Dorothea sat against the wall outside her classroom, eyes fixed on the sky. Casey lay on their back at her side, soft brown curls filling the older girls' lap.
The silence was broken as Casey rubbed raw fingers. "...why do they still feel dirty?" They mumbled, raising their hands to look at the chapped fingers. "I'm fine with grease, with dirt, with muck. Why do I need to scrub them clean?" They shuddered.
Dorothea sighed. "I wish I knew, steelheart. I wish I knew." She looked up, eyes tracing over the furtively talking figures of her prince and his fiance. The gregarious laugh which often filled the halls of the Black Eagle's break room was absent, as it had been since the battle three days ago. Despite her distaste for the nobility, Dorothea couldn't help but feel a pang seeing the blonde woman so shaken.
And she's not the only one. With a few notable but understandable exceptions, like Marianne, Leonie, and Edelgard, most of the students had never fought for their lives before; and it showed.
The soft murmuring and voices slowly hushed, and Dorothea raised her head to see what had disturbed the shallow parody of normalcy covering the meeting halls. Approaching the courtyard, dressed in the dull blues and off-whites of a standard priestess' garb, the Archbishop strode with her head held high. As the students turned to face her, she placed her hands behind her back, an oddly military motion, and spoke, her voice carrying clearly to every student in the four-building complex.
"You have fought, most of you for the first time, in a situation where one missed step, one second, can mean the difference between life and death. I have been there many times, and I still remember my first time in that situation. It haunts me to this day, though for reasons that none of you could likely ever understand." She states, her hardened gaze sweeping across the courtyard, "You have been gathered here because, like all warriors, you deserve to have someone tell you that it will get better. That person is partially myself, and partially someone you have gotten to know rather well recently. Sophie, if you could please come to the center of the courtyard."
Byleth stepped out of one of the classrooms, her face grave even as the now-familiar figure of Professor Sophie manifested at her side. Floating forward, Dorothea was struck at how much Rhea relaxed as Sophie came before her, and how tired said relaxation made the stoic and graceful archbishop appear. Her gaze was drawn back to the hovering spirit, even as the other students fell in to surround the courtyard.
"The Archbishop… is not wrong. Though, she is also not entirely right." Sophie spared the similar woman a glance, who flushed slightly at the mild reproach. Turning back to the crowd, she continued. "Our memories shape us, and although everyone's trauma is different, we cannot dismiss what we have felt. Rhea is right that everyone here deserves to know that it will get better; because you will become more comfortable dancing on the knife's edge. If that is what you wish."
Byleth spoke next, moving to stand beside her fellow teachers. "In the Blade Breakers, every fresh recruit undergoes a trial like you all went through. That feeling, that knowledge of how fragile life can be when there are others actively seeking your demise, is something that cannot be described, only experienced. And there may be some of you who accept what many of our new recruits do after Seeing the Beast; that this is not the life for them." She nodded her head. "There's no shame in knowing your limits, and choosing a different path."
"To those who stay, I will offer this; do not be silent." Rhea's voice was now bitter. "Holding in the pain and fear
will fester. All three of us, as well as most of your other teachers, are all available to talk one on one or lead discussions. There will be multiple meetings over the next week where you can speak freely amongst each other." Her voice hardened. "If I hear of any hazing or abuse because of what has occurred, the perpetrators will be punished. There is no place for bravado and disdain here."
"I am sorry you have had to learn this way. But it is necessary, for all of you here." Sophie's voice was calm, but the fire in her eyes was intense. "Although I hope you all heal from this, none of you should forget it. As officers, you will be placing men in the same positions you held three days ago. As leaders, you must understand what you ask your soldiers to do; otherwise, you forget the torment even surviving a battle can inflict."
