Chapter Text
Nudging Arrow forward, Ashe rode into the enormous shadow cast by the innermost wall of Garreg Mach Monastery. He shivered as it engulfed him. The weak light from the setting sun was the only thing lifting the chill from the early spring air, and without it the air was noticeably more bitter. He clucked to the mare, saddle bags thumping as she picked up a light trot, heading for the gate.
Behind him, he heard his two guards urge their mounts to follow. They weren't quite the extravagant escort most of the students attending the Officer's Academy would arrive with, but he was grateful for their presence nonetheless. The road along the southern border was growing more and more unstable, it had been ever since the plague that had claimed his parents, and he would not want to have travelled all this way alone.
"Ho! Who goes there?" one of the guards at the gate called, stepping away from her post to approach Ashe and his escort.
He dismounted, taking Arrow's reins in one hand as he used the other to execute a polite bow. "A-Ashe. Ashe Ubert, of Gaspard," he said hurriedly, only fumbling over his words a little. "I-I'm uh, here for the Academy?"
“Which one?" she asked, glancing back to his escort.
“Oh, um, the Officer's Academy," he filled in quickly.
The guardswoman nodded. "Papers?"
He quickly plucked them from where he had them safely tucked in the front pocket of his jacket, handing them to her. She skimmed the papers, looking slightly bored honestly, and then passed them back. "Looks good. Go on in. You're looking for Seteth; he can get you settled."
Ashe took the papers back, fumbling slightly as he returned them to his pocket, and bowed. "Th-thank you very much!"
The guardswoman returned his smile, waving him through. "Go on. Hope you enjoy it here."
"You too! Uh, well, I mean—“ Blushing, he bit his lip. "H-have a...nice day?"
She was laughing openly now, but despite his slight embarrassment, Ashe could only smile. She was smiling genuinely, and that made him feel good. He went as she waved him in, his two guards tailing him, leading their own mounts.
The soft thump of the horses' shod feet picked up to a steady click as they passed from under the shadow of the wall and hit the cobblestones within. The noise and smells of the marketplace instantly consumed them, making Arrow pull back against his hold. With a gentle tug and a soft word, he got her moving again. Commerce bustled, with hawkers crying their wares and shoppers haggling, and over it all, the scent of smoke and sound of clanging metal told him a blacksmith was not far off.
As they proceeded, the scent of oily smoke faded and was replaced by a few whiffs of good cooking. His stomach rumbled, reminding him of the long day they had pulled to make it before sunset. He stopped, casting about for the source of the scent.
"New student?"
Ashe jumped at being suddenly addressed, turning sharply to find a young man, probably a fellow student, watching him with folded arms and a playful smirk. His brown hair was mussed, and green eyes twinkled mischievously. Ashe blushed at the attention, quickly looking away.
"Oh, uh, was it that obvious?" he asked, looking back up at the stranger's face with a nervous smile.
"Crushingly," the newcomer confirmed, winking at him for some reason. "Stables are off to the right. Kitchen and mess hall are to the left."
"Oh, um," Ashe said, gratefully glancing to the left. His stomach rumbled again.
"You can head there if you want," the stranger said, following his gaze, "but I'm gonna guess they won't let you in with those." He gestured to Arrow and the other two horses.
Flustered, Ashe looked away. "Right, uh. I better." He gestured to the right.
"By all means. Safe travels," the stranger said, grinning. With that, he wandered off. Without even introducing himself, Ashe noted. Well, maybe they would meet up again.
Glancing back at his two minders, Ashe nodded and headed for the stables. He'd get the horses settled, then they could find a meal. Then he would look for this Seteth.
~
Ashe's first full day at Garreg Mach dawned considerably warmer than the day before. He opted to leave his jacket behind, setting out in his shirt-sleeves to appreciate the budding warmth. After a quick breakfast, one he found his way to without getting lost, he saw off the House Gaspard guardsmen who had escorted him to the monastery.
He then found himself with some free time. Despite the warmer air and strong sunlight, it was still noticeably chillier than it would be later in the day. That made it a good time to train, which was likely as good a way as any to meet some of his classmates. Seteth had given him a short tour the previous evening, which had included the location of the students' training grounds, so making a quick, mental map, he set off to find them.
It was fairly late in the morning when he arrived, and quite a few other students seemed to have the same idea as him. A few of them were sparring across the grounds, but most seemed to be preoccupied with what looked to be a match in the centre of the sand pit. Curious, he inched in to take a closer look.
Two young men, perhaps a bit older than him, were sparring with practise swords. It was an impressive match. Both were clearly skilled, but it did not take an expert eye to see that the dark-haired young man had an edge over the blond.
"C'mon, Dimitri, stop letting him push you around!"
Ashe turned, startled, to the redhead next to him. "D-Dimitri? As in…?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess. That's—hey! Cheap shot, Felix!" the redhead yelled, laughing.
Sensing an end to the one-sided conversation, Ashe quickly backed off. He didn't want to loiter staring at Dimitri—Prince Dimitri. That would be improper. Maybe he would get to meet the prince formally while at the school, but he wasn't about to intrude on what was clearly a match between friends. Noblemen, even.
