Scribe of Thoth

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

---

The Lions - his Lions - continued to impress, at least if Lienna was any indication. Auberon would've figured she'd be the least concerned with their performance, but maybe commoners had a spirit of competitiveness that languid noblewomen often lacked. Kellen's appearance only bolstered his good mood, and he offered his fellow noble a welcoming smile. Regretfully, it didn't look like they'd have much time to catch up - or discuss that terribly ill-fitting uniform - as the bell tolled just as Kellen had anticipated it would. Or maybe he and the academy staff just had the same idea. Either way, it wasn't a concern; Auberon would have all year to treat with his housemates and they seemed pleasant company so far. If the remainder of their unit held the same trend, his tenure at the academy would surely be even more fruitful than he imagined.

As unfamiliar faces began to trickle in, Auberon gave a quick bow of his head toward the assembled Lions. "We'll speak later. It's a pleasure as always, Kellen." He took a nearby seat at the head of the classroom and patiently waited for the professors to begin, offering only a few curious glances to the side rather than turning fully around. As Lysander started his introduction, the blond's attention snapped back to the fore, especially at the weight of the professor's words. Any misgivings he may have had about the class arrangement evaporated in the face of his explanation, rooted in benevolent charity as they were. Auberon certainly couldn't argue with the duty to help one's neighbors in times of strife, even if they were Adrestians, and it wasn't as if he could object to a grouping hand-picked by the archbishop himself.

Similarly, the mention of royalty evoked a curious arch of the brow. There certainly wasn't a Blaiddyd in attendance and the Leicestrians arrogantly thought themselves too important to swear fealty to a liege, so that could only mean a member of the Imperial Family graced Garreg Mach's halls this year. Auberon was slightly tempted to turn around and take a guess, but Michail suggested a way to remove any ambiguity, albeit in a bit of an unorthodox manner. He must've been skilled indeed to make up for his lack of decorum.

The student that followed, unfortunately, had even less. Was it truly necessary to stand on the chair? He wasn't that short. The announcement that he was the House Leader of the Deer of all things raised the situation from odd to alarming. As much as Auberon would've liked to further vindicate the decision his ancestors made to split from their house and swear vassalage to the Kingdom of Faerghus, he wasn't quite willing to believe that no one from even the godless wastes of Leicester was a more suitable pick than House Riegan's court jester, though this Jorah might've won the position through his relation to the highest noble present as Auberon had. It certainly made the blond's own status feel far less of an honor, at any rate.

The woman who rose next was so utterly Jorah's opposite that Auberon nearly assumed he misheard when she mentioned her lineage. He sincerely hoped that the Riegans were managing a zoo in place of a family rather than the alternative of Clarissa being the sole island of sanity in a sea of Alliance eccentricity, otherwise Professor Roland's wish for friendly international relations looked poised to collapse before they'd even begun, to say nothing of the Adrestians. But it wouldn't do to speculate so judgementally in the Goddess' halls; Auberon would know them all by their actions soon enough, as would they know him. It was only right that he put an exceptional foot forward to introduce Faerghus to the other houses.

He stood, posture impeccable as he turned around to address the room behind him. Making the same speech twice always made him feel uncreative and boring, but he supposed introductions were important enough to repeat. "For those outside the kingdom, I am Auberon Casimir Galatea, heir to the Countship, appointed House Leader of the Blue Lions, and bearer of the Crest of Daphnel. For Professor Kaira's sake, I'd like to note I also enjoy prayer, along with the feeling of a weapon in my hands. Sometimes both at once." That sounded a bit dark in hindsight, but did the Book of Seiros not state that the sublime sword of the Goddess was entrusted to the faithful so that they might ward away evil? A prayer on one's lips with every swing seemed fitting enough to him. "I'm pleased and humbled to be working alongside you all. As Lady von Edmund said, the Goddess has brought us here for a reason, and I can think of no better compatriots than those She deems worthy of undertaking a task in Her name."

