Chapter Text
Ding ding dong ding dong. The first bell tolled. It was a little after sunrise but the atmosphere was still so soporific when the professors, whose classes had just begun, met with their potential prospects.
“Aha! There you are!” said Hanneman as he approached with a familiar buxom woman. He was a mustachioed man with an air of aristocracy around him. His hair was gray. His face was all at once inquisitive, jocular, and serious. Over his right eye was a monocle, chained to a clip, of which was attached to his shirt, which itself was worn underneath a perfectly creased, unwrinkled jacket and before a green ascot.
Keen blue eyes lit up upon spotting the three children. “I am Professor Hanneman. It is quite the pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise; pleasure to be had,” Alisha said with a respectful bow, which made Hanneman giddy somehow. “My name is Alisha Diphda.”
“Ah ha ha ha. Quite impeccable manners you have.”
Additionally Manuela vouched for Alisha's character, heaping praises onto her, before Sorey introduced himself. “And I'm Sorey,” he said, highly dignified if not formal.
Next was Rose. “Yo!” She introduced herself with a two-finger salute. “You can call me Rose.”
For a second Hanneman's smile faltered at this. With a gaze fixed curiously on Rose, he muttered, “Well, manners aren't everything. They all seem to be very amicable at the very least.” He cleared his throat. “I,” he now said to them, “have been made aware of your... circumstances by Manuela here.”
Manuela sniffled and wiped an invisible tear from her eye. “Awful. Just awful.”
Hanneman was quick to nod, as if he couldn't agree fast enough. “War is so tragic. Luckily Fodlan has been blessed with a long and prosperous season of peace.”
“Well, if we're not counting the bandits, the village raids, the political backstabbing and —“
“Manuela,” Hanneman said while turning to her with a glower, “please.”
“What? It's all true and you know it.”
He shook his head. “A-anyway, my point is that we, here, have not experienced a war the likes of which your nation now faces for the better part of, ah, well, almost a millennium. While there are skirmishes hither and tither —“ he cast a glance in Manuela's general direction — “we are still most certainly spoiled by the byproducts of a warless age. Perhaps, even, too spoiled. I doubt any one of us knows what war is outside the pages of a fable or the annals of history books.”
This was when Sorey chuckled nervously, nearly blundering their cover. At least he committed the story to memory. What was it again? He was a refugee from a warring nation. And if anyone happened to ask what nation that was, he was supposed to tell them the events were so traumatic he forgot. And if anyone should try to pry information from him despite this, he was to get away from them as quickly as possible. The trouble was: he wasn't a very good liar. But now that he thought about it, it wasn't much of a cover. But that was what Seteth sent them off with, and in a hurry too, as if he needed to be somewhere and had no time to spare for them. Sorey thought to himself that he might have to speak with Seteth about fleshing out this origin story of theirs a bit more.
“Yeah...” he responded to Hanneman with a stiff nod, clearly uncomfortable with the lie. “Just your average refugees from... from a war-torn country. P-poor us.”
The swiftness at which Rose's elbow jabbed him in his side to shut him up was enough to rival that of a swallow's dive as it hunted for its next meal. The wind was knocked out of him, but it was effective. He shut up immediately, if only to rub his aching ribs where she had hit him.
“Well,” interjected Manuela, “if anyone's spoiled it's those corpulent nobles with more money than they know what to do with. The rest of us, well, you know, eat their scraps. Life's just not fair...”
Hanneman made a defeated sigh, lacking much of his usual moxie this morning — he hadn't the time to drink his tea upon waking before rushing out of his quarters for this very meeting — to repeatedly reprimand his colleague for her unfiltered remarks. “Either way,” Hanneman said to the trio, “you have been given a momentous task, as have I and Manuela before you.
“You will be visiting each of the three houses. However...”
And Manuela resumed for him when he trailed off, saying, “Our classes currently have a test today.”
“Yes,” Hanneman added with a nod. “It's because of that very reason we must ask you to postpone your tour until the second bell.”
“That's when classes end and seminars begin. Usually.”
“Oh,” said Sorey, excitement bubbling up inside him, “so the test will run the entire class.”
“Well...” Manuela seemed hesitant to say but continued anyway. “We have a few students who are, you know, slow... to finish their work. They need the extra time.”
“Yes, and I do hope my students, diligent as they are, have started their test per my written instruction on the chalk board,” Hanneman said.
“Wait... You actually use that old, dusty chalk board?”
“Ugggghhhh.” Hanneman pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “For the love of... Yes, Manuela. I do.”
She shrugged at his answer, unbothered otherwise. “Anyway, sorry to cut and rut. But my students need to start their test ASAP. Also I'm sorry Professor Jeritza didn't show to at least introduce himself.”
Once again Hanneman sighed. But this time it wasn't because of something Manuela did or said. “Yes, that man is certainly the character — for lack of a more deserving term. Please do not take it personal, children. Professor Jeritza isn't what one would call socially adept. In other words: he's not a people person.”
