Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.

I feel like there's a joke you could make about Dorothea and Yuri. You know, based on Yuri's name. Hell if I know how it would go though. Also, I'm disappointed Constance can't support with Lorenz.

Byleth came into the Abyss with his usual subtly. Which, of course, means none at all.

"This again huh? Usually people are subtle about these sorta things."

"Hapi! This is not the time to be indifferent! Unhand unhand us foul man! I am not some kitten to be dragged around by the scruff of her neck! I am the great Constance von Nuvelle! I will not stand to be handled in such a manner!"

Byleth slowly glances at Constance with a flat, unimpressed expression. The girl clams up upon seeing (what she thinks to be) his withering glare. "You."

"I- I have a name you bru-"

"I know people you would get along with." Byleth says flatly. "I threw one of them in a lake."

"Erm..."

"And the other one keeps complaining about curtains."

"Ah..." If this is a threat, it's the strangest threat Constance has ever heard. "Y-Yes, that's all well and... good? But why are you dragging us around like potato sacks?"

"You're late."

"For what pray tell?"

"Class."

"We don't have class Chatterbox." Hapi offers. She looks mostly indifferent to the whole affair, and has been allowing Byleth to pull her around without resistance. "Can I call you Chatterbox?"

Byleth shrugs.

"Yes, as Hapi said. We do not have class, for we are not students!"

"Yes you are."

"No, we are not."

"You are the Ashen Wolves, right?"

"Indeed! The vanguard of the Abyss, the most spectacular-"

"And the Ashen Wolves call themselves the fourth house, right?"

"W-Well yes." Constance can see where this is going. "Unofficially of course."

"Official status is irrelevant. If you are a house at the academy, you are supposed to be learning." He starts dragging them through the tunnel. "You're both behind."

"We are nothing of the sort!"

"Cool."

"Not cool Hapi! He is attempting to force us into his class!"

"Oh no, learning. Ahh..." Hapi says in monotone. She limply waves her arms with an expression of complete indifference. "Save me. I am in trouble. Oh gosh."

"You could at least pretend to care Hapi..."

###

There's a long silence in the room when the professor walks into class dragging two random women by the collars of their shirts. Everyone exchanges looks, silently figuring out who's going to be the one to ask.

Eventually, as the Professor is basically accepted as her territory by this point, everyone turns to stare at Mercedes. The older girl sighs deeply and stands up. She almost feels like she's reading from a script from how often she says her starting phrase: "Professor, what are you doing?"

"Starting class."

"I can see that. Who are these two girls?"

"Late arrivals."

"I see. Why do they not look like they wish to be here?"

"They don't."

"Then why did you bring them here?"

"Because they're students."

"We are most certainly not! I have already established this fact!" Constance protests.

"And I have already said that if you're calling yourselves a fourth house, you're students." Byleth replies calmly.

"I'm fairly sure it doesn't work that way Professor." Mercedes explains. "Besides, there is an admittance fee."

"If you plan on getting a degree." Byleth corrects, showing an amount of knowledge that's frankly unusual for him. "There is no charge to attend lectures or do tests. You simply won't get a fancy piece of paper saying you're a certified... dog, or something."

"At least say a real class Professor..." Igrid groans quietly from the side of the room. Sylvain lets out a cheeky bark, and Felix rolls his eyes at the stupidity of the situation.

"Even so..." Mercedes continues patiently, ignoring the chatter around her. "They are not technically students, so you should not be trying to make them come to class. This is not the same case as Bernadetta Professor."

Byleth frowns. "But they call themselves a house."

"Yes, but if everyone who called themselves a god was actually a god, we'd have a pantheon in the thousands. The point is, there are rules and strict guidelines for such things, and unless someone has made it official, not you, they are merely civilians and not students."

"I see... can you make it official?"

"No Professor."

"Dimitri?"

"No."

"Who then?"

"Lady Rhea, Sir Seteth, or the Goddess herself." Mercedes says, feeling confident this will put an end to this particular problem.

"Oh, we're good then."

"Pardon?"

"Sothis says they're a house." He stares at a blank space in front of him for a moment, as if seeing something the rest of them can't. Then his eyes drop to gaze at the rest of them again. "Problem solved."

"You can talk to the Goddess Professor?"

"Yes."

"Oh sure, now you'll accept I'm the Goddess! Now that it's convenient!"

"She's noisy, and looks like a goblin."

"A goblin!? Excuse you! I am the creator of all! A little respect would be welcome!"

"A gaudy goblin."

"I hope Hubert poisons your favourite cake!"

Byleth looks triumphant that he's solved the apparent problem, and Mercedes is at a loss for words. She wasn't counting on that. "Do you... mean you dream of the Goddess Professor?"

"That too. But she's also right here." He gestures to the air just above and slightly to the left of him.

