. Rudolf's saving grace was that the second class to which he'd been assigned might have a different instructor, but that came with its own set of horrors - namely that he'd be attending with the Crown Princess and the psycho that murdered all House Vestra's other heirs, if rumors were to be believed. Maybe he'd get lucky and Her Highness would personally declare him unfit for vassalage, but that carried the risk of drawing her ire. Sure, she seemed nice enough, but that was at a public event. Maybe she was terrifying in private.

He was getting ahead of himself. Surely any institution of learning would come with regular evaluation in which the professors would be forced to observe him, even if his most prominent one was lazy and uncaring. Malathice said he was a researcher of magic theory; he'd surely spot Rudolf's flaws and mercilessly tear them apart for the crime of wasting his time. The dark-haired boy had a year to return home in disgrace, he didn't need to start doomsaying so soon. Then again, he still had to embarrass himself in front of the Crown Princess, unless he was lucky enough to fly beneath her notice entirely. Or... maybe she wouldn't begrudge him for abdicating if she saw how pitiful the runt of House Bergliez was in action.

Ugh, he was doing it again.

The room was in motion now, giving Rudolf an excuse to focus on something else besides the perpetual downward spiral in his own head. The princess had quietly excused herself and everyone else seemed to take that as their invitation to leave. To do what, exactly, Rudolf wasn't certain; classes wouldn't start until the following day and they otherwise had nowhere to be. Mingle, apparently, if Professor Malathice was to be believed. Rudolf wasn't very good at that. He knew most everyone in attendance but he didn't know any of them well, and he had no doubt they'd find him detestably boring if all he could do was force small talk about Count Hevring's last ball (where Viscount Hrym's son embarrassed him thoroughly, no less!) and stutter out empty platitudes about the locale. No, it was better he remain in the shadows where he belonged. Besides, he still needed to unpack; who knew what the servants did with all his luggage when they tossed it in his room. Not that he had much, but... it gave him something to do.

Fortunately, Rudolf managed to sneak his way out of the classroom without anyone toppling him over - a minor feat in most crowds, even one as small as this - and made his way out into the courtyard. The other classrooms seemed to have been dismissed at much the same time, judging by the amount of unfamiliar faces he noted, and the professors seemed to have devolved into playground antics. Both far too intimidating for him to engage with; he'd made a good choice in returning to his dorm.

Unfortunately, he almost trudged straight into the future Empress and the Vestra heiress discussing boys of all things, with the implication that she'd be 'prowling' for a poor sap to force into a betrothal. And Rudolf would be sitting next to her. All. Year. Long. Goddess knows his mother would jump at the idea of him marrying so well, though maybe someone that didn't stand to become a minister of the Empire themselves might be more suited- Saints, he hadn't even considered that he might be used as a tool of political marriage if he passed up his title.

He truly was doomed.

"Isn't it a bit early to be husband-hunting here?" Rudolf squawked without really considering his words. It didn't register to him that he'd just addressed the Crown Princess. It didn't register to him that he just ruined his chance to slip away. He just wanted to take himself out of the hunt before it even began. "I mean. Uh. I wasn't eavesdropping. I just... y'know. Heard you in passing. And. Um."

His posture shrunk and his mouth opened and shut a few times without any words escaping it before he finally followed up, "I'll just... be going. Sorry."

---

@Asura@McMolly

[Mcmolly]

Widolaic von Vestra

_{Interacting with: @Asura @Scribe of Thoth | Location: Garreg Mach Monastery - Courtyard}

---

Viddle was glad to hear Adelaide take the assessment in stride. When it came to the marriages of royalty, ‘tolerable’ was certainly on the higher end of outcomes, though she knew her concerns had been largely unfounded to begin with. Adelaide would be cold underground before she let some arranged spouse stand in the way of her future. Johann would realize that quickly, and accept it with grace, or he would be in for a rather miserable marriage.