“Nor a cat or dog person either,” Manuela cut in. “Why — and you won't believe it — just the other day a cat, the sweetest little baby you ever did see, approached him and rubbed against his leg. And do you know what he just did?”
The long pause that followed was indicative of a question that was, without a shadow of a doubt, not rhetorical. Sorey, being the kind person that he was, bit. Alisha and Rose aimlessly went along with him.
Manuela then said, “He looked down with those cold, unfeeling, steely eyes of his... And... and...” She choked as she bowed her head and clasped her hands together, as if praying for deliverance from some evil nigh upon her. “He walked away. Without so much as cracking a smile. Can you believe it? Something is definitely wrong with that man.”
“O-oh...” Sorey said, having expected something much worse. “That's-that's uh... Terrible?” Perhaps, Sorey reasoned, this Jeritza guy actually thought the cat was cute but didn't want to bend down to pet it — or smile, which Manuela had seemed so oddly fixated on for some reason — due to some perceived sense of masculinity. Or, alternatively, the man was simply allergic to cats. It happens. Oops, Sorey was doing it again. You know how intelligent minds often get lost on the way to their destination.
At this moment Hanneman had no more sighs to spare for his colleague. Reserves were fresh out. The professors told Sorey, Rose, and Alisha to please wait in their respective quarters. But neither professor left without first offering directions to the education facility — the Officers Academy. After they left — Hanneman in a leisure jaunt and Manuela in a cold jog-sprint — Sorey headed in the direction of the dorms where he would be staying, the commoners quarters. But before that he stopped Alisha for a friendly chat. Her dorm was special. It was in the nobles quarters.
“Hey, Alisha!” he called after her, stopping from a brisk gait when she turned to him.
“Sorey, was it?” she said to him with that same Alisha Diphda smile he'd come to admire.
“Yeah,” he said and rubbed the back of his head, raking his scalp nervously with his nails as he thought about what next to say. Fortunately it was Alisha who spoke next.
“This is all so strange, is it not?”
“Yeah... Honestly I don't know what to make of it.”
“Me neither...”
“How are you holding up otherwise?”
“Well, I should be able to manage.”
Sorey nodded. Another thing he admired about her was her ability to keep moving no matter how tough or bad things got. It had always been so inspirational, seeing her navigate the dark belly of that beast named politics, all while never once wavering in her convictions. She was practically unshakable, even in the most impossible or daunting circumstances — such as when she discovered Maltran, her dearly beloved instructor and practically surrogate mother, was a Hellion subordinate to Heldalf. “If anyone is able to, it would be you,” he declared with a positive nod.
Alisha, eyes searching him, narrowed her vision some, as if trying to see something that should be there but wasn't. “It's so strange, hearing you speak as if you know me.”
Sorey startled at this. “Oh, um, I'm sorry. I hope I'm not —“
“No. No. It's fine.” Alisha's expression softened. “In this unfamiliar world, so far away from my kingdom and its people, while they suffer through the Age of Chaos and increasing tensions between Hyland and Rolance, it feels nice knowing there's someone who knows me.” She drew her hand to her heart. It was a bittersweet gesture. “It is comforting in a way, even though I don't know you.”
In place of his grateful smile was now a sad furrow in his brow. It hurt to know that the Alisha standing before him did not know him. And after all they had been through together — she witnessing his growth as a Shepherd, and he watching her grow into her fully mature self, a mighty force of virtue to be reckoned with.
“Oh,” said Alisha when she saw the look he had on his face. “I am sorry. It was cold of me not to consider —“
Sorey raised his hand to her, gentle and understanding when he said, “There's no need for you so apologize. You haven't met me yet. I still can't wrap my head around it, but I've come to accept it.”
“Really? You must be remarkably adaptive. You certainly have the making of a Shepherd.”
A flattered Sorey chuckled. “Well, not as adaptive as you. I hate to admit it, but most of the time I'm out of my element.”
Alisha chuckled with him. “ 'Adaptive'? I'm sure you mean obstinate and intolerable.”
“To certain people you were anyway. But, no, I definitely mean you're adaptive.”
Alisha chuckled once more. “I can actually see myself getting along quite well with you, Shepherd Sorey. It's a shame that I haven't met you until recently.”
“Well, that just means we can get to know each other all over again. That's a win-win if I ever saw one.”
Alisha's grateful smile seemed to broaden at him. “Thank you, Sorey. Truly.”
As sad as it was that Alisha did not know who he was, Sorey was at least able to find the positive in all this, just as Alisha had been able to do herself no doubt. On his way back to his quarters, lost in thoughts of what was, what could have been, and what would have been if he'd chosen other avenues in defeating the Lord of Calamity, he was stopped by a young boy.
