The rest of the introduction session was expectedly tedious, despite appearances from the future monarchs of the Empire and the skinny boy who decided to challenge a Knight of Seiros to a duel. As far as Lienna was concerned, it was all noble pageantry; the thought crossed her mind that she should pay attention if she was going to fit in with the highborn students, but as it turned out, they didn’t seem all that different from what she’d imagined in her head. Stand up straight, eyes forward, think a little too highly of yourself—she could get that down in a day, no further study required.

What interested her more was how Professor Michail was making eyes at the red-haired boy who introduced himself as Derec. She vaguely recalled seeing a shock of red in the classroom earlier, so he was probably in their House, but that couldn’t be what interested Michail; if her hunch was correct, he looked like he knew something the rest of them didn’t. Had Derec omitted something from his introduction? Was Ballard a noble family she’d just never heard of? Or was Michail just prone to inappropriate student interaction? Hmph, given his antics so far, Lienna wouldn’t find that hard to believe.

Of course, no sooner did she notice it than Michail was occupied with the Adrestian student who challenged him, whistling to him like a dog as the class was dismissed. Ridiculous and belittling as it was, Lienna couldn’t quite condemn it; play stupid games, win stupid prizes, as they said. She couldn’t claim to be interested in seeing the kid get flattened—although a part of her did enjoy the fact that his comical ego would probably be flattened in kind—but after the Archbishop’s welcome, she definitely didn’t want to go back to the church. The utter strangeness of the place still haunted her, even if she couldn’t fathom why. It had been a long time since she’d been to church, fine, but even when she’d gone after a long time away or after doing something bad, the church at home had never made her feel so… out of place. Maybe it was the lavish construction or the presence of the highest members of the clergy that intimidated her, but whatever it was, she couldn’t quite bring herself to go back just yet.

Still, the way Auberon carried on about the Goddess, Lienna half-expected him to drag her and the other Lions to the cathedral along with him, and if she wasn’t going to do anything but flee to her dormitory, she wouldn’t have much excuse to get out of it. She supposed she could always say no, but the thought of souring her relationship with the head of her House on the first day didn’t sit well with her. If she had someone to occupy her, that might do it, but who…

Her answer came as some of the other professors took their leave, leaving only one of their number behind: the one who introduced himself as Professor Tomai, if she recalled correctly. He was sitting with a book and looking very much like he didn’t want to be bothered, but Lienna didn’t mind; maybe that intimidating air he had about him would keep other students from bothering her if she struck up a conversation with him.

Decision made, Lienna stood, giving her fellow lions an obligatory smile and a “I’ll see you all at dinner,” before approaching the Professor as the crowd began to thin.

“Pardon me Professor, if I could…” she began, though it occurred to her quickly that she was not nearly as practiced in the art of small talk as she should have been for plots like this. That was a skill that she could stand to work on, as tedious and time-wasting as it sounded, though she supposed now was as good a time as ever.

Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Sorry, my mind seems to be everywhere today,” she recovered, resisting the urge to cross her arms and instead clasping her hands behind her back. “You said you were interested in… Crest research? Is that what you teach here?”

---

Wonderful. Bumbling idiots one and two took to stride with barely a breath’s hesitation. She’d foolishly hoped two years apart would have matured their behavior somewhat; perhaps she still had some penchant for fantasy after all. Clarissa rubbed lightly at her temples as Raimund finally took his seat once more, praying to the Goddess that the instructors would have the foresight to limit Jorah and Raimund’s activity before they bullied the entire grounds into it.

But she turned away from the inevitable chaos as the other House’s spoke up. There would be time to mourn the loss of her sanity later. Her greatest concern were the other House Leaders. Auberon Galatea’s directness left little to the imagination and she appreciated that greatly. She’d need to get to know him sooner rather than later; his piousness was refreshing and a conversation with someone outside the Church about their beliefs would be a wonderful way to pass an afternoon. The Imperial Prince was another story altogether. A proper introduction gave way to informality startlingly quick and it was all she could do to not to roll her eyes. What was with boys at this age? They all wanted to drink, dance, and make merry with their pointy toys and ignore the weight on their shoulders. She felt a pang of sympathy for Auberon who, although still wanted to play with his weapons, seemed to have a reasonable head on his shoulders. Cethlean, Cichol, Indech, and Macuil guide the lot of them.

Clarissa enjoyed the other Blue Lions as well. Kellen’s awkwardness was charming in it’s own way, reminding her of a child on their first day at Roundtable. Hopefully this year would ease the tension out of his nerves, poor thing. Lienna Ornheart struck her immediately as a survivor; she moved like she wasn’t entirely comfortable with her own skin, or more likely the trappings she now found herself in, and her closing point focused on creating relationships. Clarissa made a mental note to find out about her goals. Jorah may find himself stuck in the very thing he ran away from if he suddenly became sweet on her. She didn’t have much to go on with Derek. He hadn’t put much personality on display with his introduction and while it certainly could have been a strange case of the nerves or that he simply had no personality, she wasn’t ready to settle on that.

The Black Eagles continued the trend the Blue Lions set. She didn’t particularly care for them, much like their leader. The siblings seemed less real and more a comedic relief from a play as extremely different as their personalities were. Valerian seemed eager to prove her point about all boys only caring about playing with their toys and she didn’t bother hiding the exasperated sigh at the whole ordeal. Another idiot, wonderful. At least she wouldn’t be partially responsible for this one. Of course, her wandering attention snapped back when the Princess Consort introduced herself and if she thought Lienna was a survivor, Clarissa knew Veronica was a shark. Another one to keep an eye on. Maybe she could find a way to rope the three of them into some activities so she could get a better sense of what was behind them.

Although the professors and introductions left Clarissa with plenty of food for thought, none of it mattered in the face of the bubbling excitement at attending a sermon from Lord Ioannis himself. Even her furious disapproval at the idiot twosome was mostly forgotten. She barely made her goodbyes to the other Deers and was out the door as quickly as she could muster without running, absolutely beaming. It was such a blessed experience, having others who found comfort and solace and peace in the teachings of the Goddess. The Leicester Alliance wasn’t particularly faithful and while at home she could easily find companions in faith, her travels often kept her away for months and the Leicester Alliance was not known for its faithfulness to the Church.