Byleth nodded. "As a follow-up to Professor Sophie's point; your free time will be monitored for the next three weeks. Bishop Seteth will be monitoring all purchases of drugs and drink; despite my father's habits, we will not allow any of you to drink to forget what has occurred." She paused. "If you are having trouble sleeping, please speak with my mother or Lady Manuela. We have draughts that can be issued in lieu of self-medication."
As the three women opened the floor for questions, Dorothea found herself drawn from her considerations of the words as she observed the speakers themselves. Her eyes narrowed, then widened as she caught the lines of jawbones and falling hair, the similarities in frame.
Seeing the three of them together, it's obvious they're all family. Dorothea pursed her lips.
I wonder who else sees it?
Amelia sighed deeply, the jabs of her fellow students, minor lords and ladies of no note in general echoed in her ears, the withering glares of several following her as she made her way to Rhea's office, hiding the utter lack of feelings she felt towards what mind as well be faceless crowds of children.
"Still hasn't shown any emotions."
"How can she feel nothing after that supposed hell?"
"The future Lady Reigan is apparently an unfeeling demon."
"Perhaps that's why her grandfather hates her so."
The last, of all of the whispers, managed to draw the heiress out of her shell, the withering glare she shot at the offending student silencing her, terror filling her eyes as the green haired girl sped past, desperate to not let show that their words ate at her, the tears in her eyes betraying her feelings.
'Why can't they understand that I've just always been different!' Amelia despaired, longing to rush back to the room she had hid in for the large majority of the week, trying to summon any form of feeling towards the battle of life and death that she and her classmates she had been in.
'Why can't they understand that I only feel satisfied for saving the ones I actually care about?!'
So lost in thoughts was the young girl that when she collided with Flayn, she almost got up and continued without acknowledging it in the slightest, only for a gentle hand on her shoulder to stop her. She looked up to see Flayn staring past her, her normally soft gaze absent in exchange for a withering stare above a disappointed frown. Unlike the now-silent nobles, Flayn's voice carried loudly. "You disgrace your names, voices, and the stones of this citadel with your words." Her words were spoken with no bite, their very softness whispering through guarded hearts to wither the souls within. "Gossip and rumor mongering has no place here. You were not on the battlefield, you know not her heart." Her gaze swept the cringing nobles. "Only the Goddess knows what lurks in her heart. Do not place yourselves on her throne, lest you in turn be judged. Leave us." The last words were the same as any other, but within seconds the room was empty save Amelia and the Nabatean.
"... Thank you, Flayn. But perhaps they have a point." Amelia whispered, old self-loathing coming to the fore, memories of her grandfather's unfeeling gaze coming to mind. Haunting her, like it always had. "I can never manage normal, be it Nabatean or Human."
Flayn sighed. "...you are more glad that you all survived, correct? Then any concern about those whose corpses you disposed of." Startled, Amelia looked up into Flayn's eyes, seeing the compassion there. "Do not be surprised, dear. I am a healer; of the mind as much as the body." She reached up, brushing the younger girls' hair aside. "The fact that you can feel fear about these matters is good, but misguided. There are many who have a similar mindset to you." She leaned in closer. "Including my father."
Amelia blinked, "Sa-Seteth is the same?" her voice weak, surprised, and unbelieving. As if being compared to someone she had idolized as a child was something she would never experience. "I… Could see it, actually. So long as those I care about come home safe, I would burn the heavens away. I suppose it is apt to say he would do the same, seeing as he already had."
Flayn nodded, before drawing her niece into a hug. "And also like my father, your sense of responsibility keeps you from caring for yourself. When was the last time you truly rested, Amelia? When did you set down your burdens?"
"... I think that was when I started courting Lesya…" The Reigan heiress mused aloud after several moments pause, "And each anniversary of the event since. It passed around six moons ago, so that's not an option."
"While I am very happy you have found love, there should be more than one day a year you relax." Flayn sighed. "Will I have to lock you outdoors, away from all your papers? I have done it with father, and I can do it with you."
"... Honestly, would you mind doing so?" Amelia asked with a weak smile, "The call of responsibility echoes even now, and I can't escape it easily."