“Hey, you!” cried the young boy. He had tan skin, red eyes, and a scar over his brow. His hair was brown and curly, like dozens of silky locks baked in the oven, becoming buoyant, crispy croissants. In his arms he had a stack of something. Books maybe?
“Who me?”
“Yeah, you. You're the only one 'round here, ain'tcha.”
Sorey took a quick gander. The boy was right.
“You mind helping me with this? It's kinda heavy and Lady Rhea needs these near the greenhouse right now.”
“S-sure!” answered Sorey, rushing to take on some of the load. And boy was it a load. Actual bricks! “Arggggghhh,” Sorey grunted as they walked side by side. He was totally being outdone by someone hardly half his size. “Wow. You were carrying this all by yourself?”
The boy looked pleased. He took it as a compliment. “Yeah.” He beamed. “I do all kinds of work for Lady Rhea. I sweep. I clean weapons. I scrub the floors. Once she even had me make her bed for her.” The last one he seemed to consider a bit more fondly, as its mention was accompanied by an adorable smile.
“Oh, so are you, like, a servant?”
“Not exactly. I'm actually an orphan.”
“Oh! An orphan?”
“That's what I said, isn't it?”
The reached the greenhouse finally.
“Just set them right there,” the boy said, moving toward the side of the greenhouse and placing his bricks near the entrance. Sorey laid those of his beside those, then offered a deep breath after a moment's hard work. “Name's Cyril, by the way. I haven't seen you 'round here before. You new or something?”
“I'm Sorey. And —“ he offered an unsure shrug — “kind of.”
“I never heard of you before. You're definitely new here.”
“How do you know that for sure? Do you keep tabs on all the students here for Lady Rhea too?” Sorey asked, unironically.
“Nah. I don't really speak much with them. But your name doesn't sound familiar. So I'm assuming you're new.” Cyril quirked his head to one side, with suspicion at first then with interest. “Where you from anyway? Your clothes are weird.”
And here it was. “Oh, um, uh, yeah.” Sorey was choking up. “Where am I from? Ha ha ha... ha ha... Ummmmmmm...”
Cyril raised a brow. “Geez. It's only a simple question. No need to answer if you don't wanna.”
Sorey released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. “Oh, thank goodness,” he whispered to himself.
“Welp, it was nice to meet'cha. But I gotta go wipe down the pews at the church now.”
“See you later then, Cyril!” Sorey waved at the boy's back before returning to his dorm room.
It was a confined space. Not much a prison as it was a box. It made him feel small somehow when he entered. To his right, upon entry, was a desk. It was old with many splinters that would most likely prick him if he were to run his hand across it, all sticking out like nails on a rotting board. The bedclothes were yellow. Obviously they were once white; but not because of a lack of cleaning were they stained. These sheets must have been used, washed, and reused for decades. They smelled piney and fresh when Sorey took a sniff, signifying just recently being washed.
While waiting for the bell to ring there hadn't been much for Sorey to do, other than lie on the bed, arms behind his head, and stare up at the ceiling. So he waited like that for time to pass. He had no books to read, and could feel an itching urge to reach behind himself for his favorite. But remembering it was now in Seteth's company put that urge quickly to rest. Perhaps later he would check out the library, one of the many facilities open to students at Garreg mach. It served as good a substitute to the Celestial Record as any other outlet. He couldn't wait to see what doughty books of wisdom, lore, history, and fortunes were waiting to be read.
Ding ding dong ding dong. That was the second bell, and what happened to wake Sorey clean from a nap. He rolled out of his bed, roughed down a cowlick he was certain had formed on the back of his head, and swiped drool from the side of his mouth. The educational facilities were not hard to find. He passed what look like some kind of training area on the way, and when he finally made it to his destination he was a bit taken aback — and so suddenly too.
While it was true that Sorey was happy, perhaps even too happy, that he would finally be getting an education at a real school, he found himself at a loss for how to exactly feel about it. He had only ever dreamed of an academic education, ever since he was a young lad, out there in Elysia with Mikleo and the other Seraphim. Of course Gramps had given him the best education he could, but, in the end, it still lacked that homey feel Sorey was so certain could only be had from a solid education, surrounded by opinionated peers and sagely teachers. A true pedagogical experience meant to tickle the interests of men.
Being too happy wasn't the problem though. No, Sorey's current problem was the three choices before him. One with a yellow banner adorned by the emblem of a particolored coat of arms of black and gold. In each respective color was a design unique from the last — there were five, one in the middle and four at each of its corners. No one was the same. The one next over was a blue banner with the image of a great knight upon a loyal griffin. The last was a banner with a golden two-headed eagle bearing an emblem above its head, like a halo. Three houses; three choices. Sure he could visit any one of them now. But ultimately he'd have to make a choice. One class was certain to have strengths the others did not. One class was certain to be more abstract than concrete, or vise versa. See the problem? If Sorey had to choose just one he'd then be missing out on the others! It overwhelmed him!