A gasp tore out of her throat as she froze. She’d known, objectively, about the Cathedral's splendor of course but seeing how the midday sun glowed through the stained glass, the Goddess a myriad of ethereal colors, in person was more beautiful than she’d imagined. And the people. Seeing so many, all here for the same purpose, united in their beliefs, basking in the sacred divinity that rose from the very stones was almost too much for her. It felt like an affirmation for all the things she;d worked towards, everything she’d done so far was correct, like a reward for the blood, sweat, and tears she’d poured into her life’s calling and it almost overwhelmed her. She could feel the tears prickle at her eyes so she wiped them away hurriedly and took her seat, letting the enthusiasm of the sermon sweep her away.

Afterwards, she took a moment to compose herself. The rest of the day was theirs to settle in but she wasn’t quite ready to leave the Cathedral yet. She kept to the pews a moment, watching the others mingle as she just basked in the feeling of holiness that permeated the air, but that came to a quick end when she noticed the Archbishop wandering among the people. Again, she froze and she repeated some of Jorah’s more colorful language internally (because if he ever knew she sometimes slipped, she’d never hear the end of it and she couldn’t and wouldn’t deal with that). This was an amazing opportunity not just politically but also just for her. The chance to speak with the Archbishop? When would she ever have that again? With that thought, she forced herself to her feet and wove through the crowd to catch him.

“Archbishop, your sermon was inspired! I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything like it!” Clarissa gushed as soon as she caught up with him, forgetting her manners in her excitement. “Back home, the Church doesn’t have much of a presence and having the opportunity to attend something like this… I can’t even begin to express how grateful I am! This is just absolutely wonderful!” Clarissa’s energy didn’t fade but she managed to reign herself in with a mortified look and then curtsied.

“My apologies, I let myself get carried away. Clarissa von Edmund, at your service. I have the honor of attending the Officer’s Academy this year; although, I supposed since you hand picked us, you must already know that.” Clarissa considered after her introduction.

---

Kellen wasn’t able to focus for the few seconds following his introduction. He registered Auberon standing up, but it wasn’t until he had sat back down and thrown Kellen a glance and a well-meaning shrug that things seemed to return back to focus. He nodded back briefly, and noted with relief that Lienna was the next to rise. She offered an introduction, which was a bit novel considering her early departure from the class previously. The kindness of his classmate’s timing was not lost on him, and he felt a fragile sense of calm settle on him.

Other members of the special class rose and introduced themselves. The Crown Prince of the Adrestian Empire managed to walk the line between royalty and student handily. Kayden Von Hresvelg. Kellen’s lips moved without any conscious effort as every new student as they introduced themselves. Derec Ballard was next, and Kellen recognized him as a fellow member of his house. His introduction wasn’t accompanied by any titles, though the name Ballard certainly wasn’t associated with any of the major Houses in Faerghus. His ruminations were interrupted by the introduction from Imogen, who had already spoken up several times, and who he vaguely remembered heckling him after his introduction, seemed kind and quite outspoken. Isolde was next, and Kellen recognized a kindred spirit immediately. But rather than feeling comforted, Kellen felt a sense of dread following her intro. Had he sounded like that? Had he looked like that?

The Aegir siblings were next. Saskia seemed thoughtful and erudite. Whereas Valerian was… challenging his professor? To a duel? Were Kellen not such a ball of nerves, he likely would have scoffed. Valerian was confident, and for all Kellen knew may have studied swordplay since birth, but to believe it was near the level of a former knight of Seiros seemed arrogant beyond belief. A small part of Kellen admired the confidence, but a greater part recalled seeing that sort of confidence on the face of many common soldiers whose bodies had been carted back to their villages after taking a Srengese spear to the gut. It was possible the boy had reason for his confidence, but the only way Kellen would know that would be by seeing the fight. Kellen’s face stayed stone still. He didn’t need to repeat Valerian’s name to remember it.

---

Class was dismissed, and Kellen proffered a slight smile as Lienna excused herself and approached the crest-researching professor of the Black Eagles. The two seemed to possess a similar energy, based on his rough assessments. He could intuit easily that Auberon would expect his classmates to attend the sermon, and it was clear Lienna had done the same, which he realised with a touch of dismay as he also wanted to avoid the sermon. If he wanted to see his professor in action, he’d have to try something a bit more crude.

Dawdling towards the cathedral, Kellen let himself fall towards the back of the pack. By the time they reached the bridge he was sure no one he knew was behind him. He muttered a small curse to himself and made a show of fiddling with one of his sleeves. To no one in particular, he rolled his eyes before turning back, heading towards the training hill with a spring in his step for the first time since his arrival to Garreg Mach.

---

Once again, nothing went as planned. For some reason Auberon had still neglected to expect the unexpected from Garreg Mach, foolishly assuming that he'd gotten his strangeness for the day out of the way early when he was named House Leader. The peasant girl he'd previously written off was apparently sporting a Crest and already well on her way to cementing her position in the nobility, that scatterbrained Deer girl had somehow managed to drag Auberon's opinion of Alliance conduct even lower when the bar was already resting firmly on the floor, the last Leicester girl was even more of a nervous wreck than Kellen - which he wasn't sure whether to take as a sign that he'd been too hard on his housemate or if he should be simply pitying Isolde even moreso, and some Adrestian was challenging a Knight of Seiros to a duel. Sure, Auberon was flirting with the idea in the back of his mind too now that it was brought up, but he wasn't harboring any delusions that he'd so handedly win on the first day. And he certainly wouldn't be voicing such a thing in front of an audience. The blond was so busy reeling from Valerian's boast that he hardly even caught Her Future Highness' introduction. He could ask Kayden what she was like later if she came up. Probably.

The fact that he'd be present for a sermon by the Archbishop himself was so mundane in comparison to the rest of the day's events that Auberon barely registered the gravity of it until Professor Lysander had finished speaking. He knew, logically, that the midday sermons likely happened every day and that he'd be missing nothing that he couldn't hear tomorrow if he didn't attend. He also knew, logically, that Valerian would likely be beaten rather quickly and the entire spectacle would be anticlimactic. But illogically, Auberon wanted to see them fight. He wanted to see what made the Aegir boy so confident in his abilities. He wanted to see how those abilities fell short against Michail. He wanted to learn how to succeed by learning how to fail. He wanted to pick both combatants apart in preparation to crush them into fuel for his own ego in the future.