"I can, and I will." Flayn frowned. "...how much do you emulate father? You talk far too much like him for someone your age." She commented, holding the younger girl at arms length.
"I do not try to emulate Bishop Seteth." Amelia giggled, blushing lightly, "But I shall take your statement as praise, Bishop Flayn."
"No!" Flayn snapped. "I have refused a cassock for a good reason! Please tell me that's not official church policy?"
"Would you rather me call you Saint Flayn?" Amelia whispered, snickering at the far older girl's pout, "And no, I figured it would be the easiest way to get a rise out of you without stooping to insults. Your refusal was talk within Derdriu for months."
"I'd rather the refusal be discussed than get involved in the bureaucracy." Flayn huffed. "And as for that last name, you will be serving me for the rest of the day. Come, we are going to go fishing."
"... I failed to think that jibe through properly, I suppose." Amelia admitted with a poorly concealed grin, "Fishing is not the worst fate. Thank you for your mercy, oh Flayn."
"Do you think we need to attend?" Edelgard asked her brother, sitting back in her chair as she eyed the request box sitting in the corner of the classroom. Like the 'help box' in the cathedral, the submissions were hidden from the eyes of other students, and had been placed in multiple classrooms. Students could request counseling from Professors Eisner, Manuela, or Hanneman, from Bishop Seteth, or from Archbishop Rhea herself. There was even a box for Sophie, though that one was attached to Eisner's box.
Dimitri wrote down his own name on a sheet of paper, folding it in two before he stood and walked over to the Archbishop's box. "I was not troubled by this last conflict. But after what occured four years ago, I cannot refuse this opportunity." He grimaced. "Perhaps the Archbishop could help me beat these demons."
Edelgard stood, intercepting her brother. "Dimi, your anger was justified. I do not know why you continue to haunt yourself like this…"
"If Hubert had not stopped me, I would have killed them all, El." Dimitri muttered. "I was a monster. And it is not gone, merely quiet. I feel it in every battle, stirring in my heart."
"The Blaiddyd line is known for rage."
"Not like this." Dimitri shook his head.
"... Perhaps not, Dimi, but your self-hatred doesn't help you." Edelgard sighed, running a hand through her long hair, "Hopefully, the Archbishop can help you with your inner demons." Pausing, Edelgard pondered briefly on something before writing a slip of her own and placing it in Rhea's box as well, "And my own."
"Well said." Both siblings turned, looking to see Professor Eisner enter, the translucent form of her anchored spirit speaking up. She looked at Dimitri sadly. "Ah, Areadbhar's old rage still touches you, doesn't it?"
"... Pardon?" Dimitri blinked, Edelgard doing the same moments later, "... I don't believe we'd begun to cover the origins of the Heroes Relics quite yet?"
"No, Sophie has not," Byleth replied evenly. "The Heroes' relics… well, they have a complicated legacy. Most of them are named for the Nabatean whose bloodline wields it." She shook her head. "You bear the blood of Areadbhar, the lord of justice, order, and dedication."
"Which would explain why he was so riled by the betrayal of his people." Edelgard surmised. "I see. Perhaps he should seek your council, Lady Sophie?"
"You should speak with Rhea first. She knows nearly as much as I do on the subject, and knows your circumstances far better than I." She sighed. "A thousand years asleep leaves one a little disconnected from modern humans, even with a decade awake."
"You also spent said decade with hardened mercenaries, Sophie, and we're both aware that I am by no means the measuring stick for normal." Byleth added dryly.
"True, but at least you all were interesting." Sophie giggled, before sobering abruptly. "Prince and Princess, I have noticed that many of your and have not sought any aid. The Gautier twins, Fraldarius, Lady Macneary… they, and others beside, have not taken our aid. Despite the pain I see in them." She sighed. "Do you know why?"