Thankfully he was able to push past this feeling of overwhelm and walked in through the doorway bearing the banner of the coat of arms. Entering the room, he spotted a group of teens, each no older than he, huddled together. Huddled around someone, actually. She had white hair. To her right, a brawny young man with a confused knit on his brow, as she ostensibly read from a thick book with hundreds of thousands of little tiny words on just a single page. Beside him was what one could only describe as a gamine young woman, who looked capable enough to take on any one of the boys in a fight and still have stamina to spare for a round of friendly sparring. Behind the white-haired girl stood a teen with a boyish face. He wore glasses, which had the strange effect of making him look unremarkably meek yet, all in the same breath, sagely. His two fingers — thumb and forefinger — clasped round his chin.
They must be studying, Sorey thought o himself when the girl with white hair turned to snap at the big brawny guy, most likely because he'd gotten something wrong. And most likely telling him that he needed to pay more attention.
“Oh? Now there's a face I haven't seen before,” Sorey heard as a boy approached him.
This boy had wavy hair, and green keen eyes that told the tale of someone who was as curious but likewise guarded as they come.
“Hello,” Sorey said with a friendly smile, “my name's Sorey. I'm just here to observe. For now.”
“Oh ho ho! Not all of us have the luxury of choice. You got connections or something? Or, wait let me guess, you're a special case, aren't you. Not like the rest of us?”
Sorey started. “No-n-no! he stammered. “I'm just like all of you.”
“Uh huh. So where are you from?”
“Who's your friend, Claude?” said a girl with pink hair as she approached them. And right on time too; Sorey had been afraid he wasn't going to get out of that one.
“Oh, well, we were just getting to know each other actually,” Claude said with this innocent gesture. But the pink-haired girl knew he was anything but.
She shook her head. “Knowing you, you were probably trying to pry about something that's none of your business.”
“Ah, Hilda, Hilda, Hilda. But it is my business. I'm curious like that.”
“Curious or just nosy?”
“Sematics. I have a trough of knowledge that yearns to be filled. To not fill it would be like starving your horse or pegasus... or wyvern... or goat.”
Hilda sighed. “Yes, yes, I know, Claude.”
“So your name is Claude,” Sorey said, naturally taking an interest in the young man who had an interest in him.
“Claude Von Riegan,” Claude confirmed.
“And I'm Hilda,” the girl with pink hair said, offering Sorey a hand to shake. She then proceeded to flay Claude for asking Sorey personal questions without first offering his name, calling him rude and “kind of snobbish.” Claude didn't take too well to that last one.
The others must have noticed the commotion because they all soon came piling on Sorey from every which direction when they saw his fresh face.
“And who is this? A new Golden Deer prospect perhaps,” asked a thin young man with very handsome, symmetrical features. Sorey would learn his name was Lorenz Hellman Gloucester — emphasis on the entire name.
“No way,” a girl named Leonie said with a doubtful shake of her head. “He doesn't look like he's from the Alliance.”
“Now that you mention it,” said a boy named Ignatz — he was the bespectacled one with the boyish face — “his clothes are rather foreign. Are you perhaps from Albinea or Almyra?”
“He wouldn't be the only one,” the girl with white hair — Lysithea — said imperiously. “There's Dedue, Petre, and Cyril. Besides, I don't think being a foreigner disqualifies him from being a student.”
“Oh...” Ignatz seemed to fluster. “That's not at all what I was trying to convey. I-Im sorry if I truly sounded so presumptuous.”
“He seems like a gentle soul,” said a girl named Marianne. Her odd way of giving him the benefit of the doubt, Sorey assumed. “I think he would make a wonderful addition to the Golden Deer House... A better addition than I am, anyway...” She hung her head, sullenly.
“Well, don't go thinking he's going to be a Golden Deer just yet,” Claude chimed in to break the bad news to them now. “We won't be the only house he's visiting. Isn't that right, Mr. Choices?” he added with a wink at Sorey.
Sorey rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say to that. What Claude had said was true. But Claude's words also seemed to be accusing him of something. He was a hard guy to read.
The big brawny guy, Raphael was his name, then asked, “So what's your favorite kind of food: vegetables or meat?”
“Hmmmmmm...” Sorey seriously considered the question. “Well,” he began his response, “you need vegetables for a well-balanced diet. The roughage is good for digestion, for sure. But nothing beats a nice hardy bowl of prickle boar soup. The way the fat melts in your mouth is heaven.”
As Sorey was drooling, Raphael beamed, practically thumping his chest. “Oh yeah! He's a Golden Deer All right! I say we let him join!”
“Didn't you hear anything that was just said?” Hilda asked him.
“Yeah. He said he likes meat!” Raphael answered all so innocently.
“Anyway,” now Claude pivoted to another topic, on a more serious note, “our esteemed professor —“ and he looked as if he were trying to avoid some rude gesture with his eyes upon uttering esteemed — “Manuela is not here right now. So sorry if this isn't the welcome tour you were hoping for.”