He turned instead to the racks of weapons stored under the catwalk. It took him a minute to find the bows, but when he did, he stopped, eyeing them until he found one of the appropriate size and draw for himself. Taking an empty quiver, he stopped by a barrel of practise arrows, picking through it to find a few of the proper length for his bow.
Satisfied, he fished his glove from his pocket and pulled it on as he walked. The shooting range was set off to the side, away from the sparring grounds for the sake of safety. A few others were there, the straw bales that made up the targets peppered with shots—some better than others—so Ashe chose an empty slot towards the end and took up his stance.
He leaned his quiver against his right leg and selected his first arrow. The tip was blunted, so it would do little more than leave a nasty bruise if he accidentally hit anyone. The straw bales were loose enough that the shot could still lodge into them, however, so he could track his hits. Each bale had a target painted on it, and his goal was to keep every shot within the outer line. Feasible, if not terribly impressive for some.
Nocking the arrow, he lifted his bow and drew, fletching to ear—
—and jumped as a sudden cheer went up from the crowd watching the sparring match. Ashe’s shot went wide of the target, digging into the ground just passed it. He hissed in pain as the string caught him hard on the inside of his right elbow. What a day to leave behind the extra padding of his jacket...
Lowering his bow, he set one end on the ground and caught the other in his left elbow so he could free his hand to check his wounded arm. He winced as he looked down at the reddened skin. Yes, that would be quite the bruise.
"Nice shot. Next time, though, try to hit the target."
Ashe looked up as the young man from the day before strode up, arrow in hand. With a playful smile, he stooped to pick up Ashe's quiver and slid the arrow back inside.
"Oh, uh, thanks. I could have gotten that—“
The stranger shrugged. "Too late. Now—oh, string burn.” He grimaced. “You can add try not to hit yourself to my list of helpful advice."
Ashe chuckled weakly, blushing. "Thank you, I'll, uh, take that to heart."
“Good to hear. Hate to see you do the enemies' work for them."
Ashe found himself staring. Had he—had he just—
“Uh, yeah. Too far?" the stranger winced. “Definitely too far. Sorry," he thrust out a hand. “Claude. Nice to meet you…”
Ashe laughed at that, then cut off sharply. "Oh, sorry, my name is Ashe!" he said brightly, taking the offered hand.
"Nice to meet you, Ashe." Claude replied.
"Likewise," he said, smiling. "And, uh, thank you."
Claude shrugged. "I think you already said that.”
"I mean for yesterday. I never got to say it, and you were a really big help. I was, uh, really lost," he admitted.
"Oh, that's right.” Claude dropped his fist into his waiting palm, looking thoughtful. “You tried to bring your horse to supper."
Ashe blushed. "I-I wasn't—I wouldn't—“
Claude laughed. "Relax, your horse wouldn't have fit through the door anyway."
She definitely would, but Ashe recognised an out when it was shoved in his face. "Uh, r-right."
"Here," Claude said, unshouldering a bow Ashe hadn't noticed before now, "mind if I take a shot?”
Ashe bent to pick up his fallen quiver and attach it to his belt. Then he stepped back to give Claude space. "Right. Go ahead."
Claude dropped his quiver from his shoulder and hooked it to his own belt. Then he took his time selecting his arrow.
Ashe shifted, shouldering his own bow as he watched. Claude went through each of his arrows, musing over the fletching, then the straightness, then the tips—and oh those weren't practise arrows.
Ashe cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. He felt awkward staring.
"Trouble, Ashe?"
"Uh, oh, no." He looked away, stilling his impatient shifting. "Sorry."
At last, Claude selected a shaft, straightening to grin at Ashe with a wink. "Too easy."
Huh?
Ashe didn't get the chance to ask about that, as Claude immediately drew, took aim, and shot. The shaft hit just left of the centre.
"See? Easy," Claude said.
"That was a really good shot!" Ashe praised enthusiastically, Claude's odd behaviour forgotten.
"You try," Claude said, gesturing.
"Wha—“
"I'm sure you can hit more than the floor. Oh, and yourself."
Ashe blushed, immediately reaching for an arrow. "O-of course."
Taking an arrow, he took his stance, drew, and fired. His shot struck several inches to the right of Claude's.
"Not bad," Claude said. "Let's go again."
"U-uh, wait. Um. You're uh, those are real arrows," Ashe said. "You know, just in case? Uh."
Claude nodded along. Then he gestured Ashe in closer. Confused, he leaned in. "They fly straighter."
Ashe backed off. "...oh. Well, okay?" That might be true, but it didn't seem worth the risk to him.
Shaking his head, Claude laughed as he headed towards the barrel of practise arrows. "Relax, I can get other ones."
"Oh, okay. Um. Thank you!" Ashe called after him.
While Claude rearmed with appropriate shafts, Ashe went and retrieved their first shots, sliding his own back into his quiver along with Claude's. Thankfully, Claude spent considerably less time on picking his new arrows than he had on his single shot, and he was back within a couple of minutes, a new quiver in tow.
"Better?" he asked with a playful smirk.
"Uh, yes! Thank you," Ashe said again.
"Next shot," Claude said, grabbing a second arrow. Ashe stepped aside while he took it, this time landing a few centimetres below the bullseye.
