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Chapter Text

Ferdinand had no idea how the letter reached him.

Ever since Garreg Mach fell, he had been traveling across the Empire; helping commoners, trying to persuade Kingdom and Alliance border nobles to resist Edelgard, lying low and avoiding the Adrestian army— he was on the road constantly. Never in the same place for longer than a week. He wanted to be everywhere at once, helping everywhere at once.

So there was no reason the letter should have found him.

Ferdinand woke one day to a tapping at his window. A pitch black raven sat on the windowsill, pecking incessantly at the glass. Ferdinand grumbled and rubbed still-tired eyes. A good night’s sleep was hard to find these days, be it in a tent or a decent inn’s bed. This inn’s beds were a few feathers shy of decent but the rate was good and the roof was solid. 

Running a hand through hair that was just touching his shoulders, Ferdinand turned to the window. Who would be sending him a letter by raven? Most folks used owls. The only ones who used ravens were…

Suddenly wide awake, Ferdinand flung the window open. The raven squawked in annoyance at the abrupt motion. Ferdinand held out a practiced arm and the raven perched, as all Empire ravens were trained to do, on his forearm. “Sorry for making you wait, my friend,” Ferdinand soothed, stroking its feathers. 

That seemed to calm the bird for the most part. It held out its leg and Ferdinand took the scroll. Job done, the raven jumped off Ferdinand’s arm, returning to the windowsill. Whoever sent it clearly expected a reply.

Ferdinand opened the letter. Familiar handwriting unfurled and caused a heavy weight to fall in his stomach.

Dear Ferdinand,

I hope this letter finds you alive and well, mostly because I have need of you.

For all that the war is in Her Majesty’s favor, she is still stung by the unanimous rejection of her Black Eagles. Sometimes her sorrow is so great that it chips at her resolve. Of course, no amount of sorrow will sway her from her path. But a bit of cheer now and then would suit her well.

We now come to why I am reaching out to you, of all people. As much as it pains me to admit a fault, you have always outstripped me in the art of tea brewing. How in the world does one brew the perfect cup of Leicester Cortania? We have precious little available in the capital and I do not want to waste the stores we do have on experimenting.

Respond with haste. If you do not, I will send several more letters before simply assuming you are dead.

Regards,

Hubert von Vestra

Ferdinand read the letter twice before sitting back against his headboard. Of course he knew how to make Leicester Cortania correctly. It wasn’t easy, but even an avid coffee drinker like Hubert could do it if given the right guidance.

Hubert. It had been two years since they had seen each other. And then only briefly, glares locked across the battlefield as their battalions clashed. After the attack at the monastery gates— with the Professor gone, Rhea missing, and the monastery under Empire control— Ferdinand had fled.

Perhaps, with more forethought, the rest of the Black Eagles could have stuck together. But everyone had prioritized different objectives. Ferdinand had left to see to his estate and check on his mother. Thankfully, she had found protection with an allied house before soldiers had seized Aegir territory. 

Now, two years on, Ferdinand would give anything to have the others at his back again. It was terribly lonely on the road. He often found himself humming one of Dorothea’s songs or thinking of Caspar when he took to practicing forms on felled trees. Even the sight of books in the markets reminded him of Linhardt. It was difficult to get away from his friends.

How ironic that the first former classmate he should have contact with was Hubert von Vestra.

Ferdinand held the letter before him again, eyes tracing the handwriting rather than absorbing the words themselves. What to do? He could ignore the letter and let Hubert think him dead on the side of the road somewhere. He could give Hubert incorrect instructions on how to brew the tea, just to spite him. He could even send back a letter flat out refusing.

A defeated sigh rustled the page. His pride would not allow him to let Hubert assume he was dead— as if Ferdinand would let himself succumb to such a fate when there was work to be done. And it would be a pity to waste perfectly good tea leaves just to mildly upset Hubert and Edelgard halfway across the continent. Refusing would just lead to Hubert pestering him with letters full of witty insults until Ferdinand gave in.