But he wasn't going to do that. Tempting the Goddess' ire was not something one did when faced with such an unnavigable and unexpected situation as the one Auberon had faced since he arrived at the monastery, and he was sorely in need of direction at the moment. The Archbishop's words may very well be the answer he needed. Pressing on through force of will alone was not an action he was a stranger to, but choosing a path that would work out eventually was not always more prudent than a path of moderation and contemplation.

Auberon let out a deep exhale as he stood from his seat. Lienna had run off again to talk to that standoffish Eagles professor - either she really didn't like socialization or she was an exceedingly busy woman. A shame, since he'd wanted to ask her about her position, but dinner would have plenty of time for that. With little fanfare and a quick glance at the departing Michail, he made his way to the cathedral.

"Hey, Kellen," Auberon started without looking back. He'd seen the boy hovering behind him as he walked, might as well start a conversation. But how to broach this? 'Hey, are you always crippled with anxiety or just in front of crowds?' 'What the fuck was that back there?' 'Do you need help with that? I know I sound like I'm mocking you with the offer.' Whatever, he could start with something inoffensive and ask later. "Have you ev-" He paused as he glanced backward, Kellen nowhere to be found. Huh. Must've had to use the latrine or something. Another conversation for dinner, then. With luck, nothing outlandishly strange would detract from that.

His thoughts cleared the moment he passed the threshold of the cathedral, replaced only with an intensified version of the reverent wonder he felt in each new area of the monastery he visited. There was no question - the Goddess' eyes were upon this place. Not the vigilant observation that She blesses the rest of Fodlan with, but a piercing, direct gaze; one that looked into the inhabitants' souls and saw all their natures laid bare. The sermon itself shouldn't have been anything remarkable - it was a passage Auberon had read many times - but His Holiness repeated it with such vigor that he couldn't help but view the words in a new light. In the short period after Ioannis had finished and before Auberon stood from the pew, all the jumbled pieces in his mind clicked together seemlessly. He had a role - House Leader of the Blue Lions. He had a task, even if it hadn't been entirely revealed to him yet. The only thing he lacked was patience for the fallibilities of his classmates, and that was easily acquired in the face of the Goddess' serene mercy.

When he rose, Auberon Galatea was the picture of saintly virtue - at least until his mortal sensibilities overpowered the divine perfection he sought to imitate. The Archbishop speaking to Clarissa immediately caught his eye; if he deigned to converse with her than surely any student could approach him for guidance. That was a rare honor, and Auberon didn't want to waste it. He approached cautiously to make sure he wasn't interrupting anything personal or private that Clarissa might have been sharing, then with more gusto as he caught only a token introduction.

"Your Holiness," Auberon interjected, bowing his head deeply. His instincts told him to fully genuflect, but he hadn't seen anyone else doing so and he didn't want to look like a fool. The fact that he was showing this level of respect to a twelve year old was completely lost on him. "Lady von Edmund," He added with a less impressive nod in her direction, "Pardon me if I'm intruding. It's truly an honor to meet you both in person and I couldn't resist killing two birds with one stone, as it were."

---

@Achronum@Hero

Jorah’s grin only widened when Raimund picked up flawlessly where he left off, going as far as to organize an unofficial meeting party at the end. Industrious as ever. He was glad to see two years stuck away from him hadn’t stiffened Rai back up too much; it had taken long enough to loosen him up the first time, and Jorah didn’t fancy having to start back from scratch.

There were plenty of introductions after his and Raimund’s show concluded, and as ever, Jorah only really caught the highlights. The Lions seemed predictably frigid across the board; Jorah had thought it might just have been Auberon with the halberd up his ass, but it seemed stiffness might just have been a Faerghus trait. Maybe the cold did it to them, who knew.

The Eagles were all over the map, though Jorah couldn’t resist a snicker at the Aegir siblings’ tandem introduction; they reminded him of a matching set of toy soldiers, painted in complementary colours and each with a trait the other lacked. That was, until one of the soldiers stood up and challenged the general (or, well, a Knight of Seiros) to a duel, and Jorah had to try (and fail) to hold back a peal of laughter. He vaguely remembered a tale in his boring scripture class about a tiny warrior defeating a behemoth, but he sincerely doubted this Valerian boy was going to fill that role—all the more delightful that he issued the challenge in the first place!

When it was time for the pink-haired girl he’d winked at to take her turn, Jorah struggled to keep his jaw from dropping: Throughout introductions he’d been passively aware of a great buzz of emotions in the background, typical of crowds, but it wasn’t until Imogen stood up that he realized a good half of them were all coming from her.

He almost doubted his senses, but there she was, right in front of him and impossible to deny. Jorah had met bubbly people in his life, but this girl was positively boiling over with… with… Goddess, he couldn’t even pinpoint it all! Her mood seemed to ebb and flow with the beat of her heart, flitting from one place to the next like some kind of manic hummingbird in a garden. If other people’s emotions were murmurs in the room, then hers were a great peal of raucous laughter, ringing loud and clear through the building and bouncing off the walls. Hells, he needn’t worry about getting lost in the woods nearby; even if he lost sight of Garreg Mach’s spires, surely the sheer volume of Imogen’s emotions would be enough to guide him home.

Any following introductions paled in comparison, consisting only of another Deer who shrank even smaller than that poor Kevin boy and an Eagle whose aura was as prickly as the tone of her voice, like a thistle chafing against skin. Jorah was vaguely aware of Michail’s taunt and while he was certainly interested in watching that stupid duel unfold, his first priority was to see what on earth was up with Imogen.

The moment the bell tolled, Jorah gave an absent wave to his friends and hopped out of his seat, climbing over his bench to make a beeline for Imogen. Sidling up to her as she stood, he hooked his arm into hers, falling into step with her without skipping a beat.

“Hello Imogen, I don’t believe we’ve properly met,” he greeted, voice smooth and sweet as honey as he gave the (shockingly) shorter girl a smile. “I’m Jorah—you may have heard—and as House Leader of the Golden Deer I am taking it upon myself to personally greet each and every one of my housemates before the day is through. Appropriate, don’t you think?”