He dipped his head in a minimalistic bow toward the class before he returned to his seat. Clarissa was right, of course. The class roster was not coincidence but divine providence, worked through the mortal instruments of the Goddess here in the Church. Even the most... challenging among them had a place, and if a man could not better himself in the heart of Garreg Mach, where could he?

---

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

---

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

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

---

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

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

---

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

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

---

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.

---

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

Auberon Galatea | Crest of Daphnel

_{"Get back here and fight me like a man. There's no glory in running down a routed foe."}

Name

Auberon Casimir Galatea

Age

18 _{Born the 15th of Blue Sea Moon.}

Country of Origin

Holy Kingdom of Faerghus

Social Standing

Noble of House Galatea

Crest

Minor Crest of Daphnel
_{Auberon's Crest sporadically imbues his swings with more momentum than would seemingly be possible by mundane means.}

Starting Class

Fighter

Weapon of Choice

Axes

Strengths

Axe, Flying

Weaknesses

Bow, Reason

Personality

Hotheaded and often rash, Auberon is a force of ego incarnate, with the utmost confidence that his every success is ordained by the Goddess herself, and thus brings glory unto Her name with every act he undertakes. Should he ever fail at something, of course, it is merely because the Goddess chose to teach him an important lesson in order to make him a more perfect servant or subtly create an even better result in the future. This leads to a very reckless nature, though not totally untempered by wisdom; the Goddess helps those who help themselves, after all.

Despite this hubris, Auberon is not one to rise above his station. He believes the Goddess has placed him precisely where he should be, and his whole life has been spent in preparation for vassalage - whether to a count or a king. He gives due deference to his feudal superiors and members of the church, though commoners are usually beneath his notice. He's cordial to them out of a sense of noblesse oblige, but he believes it is their role to serve as much as it his the role of the aristocracy to justly rule. This does not extend to those rare commoners who are lucky enough to bear a Crest, whose holy blood Auberon takes as a sign of the Goddess' favor and thus he regards them as he would any other noble.

History

Born the second son of two knights from a cadet branch of House Galatea, Auberon seemed a strong candidate to follow in their footsteps in one of the knightly orders of Faerghus rather than inherit the estate. When his Crest became apparent, however, the main branch immediately took an interest in the boy, as the House had not produced a Crestbearing heir. While they were hesitant to fully commit to Auberon's adoption in hopes that Count Galatea may yet produce a child holding a more valuable Major Crest, lessons on statecraft and stewardship were stressed on Auberon alongside the courtly etiquette and chivalric conduct typical of a young noble's education in the event he should eventually be chosen as the Count's successor nevertheless.

He took to combat lessons as swimmingly as any Crestbearing son of Faerghus would, and the innate physical advantages of his Crest led him to develop an ego quite quickly. His mother schooled him on tactics she reserved from her time as a pegasus knight, and his father instructed him briefly in the lance before passing him off to a more dedicated combat instructor. Auberon's older brother rarely stood a chance in their sparing, despite being two years his elder, and his tutors were often caught off-guard by the boy's intensity in practice, if not truly threatened. Seeking to curb any foolhardy arrogance in their son, his parents began introducing him to members of the Church in hopes that faith and scripture would humble the boy. The opposite occurred. Inspired by tales of the Ten Elites and their holy blood, Auberon came to understand himself not as special by his own merits, but by the benevolence of the Goddess. Now convinced of his importance in the divine sphere as well as the mortal, the young squire threw himself into his training with renewed vigor, aiming to be worthy of his role as the Goddess' champion like Daphnel before him.

It was also around this time that the whispers among the court became too loud for Auberon to miss. Auberon was still the sole Crestbearer of his generation, and some among the Galatea nobility had already given up on the Count choosing a different heir. The young teen could often pick them out easily - they were a little bit more pleasant now, with manipulations behind every word of flattery and unrealized ambitions spun in every turn of phrase. Perhaps a courtier would promise to convince the Count to stop deliberating on Auberon's adoption for a mere favor in the future, perhaps another simply wanted to brown-nose with his future liege. Such intrigue didn't interest Auberon - the Goddess would place him where he was meant to be regardless; anxiety was a trait reserved for faithless men and cowardly sinners.