Ashe followed up with his own shot, landing just inside the middle ring. Overall, both of his shots had been pretty good, and Ashe smiled as he went to fetch their arrows.
"Oh, Claude, are you here to practise, too?"
Ashe grabbed the arrows and turned at the new voice. A thin, lanky boy, also totting a bow, was speaking to Claude
"Ignatz! You know me, can't get enough of throwing things away. You here to practise?"
"I was. Mind if I watch?" Ignatz asked.
"Watch? Come shoot, too. Hey, Ashe! Mind if Ignatz joins us?" Claude called to him.
"Oh uh, no! Of course not. Nice to meet you, Ignatz! I'm Ashe," he said brightly. Ignatz looked nice. He had a kind eye, and he was on the shorter, lanky side, like Ashe himself.
"It's good to meet you too, Ashe. Are you here for the Officer's Academy, or the Military Academy?"
"Officer's,” he answered. Most commoners went to the military school, and it was where Ashe had always expected to go. He would be forever grateful to Lonato for sending him to the officers' school instead. “I just arrived last night," he confirmed, returning Ignatz' friendly smile. "It's, um."
"Big?" Ignatz supplied.
"Ostentatious?" Claude added.
Ashe chuckled. "Definitely. To both," he agreed.
"If you need someone to show you around, just let me know. I'd be happy to give you the tour," Ignatz offered. “It took me a few days to get used to the layout."
"I'd appreciate that," Ashe replied. "I uh, really only know how to get to the dorms and mess hall."
“Hey, you made it the training grounds," Claude chimed in. “And the stables, I assume. Since your horse wasn't at breakfast.”
Before Ashe could rise to the teasing, Ignatz cut in, "Would you like to wander around this afternoon? There are some really nice places to check out.”
"That sounds fun. Shall we go after lunch?" Ashe asked.
"Sure! Want to have lunch with us? I can introduce you to my friends,” Ignatz asked, definite enthusiasm in his tone.
"Sounds good to me. Thanks, Ignatz." It felt…nice to be so readily included. He'd been a little worried he'd have trouble making friends, especially with most of the other students being nobles, but that wasn't proving to be the case at all.
"Just as long as you both don't wind up lost," Claude pitched in.
"I'm sure it'll be fine," Ashe assured him.
Claude shook his head. "Maybe I'll tag along."
"Sure, Claude!" Ashe said. "We'd appreciate the company."
Claude blinked, but didn't immediately respond before Ignatz cut in, "So, whose turn is it?”
"Yours, if you want it," Claude offered.
Ignatz, as it turned out, did want it…and he was an incredible shot. His first arrow missed the centre by millimetres, and his subsequent shots were just as amazing. By the time he'd caught up to them in number of shots, he would have been far ahead—if they were keeping score.
"You're both really good," Ashe praised, "I wish I could shoot like you guys."
“Start by not hitting yourself,” Claude quipped.
Ashe felt his face heat at the playful heckling. "U-uh, right."
"Oh, be nice, Claude. Like you've never had string burn before," Ignatz said, noticeably glancing to the red mark on Ashe's inner elbow.
"Touché, Ignatz. Well, Ashe, if you'd like some pointers, we could meet up another day."
"I'd appreciate that, Claude," he said earnestly. "I can't wait to learn."
~
"You shoot really well, Ignatz!" Ashe praised. They had finished up their friendly competition when everyone agreed it was time for lunch. With rumbling stomachs, they headed to the dining hall.
"Thanks, Ashe! Your form is really good. I wish my stance was as good as yours."
"Don't sell yourself short, Ignatz! I think it's good. It's mine that could use some work."
"You really think so?” Ignatz asked earnestly.
"You'd never get such good aim if it wasn't,” Ashe replied.
Walking behind them, Claude just chuckled. Those two were truly a match blessed by some Fòdlan saint or another—if he believed in such things, anyway. Well, it was good to know that he had two training buddies, already.
"So, Ashe," Claude said, butting in on their compliment-competition, what class are you in?"
"Oh um, the Blue Lions, I think it's called?" Ashe replied.
"Oh, you're from Faerghus?" Claude pressed.
"That's right. Gaspard." Claude filed that away for later. "What about, uh..."
"We're both in the Golden Deer," Ignatz supplied.
"Oh, that's—“ Ashe began.
"Alliance," Claude said.
"Oh, I've never been. Is it nice there?" Ashe asked curiously.
"I think so," Ignatz replied. "My parents are travelling merchants, so I've been around a lot of it. What's Faerghus like? I hear you get a lot of snow. Is it as pretty as they say it is?
"It's a bit warmer where I'm from, so we don't get as much snow. But it's really pretty when it's fresh." Ashe said that with such an open, honest smiled. He was a pretty genuine guy, Claude decided. Hard not to appreciate that, naïve though it was.
He shouldered the door open, and held it for the other two.
"Oh!” Ignatz called almost immediately, waving towards a table near the entrance. "Raphael!"
Claude had only met Raphael briefly the previous day, but he was hard not to recognise with how he towered over the other students in the dining hall.
"Ignatz!" Raphael called back, standing to wave. "Come meet my new friends!"