"Trauma, societal expectation, and stupid social norms ingrained in the Kingdom." Edelgard grumbled, her brother notably silent, "I managed to beat the stupidity of Faerghus' modifications to the code of chivalry into my brother's head a few moons ago, but it's an ongoing screaming match with my advisors, though my Regent thankfully backs me on the matter."
Sophie nodded. "In that case, perhaps the knowledge that the Crown Princess and the Beloved Prince are seeking aid might be a way to convince others to seek help?" She paused, then looked behind her, where a pair of inversely colored heads peeked into the classroom. "You could start with your manservants. The dour one is too prickly, and the other seems made of stone sometimes." As the two men flinched, she called out. "I've never seen either of you two smile! Come on, what give you two any joy?"
As one, Hubert and Dedue spoke. "I find joy in my service." They looked at each other, nodded in sync, and then looked back at their lords, bowing. Both royals simply rolled their eyes, nodding their heads towards Sophie,
"While it would likely help Huburt and Dedue, even we would not be able to convince them to attend with an open mind." Dimitri apologized, "We have tried before."
Edelgard sighed. "Even orders don't really work. Also, Deduce does smile. He's just very reserved."
"Thank you, my lady." Deduce replied calmly.
"Hubert… honestly, he made the last man we talked to cry. We gave up after that."
"Thank you, my lady." Hubert smirked.
"It helps that he seems well adjusted." Dimitri added, "We'd be searching more otherwise. The Priest we asked sought professional help shortly afterwards, so we suspect that Hubert turned his own methods on him."
Sophie glared at Hubert before sighing. "Yeah, I'd have no luck with this one. Byleth, what do you think?"
"I think he's fine." As everyone looked at her in surprise, she shrugged. "Despite his nature, he both knows and accepts himself, has yet to hurt anyone who does not hurt him or those he cares for, and never crosses the line between caution and paranoia. Better than half the nobles we worked for."
"I am honored that you recognize that, Lady Eisner." Huburt bowed, "Many do not."
"Honestly, you'd probably get along well with my sister." She paused and tapped her chin. "Although, I can't tell. Do you prefer men, women, or–"
"I do not share that information lightly, Lady Eisner! Perhaps dinner first, hmm?" Hubert replied with a glint in his eyes, amusement dancing within.
"I see. I'll keep that in mind, though I've been told I'm not allowed to date my students yet. Grandmother hasn't finished her background checks." Bytleth responded wryly.
"Mine will be mostly blank." Hubert countered.
Sophie sighed. "And this is snark combat. Why did I teach you how to do this?"
"Because it was amusing to you at the time." Byleth answered with a slow blink.
Edelgard's giggles filled the room. "Ah, you are a gem, Professor." She paused. "Let me know when she finishes those checks, please." She walked over, snagging up her books before strutting out of the room.
Byleth watched her leave. "...legs."
Sophie nodded. "Indeed."
Dimitri and Hubert glared daggers at the two women, the Prince speaking first. "That is my sister."
"And you also stared at my ass when you first saw me. So did your sister." Byleth countered in a deadpan. "I didn't rat you out to Leonie because it wouldn't have been funny at the time."
"Ah." He coughed. "It is… distinctive."
Hubert sighed. "As enlightening and entertaining as this conversation has been, I must follow my lady." He turned and walked out at a brisk trot.
Dedue nodded once. "Your highness, what are your plans?"
"The sparring yards, I think. I've much to think about." He walked to the door after retrieving his own bags. "Professor… thank you."
"You are very welcome, Prince Dimitri." Byleth answered warmly.
The clack of heeled boots rang off the stones of the lower corridors, as a dull red dress swept over the smooth stone. Constance von Neuvelle rounded the corner, opening a small door leading into a small meeting room, nodding in satisfaction as she saw who was within. "I apologize for being late, but we have much to discuss."
Monica von Ochs looked up, her gaze as sharp as the dagger she tossed end over end. "So his nibs is still delusional?" She grunted. "What a shame."