Well, if he was going to give Hubert what he wanted, he wasn’t going to do it in a hurry.

Ferdinand stood and dressed for the day. Downstairs, he enjoyed a modest breakfast supplied by the inn, tended to his horse, practiced his lance work, and pored over maps to decide his next destination.

Only then did he beg ink and paper from the innkeeper and head back upstairs. The raven still sat outside the window, glowering in a way that would have made Hubert proud. Ferdinand opened the window and cursed when the raven flapped its wings aggressively and tried to scratch his face. “Peace, my friend! I have a gift for you!” He produced a handful of sunflower seeds and bits of meat. He laid this out and watched the raven pounce on the meal without reservation. 

With the messenger satiated, Ferdinand sat at the small table opposite his bed and began to write.

Dear Hubert,

I hope this letter finds you alive and well, mostly because it would be a waste of ink otherwise.

The whole of the Empire at your disposal and you write to me for advice on this matter? I suppose I should feel honored. It is always about Edelgard with you. You wrote much of the Emperor, yet mentioned nothing of yourself. Not even a hint of gloating about your fine station. There will not be a next time but if there is, I would not mind a little bit about your own affairs.

All this to say, here are the instructions you have demanded. 

It was absurd, and Ferdinand let out a bemused laugh at the thought, that he should give brewing advice to Hubert today and yet fully intend to kill him the next time they met in person. In Ferdinand’s mind’s eye, he saw himself asking if Edelgard had enjoyed the tea before raising his lance and charging. Hubert would say something benign about it being barely sufficient and then raise his hands with a wicked spell on his lips.  

War was strange.

He finished writing out the brewing directions and read over his words. There was so much he wanted to ask Hubert but this hardly seemed the way to do it. And there existed the possibility that, after finding instructions, Hubert might well toss the rest of the letter away. Ferdinand signed his full name with a flourish that he could already picture Hubert rolling his eyes at.

The raven cawed as Ferdinand tied the letter to its leg. “Safe travels, my friend,” Ferdinand said. In a flurry of wings, the raven was out the window. Ferdinand leaned over the sill, watching until it was just a dark spot in the sky.

Chapter Text

Ferdinand did not expect a letter of thanks. So he was not disappointed when a month went by and he had not received another visit from an Adrestian raven. There were more important things on his mind anyway. 

Currently he was headed to a town on the Kingdom side of the Brionac river. According to rumors, the town of Aion— despite its size— had been staving off Empire rule for some time. The rebellions there were disorganized but effective. Ferdinand had every intention of organizing them himself, using his natural leadership skills as well as his quality training from the Officers Academy. 

As soon as he found the damn place.

Ferdinand sat atop his horse— a brown and white mare he had dubbed Pia— and looked between the signpost and his map. They did not agree. “How did we get so turned around?” He asked Pia. “Perhaps this sign is wrong. How can we be eight miles from Themis when we have been traveling west all day?”

Pia offered no comment. Ferdinand turned the map this way and that, sure his navigating couldn’t be the issue here. 

“Well,” he said at length, “I suppose we should trust the posters of this sign. It makes no difference, really. No one is expecting us.”

Convinced, Ferdinand steered Pia down the left path and ventured onward. His confidence lasted for an hour or so before it began to wane. Should he have turned right? Gone back? Given up the whole adventure for folly and—

Ferdinand shook his head. Rallying the good people of Fódlan against Edelgard was the most effective use of his time and abilities. He had to persevere.

After another hour of travel, just as Ferdinand was fiddling with his map again, he heard a second set of hooves not far from his own. Bandits rarely had their own horses, in his experience, and never traveled alone. Perhaps this was a merchant? They would be heading for Aion, if Ferdinand was lucky. 

Any contact with society was welcome at this point, so Ferdinand spurred Pia onward to where he could see his path colliding with another, sure a pleasant opportunity to ask directions was at hand. 

“Good day to you!” Ferdinand hailed as he spotted the head of a dark horse emerge from the south path. 