“Oh no, it's fine. I got to learn a lot about you guys, and I think that counts as something,” Sorey said. (Save for not personally getting most of their names.)
“Aww,” said Claude in partial jest, “you're one of those sentimental types, aren't you? Really would be a shame if you didn't choose to join our house.” He shrugged his shoulders as if resigned to some dastardly fate.
“I'll consider it.”
“Yeah. That's flattering. But you seem more like a lion than a deer to me,” Claude muttered to himself. “Oh well.”
Sorey parted with the Golden Deer students and sauntered himself on over to one of the other houses. He chose mostly at random. Along the way he happened upon an upright fellow. Blue eyes, blonde hair, and a sense of duty weighing heavily upon his shoulders it seemed.
The young man blinked at him. “Oh, hello,” he said, his tone surprised but still very much formal. It was the kind of tone Sorey might expect of one of royal standing. He was not wrong.
“Hey there,” Sorey said, “my name's Sorey. I'm, uh, kind of new here.”
The blond burst into a chuckle. “Well, I can certainly see that. My name is Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.” He bowed to Sorey and Sorey did likewise. “I'm the crowned prince of Faerghus.”
“A crowned prince, huh?” Sorey said. “I happen to know a princess myself.”
Dimitri regarded him curiously. “Edelgard, you mean?”
“No. Another princess. From another castle.”
Again Dimitri chuckled. “Your sense of humor is sharp. From where do you hail, if you don't mind my asking?”
“Oh, uh... um...”
“It's all right. I guess that really doesn't matter, now does it. Are you here to join our class?”
“I was just on my way to that one over there.” Sorey pointed.
“Ah, the Black Eagles,” Dimitri said when he looked. “Well, please do not hesitate to visit the Blue Lions afterward. I look forward to being your trusted ally.” At this moment Dimitri offered his hand.
Sorey stared at it at first. He had some misgivings about shaking the hand of royalty. Sorey was of no special title here. Meanwhile Dimitri was a bona fide prince; he spoke like royalty, moved like royalty, and took himself seriously like royalty. Sorey hadn't even a family name to begin with.
Still Dimitri was an intriguing animal. He came off as very affable, amiable, and amicable. All things of the like. It somewhat resembled Alisha's way of being. But there was also something else, a shadow Sorey could sense. He couldn't help but shudder some when he finally took Dimitri's hand and he, for only the briefest of moments, could envision the fearsome image of a great beast, one not unlike that of Heldalf, seeking to tear its way out of the blonde young man to slay everything that lay in its path.
Sorey wasn't sure what that was about. No doubt, he was sure, Dimitri was a lovely human being. Shaking the feeling swelling within him, he entered into the next class. A man wearing a mask, with cold, calculating eyes on Sorey, could be seen sitting at a desk ahead of those belonging to the students. But it wasn't he who greeted Sorey. That was a student, who Sorey was soon to learn was royalty as well.
“Hello,” the girl said, her gaze seeming to be gauging him. Beside her was a dour-eyed fellow. Everything about him was black. His attire, his eyes, his hair, his soul. Sorey shrank before him.
“Hi,” Sorey returned in a smallish voice.
“I am Edelgard Von Hresvelg.”
“Sorey...”
“I assume you've come to learn about the Black Eagles, yes?”
Sorey lowered his gaze, attempting to escape the judgmental, almost murderous gaze upon him.
“Please don't mind him,” Edelgard soon said when she noticed him shying away. “This is Hubert.”
“Hubert Von Vestra,” Hubert said. His voice was black too. “And what brings you to the Black Eagles, if you don't mind my asking?”
“Just looking... around,” Sorey said with a nervous quaver in his voice.
Hubert's gaze narrowed on him and his arms crossed over his chest. “Just looking around, eh.”
“Hubert, please,” Edelgard said, sounding as if she'd had this same conversation with him one too many times already. “How many times must I tell you to be more friendly with the new people we meet. Any one of them could become our ally, you know.”
“I am sorry, Lady Edelgard. But as your vassal, and as a viscount of house Vestra, it is my sworn duty to ensure your safety from would-be regicide.”
Edelgard look like she had something more to say but ultimately closed her eyes and resigned.
“Oh, so you're a princess?” Sorey said excitedly. But all it took was one black glare and he was back to staring at his shoes again.
“Yes,” Edelgard said simply. She turned around. “Class, come and give your warmest welcome to Sorey. He's here to visit,” she said with an air of authority that seemed without rival.
At once everybody, except the masked man — Jeritza — paused what they were doing and got up to greet him.
