Chapter Text
⧼ LV ⧽
Curiosities Abound
24th of the Horsebow Moon, 1180 ━
To Byleth’s dismay, Claude is already gone by the time she wakes up the following morning. Adelaide tells her he’s going to be out for the better portion of the day, like yesterday, but didn’t give her much of a reason except he wants time to himself.
When Byleth mentions the cooking lesson the class was supposed to do together, Adelaide informs her Claude said to just go ahead and do it without him.
She hopes the wyvern egg is still okay, at least.
I wonder what’s gotten into him? He’s been away ever since that evening at the beach.
When she gets to the kitchen, she sees Ashe and Yuri there having a light conversation about something. They notice her and greet her a good morning.
“Today’s the day of our first cooking lesson,” Yuri says. “You ready for it, friend?”
“Yes. I’ll do my best, but I’m sure other people here will fare better than me. Who’s judging?”
“Us two,” Ashe says, “and Leonie and Bernadetta. We were gonna ask Mercedes, but she said she’d only judge for the baking portion. She uh… still needs practice with cooking other things that aren’t pastries or desserts. At least that’s what she said.”
“Sounds good. Do you need me to get any ingredients? I can carry some of the stuff from the marketplace in the city.”
“Bernadetta and Leonie are already out there, so you can just help us organize things here meanwhile! We’re going to start it after breakfast, around noon.”
Yuri leans against the counter. “Originally, we wanted everyone to make something for lunch for themselves so they can taste their progress. But we figured, if someone or multiple people ended up making something bad, then they won’t have a very good lunch.”
“So that’s why our time frame is in the afternoon. After the lesson, if they don’t like what they’ve made, they can still go out to the town to eat.”
“Sounds like you have this all under control.”
“We do, but we’d still like you to be there, Professor! It’s a class bonding activity after all.”
Yuri hums in affirmation. “Everyone will be present. Although… Adelaide said Claude would be absent for whatever reason. I didn’t see him around yesterday either. Wonder what’s up with him?”
That’s the question Byleth really wants the answer to. But this is a vacationing period, so if Claude wants to spend it by himself, she can’t very well tell him no. Still, she would’ve liked to spend time with him individually since she’s doing that with everyone else.
Even though she’s not really teaching this week, her schedule is already packed with requests from each of her students. Extra training for some, hang outs for others. She’s decided to let up on the morning runs along the beach for now, but they’ll definitely have to practice endurance some more before their vacation is over.
She wonders if Claude will ask for some time with her. Until he comes back, she won’t know.
“Guess he just wants some peace and quiet,” she surmises. “I think every now and again, we all want time to just ourselves. But anyway, let me help you two get set up before breakfast starts.”
Byleth stays in the dining room after she sorts out the things her students will need to cook. She takes the time to savor her breakfast, watching as different pupils meander in at different times of the morning. Some already dressed for the day, others still in their sleepwear. All of them chat with her before going about their business, and she lets them know what time the cooking lesson will begin.
She’s counting it as extra credit so at least some of them can be motivated to participate. (And by some, she means Hilda and Linhardt, mainly.)
The chefs tell her class to not make a mess of things while she’s doing her lesson. They inform her of all the particulars of the kitchen as they have a system in order to be efficient when making meals for the entire household. If everything isn’t in its place when things are done, then it messes up the whole line of productivity.
“I can’t blame them,” Ashe says when the cooks leave. Leonie and Bernadetta just returned from shopping, so they all begin tying up their aprons. As they’re to be the ones to demonstrate how to cook one of each of the four things the class will be learning today, they figured they ought to gear up for presentation purposes. “When my parents had their restaurant,” he continues, “everything had its place. You never knew what dish would be ordered next, so things had to be put back where they normally are for quick access.”
“Makes sense,” Leonie agrees. “Let’s try to wash things as we finish using them then, in case what we’re using is something they might need.”
By the time they’re done setting up, the rest of the class slowly wanders in. Byleth reminds them all to wash their hands thoroughly before touching the ingredients, and to put on an apron so they don’t get themselves dirty.
“And if you just came back from being out, at least change your clothes,” Yuri says aloud. “We don’t need dirt and other things in here.”
Once everyone is ready, and at their places along the counter, Byleth says, “Today is the first day of what I’ll be calling ‘Life Skills Training’. Knowing how to cook is important, and luckily a few of your peers are more than happy to teach you—and me—how it’s done.”
She gestures to her star pupils of the day, and Yuri smiles, taking the floor. “We’re going to go through four different recipes today: a drink, a snack, an entrée, and a dessert. They shouldn’t take too long, so after we’ve finished, there’ll still be time left in the afternoon for lunch. The four of us will each demonstrate how to do one of the things on our menu today. We’ll start with a drink.”
“Um…,” Bernadetta shuffles closer to Leonie’s side when Yuri looks to her, “I-I’ll be handling the drink. It shouldn’t be hard, b-but…,” she casts a glance to Byleth, who gently encourages her with a wave of her hand to keep going, “I’ll answer any questions if you have them….”