Piercing eyes found his through a black fringe. For a moment, the world froze as they appraised one another.

Then Hubert von Vestra shot a spell at Ferdinand.

Ferdinand slid from Pia, the spell passing harmlessly over his head. He took up his lance. Pia, startled, trotted down the path and well out of the way. Another spell flew by Ferdinand’s ear, nearly igniting his hair. With a spin, Ferdinand aimed his lance at Hubert’s saddle, cutting clean through one side. 

Hubert fell. He momentarily disappeared behind his horse before he rolled to his feet. Sabotaging Hubert’s high ground had evened the playfield somewhat, but he was still an experienced dark mage. Ferdinand had fought by his side long enough to know that Hubert always had another strategy up his sleeve. Sure enough— just as he regained his footing, Hubert flung a series of Miasma spells at Ferdinand.

Ferdinand whirled his lance blindly, briefly losing Hubert in the smoke. He stepped back, hoping to be out of range. But no— a Banshee spell flew through the purple smoke and hit Ferdinand square in the chest.

He stumbled back, hand over his gut, the pain as vibrant as a burn. His lance slipped from his hands as his body rejected the spell. Next a pair of hands came through the smoke. Between one blink and the next, Hubert shoved Ferdinand into a tree by his shoulders. 

Hubert dug his fingers into Ferdinand. “How did you know I would be here?” He growled.

The pain was already ebbing away as Ferdinand’s resistance made itself known. If he had kept ahold of his lance, he thought bitterly, this fight would be over already. As it was, Hubert had asked a question. A baffling question. “What?”

“Don’t play dumber than you are. How did you find me?”

“I did not find you! I happened upon you!”

“You expect me to believe our paths crossed by mere chance?”

“Believe whatever you like, but that is the truth! I am not here to hunt you.” Hubert’s eyes narrowed. Without thinking, Ferdinand added, “I do not even know where here is!”

A beat passed. Ferdinand felt sure Hubert was about to shoot him full of Banshee again. 

Instead, Hubert laughed. Quite unkindly. “You’re lost.”

“I—That is—” Ferdinand’s cheeks turned color with his embarrassment. “I am near enough to Aion that there are signposts. That is all the direction I need.”

Hubert was back to glaring. “And just what business do you have in Aion?”

“Nothing I need to tell you about.”

“Are you hoping to add them to your list of towns you have heroically lent your aid to?” Ferdinand’s mouth parted, too taken aback to deny it. Another harsh laugh. “Did you think we didn’t notice? Over a dozen areas resisting the Empire, all spidering out from Aegir Territory. You were not exactly subtle.”

Ferdinand scowled. “So I aim to help drive the Empire out of Aion. Is that so wrong? To fight back against Edelgard where I can?”

Fingers dug into his shoulders again. “Emperor Edelgard,” Hubert corrected.

“What are you doing here, then?” Ferdinand challenged, squirming halfheartedly. 

“As it happens, I also have business in Aion.”

“You? What could be so pressing that the Emperor needs you in Aion?”

“Not the Emperor.” Hubert’s voice turned sour, mouth forming a thin line before he bit out, “Her uncle requested I go. Said the Empire soldiers here have been too soft with these rebels.”

“You intend to kill them,” Ferdinand stated with no small amount of horror.

“That would be the quickest way, yes.”

“Hubert—” 

Without warning, Hubert let go. Ferdinand, unprepared, slid to the ground, back against the tree. In front of anyone else, Ferdinand would have been crimson with embarrassment. But Hubert had seen him in more scathing situations during school— and possessed an unmovingly low opinion of him, in any case. 

“Aion is cut off from the Kingdom and anyone else it considers an ally,” Hubert explained as he turned away. He strode over to Ferdinand’s lance and kicked it into a row of bushes as he continued. “According to reports, the people there are being bled dry trying to fund efforts against the Empire. Between closed trade routes and poverty, they will soon run out of resources— unless they decide Empire rule isn’t as bad as starvation.” Ferdinand tensed when Hubert turned back to him, but Hubert merely crossed his arms, case made. 