He gave her a look that made it clear this was anything but professional courtesy, and with an affable shrug, continued. “How would you like to come with me and see that Eagle boy get stomped?” The question was a lot less ‘professional-sounding bullshitting’ and a lot more sincere, the blond practically bouncing on his feet in anticipation. Not really for the fight, fine, but even he had to recognize that coming out and telling Imogen how absolutely freakishly fascinating she was might come off a little too strong. Besides, dinner and a show had never failed him, and what luck that the monastery had provided both in one day!

Ah, he was going to like it here.

As the remaining students went through the mandatory introductions, Imogen continued her unsolicited cheering and commentary. She wanted to make sure everyone felt heard. It was good to be noticed, wasn't it? Or that's what she thought at first, but then came Iz's turn and she didn't think she'd ever seen anyone look so sick from just having to talk. Imogen had to fight the urge to jump up and do the introductions for her, to save her from her palpable distress—ahh, it was just like in her daydream! Poor Iz in need of rescue—and settled instead with a supportive "yeah, Iz, you can do it!"

When Iz took her seat, Imogen reached over to tap her shoulder and gave her an encouraging two thumbs-up. "You did great," she whispered, nodding her approval.

A pair of siblings came after and Imogen thought it was funny how dissimilarly they behaved. "Are you guys twins?" she asked, genuinely curious. That would be funnier if they were; completely opposite, like they split a list of personality traits in half and gave each one side. She'd known only one other pair of twins, and they were too creepily alike. They dressed the same and talked the same and moved perfectly in sync, unnaturally so. Thinking about them sent shivers down her spine. Opposites were better.

But that was beside the point. More importantly, did she just hear that right? Boy twin—Val? Or Kia? She had to figure out which is which—just challenged Professor Mik to a fight. Niiice! She didn't realize that was allowed, but she's definitely interested in seeing that play out. Are others allowed to participate?

Imogen was almost disappointed when the challenge went unheeded as introductions resumed. The next person claimed to be a future princess, though, and that quickly reignited her interest. Imogen loudly 'ooh-ed.' She'd never seen a princess before, although she thought they would be more… pleasant? Not looking like someone who'd just found a carcass in their cot and is accusing everyone in the room for doing it.

She pursed her lips as she thought back on her childhood stories. There was one she forced Caius to read her, where the princess was so sweet and nice that even though she basically broke into these creatures' home, they welcomed her and helped her find her prince. With this attitude, if Ronnie had been in that princess' place, Imogen was 80% sure they would've just eaten her. She laughed to herself, amused at the imagery it produced, though decided not to be too harsh in her judgments after some consideration. Maybe Ronnie was having an off day.

The class was dismissed soon after, much to her relief. She worried it was to be an actual class with assignments and such. Instead, Imogen was rewarded with not just Professor Mik taking the bait and accepting the challenge after all, but also with an upcoming sermon that was optional. Woo! Great news all around!

Imogen rushed to get the best seat for the fight, only to get accosted by a welcome (and quite appealing, now that she'd gotten a closer look) face. She grinned up at the friendly blonde once the initial jolt of surprise had worn off, immediately feeling at ease with him. "Nice to officially meetcha, Jory!" Imogen chimed in with a laugh after Jory greeted her, using her free hand to playfully salute him. "You know, you and Rai-Rai were better entertainment than we ever got back at home. You guys were amazing!"

Jory inviting her to watch the fight was the icing in her 'we're totally kindred spirits' cake. It was like he was reading her mind, and she told him as much. Imogen peered up at him impishly, tittering in what she believed to be a noblewoman's refined laughter. She did her best to sound as fancy as the princess, minus all the mean. "Why, Jory von Deer Boss, rider of horses and dancer of dances, I thought you'd never ask."

Imogen was about ready to race down to the arena when she spied a certain shy blonde just leaving the classroom. "Iiiz," she called out behind her. "We're watching the fight, if you wanna come!" She extended the invitation but didn't force her. Thickheaded though she may be, she was at least mindful that Iz had more delicate sensibilities and might not enjoy something like that.

"Okay, Jory, let's go. I wanna be close enough to see their sweat!" Despite being linked in arms, Imogen practically led the way to the arena in her excitement, all the while prattling on about the different scenarios that could unfold. Like what if Val Kia? actually won, or what if she and Jory tried to fight Professor Mik too? They could do a 2v1 if that evened things out.

Imogen and Isolde their introductions both cemented their first impressions. They were the sun and moon as it were. Where Imogen was just an excitable bubble of joy - if a little airheaded, Isolde looked gloomy enough to warrant a trip to the infirmary. Rai thought he could relate. Whereas his bloodline made every Alliance lord think of the enemy, Isolde bore the name of a traitor. In a way, they were kindred spirits.

Amongst the other houses, there were three men who stood out to Rai in particular. First there was Auberon. Praying with a weapon in hand sounded… Zealous. Though Seirios’ worship was common in the alliance also, Raimund had not had the opportunity to speak with the more fanatic amongst her followers. Not even Clarissa, the most devout person Raimund knew, spoke as if her will was one with the goddess’. Perhaps a moment or two more to observe Auberon would be best before he’d attempt closer acquaintances with Galatea’s heir.

Kayden on the other hand, was about the opposite of what Raimund expected from the throne’s heir. Though his entrance certainly met the kind of person he’d envisioned, Kayden transitioned to something far more natural. Rai smiled brightly as the prince spoke of his hobbies, resisting the urge to get up and high five the man on the spot. Hopefully he’d find his way to the party - preferably without attachment as Raimund couldn’t muster the same enthusiasm to meet his betrothed.

And then there was Valerian and… This one had guts! Despite shaking in his boots he had the audacity to challenge a knight of Seiros. Rai had half a mind to get a front row ticket, if only there were more hours in a day! Between having to prepare for a party and not having made the best impressions with the more… Stiff Blue Lions house, however, Raimund knew his time would be better spent at the sermon.

Before heading to the cathedral, Rai swung by, as Imogen had dubbed it, fellow Deer people. He shook his head and smirked as he saw Jorah introduce himself to Imogen. That same sparkle in his eyes as when he first laid eyes on that one barmaid, that merchant’s daughter - and so forth. At least Rai wouldn’t have to worry about Jorah exchanging pleasantries anymore.