“Alright Bernadetta!” cheers Raphael. “I can’t wait to see what you’re gonna make!”
“You can do it, Bernie!” Dorothea says.
She squeaks but doesn’t try to hide under the counter. A good sign.
Bernadetta teaches them all how to make lemonade since it’s a simple recipe. She starts with cutting the lemons and properly squeezing out the juices after removing the seeds. She tells them how much sugar should be included since you don’t want to make it too sweet otherwise it won’t taste good.
As she’s working, some of the students ask her about other kinds of fruit beverages, which she answers without looking up at them. But she’s stuttering less, and not apologizing as much. Baby steps.
“The great thing about lemonade,” she says, not looking up at everyone as she stirs the pitcher, “is that the sweet balances out the sour. You want that balance so it’s delicious. Sour things already don’t taste great, so if it’s too sour, it’s even worse and—well I like sweet things b-but if it’s too sweet, then that doesn’t taste all that great either. Then you can’t taste anything else in said sweet thing. Um, if that makes sense.”
When she’s done stirring, she smiles down at her creation. A nice translucent yellow pitcher of lemonade. “And well, uh, that’s all there is to it!”
“Now time for a taste test,” Yuri says.
“Wh-What?! I thought only us four were gonna be the judges!”
“They need to know what good lemonade tastes like, Bernie. Otherwise, how are they gonna know the difference between the bad one?”
“I’ll taste it first if it helps,” Ashe offers, already serving himself a small portion into a cup. He drinks it, and then smiles with a hum. “It’s great! A nice refreshing taste for a summer day.”
“O-Oh, I’m glad you like it….”
Leonie helps serve the rest of the pitcher as she goes around the counter to each person. By the time she’s done, there’s only a sliver of lemonade left, which Bernadetta timidly drinks.
“This is good!” Sylvain says when he’s finished. “And you were right about the balance of sweet and sour. I don’t think I’d like lemonade if it was too sweet, but making it too sour would be unappetizing too.”
“R-Really?”
“Yeah!” Annette chirps. “I don’t really like sour things, but this lemonade you made is super yummy! Drinking something that’s just super sweet will be like drinking candy. And I mean, I like candy! But I dunno how I feel about drinking it.”
Bernadetta smiles again, and she shrinks into herself a bit less. “Th-That’s what I think too! I’m glad you all like it. Um, w-well then I can supervise you all as you’re making your own batches, so…”
“This is where I come in,” Byleth says. “While we’re all on vacation, we still can’t fall behind the other classes when it comes to book work. But that’s boring, and I don’t want to make you all sit in a classroom when you should be relaxing. So.”
She pats the counter behind her where several different ingredients are laid out neatly. “I’ll be asking some questions we’ve already gone over in recent lectures. Everyone will have about twenty minutes to make lemonade. You get it right, and I give you an ingredient of good quality. You get it wrong, you’ll get one that’s of cheap quality.”
“Does that really matter?” asks Felix, looking and sounding unimpressed.
“Trust me, it does,” Yuri says. “Although I guess to people who don’t really cook, you can’t taste the difference. But seeing as how I and my three companions of a wide palette will be judging, we’ll definitely notice.”
“Which will then contribute to your score,” Byleth says. “While I all want you to learn, this is still an incentive type of thing. Yuri, Ashe, Leonie, and Bernadetta will help me pick three winners from today’s lessons to give prizes to. I’m not sure what to give you all as material things, so,” she shrugs, “I’ll take a page from Claude’s book and say whichever three people win will get to ask me for whatever they’d like—within reason, as always. Could be a material thing, extra training or tutoring, me spending time with you with whatever you’d like to do, taking you out somewhere to eat—things like that.”
A murmur starts up in the kitchen with smiling faces. She wonders what they’re all thinking about asking her for, but she’s just glad it’s giving them some kind of motivation.
“Speaking of, where is Claude?” Hilda asks. “I haven’t seen him around recently.”
“Adelaide said he’s out again,” Byleth informs. “Doing what, I’m not sure. I just hope he stays out of trouble.”
“I hope he’s okay,” Marianne says softly. “He’s been… quiet, since his injury.”
“Gah, do you think it’s my fault?” Caspar suggests with a worried face. “Like I don’t want the guy to think I’m a hazard or anything! Maybe I oughta make it up to him or something.”
“Claude’s fine,” Yuri says. “We all need a little alone time now and again. So, let’s get to cooking before it gets any later. I’m sure we don’t want to be here all afternoon.”
Though Byleth agrees, she still can’t help but worry a bit for her friend. Whatever he’s doing right now, she hopes he’s being smart about it.
⟣ ⋯ ⟡ ⋯ ⟢
Archery has always been something he’s enjoyed, ever since he was young. Not just because it’s a preferred weapon in Almyran culture, but it helps him sharpen his focus. Get his mind off things.
Besides, Byleth is always saying that he needs to keep his skills fine-tuned.
So that’s what he’s been doing since yesterday. Out in the forest by himself during the daylight hours, practicing his skills. He’s made a target out of one of the nearby trees. Carved rings into it until he got to the bullseye.
