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It took less than half of Felix’s first Garreg Mach seminar of the year for him to conclude that he had made a mistake.
When Felix perused the catalog for the least wasteful use of his mandatory seminar participation time, he had figured that a lesson in swordplay and faith magic from Professor Casagranda might be intriguing. He hadn’t guessed that she would have much to say on the topic of swords, based on her… well, everything. But then, his old man had been a half-decent instructor despite his cultivated airs, and the other seminars were likely to be even more droll until Professor Byleth worked herself into the rotation, so he’d signed up for the swords and faith block on the off chance he’d learn something new.
As it turned out, “new” didn’t necessarily equate to “useful.”
Felix showed up prepared to absorb some pointers on sword technique; he was disappointed to be subjected to sword theatre. Sure, there was merit to masking your intentions on occasion, but that was no substitute for simply being able to cut the enemy faster and deeper than they could cut you. This swooping, distracting style Professor Casagranda demonstrated was of no consequence to a Fraldarius who likely had more combat experience than most of the room combined. And she prattled on so slowly and elaborately that Felix wondered who in their right mind could stay attentive enough to comprehend both the beginning and the end of her words.
His discontentment expressed itself as Felix leaned back into his chair with a deep exhale and folded his arms, parchment bare of any notes.
From her position two seats over, Ingrid also leaned back to catch Felix’s eye and whisper, “You too?”
Felix nodded tersely and muttered, “Should’ve picked the merc.” A horseman Felix was not, but the new captain of the Knights of Seiros at least would have talked about actual combat.
Ingrid glanced back to the front of the room with a wry expression as she replied, “If I see one more ridiculous flourish, I’m going to be sick.”
She was then obscured from Felix’s peripheral vision as the man sitting between them leaned back and stretched with entirely too much finger-flexing and torso-wriggling.
“Like this?”
“Shove off, Sylvain.”
Ingrid promptly stomped on the redhead’s foot, judging by how he winced and recoiled forward.
“Something you’d like to add, Mister Gautier?”
Felix’s attention was dragged forward again as the professor brought all eyes in the room toward the back row in which the three of them sat. She held her practice sword disapprovingly, though Felix would have struggled to explain exactly what about her grip led him to that conclusion.
Sylvain, to his credit, didn’t miss a beat. “No ma’am, just had to catch myself after I leaned too far back in my chair. And please,” he added with a practiced smile, “call me Sylvain.”
Felix could have sworn he heard Ingrid’s stomach churn. His own wasn’t far behind.
Professor Casagranda lifted two extremely bemused eyebrows before continuing with, “Well then, mind your balance in the future. We wouldn’t want you to end up confined to my infirmary during the mock battle, now would we?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Good. Speaking of infirmaries, it’s about time we got around to this seminar’s second topic…”
Quietly, enough so that only his neighbors could hear it, Sylvain couldn’t help adding, “I can think of worse fates, though.”
Felix stomped on Sylvain’s other foot.
Sylvain mussed with his hair in retaliation, and while Felix weighed the merits of clocking him in his overconfident jawline, he ultimately decided Sylvain wasn’t worth it. Today, anyway.
Felix settled for staving him off and fixing him with a murderous glare that would have prompted most students to pack up and leave Garreg Mach and never return. Sylvain brushed off the assault with a smirk and began looking around the room.
The professor had at this point launched into a primer on not just faith magic, but magic as a whole. Not wanting to follow Sylvain’s lead, Felix started to listen in spite of himself, and was surprised to discover that she was expounding on things that were not just new to him, but potentially interesting.
“To understand faith magic, it can be helpful to compare and contrast it with the other main trees of magic,” she said, drawing up and labelling three columns on the chalkboard. “The most common tree, the one we call Reason, involves causing disruptions in nature and manipulating how they flow back to equilibrium. It’s all math and formulae and predictability and - well, Reason. That said, individuals tend to have an affinity for one or two branches within this tree - fire, wind, ice, and thunder. Why such a fundamental mystery exists at the heart of this tree of magic, no one can say for sure.”