“If you thought that was entertainment, Momo, wait until you see this man bring out his mandolin.” Raimund put a hand on Jorah’s shoulder, slipping him a sly wink. “Would you honour us this evening?”

Jorah's face lit up at the mention, but he quickly returned Raimund's sly look with his own. “After all this time, my friend, you'd struggle to stop me!"

“Sounds like we’re in for a show. I do hope I’ll see you there.” Raimund paused, glancing at Isolde, “Only if you’re able to make it, of course.” His tone softened, seeing the little colour her complexion bore before still hadn’t returned to her cheeks.

With a short bow, Rai’s path branched off towards the northern bridge. His boots felt heavier than when he’d put them on this morning - truly having preferred to join his friend at the arena. The towering sight of the cathedral on the other side loomed over him like a shadow. Not even all the Blue Lions seemed to feel like attending, as Kellen passed by him. Raimund gave the young man a small understanding nod, seeing how his path would take him to the arena. “Could you throw in a cheer for the brazen challenger on my behalf?” He asked, “I had half a mind to place a bet in his favour..." Rai glanced at the cathedral over Kellen's shoulder. "Which I probably shouldn’t mention in front of Her eyes. I may not know if Valerian is brave or foolish, I just can’t help but to root for the underdog.”

Lienna had hardly expected any response at all from icy Professor Tomai, let alone a positive one, but it seemed she’d chosen the right topic given his enthused response. Truth be told, she didn’t even know Crests were a subject of research at all; having been told it was something she was born with, she’d always assumed a Crest was like an arm or a leg, hardly a subject of mystery that needed untangling. But of course, the last few days had shown her there was much and more she didn’t know, and more and more she felt like over all those years sequestered away in Hima she’d fallen behind the rest of the world.

More than just curiosity at the idea of a previously unknown field of study, though, was the Professor himself. Even if the topic itself had just been an excuse to start a conversation, the way Professor Tomai talked about it drew her in. Though he used simple terms, they spoke to a much deeper understanding; it was clear they came from a vast wellspring of knowledge, his expertise apparent even just from his ease of explanation, and that alone was enough to pique Lienna’s curiosity. She recognized that sort of knowledge and passion from long ago, gleaming in her priest’s eyes when she asked him to tell her about the Ten Elites and the Four Saints, back when she had time to be delving into the stories of things long dead.

Back when things weren’t so complicated.

“New possibilities?” She interrupted that dark train of thought with a question, latching onto something that had caught in her mind. “I didn’t know that… I didn’t realize there was so much left to learn.” She caught herself before she made it too clear that she was some north country bumpkin who’d never heard of Crest research, smoothing it over with something more vague.

She noticed the book in Tomai’s hands, with a large, unfamiliar symbol on an open page surrounded by writing so small that the very idea of trying to read it made her head spin. The adjacent page was thankfully written in larger print, and while most of the words there were still hard to make out, one jumped out at her: Gautier. Oh, that must have been the symbol of the Crest of Gautier; if she recalled correctly, it would have flashed from that device in the church all those years ago, and she knew all the Crests had symbols from their appearance in artwork in the church. Her gaze lingered on the page for a moment longer before she looked up; she’d never paid much mind to the specific symbol of Gautier, but she made a point to memorize it now. Unlike years ago where the mere mention of her Crest would send her grandmother into a panic, she had more than a hunch that it would become important now.

“What could have come along to turn something like Crest research on its head?” she finally continued, ignoring the Professor’s question in favour of her newfound curiosity. “I was under the impression that Crests hadn’t changed since the days of the Ten Elites. How could something so old and important suddenly become a mystery all over again?”

---

@Hero@Scribe of Thoth

Clarissa returned Auberon’s nod with her own, giving the Archbishop the first response. How fortunate that the House Leader at the top of her priorities to make introductions walked himself straight into the conversation. Two birds with one stone was certainly an apt way to put it. Clarissa smiled at the Archbishop’s words, briefly reflecting on how much the Goddess’ words carried her through. She had no doubt that whatever tribulations brewed on the horizon, she’d find familiar strength in Her wisdom.

“Please, call me Clarissa. Standing on too much formality will only hinder us and I have no doubt we’ll be working together closely during our time here. Your introduction left an impression; out of all the House Leaders, you seem the most experienced with the position. How do you feel about leading the Blue Lions and working with Prince Hresvelg and Jorah?” Establishing Auberon’s opinion of the other House Leaders now would give her a better look into how she measured with the Galatea; so far, they were quite similar. Auberon gave the impression of a matured and focused man while his fellow Blue Lions seemed like children still nervous to be toddling around without their mothers, a situation in which she could empathize greatly. Well, she wished she could call them nervous. She had exactly the opposite problem, toddlers too curious for their own good.

“And speaking of our group Archbishop, Professor Lysnader told us you hand picked us for the Rose unit! I’m honored to have caught your attention but if you don’t mind me asking, what was your thinking behind bringing us together?” Clarissa asked, not bothering to beat around the bush. If he didn’t want to answer, Clarissa could certainly understand that but hopefully it would put to rest some of the unease she still had trailing her out of the first meeting.

---

The situation was surreal, to say the least. Auberon knew the Archbishop would be present at the monastery, but he figured they would've only interacted in the context of a far off authority speaking to the gathered masses. To see His Holiness descending from the dais to speak with students personally was even more humbling than standing in the cathedral proper. For one instructed his whole life to hold his head high, it was very strange.

"Your sermon was just what I needed, Archbishop. I'll admit, I've had quite a few surprises thrown at me today, and any amount of guidance from on high is appreciated," He replied a bit sheepishly, though he recovered his confidence quickly. Clarissa paying him a compliment caught him by surprise, if only because his House Leader duties had him internally floundering for the first time in years. She seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, at least compared to the rest of her countrymen; if she thought he was doing a good job, he couldn't have been performing terribly. She also had a good enough head on her shoulders that he wasn't sure how loaded her question actually was. It could very well have been innocent conversation, but she could also be baiting him into saying something unpleasant about the Deer. Which, in fairness, he had quite a bit to say on that front.