When the topic turned playfully towards her own prospects, Viddle couldn’t help laughing just a little. Not so much at the idea itself, but the thought of uncle Ulrich playing matchmaker tickled her. She’d never seen him so much as smile since they first met, and anyone who came to his seat intending to ask after marriage proposals might already be unsuitable by way of insanity.

“Uncle Ulrich isn’t very romantically-inclined these days,” she said casually. She’d never known his wife, though in her more daring escapades within the estate, she discovered he still kept a lovely portrait of her in his chambers. Perhaps theirs was indeed a passionate union. “Though if you have anyone you’d like disposed of, you should consider sending them to him to inquire after my hand. Besides,” a mischievous grin tugged at her lips. “There are much more interesting things to prowl these halls for than marriage, wouldn’t you say—oh!”

Having grown up surrounded by those who would one day make their trades in shadows and subtlety, Viddle prided herself somewhat on being hard to sneak up on. However, when a small voice popped up before them, she jolted, finding it attached to a young man who she had not even noticed approach.

It was a face she recognized least among the imperial heirs at the academy, but still recognized nonetheless. Rudolf von Bergliez, future heir to the seat of the empire’s military, and something of a social recluse compared to his peers.

“Rudolf!” she beamed, cheery again once the surprise wore off. “Oh, what a pleasant surprise! Please don’t go, we were just talking about how fun it will be, getting to know all our future allies. Your Highness,” she said, catching herself before calling Adelaide by name so casually. Perhaps once the introductions were done. “Have you met Rudolf yet? Heir to House Bergliez, and quite the capable mage, I’m told. We share a passion for magic, it would seem—I’d love to trade notes some time!”

[Hero]

_{@Asura@McMolly@Scribe of Thoth}

---

The Cathedral at Garreg Mach was famous through all of Fódlan and with good reason. A testament to centuries of history, faith, and architectural prowess, it was not just a place of worship, but a beacon of spirituality. The close distance from it to the Officer's Academy was surely a sign to the students gathered that the Goddess would watch their actions this year. Fortunately, he had absolutely nothing to fear, for every action, spoken word, and decision Johann von Aegir made was always calculated and with the dash of eloquence expected from a man of his pedigree. Any doubt he may have had was but a fleeting shadow in the radiance of his ambition.

He let himself follow the crowd of students from sermon to classroom, finding the setting one he liked very much. The blend of knights, the clergy, and students was something that piqued his interest; resisting the urge to flag down a genuine Knight of Seiros and grill him on the happenings of Garreg Mach were strong, but that was a life now left behind. That the Goddess had deemed his desire to come to the monastery one way or another was enough to make him chuckle, though he never would have guessed it would be to get a proper education.

With his elder brother set to inherit his father's position, it made Johann the obvious candidate for his father to offer to the Emperor for his heir's hand in marriage. Johann was neither reluctant nor was he exhilarated; it was simply a matter of fact and an inevitability. He was surprised by the news and had no shortage of theories on what his father had to do for it to happen--the head of the von Aegir family was notorious for not only getting what he wanted but his willingness to do what he needed to get it--but there was something unsteady about the entire affair that bothered him. Granted, the plague had ravaged the Adrestian Empire and seeing the princess wed would surely revitalize the people, but he couldn't shake the feeling.

For now, Johann focused on the famed Professor Malathice and held back a chuckle. He had heard that said professor's only public appearance in the noble circle had resulted in a flurry of ruffled feathers as the man's apathy had rubbed many the wrong way. It was a strange comfort to see he was as the rumors said he was, even if it would lead to some trouble down the line. He hoped there wouldn't be a need to seek the professor out for help, but he hoped at minimum any serious issues would be listened to, at least.

One exit and dismissal later and Johann found himself played spectator to a spirited conversation between the radiant Fiona von Varley and the prickly Veronica von Gerth. Both sang praise to the monastery, something he hadn't expected; Veronica in particular was notorious for always finding something to complain about so her being positive was a refreshing change. But a speck of white in his peripheral caught his attention and he watched as the heiress to the empire broke a hug from another he recognized but couldn't match a name to her face. It was innocuous enough but he didn't like it. He couldn't explain why, either, but whatever the case was, he had pardoned himself from the pair of ladies and found himself walking up to the duo--no, trio, where in the world did their third come from?