"Not accurate." Lindhart yawned, sleepy gaze not detracting from the spark in his eyes. "Diomedes has investments with the Agarthan diaspora. He doesn't want to think they were willing to risk those."
"Indeed." Constance sighed as she took a seat. "We're reliant on Agarthan engineers for a lot of Diomedes' grand projects. That's changing, slowly, but…" She shook her head. "He is too straightforward."
"Well, it is good that he has us to watch out for him!" Ferdinand grinned, his smile wide from his own place at the table. "So, what are we doing?"
"Gathering information." Constance sighed. "Monica, what's the news from the capitol?"
"Well, the Anna network has informed me that the purchases of steel, iron, and oil through the Agarthan quarter have gone up, but no new projects have been started. No
visible projects." The pirate lady pulled out a set of papers, putting them on the table. "Either they're stepping up an already established project, or they've started working on something new."
"They're working on a ship." Lindhart said lazily, grumbling in annoyance, "No other reason for that kind of materials at this quantity."
"Probably. I wonder why? They're already in charge of the construction for the Princes' expeditionary fleet…" Ferdinand mused. "Unless they want one ship they fully control."
Constance nodded. "A good point." Constance bit her lip. "...Ferdinand, you've been present at the talks since the beginning of Diomedes' plans. Did Agartha lead him into this?"
Ferdinand's face relaxed as he thought, his customary smile disappearing. "Not entirely, but they did push it in that direction." He eventually allowed. "Diomedes has always been heavily invested in transportation, and he was originally mono-focused on railway development. But he did want to revitalize international trade; they may have steered him into his fleet idea." He tapped his chin. "No idea why."
"... The Nabateans." Lindhart groaned, "How are all of you missing the obvious so much?"
"What, a near-extinct race from Fodlan? Why would they need a fleet…" Constance trailed off. "Delouch. He's from the middle of nowhere."
Monica spoke next. "There's islands out there which are far from the mainland. Fiddler's green, the Isle of Sky, Golden Mountain. Places spoken of in legends." She chuckled. "If they were hunted here, then one of those places, cursed or not, would be a good place to hide out."
Lindhart frowned. "It fits, but it doesn't explain why they're building it in Adrestia. Surely, they could construct a few ships of their own, if they're so desperate to reach Warner's homeland. We are missing puzzle pieces."
"Industrial capabilities, perhaps?" Ferdinand offered, "As much as Agartha is loathe to admit it, Adrestia's drydocks and shipyards far eclipse any of their own; such are always easy to find by the Church, and only recent… ah."
"Yes, oh." Constance muttered. "They don't need a couple ships, they needed a full fleet." She frowned. "Diomedes will be difficult to bring around, but he will listen. I just hope he does it soon."
Lindhart raised one hand. "Hold off on that." As everyone looked at Lindhart, the boy nodded at the table. "The project's stated purpose and plans are sound. We cannot cancel it, and if we tell the Prince, he will either reject the notion or go directly to his contacts for answers."
"Spoiling any surprise." Monica snarled. "So, what do we do?"
Ferdinand spoke first. "The ships we're building. They are in the military boneyards, yes?" As the others eyed him, he continued. "Arrange for the supplies needed for a long journey to be stocked elsewhere. Anywhere else." He tapped the table. "Even if they steal the ships, they cannot make it far without supplies. Coal, food, water… if they wish to ship out with our fleet, they'll need to do so empty, and thus, crippled."
"... Well reasoned, Ferdinand. You have a fantastic head for logistics, as always." Lindhart praised, "I would also recommend pulling our sailors away from the ships as often as possible; Agartha is unlikely to have the experience at sea to man all those vessels."
"True. Good initial plan, everyone." Constance snapped out her fan. "Now, is there any other business to bring forward?"
Lindhart leaned forward. "Why did the old Agarthans attack the Red Canyon, regardless? It made a fine distraction, but it didn't seem to have any purpose otherwise."