Most of the arrows have been in the second innermost ring, though he has yet to hit it dead center. Which is fine. But it’s frustrating that he can’t seem to land his quarry when he most wants to. This never used to be a problem before. Maybe she’s affecting his mind more than he thought….
He has a crush on Byleth, but it’s not a big deal. It shouldn’t be a big deal. That’s what he keeps telling himself.
Plenty of people inadvertently crush on one of their closest friends. He’s no different, so it shouldn’t get him twisted up in a knot. Much like his stomach does when he’s too close to her. Or thinks about her laugh, the softness of her hair, how cute she looks when she smiles…
Claude shakes his head, and then releases another arrow. It still lands in the second most inner ring.
With a huff, he goes to retrieve it. Yanks it out of the wood and puts it back in his quiver. Just like all the previous arrows. Maybe it’s best if he adjusts the bow string again or sharpens the arrowheads.
But he knows it’s not his skill that’s the problem.
Sighing, he sits down and makes his adjustments anyway. Much like he’ll have to do with his life goals. A crush isn’t a big deal; it shouldn’t affect his ambitions. But part of that had to do with using her for the Creator sword. And now… well, now he’ll feel guilty if he does.
What does he even expect is going to come of this crush? For the longest time, he’s only looked out for himself. Because he’s the only person who cares about him. At least for most of his life. Now? Now… he’s noticing other people actually give a damn. If he’s well, if he’s enjoying himself, if he’s safe.
Byleth most of all.
As much as he doesn’t want to take Sylvain’s advice, it’s something that’s still in the back of his mind. He doesn’t want to make this a competition. He’s not competing for anything. Like Byleth is some prize to be won.
…But that’s how he viewed her from the very first day they met, isn’t it? Except it had nothing to do with ‘romance’. He was competing against Dimitri, and against Edelgard. He won that battle, and that was that. Made adjustments to his life’s itinerary to get the result he wants.
And now he’s trying to do the same thing again.
He’s never thought about his future outside of uniting the lands of his dual heritages. But as a noble, a potential duke—a potential king, he’ll have to think about heirs when he gets there. Maybe not so much back in Almyra, as it’s based on strength and not bloodlines. But for appearance’s sake, he’ll likely have to do that here in Fódlan.
To have a crush on someone not of the aristocracy was never a big deal to him looking out. But looking in, now that it’s a lot more tangible than he could’ve figured… well, it’s a problem.
He admires his mother for following her heart. Leaving everything behind for the person she felt the most strongly toward. But he doesn’t have that luxury—and it wouldn’t be smart, besides. A mere crush also isn’t worth throwing away his carefully crafted plans. Now, if he loved her on the other hand—
—no, that’s not a thought to entertain. He’s getting ahead of himself. Making a mountain out of a molehill.
Yet he can’t avoid Byleth either. She’ll know something’s wrong, and most likely think it’s her fault. But the longer he spends time with her, the worse the crush gets. And yet it sets a fire in his chest to think Sylvain will gleefully fill the role he abdicated in her daily life. Yuri might too.
Claude isn’t going to stop being her friend or give up the time they spend together. But figuring out how to calm himself the hell down first is a task he has yet to check off his list. The less personal weaknesses other people know of, the better.
Not that Byleth is a weakness. That’s going a little far. But… still.
With his bowstring tuned and the arrowheads sharpened, he gets back into position to practice. Eventually a solution will come to him. If he can get some training in, that’s two birds with one stone.
He takes a deep breath in, then out.
As he’s drawing the bowstring back with the arrow notched, a voice says, “Doing a little supplemental training, huh?”
Claude nearly misses his shot in surprise but manages to at least get it in the outer ring. Is he really so distracted over this stupid crush that he doesn’t notice when someone’s behind him now?
That isn’t good. It’s even worse than the mortification of him popping one on the beach day. Having a boner won’t get him killed (probably, in the battlefield at least—that would be an embarrassing way to go), but letting his thoughts wander too far that he’s distracted from the environment around him?
Yeah, he needs to figure out a solution, and fast.
“Captain Jeralt,” Claude greets with his usual charming smile. “What brings you all the way out here? Figured you’d be hanging out with the guys.”
“I was, but a man needs his alone time. Like most people.”
“Well don’t let me stop you. Although this part of the wood’s my training area, so better to steer clear until I’ve done my warm-ups.”
“You couldn’t hit me even if you tried, kid.”
It almost sounds like a challenge, but he’s not sure how to respond. Claude isn’t dumb and knows Jeralt isn’t really a kid person. He figures he tolerates Byleth’s class because he loves his daughter. Otherwise, they’re all a bunch of brats in his eyes.
And targets for those few he suspects have feelings for her.
Which Claude hopes this ‘chance’ meeting isn’t related to that. He couldn’t possibly be that obvious, could he?
“I don’t think anyone can land a blow on you, really,” Claude says instead, taking another arrow out of his quiver. “Teach has told me she hasn’t ever stricken you once with any kind of weapon. And here we all think she’s impossible to beat. She learned from the best, apparently.”