When they learned Auberon would be attending the Officers Academy with his enrollment costs to be covered by the Count himself, Auberon's proponents, and even some detractors, seemed assured that he would be chosen for rulership of County Galatea swiftly after. When the official decision to name Auberon heir to the Countship was announced, he remained as unreceptive to noble politicking as ever. This served as an endless source of frustration to those whose power plays were banking on such an event, though Auberon's indifference never wavered. In fact, he was more excited to witness Garreg Mach and the seat of the Church in person than he was to hold any titles or power.

Uniform Alterations

Despite his heightened position, Auberon wears his uniform as standard as possible. The golds of a typical Academy uniform are replaced with silvers or blue adornments to match his cape, but his attire otherwise remains unchanged.

Trivia

• Auberon is the current Count Galatea's first cousin twice-removed.
• Auberon stands at six feet tall.
• No meal can beat a pepper crusted steak. Auberon will accept a duel over this.

Rudolf von Bergliez | Crest of Noa

_{"It really wasn't that special. I just got lucky, that's all."}

Name

Rudolf von Bergliez

Age

17 _{Born the 7th of Ethereal Moon.}

Country of Origin

Adrestian Empire

Social Standing

Noble of House Bergliez

Crest

Major Crest of Noa
_{Rudolf's Crest imposes a subtle compulsion on observers to ignore him. He's not invisible, just easier to gloss over, especially for those that aren't specifically looking for him.}

Starting Class

Monk

Weapon of Choice

Dark Magic

Strengths

Reason, Faith

Weaknesses

Brawl, Heavy Armor

Starting Spells

Miasma Δ, Heal, Swarm Z

Personality

A scion of House Bergliez must be the pinnacle of battlefield achievement, unparalleled in bravery and skill; a warrior so powerful that no man, army, or monster may meet him in combat and prevail. Rudolf von Bergliez is none of these things. He's diminutive, easily discouraged, and wants nothing more than to suffer a mildly debilitating injury that renders him unable to ever fight again, but won't significantly hinder his day-to-day life. At least then he could abdicate his title in shame and wouldn't jeopardize the entire Empire with the aftermath of his failures. He'd be useless in any position in the Ministry of Military Affairs, let alone the battlefield; all of his alleged magical talent is an overrated farce that will surely be exposed any day now; and no, he doesn't know what 'impostor syndrome' means, so quit saying it.

Rudolf is generally incapable of internalizing praise or positive feedback. He believes any commentary on his ability comes from mindless platitude and supernatural mental influence, and that if people would only pay attention to him, they'd see he's an inept failure unworthy to bear his hereditary honors. Glaring self-esteem issues aside, he's typically polite and inoffensive, though he can be quite forward at times since his subtle hints often go unnoticed by others. He does genuinely enjoy attention, though he's wary of actively drawing it to himself as he thinks it would inevitably lead to his exposure as a fraud. Naturally, Rudolf's a bit of a cynic, though he's notably more optimistic about circumstances that don't involve his input in any way.