Claude and Ashe followed him to the table. It wasn't where Claude would normally prefer to sit, but there was no avoiding it without raising questions. He would just have to be vigilant. Raphael was seated with two young women he had not yet met. Ignatz slid in next to his friend, and Ashe took the seat next to him. On a whim, Claude took the spot next to Ashe, across from the two girls.
"Nice to see you again, Raphael. Who’re your friends?" Claude asked.
"I'm Annette!" the energetic redhead said with a beaming smile. "And this is my best friend, Mercedes."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," the other young woman said with a polite smile.
"Yeah! And Mercedes is a great cook! You should try her cookies!" Raphael said, with great enthusiasm.
"Here you go,” Annette said, pushing a plate further down the table. "Mercie's cookies are amazing!"
"They look really good," Ashe said, eyeing the cookies with a look that could only be described as hungry.
"Have some!" Annette said brightly.
"Thank you, Annette," he said, taking one, "I'm Ashe by the way."
"And this is Ignatz, and that's Claude!" Raphael boomed, pointing to each of them in turn.
"Nice to meet you Annette, Mercedes," Ignatz said, "and thanks for the cookies. These are amazing!"
"They are!" Ashe gushed. "I'd love to get the recipe from you, Mercedes. If uh, that's okay."
Mercedes leaned over the table, looking towards Ashe. "I'd be happy to share. Do you like to bake?"
"I do,” Ashe replied. “My father used to own a restaurant.” Claude was not imagining the slight hitch in his posture, one he covered by turning to shove the plate towards Claude. "Try one, Claude."
Claude hesitated, then took one. He could have a cookie. Everyone else was eating them. He took a bite and offered Mercedes a grateful smile. "These are great. Just what we need after a hard morning of shooting."
"Are you all archers?" Raphael asked.
"That's right. I met up with Claude and Ashe on the shooting range," Ignatz said.
"Righto," Claude confirmed. "Ig kicked our butts."
"Really? Great job, Ignatz!" Raphael praised, laughing as he slapped his friend on the back. Poor Ignatz nearly choked. "Always knew you could do it!"
Claude met Ashe's eye as the latter glanced back at him with a beaming smile. "You want to shoot together again tomorrow? I uh, really appreciated your help today."
Claude met his grin with an easy smile. "Sure, Ashe. Looking forward to it."
~
Two days later they had their first class assembly. The cathedral was large, Claude noted, as he waited with Dimitri and Edelgard in the front row of pews. Behind them, the seats were packed with the entire class of both this year's Officer's Academy and the less formal Military Academy. Claude had met most of his Deer already, and if he turned and strained his neck, he could see them seated together on the right side of cathedral, about halfway up.
Directly behind him were the Black Eagles. Claude could not have missed the heated argument Ferdiand was having with Caspar had he wanted to—and he very much wanted to. It wasn't even a topic worth eavesdropping on—Ferdinand did not care for how Caspar was wearing his uniform. Nothing usable, there.
To his right, Edelgard sighed. It seemed she was also aware of the conversation behind them.
Dimitri, seated to Claude's left, leaned over to offer a sympathetic smile. His Blue Lions were at the front of the right aisle, and unlike the Eagles—and the Deer, honestly. They weren't close enough to hear, but Claude just knew they were running their mouths—they were mostly quiet. Though, as he watched he spotted Ingrid elbow Sylvain. It seemed they all had their problems.
He looked up as Lady Rhea's heels clicked across the stone floor. She was as regal as ever in her Archbishop's garb, and she carried herself with the air of one accustomed to getting her way. It was an air Claude was well acquainted with. He wondered, idly, what a confrontation between her and his mother would look like. He'd pay money to see that—and while he wasn't a gambling man, he'd bet on his mother.
At her side was her aide, Seteth. He was a man Claude struggled to get a read on. Rhea was easy; she was married to her power, but Seteth...he wasn't. Claude intended to keep an eye on him until he could ascertain the man's motives, and likely beyond. One could never be too careful when one was as attached to their head as Claude.
"Okay, okay, settle down," Seteth said loudly, speaking over the cacophony of the room. Slinging his arm over the back of the pew, Claude crossed his legs and leaned back. The image of casual interest. Once the noise died down, Seteth continued, "Allow me to formally welcome you all to Garreg Mach."
"And I as well," Rhea said, stepping forward. Her hands were folded within the long sleeves of her robe. Claude wondered, idly, what she had hidden up there. He'd go for a knife, personally. "Welcome! We are most pleased to welcome you all to Garreg Mach Monastery."
"Indeed," Seteth said, picking up for her. Claude imagined he did that a lot. "We hope you all have an enjoyable and educational year with us." So did Claude. "In order to ensure the best experience for everyone, we ask that you all treat one another as equals, regardless of your varying social standings. Bullying of any form will not be tolerated.” He paused for effect, letting the words sink in. This was a man used to addressing teenagers.
"With that out of the way, I would like to take this opportunity to go over our plans for the next year. If you have need of anything, please, see myself or any member of the faculty. We are here to ensure you have a safe and positive experience."
The speech droned on, and Claude found his mind and gaze wandering. The students were all watching in respectful silence, even his own Deer—for once. Small miracles did happen, it seemed.