“My, my,” said a baggy-eyed boy. He looked like he'd just awoken from a slumber and would fall right back asleep at any moment while standing. Hair a mess on one side. A dash of lines, where he had lain his head on his sleeved-up arm, across his cheek. Sleepy crusties in the corners of his eyes and hanging from his lashes. He gaped in one huge yawn, and everybody was forced to view the deep of his mouth momentarily. “It's nice to meet you. But if you don't mind, I am going back to finish my nap.” He waved and turned away.
“Okay. It's nice to meet you,” Sorey said to his back. “My name is Sorey, by the way.”
“Linhardt,” the boy replied while walking off. He was back at the table snoring away in no time.
“Oh that Linhardt,” Edelgard murmured hopelessly. “Whatever am I going to do with him...”
“I might suggest a few things, Lady Edelgard,” Hubert interjected darkly, after having overheard her.
“Hello, Sorey,” said a young woman with a face tattoo. She had a foreign aura about her when compared to the others. A bit out of place.
What were their names? Sorey asked himself. Dedue... Cyril... “You must be Petra!” Sorey said rather quickly.
She looked surprised. “Yes, that is the name I am having. But, um, how are you... How do you know that?”
“Lucky guess, I guess.” He dared not risk looking like some insensitive jerk.
“Too lucky a guess,” Hubert hissed, inching closer and leaning in, as if to stab Sorey with his suspicion.
“I am princess of Brigid,” Petra added. “So are you perhaps being from Brigid too?”
Sorey waved his hands side to side. “Oh no. I'm not.” This was a fine pickle he just got himself in. “Sooooooo, princess, huh. You sure have a lot of those around here.”
“What ever are you meaning?” asked Petra.
Edelgard was quick to respond. “Ah, you speak of Alisha Diphda, yes? A fine young lady.”
“Yes,” Petra agreed. “She is a soul.”
“A kind soul,” a beautiful woman with brown hair and green eyes, not unlike those of Sorey's, corrected her. “And she certainly is. I can tell she's quite the leader.” Quickly realizing they were getting off track she hastened to introduce herself. She was Dorothea.
“Nice to meet you, Dorothea!” Sorey returned.
“Guess it's my turn,” Sorey heard a young man say. But he didn't see anyone suggesting that voice. Then he looked down to find a short boy with bluish hair. “The name's Caspar! And if you want to go blow for blow, I'm game!”
“And, umm,” said a mousy little voice. Sorey also couldn't tell where this was coming from either. “I'm, um, Bernie.”
“Bernadetta, sweetheart, you can't introduce yourself hiding like that.” Dorothea was talking to someone behind the wall of bodies. “Come on out and say hi properly.”
“Oh, okay...” A smallish girl with an anxious wrinkle in her brow and slant to her lips came from out of hiding. “I'm Bernie...”
“Oh! Hi, Bernadetta!” Sorey said. The girl jumped at his voice and it surprised him. “Oh, I'm sorry,” he said, rushing to console her, “I didn't mean to —“
“GYAAAAAAA!” she screeched and began flailing her limbs. “I don't know what I did to make you so angry but I'm sorry!” she cried, running out of the room and through the yard, all the way back to her room. There she slammed the door shut behind herself and hid under her bed.
“Hubert,” Edelgard said. It was all she had to say.
“Yes, I'll go retrieve her,” he said and left.
Now an orange-haired boy, with an air of bravado and braggadocio about him, stepped forward and seemed to steal all the light in the room as he did.
Even Jeritza, who had been some minutes prior engrossed in a writing task, grunted and looked on at him; all attention was now on him. “The best is saved for last, as they say. And I assure you, I am the very best of the best. Though I wouldn't have minded going first.” He gave a slight bow, only to spring back up, holding his shoulders back, raising his chest out, and flicking a few strands of his luscious blazing hair with a forefinger. “I am Ferdinand Von Aegir, heir to the Prime Minister of the Adrestia Empire, Duke Aegir. The Aegir lineage is a proud pedigree of nobles spanning back all the way to —“
“Ferdinand. Please control yourself,” Edelgard chastised him. Not because she wanted to, but because she felt inclined to keep him in check whenever he seemed to burglarize the time of another, that could be spent doing anything other than listening to him brag about himself, his noble title, his lineage of nobility, and all of his greatness. “Your name will suffice.”
“Edelgard, please. As a noble it is my duty to not only bestow my name upon the common folk, but they also must know what separates I from them. This is not to be pretentious. But to establish hierarchy so that socializing always runs smoothly between they and I. I think one of your standing, Princess Edelgard, would know this.”
“No. No, Ferdinand. You just want to talk about yourself. Again.”
He sputtered, bewildered. “What! Preposterous! Why would you say such a thing?”
“It's kind of obvious, Ferdie...” Dorothea chimed in, seemingly having no patience for him, unlike Edelgard who seemed to have just enough, but barely. “You would have gone on for hours if Edelgard hadn't stopped you.”
“Not true. I would have you know it is a noble's duty to properly introduce him or herself. If I didn't do that, then I wouldn't be a noble at all.”