History

It was deemed a testament to the strength of House Bergliez's blood and the favor of the Goddess that three of the Count's five children bore Crests. Such hubris must surely have been at fault when the Count's firstborn son grew up sickly and unsuited to the warfare in which his House was accustomed. A rational man would have named another child heir to the County, but Count Bergliez was never a man who reconsidered his choices once they had been made. Rudolf, much like the other Bergliez children, was trained in the arts of combat alongside a typical young noble's education. Rudolf rarely excelled in such activities, and was met with little encouragement even when he did accomplish something. His siblings received genuine, targetted compliments, but his achievements were met with polite ambiguity, and only if he explicitly asked. Only feats with tangible, physical results were met with anything different, usually surprise. Clearly, none of the other praise was sincere; they hadn't noticed a thing, overshadowed as he was by his siblings' prowess. Rudolf came to believe that he wasn't receiving attention because there was nothing noteworthy about him; he was only commended out of pity and respect for his position as the next count. Once he had a better grasp on how his ability worked, Rudolf was all but assured of this. How could he be congratulated when he was the opposite of everything the House stood for? He was no peerless soldier, his silhouette didn't cut an imposing inspiration to lesser men against the horizon; he was weak and frail and would perish the moment he engaged the enemy. The Imperial Army demanded not just a competent leader, but a figurehead that rallied and inspired levied soldier and distinguished knight alike. No pitiful weakling whose very existence was an afterthought to those that gazed upon him would do. The Ministry of Military Affairs should be in the hands of someone strong like his brother, or cunning like his sister, someone that wouldn't fail their nation in a time of strife.

Still, Count Bergliez refused to budge. If Rudolf couldn't master a weapon, he'd just have to be given alternative methods of attack. Favors were called in and practitioners of the dark arts from some of the Empire's most elite magic corps were hired as tutors for the boy. If the Count could not raise a master warrior to lead the front lines, he would raise a sorcerer-general to rain destruction from behind them. The boy took to the education swimmingly, finding it far more agreeable to his physique than swordplay. Unfortunately, Rudolf didn't quite see it that way. Unused to his tutors' genuine evaluation of his progress and the ease at which magical instruction came to him, he assumed he'd fluked somehow and passed himself off as some sort of magical prodigy. His Crest concealed his shortcomings from his instructors' scrutiny for now, but one day, surely, he'd reach the end of his luck and be exposed as a third-rate caster with fourth-rate spells. Nevertheless, Rudolf persevered in his studies, if only to try and live up to the lie everyone believed in. The genuine attention he was receiving was something he'd sorely lacked for most of his childhood, even if it was misguided and built on deceit. Hopefully once the truth came out, his father would see what a horrible person he was and pass him over for inheritance.

Unfortunately, it never came to pass. The plague took Rudolf's father and two of his siblings, one of whom was another Crestbearer. Quite frankly, the boy couldn't help but think his family would've been better off if he'd been one of the victims instead. Worse, no one had the nerve to contradict a dead man's wishes and dispute Rudolf's claim to the title. Any protests on his part were met with deaf ears and false reassurances that he would live up to the expectations set before him. His mother took over as Countess regent due to Rudolf's age, but in the interim, he was to be sent to Garreg Mach in preparation to inherit County Bergliez. The boy accepted, both because he had been given no other options and because such a prestigious institution would doubtlessly expose him as a fool unworthy to be count, and his family would have to reconsider their choice in heir.

Uniform Alterations

Rudolf's uniform jacket is slightly lengthier at the bottom and extends a bit further down the thighs. The usual shoulder and neck adornments are also absent, replaced with a high-collared black amice that drapes his shoulders, similar to a monk's habit.

Trivia

• Rudolf is ambidextrous and knows how to wield a sword in his right or left hand, not that he's particularly skilled with either.
• Stands at 5'6", but generally appears shorter to most people due to his unimposing physique.
• His favorite food is magically-chilled orange slices, which his tutor would sometimes prepare as a treat.
• Rudolf's Crest only applies to visual observation; he's still quite capable of calling attention to himself with sound, though an oblivious onlooker may be at a momentary loss as to where the noise originated.
• Reading his body language can be difficult without focused scrutiny, as his Crest typically dissuades the eye from catching his subtle gestures.
• The Crest of Noa appears indistinguishable from the Crest of Macuil on a Hanneman machine or other means of Crest determination.