He didn't head over just yet, however. First, he checked the board, looking for both his name and the princess'. Fortunately, they were both in the same unit, and so he had the perfect excuse to walk on over and join the conversation. "Pardon the interruption, ladies and gent," He flashed a grin and a slight bow, eyes flickering between the Bergliez and the woman before landing on Princess Adelaide. "Johann von Aegir, at your service. Forgive my boldness, but I noticed we have the luck of being in the same unit this year. How fortuitous!"

[Asura]

Adelaide von Hresvelg

_{Interacting with: @McMolly @Scribe of Thoth @Hero | Location: Garreg Mach Monastery - Courtyard}

---

Adelaide could not help but offer a soft chuckle at the mention of her uncle's disposition toward the romantic. She had not made herself a guest of his all that often, but it did not surprise her in the least that Ulrich von Vestra was one to discard the notion of romance as an unnecessary triviality. Her own father—his brother by blood—had a similar sternness regarding such distractions. Yet all the same, he found himself caught up in the whirlwind of courtship after years by her mother's side. Even the shadowy underhand that stalked the halls of the Imperial palace and silenced all opposition to the Hresvelg family had their more human moments. With any luck, a parting from the oppressive atmosphere of her father's estate would give Widolaic a chance to indulge in those, before duty recalled them both to the capital and plans needed to be made for the future to come.

If nothing else, she seemed willing to indulge in the moment.

"Interesting things? I do hope you do not mean forbidden things, Viddle. I do not wish to——"

It was unfair to say that Adelaide never let her guard down. Such a thing would prove more detrimental to her success than beneficial: occasional moments of rest and recreation were required to replenish one's vitality. But it was not something she allowed herself to engage in often. At the very least, not in public. It was a testament to her trust in her dear cousin that she had slackened enough for someone to get the drop on them, and perhaps a testament to that very cousin's dedication to her family's purpose that she was so swift to address the source of the disturbance. Regardless, the heiress of Hresvelg straightened up all the same, squaring her shoulders and assuming a most refined posture.

"Rudolf von Bergliez," Adelaide mouthed the name softly as she turned to face the boy, glancing across his features with cold blue eyes as if to place them in her memory, "I believe we have been acquainted."

It took a few moments for her to remember when. Which, itself, was quite impressive. Adelaide had, as a matter of principle, committed to memory the names and faces of the vassals with whom she had spoken. Unless they were truly so lowly as to never again pose a risk of meeting with her a second time, she cataloged them away in her mind, potential assets for the future to come. Rudolf von Bergliez, despite representing an asset of incredible value, cut a surprisingly unassuming presence, even in her mind's eye. His father, Otto von Bergliez, had always been a man of conviction and gravitas. There was little doubt in her mind that, under his command, the Imperial armies would have been a formidable foe to face. But like much of the Empire's old guard, he was no more. Instead, his son would be the one to strategize on behalf of her armies. Perhaps some would be disappointed by the comparison. Trading a grizzled old lion for his smaller, meeker cub.

Not Adelaide. There was little to fear from Rudolf von Bergliez. Whatever failings he may have had as a man, he would surely make up for them as a strategist and councilor. The Goddess had shown her that much. She offered the dark mage a warm, but politely composed smile, and raised her hand toward him such that he might do her the courtesy of kissing it in greeting, as befit a vassal to their sovereign.

"It puts me at ease to see you among our number, Rudolf. I do regret that we had precious little time to speak with one another during my investiture as crown princess. It is my sincerest hope that we might remedy that this year."

With any luck, she might even manage to instill some boldness in his otherwise timid spirit. What good was a ruler, in the end, who could not stoke the fires of valor in her followers? Not all of her vassals would need such tender care, however. That much was proven as her icy eyes followed the path of one such young man, toward her, then briefly towards a nearby assignment board, and then back towards her company. She could certainly put a name to that face.