“Why should I believe a word you are saying?” Ferdinand stood, placing a hand on his hip. Hopefully the move looked casual and Hubert had yet to notice the handaxe strapped to his side.

An exasperated sigh left Hubert. “You don’t have to. In fact it might be more amusing if you were to go to Aion anyway. I have to deal with this mess either way.”

“I can hardly stand by and let you kill people who are only trying to protect their home!”

“They do their home a disservice by rallying against the one force that can still aid them. This militia would rather let their children starve than fly the twin-headed eagle from their gates.”

“They would not be so desperate were it not for your war,” Ferdinand snapped with a step forward. “Do not pretend to care about their starving children when you—”

“I do not care about their starving children,” Hubert interrupted dryly, raising a glowing hand when Ferdinand took another step. “My only desire is to finish this task with haste, that I may return to Enbarr quickly. With you attempting to aid the rebels, I may well have to wrestle with this headache for a whole month.” The glowing hand turned a menacing violet. “Allow me to spell it out for you: stay far away from Aion or I am sending you to the flames myself.”

Neither moved, each scowling at the other. Ferdinand took a moment to observe this Hubert. Two years hadn’t changed him all that much— longer hair, Garreg Mach uniform swapped for more fitted attire, worn dark travel cloak over his shoulders.

Self preservation demanded Ferdinand keep the question to himself but his curiosity had grown too strong to ignore. “Why not just kill me anyway?” He asked, metaphorically looking a gift wyvern in the mouth.

“The Emperor and I are already furious that Volkhard has ordered me out here. I am not about to go back and explain to her that I had to kill a classmate to accomplish his goals.” The scowl slipped. “I will do it, of course. If you leave me no choice.”

Ferdinand’s fingers grazed the handle of his handaxe as he thought over his options. He would rather his death amount to more than just hurting Edelgard’s feelings, yet his conscience wouldn't allow him to simply let Hubert go on his merry way. 

The magic in Hubert’s hand pulsed. He cocked his head to one side and seemed to mull something over. Whatever conclusion he came to, he let his spell dissipate. “Perhaps we can trade.”

“Trade?” Ferdinand’s eyes momentarily went to Pia, taking a mental inventory of his possessions looped over her back. 

“I will not kill a single villager in Aion. Not its rebels or its civilians.” Hubert said. “In exchange, you are not to go there and make trouble. You are not to send supplies, troops, money— you will not lend them any assistance whatsoever. If you swear to stay out of my way, I will not kill them.”

Ferdinand let his arm relax. “If I am not allowed near Aion, how will I know you have not killed anyone?”

Hubert gave a dismissive shrug. “You will have to trust me, I suppose.”

“I do not.”

“That is the first intelligent thing I’ve heard you say.” Ferdinand bristled but Hubert went on, “I will send you a letter once I have secured the town. You can go see for yourself then, if you like. All I care about is getting this done as quickly as possible so I can return to more important matters.”

Ferdinand did not trust Hubert. It was as simple as that. He might have trusted the student, who watched his back on missions for the Church and did chores alongside him and slept two doors down. But Ferdinand did not trust this man. He didn’t trust the Hubert who had unleashed a war upon the continent.

Yet, Ferdinand felt he could trust that anger. Hubert’s animosity for Volkhard von Arundel was clear in his every word. If nothing else, Ferdinand thought he could trust that Hubert would do whatever was necessary to get out from under Volkhard’s command. 

“You will not kill anyone in Aion,” Ferdinand reiterated. “And you will do no harm to the town itself. Not their homes or their businesses.”

Hubert wrinkled his nose in displeasure but nodded. “Acceptable.” He held out his hand. 

Every instinct screamed at Ferdinand to snatch his lance from the bushes and declare he would not back down from a fight against the Empire— but he had to push his pride aside. This was to save a town from further strife. Unflinchingly, Ferdinand took the gloved hand and gave a firm shake. 

“If I see you anywhere near the gates I will kill you personally,” Hubert stated.