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

Auberon Galatea | Crest of Daphnel

_{"Get back here and fight me like a man. There's no glory in running down a routed foe."}

Name

Auberon Casimir Galatea

Age

18 _{Born the 15th of Blue Sea Moon.}

Country of Origin

Holy Kingdom of Faerghus

Social Standing

Noble of House Galatea

Crest

Minor Crest of Daphnel
_{Auberon's Crest sporadically imbues his swings with more momentum than would seemingly be possible by mundane means.}

Starting Class

Fighter

Weapon of Choice

Axes

Strengths

Axe, Flying

Weaknesses

Bow, Reason

Personality

Hotheaded and often rash, Auberon is a force of ego incarnate, with the utmost confidence that his every success is ordained by the Goddess herself, and thus brings glory unto Her name with every act he undertakes. Should he ever fail at something, of course, it is merely because the Goddess chose to teach him an important lesson in order to make him a more perfect servant or subtly create an even better result in the future. This leads to a very reckless nature, though not totally untempered by wisdom; the Goddess helps those who help themselves, after all.

Despite this hubris, Auberon is not one to rise above his station. He believes the Goddess has placed him precisely where he should be, and his whole life has been spent in preparation for vassalage - whether to a count or a king. He gives due deference to his feudal superiors and members of the church, though commoners are usually beneath his notice. He's cordial to them out of a sense of noblesse oblige, but he believes it is their role to serve as much as it his the role of the aristocracy to justly rule. This does not extend to those rare commoners who are lucky enough to bear a Crest, whose holy blood Auberon takes as a sign of the Goddess' favor and thus he regards them as he would any other noble.

History

Born the second son of two knights from a cadet branch of House Galatea, Auberon seemed a strong candidate to follow in their footsteps in one of the knightly orders of Faerghus rather than inherit the estate. When his Crest became apparent, however, the main branch immediately took an interest in the boy, as the House had not produced a Crestbearing heir. While they were hesitant to fully commit to Auberon's adoption in hopes that Count Galatea may yet produce a child holding a more valuable Major Crest, lessons on statecraft and stewardship were stressed on Auberon alongside the courtly etiquette and chivalric conduct typical of a young noble's education in the event he should eventually be chosen as the Count's successor nevertheless.

He took to combat lessons as swimmingly as any Crestbearing son of Faerghus would, and the innate physical advantages of his Crest led him to develop an ego quite quickly. His mother schooled him on tactics she reserved from her time as a pegasus knight, and his father instructed him briefly in the lance before passing him off to a more dedicated combat instructor. Auberon's older brother rarely stood a chance in their sparing, despite being two years his elder, and his tutors were often caught off-guard by the boy's intensity in practice, if not truly threatened. Seeking to curb any foolhardy arrogance in their son, his parents began introducing him to members of the Church in hopes that faith and scripture would humble the boy. The opposite occurred. Inspired by tales of the Ten Elites and their holy blood, Auberon came to understand himself not as special by his own merits, but by the benevolence of the Goddess. Now convinced of his importance in the divine sphere as well as the mortal, the young squire threw himself into his training with renewed vigor, aiming to be worthy of his role as the Goddess' champion like Daphnel before him.

It was also around this time that the whispers among the court became too loud for Auberon to miss. Auberon was still the sole Crestbearer of his generation, and some among the Galatea nobility had already given up on the Count choosing a different heir. The young teen could often pick them out easily - they were a little bit more pleasant now, with manipulations behind every word of flattery and unrealized ambitions spun in every turn of phrase. Perhaps a courtier would promise to convince the Count to stop deliberating on Auberon's adoption for a mere favor in the future, perhaps another simply wanted to brown-nose with his future liege. Such intrigue didn't interest Auberon - the Goddess would place him where he was meant to be regardless; anxiety was a trait reserved for faithless men and cowardly sinners.

When they learned Auberon would be attending the Officers Academy with his enrollment costs to be covered by the Count himself, Auberon's proponents, and even some detractors, seemed assured that he would be chosen for rulership of County Galatea swiftly after. But even then, no official decision was made. This served as an endless source of frustration to those whose power plays were banking on such an event, though Auberon remained unaffected by noble politics as ever. If anything, he was more excited to witness Garreg Mach and the seat of the Church in person than he was to hold any titles or power.