"Fate can often put into motion fortuitous circumstances, Johann von Aegir, but I find myself somewhat skeptical that it is by chance alone that we find ourselves here," A rebuke that was just a tad harsh, but it would not do for her to simply accept their proximity as circumstance, and she offered him a disarming smile all the same, accompanied by a dainty hand, "Your presence is a comfort all the same."

[Scribe of Thoth]

---

It appeared Auberon's misgivings were unfounded, even if a single classroom speech might've been too small of a metric to judge success on. He hadn't expected much, but someone did outright clap, so perhaps he had outdone himself. If earnest speaking and confidence were all the Lions needed to succeed - and Auberon shouldn't have expected any less, brave sons of Faerghus that the students were - then he should be able to lead quite adeptly. Or perhaps that was merely the benevolence of the Goddess at work in Her most hallowed hall, that all within might rise to the challenges before them and prosper.

The woman that approached him didn't seem familiar, and the mention of her name removed any doubt from his mind that he might've forgotten her somehow. Still, a flash of recognition did cross his eyes as she mentioned her betrothal. Auberon was unfamiliar with the Count himself, but a name he didn't recognize engaged to a name he did certainly implied this Orhneaht girl had something about her that put her above the rest of the rabble, maybe even a Crest. At least that was one commoner's attendance explained.

"The pleasure is all mine, Lienna," Auberon greeted, then briefly gave his attention back to the board, "To answer your question, my cousin, Elia Galatea, is in attendance and I'm well acquainted with the Lord Kellen Fraldarius, though I admittedly haven't spoken to either in quite some time." The thought briefly irked him. Perhaps he needed to engage with written correspondence more frequently, especially if he intended to build connections here. It wouldn't do to let any relationships he'd nurtured wither away out of carelessness.

They were joined by another - the clapper - who introduced himself as the other commoner of their class. Unlike Lienna, he offered no such interesting claims to status in his greeting. It was a bit disheartening to learn his most vocal supporter so far was the lowest born of the class who might've clapped for anything a man of status said, but Auberon supposed he shouldn't have expected much else; none of the nobility would've had the audacity to make a scene like that. But they were unitmates and classmates besides nonetheless, and it wouldn't do for him to be aloof. Besides, Derec seemed respectable enough if he had somehow gained admission to the academy. Maybe he was slated for knighthood.

"Well met as well, Derec. I'm grateful for the support." Auberon gave the redhead an acknowledging nod. "I wasn't sure who would be in attendance this year, but this seems to be a fine group. I hadn't intended to settle for anything short of a decisive Blue Lions victory regardless." He certainly hadn't expected to be the tip of the lance for said victory, but in retrospect he was perhaps humbling himself too much. Though he may not have been too familiar with the other heirs to the great houses of Faerghus enough to guess who would be enrolled at the academy alongside him, House Galatea was no mediocre vassal house to be lumped in with the Dominics and the Kleimans. Auberon would be Count one day, and he was clearly being prodded from on high to give his responsibilities more thought than the vapid notions of knighthood he entertained in his youth.

---

@Obscene Symphony@Hero

[webboysurf]

Nathanael Gloucester

_{Interacting with: @Achronum @Obscene Symphony | Location: Garreg Mach Monastery - Golden Deer Classroom}

---

To call the pomp and circumstance of the first day of classes a waste of time would be to underestimate just how fruitless the whole endeavor was. Rituals, ego trips, and introductions for those too lazy or incompetent to parse together who was of importance. If it weren't such a bad look and he was sure the headache of private meetings and admonishments would not outweigh the time saved, he would have spent the day beginning to pour through the library's historical records to at least provide some semblance of stimulation. Instead, Nathanael remained stoic and quiet through the sermon and through Professor Kalonic's introduction, no matter how brief the latter and how droning the former felt. He thumbed at a small book he kept on his desk, fighting the urge to open it and begin pouring through the texts so he at least wasn't wasting this time. He kept himself in check, though, and remained sitting unnaturally upright in his chair.