"Frankly, I assumed I'd be the least prepared," Auberon admitted, "But it's good to know I'm not making a fool of myself unintentionally. The Lions seem like good people, though I've only had a chance to speak with Derec so far. Honestly, I can't tell if Lienna is avoiding us or if she's just a very driven person and hasn't had a chance to rest yet." Better not to bring Kellen up at all. Though loathe to admit it, Auberon didn't really have anything nice to say about the boy yet and his nerves seemed evident enough that the blond figured he shouldn't have to reiterate.

Come to think of it, had Kellen even caught up with him? He hadn't been paying attention during the service, as enraptured by the Archbishop's perfomance as he was. Maybe the Fraldarius was off vomiting, that's what anxious people did, right? What a miserable experience the lack of confidence must be. But he was getting distracted; and worse, might be coming off as rude to Clarissa.

Auberon made a show of considering his next point before continuing. "Working with the Crown Prince is less daunting than I would've assumed; claims he has a 'military mind' and carries himself accordingly, rather than what I'd've expected from royalty. Maybe I just like the competitive aspect he brings to the table." The blond shrugged nonchalantly. Now, how to address her final question? Tactless denouncement was hardly an appropriate topic in the presence of the Archbishop, nor was it constructive to building a functional relationship with Jorah, should word get back to him about what was said. On the other hand, it wasn't like Auberon could stand there and lie in the highest cathedral in Fodlan.

"Jorah is... Jorah. He's certainly friendly enough." And that was about the only merit Auberon could attribute to him so far, even if the irreverence that said 'friendliness' inspired was a bit unfamiliar to his noble sensibilities. "Though if I've misjudged him, please do let me know. The Deer conduct themselves a bit differently than I'm used to." At least, that was the only explanation he could think of as to why Clarissa was the only Leicester noble that acted like an actual noble.

As for the question she posed to the Archbishop, Auberon had to admit he was curious as well. He didn't really need to know the answer - he trusted in the Goddess and the inspired wisdom She granted to the Archbishop - but a conscious servant of the Goddess must surely be of more use than an unknowing instrument of Her will. Unless... whatever fate She had in store was contingent on them not knowing. Trying to keep up with the thought process of a deity was exhausting.

---

@Achronum@Hero

That Imogen’s enthusiasm matched his own was no surprise given her exuberant aura, but it delighted Jorah just the same; she emanated a childlike joy that reminded him of the endless entertainment his baby sisters gave him, amplified by ten. Jorah was sure that kind of energy would be infectious even to those with no sensitivity to others’ emotions, and as for him, it made him feel like he’d been struck by lightning—and he wanted more.

He scarcely had the chance to reply to Imogen with more than some laughs and a joyful smile by the time Raimund swung around, as always injecting some charm at the perfect time. “If you thought that was entertainment, Momo, wait until you see this man bring out his mandolin.” Raimund put a hand on Jorah’s shoulder, slipping him a sly wink. “Would you honour us this evening?”

Jorah's face lit up even brighter at the mention, but he quickly returned Raimund's sly look with his own. “After all this time, my friend, you'd struggle to stop me!" He assured him, already vibrating with anticipation for a real, proper party. Sneaking off to the waterfront for a good time had its charms, sure, but the idea of making merry under his real name for once had Jorah all aflutter with excitement—not to mention fingers itching to make use of the mandolin he’d painstakingly hidden from his father in the weeks leading up to his departure. Raimund was sure to be surprised, and with any luck, a little jealous; in their years apart, he’d been practicing.

Imogen was kind to reach out to Isolde, but it was clear enough from the mortified look on the poor girl’s face—not to mention the stormcloud perpetually perched over her, judging by the tumult in her aura—that she probably wasn’t interested. It really was a pity; under all that gloom she looked to be a pretty girl, but Jorah could imagine the obstacles she faced in her father’s wake were beyond his expertise to deal with. Besides, if Imogen’s aura wasn’t so deafening, he was sure Isolde’s would suffocate him. Hopefully she’d find some solace soon so he could have some hope of talking to her.

Before he knew it, though, Jorah’s thoughts were ripped back to the arena as Imogen all but dragged him out of the classroom. He kept her pace readily, happy to leave behind somber thoughts and lose himself in her symphony again, snickering all the way to the arena.

The place was expectedly spartan, really just a rectangular room with an opening in the ceiling to light a pit of sand in the middle, but from the few people milling around Jorah could tell it could probably hold more spectators than it appeared. He wasn’t sure if the arena would hold much particular interest for him throughout the year—not for any moral objection per se, but he was pretty sure there were other endroits in the monastery which would better capture his fleeting attention—but only a fool would turn down the chance to see a colt of an Adrestian noble’s challenge to an actual Knight of Seiros play out.

And play out it did, much to Jorah’s delight. From his and Imogen’s spot on the edge of the sand, they had a great view of the whole fight—which, to Jorah’s surprise, lasted longer than the ten seconds he’d allotted the cocky Aegir boy. Why, he’d almost made it to twenty! He’d have to drive a celebratory drink into Valerian later.

“Bravo!” he called at the battle’s conclusion, clapping loudly. He supposed he couldn’t mock the kid too harshly; he had the brass balls to challenge Michail in the first place, and didn’t crumble the second he stepped onto the sand. Jorah doubted he himself could do much better, but then, maybe it wasn’t a fair comparison. He didn’t have any melee training to speak of, though he’d be interested to see how a Knight of Seiros would fare in a hunting competition. An avenue for later exploration, perhaps.

“And look at that, the Black Eagles stay whole today,” he commented to Imogen, nudging her gently. “What did you think? Wait—is pulling out a thunderstorm even legal in duels? What about lightning? That'd pose a problem to an armoured knight, don't you think?”

---

Kellen thought he had made a clean break, but there was that Golden Deer who had invited them all to party. He paused for a moment, shooting a look behind himself to make sure Auberon was out of view. “Oh. Of course, it should be…” He paused for a moment to consider his words. “Interesting.” Honestly, Kellen could understand the excitement over such a duel, but found it difficult to dismiss his irritation long enough to admire the gumption of his classmate. He adjusted a sleeve, trying to draw the Deer’s name to mind. “You’re Raimund, right? Could you, ah-” Kellen stumbled over requesting something from someone he hardly knew. ”Auberon – our house leader, though of course you know that, because we’re all in the same class – might not look favourably at my, er, absence.” He tried to raise his eyes to Raimund’s level, but lost the nerve somewhere around his chin. ”Just - If you could not mention seeing me, that’d be helpful.” Without waiting for a response, he continued on his path towards the arena, his shoulders raised higher than they normally would be.