"Diomedes has a book written by the church that details the Nabatean; and likely most unbiased version of the event. It was a massacre to obtain materials from Nabatean corpses. That eventually lead to a short-sighted genocide even by Agarthan standards." Constance spat furiously, "It's very likely that the four saints and four apostles were Nabatean, as an aside. The book was written by Saint Cichol."
As that unpleasant truth sunk in, Linhart looked simultaneously unnerved and perplexed. "I see." He frowned. "I have much to think about."
"We all do, beanpole." Monica sighed. "Did anyone here bring something strong? We need it."
Ferdinand gave an uneasy smile. "Ah, I was unable to buy our standard libations." He produced a straw hamper. "But I did have some reserves. Aged rum and black tea, with some of the kitchen's proper butter biscuits."
"Ah, you're Sothis-sent, Ferdie."
As the group began to prepare food, they didn't notice Lindhart freeze at the last line. He pursed his lips, then shook his head. "...a question to ask the woman directly, I think."
"Pardon, Lindhart?"
"Nothing. Just a thought." The scholar observed, taking his own tea. "If I can muster the effort."
Galahad fussed over the spread in her apartment, frowning as she looked over the cooler of beverages. After a moment, she shook her head. "No alcohol; I don't think he drinks."
"Is this what you should be focusing on, Gal?" Came the voice from her communicator, her boss focused through the line.
"Maybe not, but he is my friend. And even if he's not receptive, I'd like him to like me."
"Ah, a crush."
"No!" Galahad jerked, before pausing and blushing. "...maybe a little…"
"Here's hoping he makes the cut, then. Babbish has rerouted the normal monitoring software so we can listen in without Dolofonos listening in."
"Thank you." Galahad's head jerked up as her door chime sounded, and she bustled to the portal, slapping off her comm on the way with a muttered "Gotta go." She walked over to the door and pressed the button for it to hiss open, putting on her best smile. "Welcome–" She stopped, blinking, and only had a second to feel confused.
"Eee, she's just as cute as you said she was!" Galahad found herself swept up into a hug, brown-skinned arms wrapping around her. A beautiful face and yellow eyes framed by purple hair looked down at her. "Hello, Galahad!"
"Apologies, Galahad. My partner insisted on coming to meet you." Stenman coughed from the door. "May I introduce Makeda, my–"
"Wife, Stenman." Makeda released Galahad, holding her at her side as she looked back at the male. "I think we qualify for that."
"...so you say." Stenman demurred, blushing slightly, a warming drawer now visible in his hands. "Ah, we brought fresh rolls and baked fish to supplement what you prepared. If I may…"
Galahad found herself dragged to one side as Stenman trotted past towards the kitchen. "Ah, I didn't realize you were married, Doctor Stennman." She demured, reeling internally at the revelation.
Above her, Makeda pouted. "I wish. But they won't let a 'pure-blood' marry little old me." Galahad glanced up, seeing the frown on her captor's face. "You can probably tell I'm not from Shambala."
"Yes." The younger woman allowed, before frowning, "I hadn't realized the Eugenics Bill passed."
Stenman yelled over his shoulder from the kitchen. "It hasn't, but that doesn't stop my bosses from forcing me to keep my options open."
Madeka hissed. "When I originally scheduled a time to meet with a licenseate, I was told it would take six moons to set up an appointment. It's been three years, and now we've been pushed back to eight months." She frowned, then whispered. "Not going to happen, I can tell."
"I see." Galahad wiggled loose, only for Madeka to grab her elbow and lean down. The girl froze as the larger woman murmured to her.
"Till every chain is broken…"
"...and every soul flies free in the sun." Galahad repeated, then swallowed. "You're…"
"Yes." She found herself hugged again. "Thank you for keeping him sane. And for trusting him, even if Artoria won't."
"... You are welcome, Madeka." Galahad replied after a few moments, "He knows, then?"