“Well, you're certainly noble enough, that's for sure,” Dorothea murmured. Then for him to hear: “Just like Edie says: your name is enough. I'm sure Sorey has places to be, right?”
Sorey startled. He was on again. He had been so thoroughly amused by their banter he about nearly forgot what he was there for. “Yeah. I still need to visit the Blue Lions,” he said hastily.
“Well, we don't want to keep chatting your ear off then.” Then she said with a more flirtatious flick of her eyes, “Perhaps maybe we can go out for dinner or meet over tea some time?”
With the comment going completely over Sorey's head, he agreed. Said he'd love to get to know her along with everyone else and that he looked forward to it. Dorothea winked at him.
“It's a date then,” she said with a playful giggle. “Do take care, Sorey.”
He said his goodbyes.
The Blue Lion House was next, and Sorey didn't need to walk in looking like a sore thumb out of place. The children of the class — Hanneman behind them with an encouraging smile — gave him and quick and friendly hello when he entered.
“Woah!” Sorey gasped. He wasn't expecting such a welcome party, especially after the Black Eagles, and being interrogated — that was definitely what it was — by the stern-faced Hubert.
“I hope you don't mind,” Dimitri said as he approached, “but I took the liberty of informing everyone about you. I hope it's not any trouble.”
Sorey, feeling rather frazzled but also very much warm and fuzzy inside, rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled. Not only had they greeted him, they had also done so by calling him by name. “No, it's not a problem at all. Actually I'm kind of relieved. Saves me the trouble of having to introduce myself.”
Dimitri was pleased to hear it. “I'm glad. Well, now that that's out of the way, why don't we all introduce ourselves.” He made a formal bow before saying, “I know we already had the pleasure of making acquaintance, but I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, crowned prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faergus.”
“And I am his vassal,” said a stern looking dark-faced young man, “Dedue.”He seemed less threatening than Hubert, if only intimidating.
Next to introduce himself was a red-headed man. He held a suave smile on his face that suggested he was trying to woo the very air around him. “I'm Sylvain Jose Gautier. And if you have any lady friends,” he said with a suggestive wink, “I'd like to get to know them. Introduce me some time.”
A younger man beside him sneered at him reproachfully. “Be serious for once, Sylvain,” he snipped. “Or better yet, don't speak at all. Every time you open your mouth it's to utter putrid garbage. It annoys me. Your time would be better spent honing your skill with a blade. Skirt chasing won't keep you alive on the battlefield.”
“Well... that's mean. And anyways, how do you know I just won't woo into submission the next burly brigand we find ourselves up against?”
“Sylvain, Felix, please,” a young woman with blonde hair chastised them. “I'm sorry,” she said to Sorey with a bow. “You will have to forgive them Despite Sylvain's philandering and Felix's sharp tongue, they are trustworthy allies, I assure you.”
Sorey hadn't a reason to doubt her.
“I am Ingrid Brandle Galatea. It is a pleasure to meet you, Sorey.”
“I'm Annette!” a short brown-haired girl said with a bubbly chuckle. She seemed the easily excitable type, Sorey thought to himself.
“And I'm Mecedes, Annette's best friend,” said a much older woman beside her. The two began to gush over one another.
“And I guess I'm last,” said a soft-faced young man. “I'm Ashe Ubert. It really is a pleasure to meet you, Sorey.”
Sorey was awestruck. He didn't know what to say. They were just so organized in their greeting. “Wow.” He took a moment to regain himself. “I-thank you. Really. You all really know how to make someone feel welcome.”
Annette giggled. “Did it work then?”
“Will you be joining the Blue Lions?” Ashe added in question.
Sorey fell into a deep thought, crossing his arms over his chest and bowing his head.
“Of course,” said Dimitri hastily, “only if you want to. I do hope you do not feel pressured to choose.”
Sorey shook his head. “Not at all.” He was truly impressed with them all. His mind just may be made up then.
Dimitri was relieved to hear this. “That's reassuring.” He paused before adding, solemnly, “You look to be a very capable ally. As any one ruler would know, you can never have too many capable allies. Forgive me for coming across as presumptuous, but it would do our house good to have one such as yourself. Even Felix was able to discern your skill as a combatant at a glance.”
Felix neither confirmed nor denied this, just said, “I look forward to sparring with you,” to Sorey.
“Wow, really,” Sorey said, growing flustered, his cheeks tinged pink. “I dunno... I'm, uh, not exactly disciplined.”
“We'll see,” Felix replied coolly. “Your blade will speak for your skill.”
Sylvain's lips did a lopsided twist. “It's always swords and fighting with you, Felix,” he remarked.
“Hmph!” Felix glared daggers at him. “Would you prefer rather I lower myself to your level. Perhaps you'd be glad if I chased after girls like a pathetic dog.”
“Yes, actually,” Sylvain brazenly admitted. “I'd be very glad.”