Professor Casagranda paused her writing and gave the class what Felix could only call a mischievous look as she added, “Depending on who you ask, your magical affinity says a lot about the nature of your soul.”
Felix made a mental note never to ask that kind of question to anyone. He’d deal with the reliability of that statement later.
The former songstress struck up the chalk again. “The least common tree is known as Dark Magic, thanks to its unsettling hues, but it’s actually closer to Reason that most would like to admit. The main difference is that this tree of magic tends toward decay. Entropy.”
Somewhere in the front row, Felix noticed a short girl with long white hair visibly shiver.
“Dark Magic does not emulate natural phenomena, and its long-term effects on casters are not as well understood. One has to be extremely cautious when engaging with the stuff.” A couple more chalk marks accentuated her point.
“And last but most definitely not least, we have the tree we call Faith. In almost every way we can observe, Faith magic has the opposite tendencies of Dark Magic - restoration and order. Its practitioners are known to have particularly long and happy lifespans.”
Felix thought ruefully of his father. For all the friction that existed between them, he had to admit that a long-lived Shield of Faerghus would conveniently allow him to avoid the yoke of lordship for a good while.
Then Felix frowned. It took him a few seconds to work out why.
This magic stuff? His father had never taught him any of it.
Overcome with a sudden and complex tirade of emotion, Felix finally gave into the temptation to look around the room instead of toward the lecture. He needed a distraction.
It didn’t take long for Felix to realize Ingrid had been right about Sylvain’s reason for attending. Aside from the two of them, the only other male attendees were Ferdinand von Aegir and possibly the green-haired student that was openly napping at their desk. Felix couldn’t make out the face.
Perhaps it was a good thing that he and Ingrid now boxed in their compatriot.
Continuing his sweep, he didn’t recognize most of the girls - not that he had expected to. In the front row, Petra’s long braid at least was familiar from their limited sparring at the training grounds. She made a formidable first impression, and had earned Felix’s respect. The girl with the rounded hat next to her appeared to be hanging on every word Professor Casagranda spoke.
Next.
The row directly in front of them contained Professor Byleth. Studying the seminar format, if his guess was correct. He wished she could have been the one up front that day. Heck, maybe she could have led the group out to the training grounds for practical training. Felix had been itching for a rematch ever since she dismantled him the week prior.
Right now though, she still carried that unnerving stoicism even from the back, so Felix’s search for things that would crowd his old man out of his mind continued to the other side of the room, where he happened to catch an unusual movement.
A ball of orange attached to a small, energetic frame was switching between quills and inkwells as she took notes. She wrote furiously, occasionally hunching over in concentration, a stark contrast to the poise of her taller friend one seat over.
Friend? Right, friend. These two were in his class. Felix racked his brain for names he was supposed to know by now and came up with Annie and Mercie. At least, that’s what they called each other whenever they conversed, which was very often.
Felix’s brow furrowed as he tried to make out the point of what the bouncy one was doing. For that was the only way he could describe it. She bounced from one quill to another, an act which repeatedly swung the loops of hair at the back of her head in different directions. What were those even called? Felix couldn’t remember seeing a hairstyle like that, growing up. He’d have to ask Ingrid.
On second thought, under no circumstances would he ask Ingrid. Stupid question. She’d just ask equally stupid questions in return.
Felix was rescued from his unresolved curiosity when another flurry of motion from further back drew his attention, and the professor crooned, “A question, Miss... Edmund?”
The blue-haired girl in question looked mortified; a neighboring girl sporting twintails a downright offensive flavor of pink was holding Miss Edmund’s hand up against her will. She beamed triumphantly before looking back to her unwitting accomplice and softly saying, “Chin up, Marianne, it’s a good question!”
Marianne, apparently, fidgeted with her hands for a few seconds before making a painful-looking effort at “chinning up” and stammering out, “U-um, you mentioned earlier that faith magic wants to make things whole again, as the goddess wills, right?”