Obviously, no one else sees anything. "There is no one there Professor."

"Yes there is. She's here." Byleth frowns slightly. "She's always here..."

"I am no more fond of this arrangement then yourself!"

Mercedes has an entirely different interpretation of what he just said though. She thinks he's speaking in the religious sense and not literally. "Yes, well, the Goddess is always with us, and she is known to give visions from time to time, but I do not think she would give one over such a minor matter as a fourth house."

"She also said she hopes Hubert poisons my cake."

Mercedes doesn't know what to say to that.

Constance has been watching this all unfold. On one hand, Byleth seems a bit... insane. On the other hand, his intentions don't seem quite as malicious as she imagined. In fact... "Professor! A question if I may!"

"Go ahead."

"What are your intentions in dragging myself and Hapi to class?"

"For you to learn." He says simply. "You call yourselves a fourth house, so I assume you must want to learn. Otherwise you would have called yourselves soldiers or something."

Well, that is not quite so disagreeable. His methods of communicating are barbaric, but Constance is not going to be the one to turn down free education, whether she gets a formal degree from it or not. "As I have the goal of restoring my fallen house to power, I must be judicious with my use of time! Can you promise that your classes will always be worth the time I spend here?"

"Yes." Byleth's response is instant. He has full confidence in his knowledge and ability to teach.

"Well then, putting aside the issue of us being a house or not, I will willingly accept your tutelage... provided you are satisfactory of course." Constance says. "You will too, yes Hapi?"

"Sure."

"In fact, I know two others who could benefit from tutelage as well." Constance says.

That catches Byleth's attention. "Really?"

"Indeed. I will attempt to bring them to the next class."

It's rare to see him smile, but Byleth looks downright happy. "Good."

"Perhaps with that out of the way, we can begin?" Dimitri asks desperately.

"Of course." Byleth nods. "We will continuing our study on improvised weapons. Today, we will look at table legs..."

###

"Are you demons?"

Yuri raises an eyebrow at the odd question. "Why would you think that?"

"You have 'Ash' in your names. I do too, and I'm a demon. Therefore, you are also demons, right?"

"You know, when Constance told me you were insane, I though she was joking. I guess all those rumours about your oddities were more true than I thought." Yuri sighs.

"... so you're not demons?"

"No, we're not. Sorry to disappoint."

"That's fine." He says that, but his tone conveys disappointment.

"Why do you call yourself a demon Professor?"

"Because I am."

"But why?"

"I'm dead."

"Pardon?"

"I. Am. Dead."

"How so? You look quite alive to me."

"My heart doesn't beat." Byleth says with absolute seriousness.

Yuri thinks it's a joke, then remembers that the rumors say Byleth wouldn't understand a joke if it punched him in the face."You mean that literally, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Can I feel?"

"Sure." Without any sort of shame, Byleth pulls up his shirt. Yuri balks for a second, considers it, shrugs, and puts a hand to the man's heart.

Nothing. Just like he said. His heart doesn't beat. Yuri then moves his hand to man's neck, and while he doesn't find a pulse per say, he does find a... current of sort. His blood doesn't move in beats like a normal person's would. It seems to be pushed in a constant stream.

That is frankly disturbing, and immensely fascinating. "I see. That is rather demonic. I would not say you are dead though. Merely... different. At least in that way you are like us Wolves."

"You don't have beating hearts too?"

"No, we are different. Different by circumstance, bad luck, bad choices... you'd fit in well, in Abyss."

"I must pass. I have a job, and my father."

"Of course." Yuri nods. "It was merely an observation."

###

"Come on Professor! Show me what you got!" Balthus taunts. He punches the air in front of him while grinning. "I hear you're supposed to be a bit of an expert in hand-to-hand! That's my sorta style! But I can't be having anyone stealing my title as the undisputed King of Grappling!"

"Grappling is about grabs and similar things. I'm better at brawling." Byleth remarks blankly. "I punch people, and they die."

"Eh. Grappling, brawling, close enough!"

"They're actually rather distinct-"

"Enough talk! Let's go already!"

Balthus rushes in and throws a punch. Byleth merely tilts his head to avoid it, grabs the man's arm and plants a hand on his lower stomach, and promptly throws Balthus over his head. The man lands on his back and the air is forced from his lungs in a rush. Byleth stares down a the man impassively. "That was a throw. Something you would use in grappling. Are you sure you're good at grappling? You left yourself wide open."

Balthus laughs and rolls to his feet. "Nice! Man, it's been a while since I got a good challenge! I'm really going to try now!"

"If you don't try as hard as you can from the start of a fight, you'll probably end up-" Byleth says in monotone, only to be cut off as Balthus tries to jab him in the stomach. Byleth avoids the blow easily, and snaps a punch at the man's head which Balthus also avoids. "-dead. So next time, I suggest trying your hardest from the start. If I were not your teacher, I could have put a dagger in your throat as you were on the ground, or stomped your throat, or something similar to your throat. The throat is very vulnerable."