Trivia

• Auberon is the current Count Galatea's first cousin twice-removed.
• Auberon stands at six feet tall.
• No meal can beat a pepper crusted steak. Auberon will accept a duel over this.

Rudolf von Bergliez | Crest of Noa

_{"It really wasn't that special. I just got lucky, that's all."}

Name

Rudolf von Bergliez

Age

17 _{Born the 7th of Ethereal Moon.}

Country of Origin

Adrestian Empire

Social Standing

Noble of House Bergliez

Crest

Major Crest of Noa
_{Rudolf's Crest imposes a subtle compulsion on observers to ignore him. He's not invisible, just easier to gloss over, especially for those that aren't specifically looking for him.}

Starting Class

Monk

Weapon of Choice

Dark Magic

Strengths

Reason, Faith

Weaknesses

Brawl, Heavy Armor

Starting Spells

Miasma Δ, Heal, Swarm Z

Personality

A scion of House Bergliez must be the pinnacle of battlefield achievement, unparalleled in bravery and skill; a warrior so powerful that no man, army, or monster may meet him in combat and prevail. Rudolf von Bergliez is none of these things. He's diminutive, easily discouraged, and wants nothing more than to suffer a mildly debilitating injury that renders him unable to ever fight again, but won't significantly hinder his day-to-day life. At least then he could abdicate his title in shame and wouldn't jeopardize the entire Empire with the aftermath of his failures. He'd be useless in any position in the Ministry of Military Affairs, let alone the battlefield; all of his alleged magical talent is an overrated farce that will surely be exposed any day now; and no, he doesn't know what 'impostor syndrome' means, so quit saying it.

Rudolf is generally incapable of internalizing praise or positive feedback. He believes any commentary on his ability comes from mindless platitude and supernatural mental influence, and that if people would only pay attention to him, they'd see he's an inept failure unworthy to bear his hereditary honors. Glaring self-esteem issues aside, he's typically polite and inoffensive, though he can be quite forward at times since his subtle hints often go unnoticed by others. He does genuinely enjoy attention, though he's wary of actively drawing it to himself as he thinks it would inevitably lead to his exposure as a fraud. Naturally, Rudolf's a bit of a cynic, though he's notably more optimistic about circumstances that don't involve his input in any way.

History

It was deemed a testament to the strength of House Bergliez's blood and the favor of the Goddess that three of the Count's five children bore Crests. Such hubris must surely have been at fault when the Count's firstborn son grew up sickly and unsuited to the warfare in which his House was accustomed. A rational man would have named another child heir to the County, but Count Bergliez was never a man who reconsidered his choices once they had been made. Rudolf, much like the other Bergliez children, was trained in the arts of combat alongside a typical young noble's education. Rudolf rarely excelled in such activities, and was met with little encouragement even when he did accomplish something. His siblings received genuine, targetted compliments, but his achievements were met with polite ambiguity, and only if he explicitly asked. Only feats with tangible, physical results were met with anything different, usually surprise. Clearly, none of the other praise was sincere; they hadn't noticed a thing, overshadowed as he was by his siblings' prowess. Rudolf came to believe that he wasn't receiving attention because there was nothing noteworthy about him; he was only commended out of pity and respect for his position as the next count. Once he had a better grasp on how his ability worked, Rudolf was all but assured of this. How could he be congratulated when he was the opposite of everything the House stood for? He was no peerless soldier, his silhouette didn't cut an imposing inspiration to lesser men against the horizon; he was weak and frail and would perish the moment he engaged the enemy. The Imperial Army demanded not just a competent leader, but a figurehead that rallied and inspired levied soldier and distinguished knight alike. No pitiful weakling whose very existence was an afterthought to those that gazed upon him would do. The Ministry of Military Affairs should be in the hands of someone strong like his brother, or cunning like his sister, someone that wouldn't fail their nation in a time of strife.