Claude was not so distracted that he missed Seteth shifting his attention to them. At a beckoning gesture from Seteth, he stood and followed Edelgard to the front, Dimitri close on his heels. Together, they stopped alongside Seteth and turned to face the assembled students.
"Allow me to introduce you to this year's House Leaders. This year’s Adrestian class, the Black Eagles, will be led by your very own Edelgard von Hresvelg."
Edelgard, formal as always, stepped forward and bowed shortly. "It is a pleasure to meet you all. I look forward to working together."
"Thank you, Edelgard. Claude," Claude stepped forward, “will lead the Golden Deer House, the house for students from the Leicester Alliance.”
Claude let an easy smile slide across his face. "Claude von Riegan. Nice to meetcha," he said, throwing a mock salute. "Seems like I'll be leading the Golden Deer this year. Try not to be too disappointed." As was the goal, his words were greeted with a few quiet chuckles. He ignored Edelgard's quite huff as he stepped back and gave the floor to Dimitri as Seteth waved him forward.
"I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. I have the honour of heading the Blue Lions this year. I hope we can all get along."
Such formality. Claude might know a few things about being nobility, but he also knew how to get down in the dirt with the troops. It was going to be an interesting year.
As they headed back to their seats in the front pew, Claude glanced towards his Deer, and as he did so, his gaze passed over the Lions, and he paused as his gaze met Ashe's. He let his lips curl up in a friendly smile, but it wasn't returned. Ashe dropped his gaze entirely, in fact. Interesting.
Next up, Seteth bid forward their teachers, who were seated at the front, behind himself and Rhea and alongside several other faculty members. It was two men and a woman who stood and approached him. Claude had seen them around, he'd learned names and faces, but he didn't know who was leading which class. That announcement had not been made, yet.
“I would like to introduce you all to our faculty. First, the teachers for each class. The Blue Lions will be led by our own Professor Hanneman von Essar.”
The older man stepped forward, offering a short bow. “I specialise in reason and archery, and am at the forefront of Crest research. I look forward to working with you all.”
Archery, huh? Too bad.
“Manuela Casagranda will lead the Black Eagle House," Seteth said next, as she stepped forward.
“Pleasure, I'm sure. I specialise in swords and faith. I also oversee the academy's infirmary, goddess send none of you spend too much time there," she said.
“And lastly, we have Professor Emanuel Sanders leading the Golden Deer House.” Seteth waved him forward.
Claude's eyes narrowed as the professor, a lean man with dark hair just beginning to be flecked with grey, stepped forward. He was wiry, but Claude sensed a strength to those thin arms. “Pleased to meet you all. Please, call me Sanders. I'm mostly a jack of all trades, so to speak. Happy to help wherever I can."
The rest of the introductions droned on: Tomas from the library, Jeritza who oversaw weapons instruction, Dale from the mess hall. People, faces, roles. Claude filed it all away. A guy never knew what might come in handy one day.
~
There was going to be a mock battle in a week, but before that, they were to head out for some field training as a school. It seemed like a good idea to Claude, who was more than happy to get a read on how the other classes handled themselves before the training battle.
Many of the students were...inexperienced did not even begin to cover it. In his own class alone, Lorenz made a strong case for hasn't been outside a day in his life. Meanwhile Leonie, who had probably been born in a tree, worked with a skillful precision that impressed even him. However, Claude doubted she had ever pointed a weapon at a person before. Ignatz was kind, possibly too kind, for he seemed to lack a killing bone in his body. Meanwhile, the word stealth did not seem to exist in Raphael's vocabulary. Marianne looked like she just wanted to crawl under a rock, and Lysithea...well, Lysithea was going to be a force to reckoned with no matter the situation. Some real combat training and he would never want to be on her bad side. And then there was Hilda. Claude looked forward to seeing what she could do, even if she, herself, did not.
The rest of the school was its own beast, as well. Claude had not yet gotten to really meet too many of the other class' students, but he was sure they all had their own issues. The Lions was definitely packed with students who had seen real battle before, but then there were those, like Ashe and Annette, who Claude worried may not have what it took to make it out there. They'd be a weak point on the battlefield. He did not know if that mattered, given his own class' inexperience. (And maybe he was getting a touch ahead of himself.) Dimitri and his close friends might be enough manpower to carry the others, anyway.
As for the Eagles, well, they were an...interesting bunch of primarily pampered nobles. While Claude did not doubt that that meant that most of them had at least some training, he wondered at their ability to work together. Linhardt had no interest in working, if it did not suit him, meanwhile Dorothea seemed to struggle with trusting a lot of her class. Edelgard and Hubert certainly got on with one another, but Ferdinand was determined to sabotage them at every opportunity. He could use that.
Claude vowed to use the next week to plan his strategy for the battle, and did he ever have a lot of work to do. His main priority was to assess his own classmates' abilities, but he did not know how many chances he would have to truly observe the other classes. The best way to do that? Familiarise himself with Edelgard and Dimitri.
With that in mind, he was an enthusiastic supporter of heading out for some fieldwork. They left early in the morning just two days after the assembly, weapons in hand and teachers anxiously tailing them. Claude spent the march wandering about and chatting with the other classes’ students. Or, trying to, at least.