Ferdinand smirked. “A great honor, I assume. Fine. Do not break your word or you will be hearing from me and my lance.”

“Then count yourself lucky I intend to do no such thing. It saves you humiliation.”

They both let go, stepping back from one another. Despite their agreement, Ferdinand tensed, ready to reach for his axe again.

Hubert merely nodded and turned his back dismissively. Then he paused. “Head south until you reach the end of this forest, then go west,” he said, mounting his horse. “You will find a town where you should be able to pick up a better map.” With that, Hubert kicked his horse into motion and set of northeast.

“I still do not trust you!” Ferdinand called after him.

“Stay lost then, just don’t follow me to Aion!”

With that, Hubert was gone from sight. Ferdinand waited for any sign that Hubert was doubling back to finish him off— but nothing happened. The woods around him stayed quiet. Pia nosed over after a time, nibbling at the bush obscuring Ferdinand’s lance. 

A long, tired exhale left through Ferdinand’s nose. He retrieved his map from Pia’s pack, unfurling it to locate the town Hubert had mentioned. It was marked in a different place than Hubert’s directions had suggested. But then again, this map had lead Ferdinand into the path of the enemy rather than his intended town. Perhaps listening to Hubert wasn’t the worst idea…

Resigned, Ferdinand retrieved his lance and mounted Pia. “If he does not hold up his end of the trade, I shall march on Enbarr myself,” he told her as he angled them southward. Pia gave a snort that Ferdinand very much did not appreciate, never mind that she likely didn’t understand him in the first place.

Chapter Text

It was nearly two weeks before Ferdinand heard from Hubert again. 

After buying a new map— and wincing at the reveal that his previous map had been such low quality— Ferdinand had decided to stay in town and save up coin for the next leg of his journey. When the letter finally arrived, all it said was “Aion secure. — H”. Ferdinand huffed. Really, the raven that had made the delivery had more personality than Hubert’s letter. 

Ferdinand hurried to Aion at once, and discovered all was well. An Empire outpost had been established, but everyone who Ferdinand spoke to seemed in good enough spirits, and a few even said they were just relieved the Empire hadn’t demanded they stop worshiping the Goddess. All assured Ferdinand that the takeover had been without casualties. Hubert, by all evidence, had held up his end of the bargain.   

Only after leaving Aion did Ferdinand realize the subject of Edelgard’s tea had not come up once during their talk of trade. 

“He still owes me for that,” Ferdinand said to Pia as he washed his shirt in a river. Water made frigid by autumn numbed Ferdinand’s fingers but there were only so many stains he could tolerate wearing at once, so he ignored the discomfort. “Or perhaps Edelgard does. But there is no way I’m going close enough to Enbarr to chance running into her.”

Pia munched on dry grass and did not offer any comment. She also did not tell him to shut up so Ferdinand went on. “Not that I know what I would ask for, mind you. Inside information? He wouldn’t tell me something lucrative just for tea instructions.” He held up the shirt. Most of the blood was gone, but other stains looked as if they had made a longstanding home in the fabric. “Right now I would settle for a new shirt.”

Pia snorted and turned to nose at a bush.

“Hubert’s not the type of person to let a favor hang over his head. If I do not contact him myself, he will likely take matters into his own hands. If he has not already made his way back to the Empire then he could very well seek me out in person.”

Ferdinand suddenly became very aware of his surroundings, his vulnerable position. The forest around him seemed still; apart from the rush of the river and the pitter patter of animals in the trees, there was no activity. Ferdinand made himself concentrate, trying not to let his sudden anxiety trick his senses. No smell of smoke from a bandit fire, no chatter from travelers happening by, no suspicious footsteps. 

The image of Hubert crouching high in a tree peering down at Ferdinand while internally fighting off his fear of heights actually made Ferdinand laugh aloud as he wrung out his shirt. 

“If you can hear me, Vestra,” Ferdinand called out, voice mocking, “then come down from your perch and face me like a true noble!” 