Still, Count Bergliez refused to budge. If Rudolf couldn't master a weapon, he'd just have to be given alternative methods of attack. Favors were called in and practitioners of the dark arts from some of the Empire's most elite magic corps were hired as tutors for the boy. If the Count could not raise a master warrior to lead the front lines, he would raise a sorcerer-general to rain destruction from behind them. The boy took to the education swimmingly, finding it far more agreeable to his physique than swordplay. Unfortunately, Rudolf didn't quite see it that way. Unused to his tutors' genuine evaluation of his progress and the ease at which magical instruction came to him, he assumed he'd fluked somehow and passed himself off as some sort of magical prodigy. His Crest concealed his shortcomings from his instructors' scrutiny for now, but one day, surely, he'd reach the end of his luck and be exposed as a third-rate caster with fourth-rate spells. Nevertheless, Rudolf persevered in his studies, if only to try and live up to the lie everyone believed in. The genuine attention he was receiving was something he'd sorely lacked for most of his childhood, even if it was misguided and built on deceit. Hopefully once the truth came out, his father would see what a horrible person he was and pass him over for inheritance.

Unfortunately, it never came to pass. The plague took Rudolf's father and two of his siblings, one of whom was another Crestbearer. Quite frankly, the boy couldn't help but think his family would've been better off if he'd been one of the victims instead. Worse, no one had the nerve to contradict a dead man's wishes and dispute Rudolf's claim to the title. Any protests on his part were met with deaf ears and false reassurances that he would live up to the expectations set before him. His mother took over as Countess regent due to Rudolf's age, but in the interim, he was to be sent to Garreg Mach in preparation to inherit County Bergliez. The boy accepted, both because he had been given no other options and because such a prestigious institution would doubtlessly expose him as a fool unworthy to be count, and his family would have to reconsider their choice in heir.

Trivia

• Rudolf is ambidextrous and knows how to wield a sword in his right or left hand, not that he's particularly skilled with either.
• Stands at 5'6", but generally appears shorter to most people due to his unimposing physique.
• His favorite food is magically-chilled orange slices, which his tutor would sometimes prepare as a treat.
• Rudolf's Crest only applies to visual observation; he's still quite capable of calling attention to himself with sound, though an oblivious onlooker may be at a momentary loss as to where the noise originated.
• Reading his body language can be difficult without focused scrutiny, as his Crest typically dissuades the eye from catching his subtle gestures.
• The Crest of Noa appears indistinguishable from the Crest of Macuil on a Hanneman machine or other means of Crest determination.

Sontewall abuse

This site needs another good schizo, can we keep him

Avatar: The White Jade Gambit

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Tao's readied fist stayed trained on the firebender as he started to flee in preparation to drag him back for a proper answer, but the waterbender hesitated. There wasn't any time. The approaching eruptions were getting louder and accosting him would only get them both caught. His offer wasn't much to go on - namely because Tao still had no idea who he was or how to find him when the time came to collect on the promised help - but thankfully the crazy woman filled in the blanks for him. Still not ideal, but at least he had a name and a location.

If the rebels had the inn and the fishery, they must've had quite a hold on this village. Or this 'Ena' was still crazy and this was a horribly risky plan, which was still a distinct possiblity. Worse still, she wanted his support while she stood her ground. He'd happily help her flee, but to stand against every soldier in town in a cramped little alleyway? He hadn't wanted to even next to the ocean! How was she going to meet up with him at the inn when she clearly had a deathwish? Tao's eyes darted this way and that, mulling over risk versus reward and coming up blank.

"What, you're gonna fight all of them?" he whined, "I'd hoped you at least fled for backu-" Tao cut himself off as the sound of grinding stone grew too close for comfort, which heralded the appearance of a soldier on the rooftops above, shouting for a challenge. With no chances left to consider his options and his heart pounding in his chest, Tao finally made his decision.