By the time he arrived, his professor had already begun laying down rules. Perfect. Kellen could stick near the entrance and watch while keeping up his ruse of attending the sermon. He did not notice his Golden Deer classmates as he settled in, getting comfortable as Valerian fired another quip and Michail raised his weapon.

Valerian went on the aggressive almost immediately, throwing a heavy blow that was redirected quickly by Michail. Kellen winced, but was surprised when the Aegir boy fired off a bolt of lightning that struck Michail in the shoulder. He knew magic? Kellen unconsciously leaned forward in his seat. Valerian unleased a cavalcade of attacks at Michail, and actually seemed to gain ground on the former Knight of Seiros. He could scarcely believe it. Despite himself, Kellen felt a cheer began to rise in his throat, but it was cut off as he saw Michail’s face shift. He recognized that look from his own sparring sessions.

Before he could think anything further, Valerian was on the ground. Kellen’s breath hitched as he heard the dull thud of the landing, and one observing the boy would have seen his face go pale. Intellectually, he understood that there was no serious risk from a fall like that. But he could have fallen on his blade, or hit his head hard, and he might not even know until—

The sound of the Golden Deer’s House Leader cheering forced Kellen to look up. His fists clenched as his breathing returned to normal. Was this going to be a problem? Since he had departed for Garreg Mach, he hadn’t felt this tightness that wrapped around his chest. He had been hopeful that it could be attributed to the locale and the stress of the Srengese front, but he was away from that now. He shook his head slowly. It had been a long day. Everyone was adjusting to the new environment, and he needed to give himself time to do so.

The thought was enough to help him stand back up. He could still feel the slightest bit of waviness in his legs, but it dissipated when he grit his teeth. He looked over at the Deer. He wasn’t sure he could deal with the Heckler and the House Leader. And when he looked at Valerian, he still felt a tinge of whatever had previously come over him. He wanted to get away from this training ground, and hoped to keep his distance from it for as long as he could. His position by the entrance proved to be a boon, as he set off to retrace his steps back to the church. He wasn’t sure how long the Archbishop’s sermon would go, but at the very least he hoped he might be able to verify his supposed piety with Auberon. And get away from that stupid training ground.

---

Truth be told, Kayden had been truly wanting to make good with the Archbishop and fulfill his duties by attending the sermon. However, what sort of Team Leader would he be if he didn't go and give Valerian some moral support, even despite how bullheaded it was to challenge a teacher in their bloody introduction! Still, seems more than a few people had a similar idea, though less than he expected. That was good of them, but it did give Valerian less to be worried on were he to embarrass himself. Briefly he let the thought enter his mind that Valerian could surprise the professor and score a win, but he didn't think it plausible, at least initially.

As Valerian and the Professor Michail spoke before the duel, he let his mind drift back to everyone's introductions. Some of the students he had already bumped into or gotten to know, but a few he finally had gotten a good gauge to view them. Imogen was a doll, all things considered. Adorable and bounding with energy, even if he wasn't into that sort of girl, it did make him smile that people like that were out in the world. Clarissa seemed driven, and though he suspected she might be a bit overbearing, he supposed he used to be the same way in certain circumstances. Raimund too seemed a solid fellow, though he felt he needed to speak with him a bit more to know if they would get along well together. After the duel he would go and take Raimund up on his party invitation. It was a good place to meet people and get to know both friends and rivals.

Then there was the future princess.

That bitch.

Just breathe, he told himself. As soon as she had gotten on stage he had no doubts in his mind that she would zero in on him and he was as correct as ever. He wondered if the Goddess had brought her here to test him. He had the sneaking suspicion that even if he tried with all of his might and charm to make nice with her she would retain a perpetual bad attitude at best. Sighing, he knew he should at least try. He hoped she was here for more than just him because if she pursued him he would have a hell of a time at this academy.

At least he could say one thing he admired about her. She was unapologetically herself. Downtime activities such as the party was a good way to truly to get to know the other students. Introductions did help, but everyone tried to show their A-game in a public introduction, particularly with faculty there. It was one reason why he tried to be so casual with people. No one wanted a haughty prince showing off his golden dick and perfect teeth and I'm-too-good-for-you attitude. They might be of lower station but they were comrades and more importantly people.

Movement took him from his train of thought, and he bore witness to a surprisingly entertaining but predictable exchange of blows when the duel commence. Valerian did have a trick up his sleeve evidently, which impressed Kayden, but of course, the professor was the professor. If Michail had truly lost the actual duel, Kayden would have nothing to really think of the Blue Lions. As it were Valerian got a technical win while the Professor had control of the fight after the surprise. Once the brief exchange was over, Kayden would approach Valerian, applauding earnestly. "Well done! That'll show them not to underestimate the Eagles! What say we celebrate you getting a hit on the professor, eh? There's that party going on we can go to. Lotta cute girls and some good food, yeah? I hear there's going to be dancing." He clapped Valerian's shoulder.

If Professor Tomai thought he was talking too much, Lienna didn’t share his opinion, drinking in every word. She watched with rapt attention as he drew a matrix of symbols on the board, approaching when he finished to examine each in detail. But as she looked, fiddling with the buttons on her sleeves behind her back and counting each Crest, a puzzled look came across her face. Twenty-one, just like the professor said—but that didn’t sound right. What few brief lessons on Crests she’d received from the priest in Hima felt like a lifetime ago, but she hadn’t forgotten that Crests all originated from figures in scripture; the Ten Elites, the Four Saints, Four Apostles, and of course, Seiros and Nemesis themselves. This was the first she’d heard of any crest being passed down from Nemesis, but even adding him didn’t account for every symbol. Lienna wasn’t very good with numbers, but even she could count to twenty. With her back turned to Professor Tomai, she squinted at the board, not familiar enough with the Crest symbols to tell which one didn’t belong. Maybe this mysterious extra Crest was a product of the Professor’s research—or maybe there was something her priest had neglected to tell her.