“Shut up, you fool!” Felix hissed.
“I think I'm already decided,” Sorey finally said.
Dimitri's eyes lit up for a second. But they seemed to dim almost immediately, as he remembered there were two other houses with which his own had to contend.
“My two friends should be coming by too,” Sorey added as an aside.
“Oh! I think we met one of them!” Sylvain offered all too happily. “Light hair, pretty, soft eyes, a figure like delicate porcelain.”
“Oh! You must mean Alisha!”
“Ahhh, so you know her. Mind introducing us. All you gotta do is tell her I'm a great guy, and I can take over from there.”
Ingrid's mouth fell agape. She looked disgusted with him. “Honestly, have you no shame?”
“What?” He shrugged. “I just want to have a bit of fun. Nothing serious. Shouldn't cause any problems.”
She scoffed. The look on her face shifted from disgust to disbelief in seconds. “It always ends with a problem, Sylvain. And just like always, I'm going to be the one stuck cleaning up your mess.” She glowered at him.
At this point Dimitri interjected. “I truly feel awful. But I missed her before returning to class. Just seconds shy, it seems. But I hear from the others she's quite pleasant,” he claimed. “She seems like a perfect fit for our Blue Lions as well. But, well, I guess we can't have all three of you joining one house. That would hardly be fair to the others.”
“Oh, by the way,” Ashe cut it, eyes gone wide as he inched toward Sorey, “you wouldn't happen to like reading, would you?”
“Of course!” Sorey blurted in answer almost immediately.
Ashe, as well as Ingrid, was ecstatic to hear it. “Oh! I'm glad to hear it! You definitely strike me as an avid reader.”
“You like to read too?”
“Absolutely!” he cried. “There's nothing better than lying in bed, a good book in hand, candlelight flickering against the wall past curfew.”
“I know what you mean,” Sorey said. “The feel of the book in your hands. The sound of the leaflets turning as you move on to the next page.”
“Ah ha ha ha. There's nothing quite like it.”
And Ingrid interjected: “What books interest you, Sorey?”
“Well,” Sorey answered deftly, “history books. Books about mythology. Anything I can get my hands on really.”
“Have you ever read Loog and the Maiden of Wind?”
Sorey balked. No, he hadn't read that book. Hadn't even heard of it until now. Then again it only made sense. This world was very much different from his own — different art history, different literary history and renaissances. “I haven't. Is it something you would recommend?”
“Yes!” both Ashe and Ingrid cried in union.
Ingrid spoke on dreamily, “It's a wonderful story. I dare not regale you with more, lest I spoil it for you.”
And Ashe quickly added: “The Monastery library should have a copy. I'd first check there.”
“Noted,” Sorey responded with a definitive nod. “Loog and the Maiden of Wind. I have a feeling the library just may end up being my second home.”
“I'd certainly be glad to join you,” Ingrid said.
“As would I,” Ashe said after.
“Then,” Sorey said, resting the back of his hands on his hips, “we can start our very own book club.”
“Huh. A book club.” Ashe peered thoughtfully at the floor. “I like that.”
“Yeah,” Sorey went on, “and we can see if anyone else wants to join. There was another — Ignatz was his name; he looks like he likes to read. Maybe we can recruit him.”
Ingrid beamed. “You mean from the Golden Deer House? Yes. I think that is a great idea. Plus it'll boost our house's alliance with that of the Golden Deer and its respective territory, the Alliance.”
“Oh ho! Pleasure and practicality! That's way smart.”
The three of them carried on. Meanwhile Dimitri watched on, chuckling slightly to himself. “I can see you are going to fit in just fine here,” he said to himself.
Sorey felt kind of bad for having so much fun, especially when the Lord of Calamity was more than likely still at large in his own realm. A part of him felt like he was failing at his Shepherd duty. But he oughtn't think about such things. He had to focus on now. He was no longer in Glenwood, or anywhere near for that matter. This was one of those situations where he'd have to take a page out of Rose's book and just go with the flow.
He wasn't sure if there was a way for them to get back there anyway. To be sure, he couldn't even begin to explain how he ended up here — in Fodlan — in the first place. But some mechanism had to be the cause. An arte maybe? No. That couldn't be it. It was much too powerful than any arte he's ever heard of, even compared to those of the Age of Mythology and the Era of Asgard — when seraphic artes were taken to impossible feats. But this seemed to affect not only the past, but the present, and future. It was almost a kind of incomprehensible power enacted by some supreme divine entity, one holding enough authority to command even the presence of Maotelus — Laphicet in this case — an actual Empyrean, a god in his own right.
Could it be... But no, it couldn't. Yet Sorey thought, maybe the Earthpulse... No, that's crazy. That can't be it. But could it be it? All Sorey could do for now, despite the unanswered questions gnawing at his thoughts, was look forward to a proper schooling experience. He was very excited about it.