Professor Casagranda was infinitely more gentle here than she had been with Sylvain. “That’s correct, dear. Go on, don’t be shy. What is it you want to know?”
“W-w-well…” Marianne rubbed at her left arm nervously. Felix wondered what a creature this timid was even doing at the Officer’s Academy. It wasn’t until Hilda gave her a smile and a pat on the shoulder that she was able to follow through.
“If faith magic acts that way, then why are there spells that hurt people, instead of healing them?”
If the focus of the room had been mixed before, it was incredibly sharp now. Every eye was trained on Professor Casagranda, who had essentially been asked if the goddess desired to harm people. Even the nap wizard had roused himself enough for Felix to catch a glimpse of what was most likely a male face.
Felix had to admit, the pink provocateur had been right. That was a good question.
The professor had a glint in her eyes that had been absent up until this point in the afternoon. “Very astute of you, Miss Edmund. A worthwhile question indeed.”
She took up her piece of chalk again, and began.
“Faith magic is generally used for healing, yes. Accelerating the body’s pace toward wholeness. From what we know of magical history, the Nosferatu spell was actually one of the earliest forms of faith magic, predating even the basic Heal spell.” She began drawing a diagram of two figures, and drew arrows from one to the other.
“It involved one person taking, and the other giving - a beautiful cooperation, really. Sadly, once the fundamental Heal spell was discovered, Nosferatu’s most distinctive quality became the side effects it inflicted upon the giver. It was weaponized over the years into the pure ‘taking’ spell we know today.”
Felix stole a glance at the ginger-haired girl. Her quill was a blur and her hair loopies trembled with energy.
Hair loopies?!?
“Other offensive faith spells,” the professor continued as she made her way towards her desk, mercifully giving Felix’s brain a distraction from his distraction, “similarly come from extreme versions of normally delicate processes. Take Aura, for example.”
At this, the songstress produced a curious two-pronged device attached to a small handle. She struck it against the desk, and immediately one of the purest, most constant tones Felix had ever heard filled the room. The device was vibrating, he realized.
Not unlike a certain someone he was definitely not paying attention to.
“Aura is like a resonance of the body, amplified well beyond its natural rhythm to the point of extreme pain. Imagine your lungs trying to breathe in and out a dozen times a second.” With that, the professor lowered the device into the drawer she had obtained it from. But rather than simply set it down, she abruptly began banging the instrument against the insides of the drawer, rattling its contents and disturbing the once-clear tones of the device.
Felix winced. A memorable demonstration, he had to admit. Perhaps there was some substance to this woman after all.
“And I thought mister sunburn and rainclouds here was a headache,” came the voice of Sylvain, hands by his ears.
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Felix shot back.
“Boys, please, you can both be headaches,” hissed Ingrid.
Neither of them bothered to argue that point.
“Apologies for the ruckus,” Professor Casagranda said after finally quelling the device and putting it away, “But I hope the principle is plain to see. Or to hear, as it were.”
Marianne nodded solemnly.
“Miss Ordelia?”
Felix turned to see the white-haired girl lower her hand and ask, “If I may, what about Abraxas? I don’t quite understand how this principle of extremes applies to such a raw spell.”
“My goodness, we certainly have done our homework, haven’t we?” came the smooth reply. The glint in the professor’s eyes had lit up anew. “I’m afraid I don’t have a quick demonstration or an easy diagram for this one, but… well, the medical analogue is an amputation.”
It made a sort of cold sense to Felix. The most merciful amputations required the sharpest blades.
“I see…” Miss Ordelia trailed off before adding, “Thank you, Professor Casagranda.”
“Of course, dear.”
The professor turned to the hourglass on her desk. To Felix’s surprise, the top half had completely emptied. When had that happened?
The professor clapped her hands together, the intensity from before giving way to her usual too-thick enunciations. “Well then, students, it looks like our time together today has concluded, and what an interesting time it was. I do hope to see you all again next month, where we’ll discuss the advantages and disadvantages of weaving swordplay and magic into the same fighting style. Ta-ta for now!”