“For a reason,” Jeralt agrees. “I’ve watched some of you train, and I can tell her techniques are rubbing off. You’ll be all the better for it. But like I’ve told her, it’s more productive to have a wide skillset than specialize in just one thing. Otherwise, you’ll quickly run out of options when you need ‘em most.”
“Too true, that.”
Jeralt eyes the sword Claude has laying against a boulder with his other belongings. “You any good swinging it around?” he asks with a nod toward it.
Claude shrugs. “I like to think I’m pretty decent. But archery is more of my specialty. Teach always hammers the point though to at least learn some melee weapon instead of solely a ranged one. For emergencies and tight spots.”
“You’d best listen to her if you wanna keep your head.”
He laughs. “Oh no need to worry, Captain. I do like having it connected to my shoulders.”
“Then let’s see if you’ve been paying attention.”
“…Pardon?”
“The sword. Some of your classmates won’t stop bombarding me for extra lessons because of my skill and experience. I’d think you being the house leader, you’d wanna take advantage of this opportunity you’ll most likely never get again.”
Sure, it makes sense when he says it like that. But Claude has a feeling it’s Jeralt’s way of trying to size him up. He’s not exactly oblivious to the fact that the man doesn’t think highly of him. Or most people, actually. He’s sort of a gruff grump, but he earns admiration and respect regardless, for whatever reason.
For right now, at least, it’s better he’s training with Jeralt than Byleth. Until Claude figures out how to steel his nerves when he’s around her anyway.
“Alright, if you’re gonna pull my leg,” Claude says, putting away his bow. “Just don’t touch the face, okay Captain?”
“No promises, kid,” he says, brandishing his own sword from its sheath. Unfortunately, it’s very sharp and not at all made of wood.
He doesn’t think Jeralt would try to kill him on purpose, but it’s better for him to be on the defensive than risk any offensive maneuvers at the moment.
Jeralt doesn’t give him any quarter, which Claude expected, but it’s still irritating dancing around his blows. Every pang of metal upon metal makes him nervous. Wondering when his defenses will slip and get himself sliced in the forearm or the shoulder.
He thought he’d get at least one attempted strike in, but the most he can do is begin the swing until he needs to swerve to a defensive position again. At the very least, his speed and quick reflexes helps him. That, he thinks with utmost confidence, he has over most of his other classmates. But he can’t match the pure power behind Jeralt’s blows. To the point where his sword even slips out of his grip after the impact of this last one.
Claude keeps his hands up as the tip of the blade is pointed at his throat. He could make a joke here to ease the tension a bit, but that sharp pointy end is a bit too close to his skin for comfort.
Jeralt hums. “At the very least, you’re fast. Not fast enough that I can’t keep up with you, but faster than your other classmates.”
“Well, it’s a dog-eat-dog world out there. If you don’t have claws, teeth, venom, large body size, wings, or a shell of some kind, you’ve got speed. And wits, but I think that’s a given.”
The man grunts and lets his sword rest in his grip at his side. “Speed won’t always save you. Pick up your blade and I’ll show you a few things, free of charge.”
“Oh?” Claude asks with a grin as he does just that. “And what have I done to earn this special privilege?”
“You’re the house leader. If a leader is weak, it’s tough for others to follow. You’ve got a lot on your plate. Best to whittle it down bit by bit before dinner rolls around as Duke Riegan.”
Claude doesn’t have time to respond as Jeralt begins the sparring lesson. He talks him through techniques. Not in the soft way Byleth does. It’s blunter and he doesn’t ease up on the criticism. But he can see why Byleth is as skilled as she is. He’s sure even as her father, Jeralt gave her no wiggle room when teaching her the blade as a child. Or at the very least, gave her a little more than what he’s giving Claude now.
But he learns. He pays attention. If Jeralt is taking time out of his day to teach Claude something, that must mean he doesn’t dislike him at least. Not anymore, anyway.
He doesn’t know why that gives him some small sense of satisfaction.
“Alright, that’s enough for now,” Jeralt says after a time. Well after Claude just barely brushed out of the way from swipes of his sword. He has a few light tears in his clothing to prove it.
“Man, you don’t pull your punches, do you Captain? I wouldn’t expect anything less from the Blade Breaker.”
“Enemies don’t give you any courtesy, so I won’t either. It’s why Byleth’s lived as long as she has despite the circumstances of her formative years.”
He sheathes his sword and sits down on a nearby boulder. Claude doesn’t take a seat next to him. Instead, he busies himself by pulling out the arrows from the log target. The heads are still sharp enough, so there’s no need to maintain them for now.
“Did you ever find out what the pirate attack was about?” Claude asks because he doesn’t like the awkward silence between them.
“We thought it was black market stuff,” Jeralt replies. He rubs at his beard. “But we found no records of clients on any of their ships. Thinking about asking that Yuri kid to lend a hand in his ‘persuasive methods’ that I’ve heard he deals out to hostiles against Abyssians. Shamir’s haven’t worked so far, which is shocking to say the least.”