Just as Ferdinand turned to hang his shirt on a branch, a twig snapped somewhere off to his right. He spun and put up his arms in a mockery of a fighting stance he had seen Caspar use a hundred times. 

The messenger raven had landed in a nearby tree. It cocked its head at his stance, making Ferdinand flush with embarrassment. He relaxed his arms. “That was poorly timed,” he chided. It didn’t react. The raven had traveled with Ferdinand since delivering the letter and seemed uninterested in going home.

Turning to Pia, Ferdinand said, “I shall prepare a fire for tonight. Then we make our way east. Perhaps by then I’ll have a better idea of what to demand of Hubert.” He took her utter disinterest as approval. 

---

Dear Hubert,

For the sake of brevity, I shall put aside our quarrel for the nonce. I am writing to ask for your personal hand in a matter I find above my skill set…

Chapter Text

Chopping firewood was— to Ferdinand, who had never had to do such a thing growing up— the most rewarding household chore. Ferdinand swung his axe down with a grunt. The sound of the blade cutting through wood was satisfying, and he smirked with pride. Chopping wood worked out one’s aggression, promised a comforting fire later, and it was easy to track progress. All Ferdinand had to do was look to his right at the pile of wood waiting to burn and he was filled with satisfaction.

The pile beside that, Menna’s pile, was far more plentiful. She balanced her axe on one shoulder and had a smirk of her own.

“Tired already?” Ferdinand panted, grabbing another piece and placing it before him.

“Just giving you time to catch up,” she said sweetly. Ferdinand chuckled.  

In looks, and looks alone, Menna reminded Ferdinand so much of Bernadetta that his heart ached. Her hair was the right color and cut. She was short enough, and only a few years older than Bernadetta would be now.

Unlike Bernadetta, she stood straight, smiled easily, looked him in the eye. He imagined this was how Bernadetta might be if her father had acted more like a parent and less like a farmer trying to rear an animal for market.

Just then, Menna’s own father came over and offered them both water, which they accepted with thanks. Fall was just starting to cool into winter. It chilled the sweat sticking to Ferdinand’s skin. “After this there’re a few doors need fixin’,” the man said as Ferdinand rest his axe against the house.

Ferdinand grimaced. “I regret to say I am not so good with my hands, sir.”

The man’s eyes twinkled. “Wasn’t talkin’ to you, son. Menna, make this one carry the tools.”

Ferdinand took the gentle ribbing with a smile. It was nice spending time around good, honest people again. Though he wished it would be under better circumstances. He eyed the bandages on Menna’s leg before dragging his gaze away. She wouldn’t need his help at all if she weren’t hindered so.

Menna nudged a bit of wood over to her pile with her good food. “You’re not bad at stuff like this.” She swept a lock of hair from her sweaty face. “But you’re not great. Where’re you from again?”

“Magdred.” Ferdinand kicked the piece back to his pile.

“You don’t have much of a Kingdom accent.”

“I have been traveling in the Empire for… some time.”

She narrowed her eyes but shrugged and drank more water. This happened whenever she asked about his past. She never seemed to want to press him for details— which was lucky, as Ferdinand didn’t have much in the way of details for his hastily made backstory. Throwing his family name around here would just cause more trouble for these people. The Airmid region was officially part of the Empire but, as the river connected it to the Alliance, the people there had always been of both lands. 

“My friend should be here today, according to his letter,” Ferdinand said to change the subject.

“You really think he can help Iuno?”

“If anyone can, it is him.” 

Menna nodded. The air became heavy around them. Her father put a hand on her shoulder, just as crestfallen.

Ferdinand wished, not for the first time, that he could go out and solve this problem himself. But he knew his limits. “Come now.” Ferdinand hoisted his axe onto his shoulder. “Tell me more about your fiancée. How did you meet?”

“You just want me nice and distracted so you can chop more than me.” Menna’s grin returned and she picked up her axe as well. “But sure, I’ll tell you. And my pile’ll still be bigger.”

“I doubt that very much. Unless you steal from mine again.”