Of course, he found the prank painfully imbecilic, yet not at all surprising. If these were the best and brightest to have graduated from Garreg Mach in recent years, that said little for his confidence they would be able to provide him with anything he couldn't find at a festival for infants. It was becoming clear that the best this academy would offer are tests of patience, which while valuable was certainly less than the price of admission. It seemed fitting the Church of Seiros would run a scam like this: leeches often did suck at the blood of more capable creatures.

As Euphemia fled to have a loud fit of rage, Nathanael's eyes briefly scanned everyone present. There were a few faces he recognized from roundtable meetings, others more obvious by reputation or careful research. The most surprising presence was one that he kept within his eyeline at all times: Isolde Ordelia. She was only a year older than him... must have been eleven when her father ruined both of their lives. Not that hers could be so bad, if she ended up in the same place he was. She certainly had farther to fall still, then. He would find the time to scheme something special for her... perhaps the sermons, since sleeping or missing them would tarnish the great Gloucester name. His gaze lingered on her for a short time, the little emotion he acknowledged squeezing his chest with pain... or perhaps anxiety. It was hard to tell these days, it all blended together for Nathanael.

Of course, there were two of more import in the classroom with him... one by merit, and one certainly by his father's machinations. Clarissa's suggestion of doing introductions was reasonable... not his preferred use of time, but acceptable. She wore authority like her own skin, and held a confidence and determination that he admired. Melding their differences together were inspiring words, even if they lacked a defined meaning. His father, once, espoused the strength of the Leicester Alliance in similar terms. His belief was that there was strength in a diversity of thought, steel, and action... and that it was this that kept them free from their neighbors. This belief did not bear much weight to scrutiny... for there was little strength in the diversity of thought and steel that pierced his father's heart over half a decade earlier. He would have to keep Clarissa von Edmund from such a fate, if she were to lead the Alliance, but knew better than to try and point the faults in her words.

Of course... then there was Jorah von Riegan. His presence at the academy alone would be a disgrace, if he did not have a personality befitting the faculty meant to lead them. He certainly had to be their usual crop of candidate, and perhaps his stunning incompetence was such a brilliant display that they had chosen him to be the leader for the Golden Deer house. It certainly wasn't be merit of skill, qualities of leadership, or ability to take anything seriously. Was the only criteria being able to ride a horse? If so, Jorah's desire to "ride" must have certainly proceeded him and been sufficient requirement. But no, even Nathanael was well aware of what must have happened: the meddling seat-warmer Jorah called father was trying to teach his son a lesson at the expense of every other worthy heir in the Alliance who was there to get things done. A worthy tithe to the Church of Seiros was probably enough, or was the von Riegan charm of begging for handouts appealing enough? He didn't care to know for certain, it would only be more painful to know the particulars. He certainly didn't want to know if he could think of Jorah less.

Oh, but apparently he could, for Jorah was capable of speech.

His attempt at appearing imposing, standing atop a desk to make himself taller and peer down at them all, left Nathanael craning his neck upwards. Jorah was at least self-aware enough to admit that he was merely a sideshow at the Roundtable meetings, which had won a modicum of trust in favor in the conspiracy that Jorah's reputation was exaggerated. The innuendo and order to party had wiped that away quickly. With Jorah's introduction out of the way, Nathanael stood from his seat and began to walk to the front of the class so he could slip out the door and leave for a mid-day stroll. There was a chance he could make it to the library before the next sermon. He passed behind Jorah, close enough to hear his words. “Not bad for my first decree, eh? Maybe authority suits me after all."

Nathanael's pace slowed to a stop, the words bouncing in his head and shaking up what coherence there was left. He certainly misheard... there was not a chance that the joke of the class believed he held authority. Nathanael's cold gaze shifted towards Jorah, the words escaping his mouth in a whisper just loud enough for Jorah and Clarissa to hear. "Authority suits you like a cold bath to a cat." His gaze remained fixed as he paused, a flash of confusion crossing his face. No... his usual sarcasm was absent. Gone was his sickly sweet condescension, tucked away behind prettier words he didn't mean. Nathanael's eyes drifted towards Clarissa, his brain taking a half moment to catch up. This was unnatural, a compulsion of some sort... one he would not make again so recklessly. Nathanael cleared his throat, turning to the rest of the students in the class. He needed to distract, and pretend the words were never spoken. He just needed something suitable... more words to hide behind.