Jeralt eyes him, still as stone. It unnerves Claude, but he doesn’t look away. Instead he meets his stare, and that’s when the man says, “Byleth tells me you’re always poking your nose wherever it’ll fit.”
Feel like she didn’t say it exactly like that. Must be paraphrasing. “Well I wouldn’t say everywhere, Captain. I do like my nose and plan to keep it intact.”
He grunts. Whether out of amusement or displeasure, Claude doesn’t want to ask. “I know your type; seen it before. Charismatic as a veil to hide whatever motivations lie dormant. Easy for others to settle into a false sense of security after being charmed by a silver tongue.”
“Is this, uh, conversation going anywhere, sir?”
Jeralt stares at him again for a long quiet minute. “Tomas tells me you check out a lot of books. Usually about the church or history of Fódlan. Things about flora and fauna. Architecture, culinary practices, medical standards, engineering marvels—you like knowledge. Having information. A sharp attention to detail as one would expect from an archer.”
There’s another pause when Claude is stumped on how to respond. He can’t read the man. Has no idea what he’s fishing for. It’s that silence that earns him his answer.
“Notice anything in the past few weeks?”
“As much as I hate to disappoint you, Captain, I’m a good student and have been embroiled in my studies. So I haven’t kept as sharp of an ear out. But I have noticed more mages roaming about. I know the church employs practitioners of faith and reason magic. Although I’d think there’d be more people with experience in melee weapons or archers.”
“So you have noticed.”
“Kinda hard not to with their tomes resting on their hips in their flowy robes. I just assumed they’re pilgrims to the church. Buuut by the look on your face, I figure you have a different idea. By all means, feel free to bend my ear, though not literally, please and thank you.”
Jeralt, for once, gives him the slightest smile. Is that a good thing? Gods he hopes so.
“Duke Riegan told me they haven’t had pirate attacks in a long while. Being a coastal city, they take record of all the pirate crews around. These guys weren’t very organized, especially their captain. But there were enough of them to cause concern that the church had to send some of its soldiers to deal with them properly and protect civilians.”
The gears turn in his head, and Claude blurts, “Are you saying this was a diversion for something else?”
He nods. “Alois, as ridiculous as he can be, isn’t a slouch when it comes to combat. And I don’t need to tell you what Shamir’s capable of either. Throw me and my guys into the mix by pure coincidence, and Byleth who wields the Sword of the Creator—along with her class who have the most field experience, plus Yuri tagging along even though he pretty much runs Abyss? Joined with his closest combat-competent pals? Now that’s a big opportunity right there with so many capable people gone out on assignment.”
“You think something is happening at the church?”
Jeralt leans forward, hands on his knees as he moves to stand. “I don’t wanna jump to conclusions. A lot of it can be boiled down to mere coincidence. But I think it’s best if my men and I return to Garreg Mach sooner, at the very least. Better safe than sorry. Alois and Shamir will finish up here before the end of the week, and then you’ll all be back at the monastery too.”
“Wait,” Claude says as Jeralt begins to walk away, “why discuss this with me? Shouldn’t you be telling Teach this?”
“She’s got a lot on her plate already. But I trust in the things she tells me. And if you’re as sharp and observant as she said you are, then it wouldn’t hurt to get a second opinion. She wasn’t wrong.”
As he passes by the handmade practice target, Jeralt stares at the impressions left by the arrowheads. “You might wanna lift your arms just slightly higher,” he says.
“Noted.”
He leaves without fanfare, and Claude has to wonder if his stroll through the woods was accidental, or intentional. Whatever the case, at least now he has the knowledge Jeralt likes to do his own investigating on the side. If he asked Claude for an opinion, that must mean he’s not on his hitlist anymore.
Hopefully.
⟣ ⋯ ⟡ ⋯ ⟢
All things considered, the cooking lessons didn’t result in any kitchen fires or exploding pots. Which sadly Byleth has to count as a miracle.
There were burned fishes and buns, however. Not everyone could make something salvageable, and she feels bad Bernadetta and Ashe tasted even the burned bits just to double-check. Yuri and Leonie didn’t react as poorly, but they still made faces at some of the things that resulted from their lessons. Needless to say, there weren’t any winners. Just didn’t seem fair with the turnout.
“Maybe we’re just not good at teaching,” Ashe says. “They asked a lot of questions, which probably means we weren’t clear enough….”
“I knew I would suck at this…,” moans Bernadetta.
“C’mon you two, it’s not your faults,” Leonie soothes. “Some people just can’t cook, for one reason or another.”
“And some simply don’t want to learn,” Yuri adds. “Ashe, you gotta practice saying, ‘no’. You were nearly cooking for both Hilda and Linhardt toward the end there.”
Feeling bad about their mediocre first cooking lesson, Byleth decided to treat them to a meal somewhere in the city. After they cleaned up the mess in the kitchen. Thanks to their teamwork, it was spotless by the time they were done, which means they were spared from Adelaide’s wrath.