Her father laughed as they resumed their work. By early afternoon, Ferdinand had the full story of how Menna and Iuno had met, and Menna had a neat pile of firewood that far outstriped his own— an even trade in Ferdinand’s opinion.

Next they mended the doors of the chicken coop as well as one of the windows in the kitchen. Both times Ferdinand mostly watched and held tools as Menna did the real work. At one point she winced and reached down to her bandages. Ferdinand immediately made her sit and rest, ignoring her protests. 

Luckily her father came out then to tell them he had lunch ready, so they called a halt to the chores and Ferdinand helped her into the house. The raven that had come with Hubert’s reply stood on the roof of the small farmhouse. It called down to Ferdinand as he approached the door. “I shall bring some out for you as well, my friend!” Ferdinand promised. 

Menna giggled, as she always did when he spoke to the bird. “You keep interesting company. Were you an animal handler in Magdred?”

“I was no stranger to animals but this one is sort of new.”

“Seems fond of you for a new friend.”

The raven cawed louder. “In a moment!” Ferdinand called up, causing Menna to laugh again.

Ferdinand got Menna settled in a rickety chair at the kitchen table, grabbed a few pieces of dried meat, and made his way back outside. He whistled for the raven. It took to the sky and landed on his shoulder, eating the meat from his hand. When finished, it flew off again towards the woods surrounding the farm. Ferdinand rolled his eyes. “Not even a thank you? I thought they raised ravens well in the capital.”

“They do.”

Ferdinand automatically reached for his belt at the voice, but nothing was there. His weapons were in the stable with Pia. Stepping out of the treeline, wearing the same fine travel cloak as before, was Hubert. The raven was perched comfortably on his shoulder.

When they had last spoken, Ferdinand had taken pride in his appearance— he had believed his opinions would carry more weight with Aion if he took the time to look noble and official. Now Ferdinand stood outside a time-battered house in nothing more than pants with dirt covering the knees and a long sleeved linen shirt, sweat soaking through at embarrassing points. At least he had tied back his ever-growing hair.

“I assumed you would come after dark,” Ferdinand said, trying to settle his nerves.

Hubert raised an eyebrow. “I could leave if you wish to delay this request.”

“Not at all. I am merely surprised.” Perhaps snark was not the right way to go. He had asked Hubert to come, after all. “Come inside, we were just about to have lunch. You can meet Menna.”

“I would prefer to talk to you first. Alone.” Hubert cut his eyes meaningfully to the house. Ferdinand turned to see Menna’s father looking out the window, staring at Hubert with a mix of caution and awe. 

Ferdinand sent the older man a cheery smile and gestured for him to wait there. Then he followed Hubert into the woods. 

They didn’t speak until they arrived at a small clearing just past the tree line. There stood a truly magnificent horse. Ferdinand had been too surprised to really observe Hubert’s horse the last time they met. Now he stared, ignoring Hubert behind him for a moment. The horse had a chestnut coat so dark it could be mistaken for black. When he spotted Ferdinand, the horse took a few steps back and shook his head. Ferdinand smiled gently. He held out his hand, palm up. “Hello again, handsome,” he cooed. The horse’s ears perked up. Ferdinand took slow steps towards him, stopping just out of reach, hand still extended.

The horse considered Ferdinand, stomping the ground once or twice. Then he moved forward until he had pressed his nose to Ferdinand’s palm. Grinning, Ferdinand pet his head and mane. “And what is your name?”

“Fynn,” Hubert answered behind him.

“A good name.”

“I shall pass that on to the palace stablehands.” Hubert came over to stand beside Ferdinand. He did not look happy. Neither did the raven. They made quite the picture. “I did not bring you here to talk about my horse.”

“Yes, yes…” Ferdinand let his hand trail off the stallion’s head and turned to Hubert. “What did you want to discuss?”

“Let’s start with why you think relaying brewing instructions and rescuing random farm girls are equal tasks.” 

“This ‘farm girl’ was kidnapped and taken from her fiancée for reasons unclear. I watched it happen but was not able to help in time, though it pains me to admit it.”