She might have asked, but Tomai’s explanation continued without pause, and she was loath to miss a moment of it—especially since each new phrase sounded more outlandish than the last. Lienna turned as he spoke, reeling at the idea that despite apparently having been around for centuries, news of these superhuman Crest bearers had never made it to Hima. Many of the townsfolk—Oma included—thought them cursed, but that was merely out of fear that Crest-bearing children would be whisked away by greedy nobility; in fact, Lienna herself had never really understood why Crests were so valuable that nobles would disown their own children for lack of them, but if what Tomai said about Crest bearers demonstrating supernatural powers was true, then maybe there was some method to the madness.

Well, sometimes demonstrating powers, she reminded herself. She didn’t need a Crest researcher to tell her she bore no such thing; if she could turn invisible or pull trees out of the ground with her bare hands, she could have made a fair bit more money as a teenager, and could probably have arranged herself with someone higher born than a Count.

But she was exceedingly lucky to have even that, she reminded herself starkly. Just by existing, her Crest, and the noble avarice that followed it, had become her deliverance; that alone was a superpower to her.

Back in the present, the Professor’s lecture grew more puzzling by the moment, launching into catastrophes, divine revelations and impossible Crests. Even the tone with which he delivered his outlandish hypotheses contradicted what she knew; she’d been taught Crests as blessings from the Goddess, but Tomai talked about them like living things, interacting with each other and evolving independent of divine will. As far as she knew, the link between Crests and the Goddess was indisputable, but Tomai sounded unenthused—perhaps even unconvinced. That tone was what drew her in most of all, the confidence with which he contradicted the teachings of the Church fascinating her. Lienna had no history of interest or opportunity for academic endeavours, but if his research was convincing enough to make him question truths that had apparently been accepted since the beginning of time, she wanted to know more about it.

A million questions swirled in her mind when Tomai was done, more than she could reasonably occupy him with, but one unexpectedly stood out.

“If most Crest bearers are no different from anyone else, then how can you study them?” She asked thoughtfully, almost by accident. Sure, the ones with powers would be easy enough to observe, probably, but surely they must have studied people whose Crests didn’t affect them in order to know that at all, right? Those contraptions—Hanneman machines—could detect a Crest even in someone like her with nothing abnormal about them, but how? What were they looking for, and how did they find it in the first place?

Experiments? The thought came out of nowhere, but it instantly put a stone in her stomach. She’d heard about how doctors would carve up dead bodies to learn about people’s insides, or feed poison to animals to see what it did; did they have to experiment on Crest bearers to learn about them, too? The very idea conjured up horrible images of children strapped to tables, being poked and cut into, or frightened people pitted up against all manner of beasts to see if their Crests would respond—it was the stuff of nightmares, and too awful even to think about. She had to turn away, taking a deep breath and a moment to let her head stop spinning.

When she’d recovered, she turned back, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be asking you for an entire lesson,” she excused herself, waving the question away. “Thank you for telling me so much. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

---

@Hero@Scribe of Thoth

Clarissa considered his evaluation of the Blue Lions and the Crown Prince a moment. He clearly put deliberate thought into his words but whether or not that was because he was still getting his thoughts in order on the subject or because he was treading carefully, she wasn’t sure. Still, it seemed he was in a similar position as herself given they’d had little time to get to know everyone. Everyone was still a bit of a mystery in the other Houses at least. Her own were infuriatingly straight forward and the future headaches she was expecting were unpleasant. Maybe she ought to acquire a remedy sooner rather than later. Nevertheless, one detail sat out in Auberon’s commentary. Kellen, the boy who stumbled over himself in his introduction, was noticeably absent. Perhaps Auberon had even less time to figure him out but he at least theorized about Lienna. Maybe that’d be something to keep any eye on.

“I think you have Jorah perfectly described.” Clarissa laughed. She was perfectly content with that answer for now; Clarissa would follow up later in the year. Jorah had plenty of wonderful qualities, even if she’d probably jump out of a window before telling him otherwise his ego would swell twice its size, and she knew his familiar attitude in these situations could turn the serious kind away. “We certainly are an unusual group but I hope you’ll persevere through their antics. I doubt you'll find people more loyal to each other and those they call friends but I know they may be a tad overbearing for a few months. Jorah’s reunited with one of his closest friends and has two new ones to make and he has the uncanny ability to wrap everyone up in his exuberance. If you ever need advice on how to handle them or just need them out of your hair, please don’t hesitate to let me know. I have plenty of experience keeping them from going overboard.”

Her attention shifted to the Archbishop as soon as she started speaking, For such a young child with an impossible burden on his shoulders, he certainly held it well. She nodded along with Ionnias,practically beaming as he explained himself. Everytime he spoke, she found her respect for him growing. This was exactly what she believed would benefit the Leicester Alliance, high and lowborn reducing the significant gap between them and unifying together for the betterment of their country as a whole. Jorah must have had too much sway over her because she was two seconds away from picking him up and whirling him around she was so excited but she had to remind herself this was not her little brother and it would be far too improper to swing the Archbishop around like he was, no matter how excited she was. She cleared her throat and kept herself perfectly still.

“I appreciate your honesty, thank you! Actually, that’s similar to how my family governs. With our limited size and resources, we rely almost entirely on the weight of our economy so reducing the wealth gap between all citizens improves our financial status and helps us maintain our relevance in an increasingly aggressive production age. I have no doubt we can raise ourselves to your expectations, if for no other reason than to give others proof that you deserve to be involved in anything you decide to put your mind to. If there is anything we can do to help you further, you only need ask and I will do my best to assist you.” She offered with a determined glint in her eye. The last part had just slipped out, a spur of the moment decision she made as his situation struck a chord with her. She was no stranger to being dismissed because she was young and she wasn’t about to have this child, Archbishop or not, struggle because his clergy wouldn’t support him. Absolute nonsense. He clearly had ideas and dreams and if she could make the path to achieving that a little easier, she would do everything she could to make that happen. “That being said, I’m afraid I’ve lingered for far too long. I’d intended to get a lay of the grounds, get my things put away, and then talk with Professor Euphemia about a few things but I couldn’t miss an opportunity to chat together. Maybe the three of us can have tea one evening? My father and I used to make a habit of it and I’m afraid I’m going to miss it dearly.”