When he slid into the Lions' ranks, Ashe, of all people, fell towards the back, putting distance between them. Odd. Very odd. He tried not to take it personally when Annette and Mercedes joined him, riding to each side of him and chatting with him. Claude opted not to push it. He'd been pushed out enough in his life. No need to be bothered—at least Ashe probably wasn't gonna knife him in the back.
He spoke with Dimitri and his friends for a while, then ducked out to ride with the Eagles until lunch. They were a fun bunch who were more than happy to gossip, loudly, about one another. He learned a lot, none of it seemingly useful, in a fairly short frame of time.
Well, if he ever needed to use Caspar's pineapple allergy for anything, he had the option, now.
"I think we should get in some training," Claude announced that afternoon, just as they finished lunch.
"Surely you must be joking, Claude," Dimitri said with a small frown.
Around them, the rest of the class was hard at work cleaning up from their meal. Claude paid them no mind, tucking his arms behind his head and shifting his weight back onto one foot. "'Fraid not," he said easily. “Figured we can all use the exercise."
"We've been in the field all day," Dimitri countered.
"Doesn't count if the horse does all the work," he replied with a cheeky wink.
"Well, loathe as I am to agree with you, Claude, I think it's a good idea," Edelgard said, chiming in at last. "This is an ideal opportunity to assess our own skills and work on team building. I can ask Professor Manuela—“
"No need," Claude said. "Asked Teach already. He's down to come along."
"I would not want to trouble him," Edelgard said after the barest moment's hesitation. "Surely Professor Manuela—“
Odd. Why was she resisting? Claude didn't have an answer to that, but he wanted one. Manuela was the only experienced healer among them. Perhaps that was it? Did she fear one of them getting hurt? That seemed to be a plausible explanation, but Claude knew better than to place all his eggs in the same basket.
He waved a hand. "Teach is already waiting. Come on," he said, turning and walking away before she could press the argument. Thankfully, she took the loss and followed only a moment after Dimitri, who, with a small shrug, turned to follow them.
Professor Sanders was waiting at the camp's perimeter, next to the supply tent, hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sheathed sword and a heavy bundle at his feet. He straightened as they approached, offering a bright smile. "You kids ready?"
"Sure am," Claude replied lightly.
"I...suppose," Edelgard said stiffly. Honestly, did she ever loosen up?
"Yes, thank you for agreeing to accompany us." Okay, forget her. Did Dimitri ever loosen up? They both needed to learn to be more approachable if they wanted to make good leaders one day.
At least, by his book they did.
"Great," Claude said. Unslinging his bow from his shoulder, he marched out ahead, "then let's go."
"We passed a favourable spot a ways back," Edelgard said, taking the lead. "In truth, I had considered taking my own class in the morning."
Good enough for Claude. He switched directions, letting her lead them back a few kilometres from their campsite. They had chosen a location next to a small brook to make camp, and the spot Edelgard took them too had what was likely the same body of water running down from a small hill, dropping a couple of feet in a tiny waterfall. Rocks and tree roots littered the bank, and the far bank rose a couple of feet above water level.
Tall, thick trees were scattered throughout the area, limiting undergrowth vegetation and leaving an open space to work on footwork without getting entangled in too many ferns. Yes, he could definitely work with this.
"An excellent choice, Edelgard," Sanders said, studying the area with the same critical eye Claude had. "I want the three of you to focus on footwork. You will not always have the luxury of fighting in a sandpit." Dropping the bundle he had slung over his shoulder, he ripped it open and pulled out two practise swords. He tossed one to Dimitri and hefted the second. "Ward my blows while trying not to trip."
Perfect. Plopping himself down on a rock, Claude folded his legs under himself and watched the two spare. Sanders was good, stepping lightly over rocks and roots while keeping up a steady, though not overwhelming, stream of blows at Dimitri's weapon.
Dimitri, however, was also good. Claude knew he wasn't inexperienced, but it seemed he had some skill outside of the practise yard, as well. Well, that was good to know. He was not, however, the most versed in the sword. It would be interesting to see how he handled himself with a weapon he was more skilled with. He was also utterly fearless, enough so to be called a tad reckless. Claude could definitely use that.
After the third time Dimitri was knocked on his ass, Sanders nodded and bent to help him up. "Take a break. Edelgard, you're up."
"Good luck," Claude said with a fake grimace. "That looked rough."
She huffed, taking the weapon from Dimitri and hefting it. She fared worse than he had, hitting her ass twice in the first two minutes. Claude watched keenly. She remained impervious, despite the setbacks, and approached each challenge with a steely gaze and impressive determination. She might not have Dimitri’s raw experience, but she had more backbone. There was no doubt of that. She would not be the sort to back down.
When it was his turn, Claude stood and stretched, grimacing as Edelgard handed him the training sword. It wasn't entirely faked. He intended to do a great deal more poorly at this than he was capable of.
Hefting the bundle of bound reeds that made up the weapon, he parried Sanders’ first strike, then let himself be pushed into a retreat, making a show of watching his footing to the detriment of his swordplay—and wouldn't Nader have something to say if he could see this display? It was a good thing he wasn't here, then.
He let Sanders trip him, wincing genuinely as he landed hard on his rump. Rolling to his knees, he kicked out with one leg, forcing Sanders to back off and giving him space to push himself up. That move might not have worked in a real match, but for this training session it did, and Claude quickly flowed back to his feet, shaking out his wrist and readying his weapon.