An introduction. And an opportunity to garner sympathy should Jorah escalate things.

"In the spirit of introductions... I am Nathanael Gloucester, heir to..." Nathanael paused, his flat words lingering as his gaze shifted to Isolde. He looked down afterwards, pausing for a calculated two seconds, before continuing. "... heir to the late Duke Gloucester. I look forward to learning with you all." He gave a small, stiff bow to his classmates before returning to his seat awkwardly.

[Hero]

_{@Achronum@Obscene Symphony@webboysurf}

---

Every minute that passed felt like someone was subtly and slowly pushing down on Isolde’s chest. It was all so overwhelming; the statues felt like they were staring into her soul, the odd glance her way feeding into her anxiety in a way that made her wish she hadn’t bothered coming. The benefits had initially outweighed any negatives and her mother had a point; she had to show her face in public at one point or another.

She prayed silently to the Goddess for strength, hoping in some way that making it through the first day would mean she could survive the rest of the year. Her naive hope was that it had been so long since she had been seen that she wouldn’t be recognized, that the feeling of being watched was just her own paranoia. Everything passed her in a blur, and it wasn’t until a paper was in her hands that she woke up, so to speak.

Unfortunately, said paper sent her into such a spiral that she was sure she was going to throw up.

The mingling of students from different Houses had actually piqued her interest, if only because it meant a fresh start. She was shocked to see many noble–and even a royal!–name on the sheet, but her inner dread came out in full force when her eyes landed on one name: Nathanael Gloucester. Why? Why had they been put together? Surely the news of the late Duke Gloucester’s murder was widely known!

She noticed she was trembling and laid the paper down flat, taking a look around. To her absolute horror, she spotted the young man in question looking directly at her. Shame swept her quickly and she tore her gaze away, heart beating in her throat. She wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t prepared to face him.

Isolde stood without realizing it and made a beeline for the door, stopping only when another arm hooked through hers. She was spun around in place and pulled along, and it took her much too long to realize it was Oskar Goneril doing so. There was no escape, much to her dismay, the older boy dragging her along even when she dug her feet in. Why was he so strong?!

He stopped before the trio and released Isolde, not noticing when she immediately hid behind him. “Alright, if we’re going to be showing these people a sincere Alliance party, then you just tell me where and when so I can tell people,” He boasted with a dazzling grin.

A startled, almost sickly look crossed Jorah’s face like a shadow as she approached, but he lit back up immediately when he saw Oskar, matching his enthusiasm. “Hm, that would help, wouldn't it?” He replied, holding his chin in thought. After a second, he snapped his fingers, eyes sparkling with excitement. “The Reception Hall! After the last bell. Tell people to bring their dancing shoes!”

Oskar clapped his hands together before pointing at each person with both hands. “Reception Hall after the last bell. Bring your dancing shoes. Be there. I’m doing my part!” He announced, nearly bowling Isolde over as he darted out of the classroom, repeating himself to every person he saw on the way out.

That left Isolde with nothing to hide behind, her expression, ironically, akin to a deer getting caught in the open. She tried not to panic as she found herself nearly face-to-face with a confrontation she wasn’t ready for, head dipped down as her brain tried to organize some words.

She failed, trembling in place for a few seconds before turning around and making an attempt to flee.

[Scribe of Thoth]

---

Rudolf should've known by now that calling attention to himself was a gateway to fresh hells he'd rather not enter. It was a certainty that he forgot about every time he received some condescending pep talk that he should be more social, and was harshly reminded of on a regular basis. Doing so in present company might've been his worst blunder yet, however. The Vestra girl knew him from... somewhere. He squinted at her briefly. Where had he seen her face before? Some formal event or another, surely. Or perhaps she knew his brother and guessed his identity from that.