Now they’re dining outside near a flowerbed of the restaurant as the sun starts to droop to the horizon, painting the sky in warm tones of orange. Treating them to something nice as a reward for their efforts does lift their spirits, so she’ll count that as a small victory.
“Mercedes was great at the baking portion,” Leonie says after she finishes her current bite. “But the, uh, cooking portion of the fish wasn’t as… flawless.”
“Sylvain learned pretty fast,” Yuri notes. “Everyone else was okay, although both Raphael and Caspar put way too much seasoning on their fish. I almost choked on the thing.”
“At least the d-drinks were fine?” Bernadetta offers. “Even Linhardt managed that part.”
Ashe sighs. “The calm before the storm. The kitchen is going to smell like spiced burnt fish for the rest of the week. Hope Adelaide won’t be too upset.” He looks up from his plate with a frown at Byleth. “Sorry, Professor. We just wanted to try some kind of class bonding activity.”
“It’s not your faults,” she assures. “I thought it was a great idea, even after the mishaps. But much like training with a weapon, learning to cook well, or at least properly, will take a while. We can always try again later.”
By the time their lunch is over, their spirits have lifted a bit, and she leaves them to do their own thing when they return to the mansion. Along the way, she runs into Jeralt who is speaking with Adelaide in the foyer.
“Oh, there you are,” he says when he notices her. “Need to talk to you.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, though I’m gonna head back to the monastery a bit earlier this time around. Gonna take the guys with me. But Alois and Shamir will still be here. I’ll be gone before breakfast is even served.”
“Alright, well, take care then, Father. I’ll see you when I get back.”
He nods. “Try to relax a little, By. There’s lots of work to be done afterward.”
“By the way, Professor,” Adelaide says when there’s a brief pause in the conversation, “how did your class fare with their culinary lessons?”
“It went… alright. I guess. We tried to clean the kitchen as much as possible.”
“Yes, so I was told. I suppose one can’t learn these things overnight. But I’m glad you were at least responsible about it and didn’t give the staff more work to do. If you would like to use the kitchens again, you may. Just let me know. Yuri is currently in there cooking something for himself.”
He is? She just left them a short while ago. Out of curiosity, she heads toward the kitchen and sees he is indeed there. Donning an apron, he’s stirring a pot of what smells like shrimp soup.
“Back in here even after the disaster from earlier?” she asks.
“I’m a big boy,” he says with a smile. “Things like that don’t faze me. But I’m glad you’re here. Wanted you to taste test some things.”
“For what?”
“Habit. I did tell you that I’m an excellent cook after all. Won’t stay that way if I don’t keep up the practice. Besides,” his smile grows, “I think it’s my turn to have a little one-on-one with you.”
With nowhere to sit, as the chairs had all been moved back to the dining room, Yuri tells her to just sit on the counter. She does so, lightly swinging her legs back and forth as she watches him cook.
He shares some of his memories of cooking for the aristocracy in that secret past of his he only gives gradually. She wonders if she’ll ever earn his trust completely, but she figures after the life he’s lived, he’s grown a bit jaded in his fellow man.
“I can’t believe they’d send back the food just because you substituted the seasoning when the markets didn’t have the one they wanted.” She shakes her head. “And after all you went through to get that rare trout.”
Yuri shrugs. “That’s what you’re dealing with when living around high society. They wanted me to throw out the dish too, but I snuck some of it to the urchins on the streets.”
“The Empire sounds less and less grand the more I hear about it.”
He continues to stir the stew and adds in the chopped vegetables from the wooden block. “Every place has its underbelly. Adrestia just happens to have the worst of the three nations. Oh sure, they’ll brag and preen about their arts district and their architecture, their music and culture. But in the same breath will turn a blind eye to the suffering of the common folk and dress up as much of the city as they can to guide your eyes away from the slums.”
Byleth stares at the flame underneath the pot. “Whenever my father and I took jobs there, it was always from someone up in the hierarchy of the social ladder. I never saw the slums. And we never stayed in one place long enough for exploring.”
“Did you ever take jobs to rid the streets of the ‘unfortunates’?”
She shakes her head. “We’ve done some things I can’t say we’re proud of, but it was always against some noble. The blood under our fingernails was never of the common man. My father refused ‘contracts’ like that. During those times, our budget was tight while we looked for other work, but at the very least, it helped us sleep at night.”
“Smart man. Would’ve opened the door for continuous work like that otherwise.”
He blows on the spoon after a while before tasting it. Nodding to himself, he takes a different spoonful, blows on it again, and then holds it out to her with a smirk.
“Need to know what my taste tester thinks.”
She reaches for the spoon, but he pulls it away and waggles his finger. “Humor me a bit, yeah? A lady like you deserves to be spoiled, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Hilda said something similar when we were out shopping the other day.”
“And she’d be right.”
Byleth looks at the spoonful of shrimp stew and allows him to feed her. He holds his hand underneath the spoon in case of spillage, but she manages to eat it before that could ever happen.
Her eyes widen at the savory flavors, and Yuri looks quite pleased with himself.
“Good?”
“Very,” she says, covering her mouth. “A little hot—not spicy hot, but like actually hot.”