"Nope. Not from me, anyway." The tall woman sighed. "He's a good man, but he's been lied to forever. Even with the cracks showing, be believes in the dream, and he thinks my views are biased. I can't tell him. I don't think you can, either. But you'll be a lot better at leading him to the truth than I could." The two separated, Madeka slapping her grin back on and waltzing into the main room.
Nodding in understanding, Galahad made her way back towards the kitchen, taking the food she'd prepared and taking it to the dining room table, placing the piping hot food on the already set table. As she did, she saw Stenman carefully laying out a gorgeous plate of baked fish– lake trout, not the pale underground farmed fish.
"I saw you'd gone for mostly finger foods." He mentioned as he lifted the tray. "Sorry for breaking up the meal, but when Madeka insisted, I thought there might not be enough for all three of us."
"Nonono!" Galahad giggled, looking in some amusement at Stenman's baffled expression as she metaphorically let her hair down, "It's fine Doctor. I don't mind in the slightest. Especially since it's the surface kind, not the farmed kind."
"Thank you for understanding. Madeka… I do not see her enough." He sighed forlornly. "My work takes so much. I will not deny her time with me, no matter what Odesse says or how many women he pushes at me."
"Why is Sage Odesse shoving women towards you Doctor?" Galahad asked innocently, taking a sip of her drink. Leading questions, of course, were something he'd catch onto, but if she could make him
think…
"Because he's a meddler. All powerful men are." Stenman replied bluntly. "Also, he thinks just because he understands the way nations and kings think, he understands how
people think. Categorically untrue."
Nodding in agreement, the totally undercover agent of the rebellion took a bite from her meal while she considered her next question, "Do you think that's why I was assigned as your assistant, sir?"
"...yes. Although, I suspect you were supposed to be dismissed, like I did the last four he assigned to me." At Galahad's glance, he elaborated. "I could not trust any of the previous assistants assigned to me, no matter how competent. Ambition, divided loyalties, fear… they do not have a place at the right hand." He looked back at her. "You may be uncertain, but you are unshakable when committed. I assume Odesse expected me to dismiss you, and then present a more nuanced second when I was tired of working alone."
"He underestimated both me and you, then." Galahad said with some finality.
"He did." Stenman lifted the tray and carried it to the table, placing it in the center. "Come, let us dine." As he took a seat, Galahad too her own and Madeka pushed her own into place on the side of the table.
"So…" Madeka quirked an eyebrow as they began to serve up the food. "How'd you work up the courage to finally confess to my husband?"
Stenman choked, even as Galahad's minor blush went
nuclear, her stuttering reply not even intelligible. Stenman shot his wife a glare. "That's not even remotely a–"
"I didn't know he was married, I'm sorry!" Galahad managed to push out. "I mean, it wasn't… I'm not a homewrecker!"
Stenman blinked. "...I did not expect this."
"Strong, graceful, intelligent man, spending a lot of time with a girl… Dear, have I mentioned how innocent you are sometimes?" Madeka purred. "Also, Gal, I need to see more of you before I agree to anything."
Galahad's squeak of both despair and embarrassment echoed through the room as she interpreted the words in the lewdest way possible. "M-more?" She stammered, looking straight at the other woman with something akin to betrayal in her eyes, "But…"
"
Not what I meant." Madeka arced an eyebrow. "I need to get to know you, and not in
that way. That's why I invited myself along!"
Stenman sighed. "Do I not get a say in this?"
"Yes. You can tell me, here and now, that you feel nothing for Galahad. And I will know if you lie." Madeka looked her husband in the eye, then smiled as he looked away. "That's what I thought. If I hadn't come, you'd have turned her down flat, and we wouldn't get anywhere. Isn't this much better?"
Stenman glared at his wife. "For someone who's much better with people than I am, you forget the salient point. What does Galahad want?"