"Talk talk talk! Come on, I'm no good with words. Talk with your fists."

"I should remind you fists are incapable of talking." Byleth comments. "Mouths talk. Fists do not. Unless you mean sign language, which I do not know."

"It's called a metaphor bud!"

"Oh." Byleth blinks. He ducks a punch, deflects another, and kicks Balthus in the shin. "Marshmallow explained those to me once. They're confusing."

"They're not that hard." Balthus grunts. "Who's Marshmallow?"

"She is herself."

"Well yeah, but I'm guessin' that's not her actual name."

"Correct."

"So? What's her name then?"

"I do not like to say it." Byleth says firmly. "Except in battle, because it is important when giving commands that you call your ally by the name they will react to instinctively, and therefore not a nickname. But other than that, I do not like to say it."

"Why's that?"

"I am unsure."

"So, lemme get this straight. You call her by a nickname all the time because you don't like usin' her real name, but you don't know why you don't like usin' her real name."

"Correct."

"Well that won't do bud." Balthus suddenly wheezes as Byleth punches him in the stomach, but he manages to land a return hit on the man's shoulder. "Come on, say it now. No one's around!"

"No."

"You ain't gonna figure out why you don't like to say it if you refuse to do so even when she's not around!"

Byleth falls silent for a minute. The two of them continue to spar, though Byleth clearly has the upper hand at this point. He lands another hit on Balthus's collarbone, then a solid punch to the jaw. He then manages to grab the man's shirt, yank it over his eyes, and pummels him twice in the face.

"Gah-! That's fighting dirty!"

"You mean practical. You should learn to do the same."

"Do you do this to all your students?"

"Yes."

"Geeze, no wonder they're all scared of you..."

###

"Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it."

"No."

"Come on. Balthus was right. Do it!"

"No."

"What? Are you scared of doing it? Are you scared of speaking it aloud? Are you afraid some monster is going to materialize out of nowhere?"

"No."

"Then do it!"

Byleth glares at the ghostly girl hovering over his head. "No."

"I promise I'll be quiet if you do!"

"Liar."

"Okay, yeah... but you should still do it!"

"Why?"

"To prove you can! To figure out why you have such an aversion to saying it!"

Byleth considers this. He doesn't like it, that much is obvious, but Sothis and Balthus do have decent points. He stares at the cobblestone floor for a long, tense moment. Then he opens his mouth and reluctantly mumbles "Mercedes..."

"Yes Professor?"

Byleth flinches and whirls around. He stares at the girl standing in front of him, then turns an accusing glare to Sothis who raises her hands in surrender. "I swear I didn't know she was coming! I'm just as surprised as you!"

Turning his gaze back to Mercedes, he studies her intently. "I said your name and here you are. Are you-?"

"I'm not a demon Professor."

"Then-"

"Or a ghost."

Byleth looks dissapointed. No one is like him...

"I'm quite happy to hear you same my name though Professor. You seem to avoid it quite ardently most of the time." The girl says cheerfully. "Why is that, if I may ask?"

"I don't know. That's what I was finding out." He says honestly.

"And? What did you find out?"

"It... feels." Byleth says slowly. "Which is bad. I am a mercenary. Mercenaries are not supposed to feel anything but duty and murder."

"Murder isn't an emotion Professor."

"Duty and... killing?"

"Killing is also not an emotion. Nor is duty, now that I think of it. Perhaps a sense of duty could count, but duty itself is not an emotion either."

"I think Hubert feels murder, and killing, and duty."

"Yes, but Hubert is a special exception." Mercedes smiles.

"But feeling is still bad for me." Byleth insists. "It's dangerous."

"That's... partially true..." Mercedes says slowly. She's reluctant to agree with something that casts emotion in such a negative light, but it's not wrong to say feeling is dangerous. "It is more complicated than that Professor. If you don't feel, you may as well not be living. Besides, you already care about your father."

"Father is Father. There is no risk to caring about him." Byleth insists. It's such an innocent, childish way of thinking that Mercedes feels bad about the need to set him straight.

"Professor... Captain Jeralt won't be around forever." Mercedes says slowly. "Hopefully he will be with us for a very long time, but you will most likely outlive him. Most children outlive their parents."

Byleth goes quiet. His expression isn't so much blank as it is surprised, maybe shocked. He's considering something he never thought of before.

"Now, that doesn't mean you shouldn't love your father." Mercedes murmurs in as soft a voice as she can manage. "It just means that you need to be aware of the reality surrounding him. He has a dangerous career, and is much older than yourself. With luck he will be alive long into your own life, but inevitably he will pass before you do."

Byleth is still silent. Mercedes pushes on.