They continued for a time, with Claude letting Sanders trip him up, before coming back strong, getting a little better each time, lasting a little longer.
He felt genuine relief when Sanders lowered his sword with a nod. Panting, Claude settled back on his rock, laying the practise sword across his knees. To his left, Edelgard leaned against a tree, arms folded across her chest, while Dimitri slouched on an old stump just in front of them. Together, they all turned their attention to their instructor.
"You did well, for your first time," Sanders said, "all of you. You could also all use some training. Two of you pair off, and someone with me. Let's work on footwork."
Edelgard's fighting spirit was unmatched. She was stubborn and stalwart and determined. People like that had the fatal flaw that they would fight long passed when they should have retreated. Personally, Claude was a fan of living to fight another day.
In contrast, Dimitri was reckless, relying on his own raw power to best his opponent. That had its own issues, of course, because with just a little bit of planning, he would not be hard to work around—at least, not with the right tools. Furthermore, there was a spark of temper in him that Claude might not have suspected upon their first meeting. He wondered if he could bait it out.
Hefting his weapon, Claude hopped to his feet and nodded to the bundle of training swords. "Well, Your Royal Princeliness," he smiled, "shall we dance?"
Dimitri met him head-on, practise sword whistling through the air and hitting Claude's hard enough to make his hand tingle. Fun. This was going to be fun (not). He hopped back to avoid a second blow, smiling playfully. “That all you got? I thought a real prince would have better training than that."
“Hardly, Claude,” Dimitri said lightly, covering Claude's retreat with a few quick steps and a low sweep of the weapon, knocking back Claude's effort to trop him up, “I just have no wish to harm you."
Claude let himself laugh openly, dancing back and hopping up a nearby rock. He used the height to thrust down at Dimitri, but was easily parried. “You'd have to hit me, first.”
They played back and forth, exchanging light taunts and harder blows. To Claude's slight frustration, his goading wasn't working at all. It was useful information, if nothing else, but not the good kind. Sweaty and with aching arms, he backed away.
"Claude!"
After all of his taunting, Claude perhaps could have been forgiven for assuming this was a ploy to throw him off, but something in Dimitri's eyes warned him off of it. He shifted from his retreat and darted to the side, placing a tree at his back and jumping as an arrow whizzed through the space he had just vacated and was stopped as it slammed into a tree.
His heart made a flying leap into his throat. Gods, that—
Survival instincts kicked in, and he turned to spot the would-be sniper dropping his bow and hefting an axe to charge forward. He wasn't alone. Claude had spotted at least two others behind him, and his ears told him the tale of a far more deadly situation still.
"Kids, run!"
Claude started as his professor raced passed, his training sword already swapped out for a real blade. By all the spirits of the earth—
Claude took his advice. Dropping his own reed sword, he placed a hand on the hilt of his real sword and turned and ran, snatching his bow and quiver as he did so. Follow the water and he'd get back to camp. That had to be the plan.
He did not stop to wait for Edelgard and Dimitri. Neither of them had the experience necessary to move through the forest like he could, and waiting could get him killed. He bounded lightly over roots and ducked around trees to prevent line-of-sight from their would-be attackers, doing his best to keep well ahead. The others could get themselves out—or not. It wasn't his job to protect them.
The sounds of combat faded into the distance as he ran, but not the sounds of pursuit. Dammit. Ducking behind a tree, a wrenched an arrow from his quiver with steady hands and drew, listening.
"Claude!"
He slackened the bowstring and stepped out. They'd followed him. Why—of course. He did not stop to talk, or argue, only turning and fleeing, following the brook.
"Wait, Claude! That village we passed earlier—“ Edelgard shouted after him.
He weighed their odds. The three of them—honestly why could they not have gone another way? The attackers had to be after one of their highnesses because nobody here even knew who he was. But now he was stuck with them, so he had to consider the best way to save them all. Camp was a ways away, and if the village was closer… Well, villages had militia of some sort, especially out here in the wilds. Unfortunately, he did not remember the way, but Edelgard seemed to. She had led the way to the training site without a hitch.
"Lead the way," he relented, odds weighed.
With some reluctance he left the brook, and its certainty, and followed Edelgard into the forest.
~
The house leaders didn't return for supper. A knot of dread settled itself firmly in Ashe's middle as he watched Alois round up almost all of the knights they had brought and head out into the forest. The camp was, unsurprisingly, in something of an uproar. Half of Ashe's classmates were trying to rush off to find his highness—and Ashe did not blame them. While he did not know them especially well, he knew most of them were at least close to the prince—and the rest of them were still painfully worried. Dimitri was their future king.
...even he wanted to go, and he barely knew his highness at all. As a loyal subject, and future knight of Faerghus, it was his solemn duty to protect the royal family. They had been strictly forbidden from leaving, however, and he would respect that. No matter how difficult it was to watch others ride away in defence of his future king.
"Oooooh, I'm so worried." Ashe perked up at the sound of the familiar voice. "Mercie, what are we going to do?”