"... I'd be okay with that." The woman in question murmured just loudly enough for both parties to hear, the shocked look that Stenman sent her washing over her like water on a duck, "Polyamory's cool. Though I will warn you, Madeka, that I won't be going in with the expectation of dating you, though if it happens, it happens."
Madeka smiled. "Wonderful! And now that the heavy subjects are out of the way," she lied easily, "let's keep the talk a little lighter over dinner." She leaned back, picking up a morsel. "So, I hear plenty about your work from my husband. What do you do in your spare time?"
"I keep my combat skills sharp, Madeka." Galahad replied with a gleam in her eyes, "I'm trained extensively in the use of power armor. Frontline unit."
Madeka waited, blinking, only for Galahad to remain silent. "Oh dear. Another workaholic?" She murmured. "Come now, you have to have some hobbies? Please?"
Stenman hummed. "I haven't practiced with my spellcaster setup in some time. Perhaps we could practice together?"
"That would be fantastic, Doctor." Galahad nodded firmly, before turning to Madeka, "Ah, I do have hobbies, but unfortunately, my supply of novels has long since dried up."
"Trade getting cut off from the surface again?" Madeka acknowledged glumly. "I didn't think they were cracking down on books now."
"... Why would the Sages be cutting trade of fictional novels off?" Stenman wondered aloud, genuinely sounding
baffled, "There's… No logical reason for this."
"There's not." Galahad said. "But there is an argument for keeping people from empathizing with surfacers." She said tactfully, feeling out the man. "And importing fiction from them… well…"
Stenman shook his head. "Perhaps, but only if we mean full-on war. And we do not. Only the removal or neutralization of the Fell Star's spawn." He reasoned. Then frowned, "... Sage Odesse seems to wish for the death of surfacers, however…"
Seeing an opening, yet deciding to see where her current boss went with it, Galahad remained silent, letting the genius work his way through the problem.
"... Ah, I see. Madeka, when were the last elections?" The man asked after several minutes of silence.
"Which ones? The real elections, or the rubber stamps I've seen in the last decades?" Madeka groused. "The last three five-year elections had no competition, and when I checked the records, all the opposition to the current elites in the fourth closest were disqualified. There may not have been an honest election since the first after the Failed War."
Stenman's lips thinned, "I see." Pausing, he grinned, seemingly having realized something else, "And that is why you both are attempting to recruit me, correct?"
Madeka arched an eyebrow. "Dear, I have been trying to get you to open your eyes to get you to push harder on your bosses." She looked over at Galahad, who shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Stenman, a lot of our superiors are old. They don't see things the way they really are; as you said, his views are colored by prejudice." She smiled. "I want you to think further and see clearly. You might be the leadership we need, not Thales."
Stenman slowly shook his head. "Looking to galvanize me into action? I am not leadership material."
Galahad scowled, slamming her hand on the table. "Better you then Odesse!" At Stenman's look, the young woman shook her head. "You're as smart as he is, and willing to look beyond our old goals. Madeka and I both think you're a good man, and…" She paused. "You've never scared me. Some of the current leaders? They do."
The only male in the room's face softened, while his eyes seemed to burn with inner light, "... Leaders should not inspire fear." His voice is glacial, and as cold as the unforgiving north of Sreng, "... Perhaps it is because I do not desire power that I am suited, then?"
Madeka sighed, watching as her husband closed himself off. "Maybe. This isn't something we want to spring on you, just something we want you to consider. The world is going to change soon; I think we all know that Thales has some grand plan in the works." Galahad nodded as Stenman closed his eyes. "If an opportunity comes, I just want you to consider it."
"... You can count me among your allies." Stenman objected, shaking his head, "If they are truly considering war with the surfacers, it is that or face genocide when the surfacers inevitably beat us through human wave tactics, and the less said about the Children of the Fell Star the better."
"Here's hoping we're wrong." Galahad murmured. "Can we… move on? Madeka, what books do you like best?"
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