Whatever the case, he didn't see any fun to be had in staying in this already-painful conversation or meeting anyone he hadn't already been forcibly introduced to at a ball, let alone the backward inhabitants of Fódlan's other great nations. That was exactly what the Empire needed to project strength: him. Worse, she knew he was a mage - hopefully that was an obvious guess and his false reputation didn't extend so far that everyone had heard - and wanted to compare notes. He sucked at magic. Certainly didn't have a passion for it, in any case. She'd probably be worse off after they were done.

"I, uh, I'm not sure if you'd find them very helpful," Rudolf tried to wave her off, "I'd think House Vestra's knowledge of dark magic would run pretty deep."

Though, if 'Viddle' was a new layer of hell, Princess Adelaide was the fiery pit down at the bottom. She glared at him searchingly, surely picking apart his pathetic existence now that her eyes could find proper purchase on his form. She remembered him too, which Rudolf was convinced was more curse than blessing, and then- Saint Cichol above, why was she extending her hand like that?! That was not a greeting motion! That was- she wanted him to- but they didn't even- No, he couldn't. He wouldn't. He would have to simply pretend he misunderstood and offer her a strange, limp handshake.

Crimson eyes settled on the extended hand in horrified silence as Her Highness continued, the words passing by his ears unregistered. A more masculine voice carried in from somewhere far away, equally as unintelligible. Probably right next to him. Rudolf couldn't find the strength to raise his head and see where it originated anyway. A trembling hand reached up to meet Adelaide and lingered there for a moment as Rudolf built up the courage to defy her. Or comply with her. There really was no winning here. Against his better judgement, Rudolf dipped and placed his face against her knuckles in an act that could only be called a kiss in the most generous interpretation of the word. More like he jabbed his nose into the back of her hand and his lips kind of stiffly hung there until they brushed skin. The moment they did, he dropped her hand abruptly, as if it had shocked him, and jolted upright. Were the boy capable of getting any paler, he surely would've in that moment.

Thankfully, the glance he spared to the princess' face showed her attention was no longer on him, despite his embarrassing conduct, and now laid on the newly-arrived man. What'd she call him? Johann? Oh, good, now it was his turn to kiss the hand. Was this going to be a regular occurrence? Rudolf didn't think his heart could take another one of those.

---

@Asura@McMolly@Hero

[Mcmolly]

Widolaic von Vestra

_{Interacting with: @Asura @Scribe of Thoth @Hero| Location: Garreg Mach Monastery - Courtyard}

---

The saying came to mind: ‘Never attribute to malice what can be explained by ignorance.’ In House Vestra, the rule was often inverted, as those who played the fool were likely just as much of a threat as anyone else. In her years at the estate, Viddle had grown accustomed to the depth that lurked beneath meek surfaces.

As she watched Rudolf von Bergliez smush his nose into Adelaide’s hand, shaking like a shaved dog in the winter, she saw no such depth. And much like a shaved, shaking dog, she hoped someone would come along to drape a blanket over the poor thing and bring it inside to the hearth. She would admit, much of her information on the Bergliez heir came from second and third hands; no one seemed to have very much to say about him, which was usually the case with closely guarded secrets or the unremarkable. It vexed her, for Rudolf seemed like neither, if for different and intriguing reasons.

She let his dismissal of her greeting go without pressing further. This part at the beginning, feeling out first impressions, it could be tricky, and among the last things she wanted to do was upset a future colleague.

And speaking of…

“Ah, Johann,” she said, nodding respectfully as the young man approached them. “A true comfort indeed. And, if not a coincidence, then certainly a wonderful opportunity. Your family has much to look forward to this year.”

Viddle shot a brief, subtle glance at Adelaide, trying to gauge her reaction. Passable as his reputation was, just as with Rudolf, it was his introduction that mattered most. Adelaide likely wouldn’t mind an awful marriage if it meant achieving her vision, but Viddle had no desire to see her cousin endure.