She stills when he wipes at the corner of her mouth with his thumb. He’s impossibly close that she can see the striations of his irises and smell that lavender scent on him. The pad of his finger lightly brushes against the edge of her lower lip, and she feels warmth rising in her chest. She can’t help that her eyes flick to his own lips, maybe because he’s touching hers. Or maybe because she also catches his gaze at her mouth.
“You had a little something there,” he says in a low tone, smugness laced in his smile as he moves his hand away. “Was bothering me.”
“We have napkins.”
He laughs lightly. “Would be a waste of one for just a little smidge, wouldn’t you say?”
Someone clearing their throat off to the side has them both look toward the sound. Adelaide is standing there, her hands folded in front of her.
“Professor, Yuri,” she starts, “the kitchen will soon be closed so the cooks can tidy up and prepare things for tomorrow’s meals. Finish up whatever you are working on before then.”
As she turns to leave, she looks back again to say, “Ah, and Master Claude has finally returned. He missed supper yet again, but he doesn’t always listen to me when I ask him to take care of his health. Maybe you will have more luck. Excuse me.”
Byleth hops off the counter, and Yuri goes back to the pot of his stew. “Take him some of this,” he suggests. “If he hasn’t eaten already, feel free to eat it yourself. There’s plenty for a few more servings.”
She helps him set up a tray of the stew with a bread roll and a glass of water before she’s walking up the steps to Claude’s room. There’s light coming from underneath the door, so he must be awake. It’s not all that late in the evening. Just after seven, she’d figure.
Holding the tray in one hand to knock with the other, she says, “It’s me, Claude. Adelaide wanted me to check up on you.”
There’s silence for a minute. Not even the shuffling of feet. Then comes his voice. “I’m fine, Teach. No need to worry.”
“I brought some stew. Yuri was making it. I had a taste, and it’s really good. He thought you might want a bowl since neither of us are sure if you’ve eaten. You’ve sort of been… out, the last two days. If something’s bothering you, I don’t mind trying to help you resolve it.”
More silence greets her, until finally the door opens. Claude’s expression is neutral as he looks at the tray in her hands. He doesn’t meet her eyes but lets her in his room anyway.
She notices he keeps a portion of the door open.
“You can put it right there.” He nods to the nightstand by the bed. The other one has books piled on top of it. “I’ll eat it soon. If you think it’s good, then it must be.”
Not even some sarcastic remark about how Yuri might try to give him his own stomach poison without her suspecting a thing? Or making it super spicy while she wasn’t looking?
He’s a bit more reserved than she’s used to. There’s also the fact that he’s paying more attention to the wyvern egg than her, when normally he’d jump at the chance to talk her ear off any time of the day.
She sets the tray down and then approaches the bed, asking, “How’s it coming along?”
“Still a heartbeat in there,” he assures. “But this should hatch any day now.”
The silence that follows makes her frown. Has she done something to him recently? She can’t remember anything that might’ve made him upset. Although he doesn’t sound or look angry either. He’s just… quiet. Almost contemplative as he mindlessly rubs the shell of the egg with a soft blanket.
“Is your nose doing okay?” she wonders aloud, just to make conversation.
“It’s fine, definitely. The bruising is almost gone, as you can see, and I can still smell out of it.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
She sits at the edge of the bed. Claude stops rubbing the egg only for a brief second before he’s back at the idle movement. He still doesn’t look at her.
“Claude.”
“Yeah, Teach?”
“Are you sure everything is okay? Ever since you got injured, you’ve been acting strange. If you need time to yourself, that I can understand. But you leave for hours on end. Seriously, if anything is bothering you, I’d be more than happy to help you figure out a solution, or just lend an ear.”
He sighs, still not looking at her. “Just need time to think, is all.”
“About what?”
Whatever he was going to say is interrupted as a small cracking sound has them both shoot their attention to the egg. Claude’s eyes are wide with surprise, and Byleth can’t help but mimic him.
“It’s happening!” he exclaims with a large grin.
The egg wobbles as the cracks grow larger, and soon enough a little brown snout pokes out. More of the eggshell breaks apart as the baby wyvern pushes itself through its organic enclosure.
Fluids from inside the egg, and the shell pieces, leave a mess on the blanket. But Claude doesn’t seem to mind. Instead he encourages it to eat its shell, which is does hungrily, as well as lap up any excess fluids around it.
The baby wyvern itself is covered in the stuff, so Claude wipes it down until it’s reasonably dry. The tiny creature looks up at him and gives a chirp as it attempts to climb into his lap. He laughs and pets its head with two fingers.
It’s so small. As long as her forearm, not counting the tail and wings—of which both are also short and stubby compared to the adults. Its eyes are large and bright, and its teeth are little nubs instead of the sharp ends. It doesn’t have horns, so she supposes those will grow in time.
Claude lifts the creature into his arms and sets it on its back. “Real sorry about this,” he says as he runs two fingers down its abdomen to between its legs. The wyvern tries to snap at him but he pulls his hand away just in time.