A coward's decision, but a decision.

He staggered backward, putting on his best display of frustration. Well, the frustration was real, but the source wasn't. Tao's arms flailed, waving his frozen hands about as if he'd gotten something gross on them and he was trying to shake it off. He put distance between himself and Ena, regarding her warily as if she were an opponent that had bested him. For the second time that day, he fell back onto the ground as his eyes sharped into a glare.

"Get your stupid waterbender back here to unfreeze my hands so I can fight you properly!" Tao snarled up at Ena. Hopefully she wasn't too daft for the bit to go over her head, but he assumed she had to have a working knowledge of subtlety as a resistance fighter. Maybe.

As soon as the airborne soldier grew close, Tao called up to him. "Thank the spirits- all the benders fled that way!" He made a loose gesture down one of the side streets the firebender hadn't taken, pointed further away from the fishery. "You can probably catch them if you hurry!" His father would've been proud; the story was simple but his delivery was hopefully convincing enough. It kinda made him sick. He hoped that was the adrenaline, or at least added to his defeated demeanor.

Either way, he'd played his part. Going after the firebender might draw the soldiers, even if they weren't suspicious of his story, and fleeing back to the fishery was likely to keep him in the line of fire. The inn was a possiblity, but he doubted he'd get any information with the commotion still going on, and the risk of a soldier hearing him was too great.

So he did what he did best - Tao crawled away from the swordswoman and waited for an opportunity to come. The tides of the battle were still in flux; it was too early to commit to a course of action safely. If the woman lost, he'd still have the firebender. If she won, he had helped her. At the cost of his pride, no less! That had to count for something.

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Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

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This guy was getting on Tyler's last nerve. Granted, he was probably more angry that the topic of conversation was Theodore, Theodore, Theodore, but the professor could've at least humored his concerns. Did Rhaveus think he was so above reproach that he could just blow off a holy Templar's very justified concerns about national security in the midst of a crisis? While under the patronage of the Church, no less. No, he just moved along to his little presentation without a care in the world. The Scions were in grave danger and this jackass was excited at a chance to field test his theories.

Not only that, but he didn't even have any concrete ideas on how exactly they could target the Scions specifically. Worse, apparently Tyler could be affected too, and it was only his armor that saved him last time. Granted, that was also a small boon, as they could - if the professor's theory held - armor the Scions up as well and take away the Kaudia- the cult's greatest weapon. Quite frankly, armor crystals should've been standard issue to Scions in case of emergency a long time ago. No worrying about Lucas getting clipped by a stray shot, Tyler would just have to deal with him whining about bruises the next day.

After that, Rhaveus surprisingly deigned to answer Tyler's question. Had to get all that out before he could devote any brainpower to maybe convincing the authorities in the room he wasn't guilty of high treason, apparently. Maybe the templar was glaring too hard and reminded him. Theo always said he looked like a scary idiot (what did that even mean?) with his brow furrowed.

He used to be such a happy person. Alas.

"And what, professor, do you think a Kaudian would want with that information? It's not like a holy Scion will ever be born to one of them, and I doubt he came here to convert," Tyler huffed. It wasn't like the man was some foreign nerd who inexplicably studied magic despite it being denied to his sorry race by the Goddess, he was a noble - a duke - of an enemy nation with a troupe of bodyguards flanking his every step. If it wasn't espionage, it was a smug taunt that Kaudus knew the Church's every move, and Tyler wasn't about to entertain that either. "The timing wasn't unfortunate, it was convenient, I don't care how many times in the past that the Doumercene intelligentsia have rolled over for them. Whenever a Kaudian heretic asks for your cooperation, remind them that when Scion Alderman crossed the Larme, the first words he uttered were 'give no quarter'."

Tyler deflated abruptly after his outburst and offered a dismissive wave of his hand before he took up a vigil near the door. He'd gotten what he wanted, he supposed. No reason to argue with the professor, especially if Lucas knew him.

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