Felix gathered his things quickly and got up. As he started walking, he heard Sylvain behind him call out, “Fe? Where are you going?”
It was at that moment Felix processed that he had started walking towards the front of the classroom, rather than the exit at its back.
“I need to... ask the professor a question,” he lied.
“Ask me what?”
Felix was startled to find Professor Byleth staring directly at him, near motionless as other students walked by.
“I don’t- Not you!” He sputtered, avoiding direct eye contact and all but charging ahead before some other nosy party could get in his way again.
As he formulated some pointless question to ask Professor Casagranda and provide him cover, Felix cast a single furtive glance in the direction of the bouncy orange-haired girl with her hairstyle-that-did-not-need-to-be-named. Her note-taking materials were only half put away. She reached out for one of the inkwells without looking, still engrossed in conversation about the lecture, and Felix saw the fumble coming from a mile away.
Her hand toppled the inkwell.
His own deftly caught it.
But before Felix could right the container, a generous helping of bright pigment spilled out onto his ankles, embellishing his shoes and the hems of his pants with the second burst of pink he’d seen that day.
He frowned again.
“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!”
Felix glanced up to see the shorter of the two Blue Lion girls looking at him with a panicked expression, hands recoiled into herself.
“Come on, self, you promised to be more attentive this year! Ugh! Are you okay?”
It took Felix a moment to process that she had rapidly switched back to addressing him, and appeared to think there was some possibility the spilled ink had harmed something other than his shoes’ sense of pride.
“Peachy,” was what his brain offered.
The girl laughed nervously, glancing over at the damage she’d inflicted. “I can see that.”
A high, serene voice asked, “Is everything alright, Annie?” reminding Felix of the friend with billowing pale-blonde hair whose name must be Mercie, by process of elimination. She had spoken to Annie, but her gaze was on Felix, appraisingly.
“Everything’s just peachy, apparently,” she responded. “Or, maybe a little too peachy? Don’t worry, I’ll fix this.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Felix asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Uh, well…” Annie trailed off, looking over the desk at Felix’s feet again. Her restoration effort seemed to still be in the planning stages, and Felix wasn’t keen on sticking around any longer than he had to. He still hadn’t figured out why he was over here in the first place.
“Here,” Felix said impatiently, offering the mostly-empty inkwell.
“You dropped this,” he added unnecessarily.
Annie’s nose crinkled slightly as she took the container back. “No need to remind me.”
That sent a curious wrinkle through Felix’s stomach that he wasn’t quite sure what to do with, so he ignored it. “Forget about fixing me or whatever. Just don’t spill the other inkwell on my head and I think we’ll be fine.”
“I’m not that clumsy,” Annie retorted with narrowed eyes.
Felix smirked. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“Listen here, you little-”
“Annie,” interjected her friend, “I think it’s about time we got ready for dinner, don’t you think?”
The ball of orange huffed at Felix, but quickly preoccupied herself with putting her remaining materials in her satchel. “Fine, stay peachy for all I care.”
She pushed past him with all the indignance her small frame could muster, and added a low “You jerk,” for good measure.
Felix adamantly refused to watch her leave, which meant Mercie was in full view as she exited the desk row and said, “Don’t mind her, Felix. She’s just not very accustomed to dealing with porcupines.”
She smiled as she said it, but Felix couldn’t help thinking he’d met cuddlier wolves.
Entirely done dealing with orange disasters and their floofy, pointy friends, Felix folded his arms and looked toward the professor’s desk, only to find it empty. He wasn’t even disappointed, at this point. He trudged back toward where Ingrid was waiting for him and Sylvain was looking entirely too ready to ask Felix why his shoes matched that one girl’s hair.
As he did so, he caught one last glimpse of those confounding ginger loops before they disappeared behind the classroom wall, and Felix absent-mindedly noted that they contrasted with Annie’s eyes.
Those were a stormy blue.