Ashe had been half-heartedly trying to wash up from supper when Annette's voice reached his ears. He did not think twice about setting down the plate he was scrubbing and, wiping off his hands, following the sound of her voice to find her and Mercedes loitering awkwardly next to the lump of canvas and posts that would eventually become their tents.
"We will ask the Goddess for their safe return," Mercedes answered calmly. "Would you like to come pray with me, Annie?"
"Oh, oh yes," Annette replied hurriedly. She looked jittery, much like how Ashe himself felt. Mercedes, however, looked calm, steady. He found himself instantly taking comfort from her demeanour. "Will you—oh! Ashe!"
Mercedes turned to see him, and he offered both women a small smile. "Ashe, would you like to join us?"
"Uh, um..." he hesitated, "can, uh, can I?"
He felt some of the tension bleed out as she held out a hand to him. He reached out and took it, letting her pull him in towards them. He did not protest when she did not immediately release his hand, and instead offered him a comforting squeeze. Mercedes' other hand was already occupied with Annette's, and she reached over with her free hand to take Ashe's other, forming a small circle.
Mercedes closed her eyes, and Ashe quickly followed suit, bowing his head.
"Um..."
Ashe jumped, heading snapping up, and turned to see an abashed-looking Ignatz. Behind him, eyes glued to the ground, was a pretty young woman with blue hair. Ashe thought he had seen her around the monastery a few times, but he had not introduced himself.
"Would you like to join us, Ignatz? Marianne?" Mercedes asked kindly.
"U-uh. If that's okay?" Ignatz said.
"...if it's not too much trouble," Marianne said, voice low.
Ashe released Mercedes' hand and turned to gesture for them to come. Ignatz hurried over, slipping his hand into Ashe's. After a moment, Marianne settled in between Ignatz and Mercedes.
"Shall I—“
“Excuse me?"
"Oh, hello Ingrid," Mercedes said, patient as ever. "And Sylvain as well. Oh! And you too, Dedue. Are you here to join us as well?"
"You're asking for the goddess' protection over his highness, aren't you?" Ingrid asked.
"That's right," Annette replied quickly. "The more the merrier."
From there, it grew. A number of students that did not seem particularly religious to Ashe joined them as well, and maybe they were just seeking comfort. It was scary, not knowing where their house leaders were. Though most of them did not know one another well, or their particular leaders for that matter, it was a relief to take comfort in one another's presence.
Once Mercedes had said a lengthy prayer, they settled down around the fire. They weren't a terribly talkative group, but Ashe didn't really mind. The prince was missing. He was scared. They were all scared. Hubert, though had not joined them and was loitering nearby, looked ready to bite through nails—and not the ones on one's fingers.
One interesting thing, he noted, was that while everyone on their side was upset, and a number of the Black Eagles also looked concerned for their princess...Claude's—that was, Lord von Riegan's—class...well, there was something Ashe could not put his finger on. It was like, well...well, Dedue and the others were the prince's friends, and Hubert and others were friends with the princess...but aside from general concern over his absence...did Claude have any real friends amongst his class?
Ashe felt a pang of...something not good as that thought crossed his mind. But it wasn't proper. Claude was a future duke. Ashe was a commoner. It was...no. Claude was owed respect, and Ashe would give it. As was proper.
...but he needed to come back safely, first.
They waited, restlessly, for hours. Professors Hanneman and Manuela did their best to keep their spirits up, but their efforts lost a good deal of effectiveness once Ashe noticed just how often their own eyes strayed towards the camp's perimeter. They were as antsy as the rest of them, even if they hid it a bit better.
Midnight rolled by, and it was creeping up on one in the morning when the clank of armour cut through the uncomfortable silence blanketing the camp in its stifling embrace. Ashe perked up from where he'd been dozing, back against the wheel on one of the wagons. Around him, he heard the telltale sounds of others stirring, and pushed himself to his feet.
Please, Goddess, let that be them. Let them be okay...
The fire at the centre of the camp was blazing brightly as they gathered around it. The light it cast was enough to clearly see the house leaders as they slunk in, surrounded by knights and...and bloodied. Ashe felt like he was going to be sick as he observed the crusted, reddish-brown stains on the tip of the prince's lance. Lady Edelgard had clear bloodstains on her uniform jacket, and there was an enormous wet patch on the leg of Claude's pants. He wasn't limping, so at least it wasn't his own blood...
They looked exhausted, and Claude was the first to slip to the ground, sitting near the fire. Ashe turned to his highness as Ingrid bustled in, worry on her brow.
"You Highness, I am relieved to see you back safely."
"Yes, uh..." the prince said slowly. "We...yes."
"Kids are tired." For the first time, Ashe noticed that an unfamiliar man had joined them. He was standing stiffly next to Alois, thick forearms folded over an equally thick chest. This was a man who was intimately familiar with combat. "Let 'em sleep."
"Yes," Alois said, "that is what we shall do, Captain. Come along now. Go get cleaned up and get some rest. Everyone is safe. That's what matters."
"Hm," the man called captain grunted.
Well, they were safe. Ashe quickly moved to help his highness, pausing only once to dart a glance back towards Claude. Then he shook that thought away and went to help his prince. There were...he had things to do.
For the moment, it did not cross his mind that Professor Sanders had not returned with the group.