“What are you doing?” Byleth asks him.
“Checking to see if it’s male or female. Aaand, it’s the latter.”
“Does it matter what sex the wyvern is?”
“Actually, it does,” he tells her. The baby settles down again and curls in the space his crossed legs make. “For example, Fodlanese wyverns are different compared to Almyran ones—which I know of because I like to research on little things here and there. And they’re the closest culture that uses them for combat purposes. Male wyverns are bigger than females if the breed is Fodlanese. But the opposite is true of the Almyran ones. However, in both breeds, the females are more aggressive, both during and out of the mating season. So that determines how you need to raise them if you want them to be dependable when using them on the battlefield.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.” Such a tiny and cute creature doesn’t look like it’d grow to become an aggressive battle mount. But then again, she knows less about animals than Claude apparently does.
“Yup! But with the right amount of training and respect, they’re as loyal as dogs.”
He lifts the baby in his hands, holding her up. She chirps again, wriggling, but doesn’t look distressed. “I think I’m gonna call you… Cherche.”
“Cherche?”
“Made a list of names so I can be prepared for when the egg hatched. And I like that one the best.”
The wyvern, Cherche, chirps and wiggles around. Claude laughs. “Oh, you like that name, do you?”
He sets her back down and she perches on his knee. Though her wings are too small to fly, she attempts to leap anyway toward Byleth. She promptly falls onto the soft bed and crawls her way over to her. She looks up with a tilt of her head, and chirps again.
Byleth reaches out to stroke her neck gently with two fingers. Cherche closes her eyes and stays put, and Byleth swears the little thing is actually smiling. If wyverns could smile.
“You have a way with animals, Teach,” Claude says. “You haven’t even done anything, and already she likes you!”
“I’m glad for it,” she says with a smile, looking at Cherche. “After all, I’m going to help you raise her for as long as I’m able. I’d be sort of bummed for her to already hate me after just having hatched. I think it’d be nice if she had two ‘parents’ she can depend on, don’t you?”
When Claude doesn’t respond, Byleth looks up at him. He’s not looking at her, or the wyvern. He’s staring off at the blanket. Or maybe nothing at all.
“Claude?”
He doesn’t answer her for another minute. But when he finally does, he says, “Say Teach, I figured out what I want for my prize. From the training we did that morning along the beach.”
“Oh. Is that what’s been occupying your thoughts? Well, I’ll do my best to provide it for you—if it’s a reasonable request.”
“Yeah, I think it is.”
And yet he still hesitates telling her. Cherche crawls back over to him, stumbling as she tries to climb back in his lap. He nudges her along until she curls back up in his warmth.
“I want to hang out with you,” he starts. “Just us. And, well now Cherche too since I can’t just leave her here. But you and me, Teach. House leader and instructor bonding time. I was thinking I could show you some of the nice spots outside of the city. We’ll make a whole day out of it. Bring some food, and the horses. Was thinking maybe… tomorrow. We can leave in the morning.”
It’s not what she was expecting. But the prospect of finally getting to spend some time with him makes her excited after the previous days of not seeing him around at all.
“That sounds good,” she replies with a smile. “I’d love to hang out with you, Claude.”
He glances at her, looking only slightly surprised. His cheeks are tinged pink, though she isn’t sure why. But he smiles, and nods, before looking down at Cherche again to pet her. “Okay, tomorrow then. Be wide awake bright and early. Which means I need to get some shut eye myself, as much as I enjoy talking with you.”
“Ah, right.” Byleth slips off the bed. “Well then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Claude gives her a good night, and Cherche chirps as she leaves. Through the door, Byleth hears Claude gently shushing his new pet because the last thing he wants is for her to get kicked out.
When she gets to her room, Byleth starts to look for something to wear. While it’s just a hang out, she just—well, Claude will probably dress casually, so she should too. Hilda and Dorothea helped her shop for cute outfits, after all. The weather’s been nice recently, so maybe a sundress?
“Oh, now isn’t this interesting?” Sothis manifests in the air next to her as Byleth rummages through her clothes. “You are certainly flustered. I’ve never seen you care about your appearance before.”
“I’m not flustered, and it’s not that I care all that much. I just don’t want to look like a slob, I guess.”
“I doubt Claude cares about such things.”
Warmth rises to her cheeks, strangely enough. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, so she doesn’t know why she feels… like this. “Yeah I know, but I’m doing it for me. And I’d hate to let these clothes go to waste.”
Sothis gives her a sly smile, but otherwise doesn’t say anything more. She just floats there, watching quietly as Byleth battles with herself on what fashion would look best. She wants to ask Hilda, but the girl might already be ready for bed. And she also doesn’t want to give her the wrong impression.
Which she’s almost sure Sothis believes, judging by how wide her smile is on her face.
No one got the wrong idea when she had dinner with Sylvain. Right? So, a day with just Claude shouldn’t be any different to other people. It’s just two friends hanging out, which is something that’s been long overdue.
I wonder…, she holds up one of her dresses to her body and looks at it in the mirror, if I wore something nice, would he compliment me?