"So, the point..." Mercedes continues quietly. "Is that there is indeed a risk in choosing to feel, and you must invest your emotion carefully, but as you know from your father that hardly means it isn't worth feeling at all."

The man nods. His movements are slow and hesitant. He even blinks slowly. His hands twist and hesitantly grasp at empty air, reflecting his inner struggle to grasp what she's told him. Deciding it would probably be best to get him out of a public space, Mercedes leads him back to his own room. She has a feeling he may have some questions once he's processed everything.

Mercedes doesn't end up finding out what he meant by the fact that he "feels" when he says her name, but she concludes that the lesson about emotion was for more important than figuring that out. Besides, she can always ask again later once Byleth has sorted himself out.

###

"What about yawning?"

"Nope."

"Huffing?"

"Nope."

"Grunting?"

"Nope."

"Snorting?"

"Nope."

Byleth thinks intently. "Breathing out?"

"Chatterbox, if just breathing out counted as sighing, this place would have been overrun hours ago."

"Right." Byleth nods seriously. "Can you choose what you summon?"

"Nope. Wish I could though."

"Hmm..." Byleth squints. "Maybe we can use your sighs for training..."

"That sounds really dangerous, to be frank."

"But then we could practice fighting monsters, without needing to find monsters."

"Yeah, and instead they'd come barrelling in from a random direction, hurting who-knows-how-many people because we can't predict where they'll come from."

"I see..." Byleth nods. "So we need to be prepared for everything at once."

"Or, we can not use my sighs for training."

"What if it's just me and you?"

"No."

"Fine..."

###

"You two." Byleth barks, and strides towards the gazebo. "I found another you."

"Pardon?" Lorenz asks, sounding offended. "I would like to think I am rather unique Professor, and dear Ferdinand as well."

"Indeed! Ferdinand von Aegir stands unique among the crowds as-"

"Here." Byleth drops the startled woman between the two of them. He points at Lorenz. "She never shuts up about nobility, like you." He points at Ferdinand. "And has a huge ego, like you."

"Excuse you! I will not stand to be insulted in such a manner, and defined by only the worst of my traits!" Constance protests. "I am- do not walk away! I am speaking to you! If I were no so averse to the sun I would come after you and...! and... he is gone..."

"Unfortunately, what you have just experienced is a rather common occurrence." Lorenz sighs. "The Professor does as he wills. Just a few weeks ago I was tossed into the lake like an unwanted puppy!"

"Quite rude of him indeed." Ferdinand agrees. "Despite his intelligence, the Professor is quite uncouth. That aside, it it glorious to see your return Constance! It has been far too long since we last had tea."

"Indeed..." The woman sighs. She accepts when Lorenz passes her an extra cup of tea. "At the very least it seems he has deposited me with like-minded individuals. Pray tell, is there any way to control that ape of a man?"

"Fair Mercedes can occasionally reign him in." Ferdinand offers. "Or his father, though that is quite a rare occurrence."

Lorenz shakes his head. "It is beyond me how that man ever became a teacher. What was Lady Rhea thinking?"

###

"What do you think Teach?" Claude mutters. He glances around the tower cautiously. "It's a bit claustrophobic in here, isn't it?"

Byleth nods silently. Tight quarters like this is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it makes it more difficult for long-range units to bother him. On the other hand, there's less room to maneuver.

"Balthus, Raphael, Gilbert you're our frontline." Byleth instructs. "Hilda, Yuri, and myself will make up the second line. Everyone else, stay behind us."

It's a simple plan and a standard formation. Let the toughest fighters take the brunt of the fighting while the backline shreds the opposition, and the second line works to take the heat off the front line by taking out dangerous targets and acting as a secondary line of protection if someone slips by the front.

Simple plans, thankfully, are more than capable of taking out Miklan's gang of thieves. Despite their attempts at ambushing and flanking, they simply don't divert enough troops to those tasks for them to be effective.

Miklan himself is a whole other problem. He is easily shot from a range by the Deer's and Wolves's mages, but that doesn't end the fight at all. The lance he's holding pulses, twitches, and releases black and red liquid from around the crest stone in the weapon's hilt.

Within moments, the students are staring down a Black Beast instead of a crazed human in armor.

"Cool party trick." Hapi shrugs. "I guess this is what I'm here for, huh?"

The fight against the Black Beast is scary, but ultimately one-sided. Gilbert takes a hard hit, but the mages and archers concentrate their fire in one area to batter down the beast as swiftly as possible. The beast's hide gives out before Gilbert's shield does, and the monster splits into a lance and a a dead human once more.

Claude gingerly picks up the twitching weapon. "So, uh... who wants to carry this thing?"

I'm starting to move through game events at a quicker pace. As much as this story really doesn't care too much about plot, I like to keep things in chronological order.