“So you asked for my personal help to assuage your own guilt?”

“I asked you because these are your people!”

Hubert’s eyes narrowed. “How is that?”

“The kidnappers wore robes just like the mysterious mages who helped you and the Adrestian army attack Garreg Mach,” Ferdinand explained. He was unable to keep the accusation out of his tone. “The same people who broke into the Holy Tomb. They have power I cannot combat. I knew as soon as I saw them that neither I nor Menna could give chase.”

The memory of that day over a week ago still didn’t sit right with Ferdinand. He had just been leaving town when he saw Menna trying to shout for help through a silence spell. A hooded figure in horribly familiar clothing, who had an unconscious woman over one shoulder, spotted Ferdinand and called a warning to his companion. Too late, as Ferdinand has just stabbed said companion in the shoulder. The kidnapper had grabbed his bleeding friend, held up a strange staff, and the two vanished in a flash of light. 

Ferdinand would have, of course, stopped to help Menna no matter who she was, given that her leg was bleeding profusely at the time. But he had taken the task to heart when he saw who she resembled.

Now Hubert watched Ferdinand carefully. The raven squirmed on his shoulder and Hubert absently reached up a hand to stroke its feathers. “Who are these people to you, Ferdinand?”

Ferdinand shook his head. “They are people in need of help. I can help, in a way, so I did.” He steeled his spine. “If this is too much to ask in exchange for the tea, I will take on another request from you that you deem appropriate.”

“And if I refuse outright?”

“I do not believe you will.”

“Oh?”

“You would not have come out here yourself if you just planned to leave,” Ferdinand stated. He hoped so, at least. So much was riding on Hubert being willing to lend a hand. Ferdinand didn’t know what he would do if he had to go back to the house and tell Menna they needed another plan. 

Hubert seemed to consider that response. He tilted his head at Ferdinand, who suddenly became very aware of splinters in his fingers and grime gathered at his brow. 

The raven bit a lock of Hubert’s hair. Hubert bat the bird away. “Yes, fine,” Hubert said at last. Ferdinand held back a laugh as Hubert glared at the raven, who flew off. “What can you tell me about the men who took her?”

Ferdinand risked a smile as relief coursed through him. “I believe hearing Menna’s explanation would speed things up.” With a final pat to Fynn’s head, Ferdinand turned back for the house. Footsteps told him Hubert was following. “You can bring Fynn,” Ferdinand said over his shoulder. “There is more than enough room in the stable.”

“We will not be staying long.”

“No lunch then?”

“You asked me here for assistance. I am under no obligation to stay for a meal.”

Ferdinand rolled his eyes. “I was merely being polite.”

“Spare me the effort.”

They arrived back at the house. Menna’s father opened the door, having likely been watching from the window the entire time, and welcomed them inside. He caught Ferdinand’s eye, who nodded. A hopeful grin appeared on the man’s weathered face. 

Menna herself was still at the kitchen table. Her plate was barely touched and she looked up as Ferdinand and Hubert walked in. It may have been Ferdiand’s imagination but he thought he heard Hubert inhale sharply at the sight. 

Evidently she had been in the middle of changing her bandages— her leg was propped up on a second chair and fresh bandages were set beside her. “Menna,” Ferdinand began, “my friend has agreed to help. Would you be willing to speak with him about that day?” 

Her smile was almost identical to her father’s. “Yes, of course!” Menna twisted in her chair as if to stand. 

Ferdinand was about to stop her but Hubert acted first, crossing the small room and placing a hand on Menna’s shoulder. “Please, no need to move,” he said softly. “I just have a few questions for you.”

She clapped a hand to his forearm. “Thank you for coming.”

Hubert nodded before taking the third seat at the table. It was such strange behavior from what Ferdinand had expected that he simply stood in the entryway for a few moments, curious.  

It didn’t take long for Hubert and Menna to finish their conversation. When he was satisfied, Hubert got up from the table, politely turned down a cup of tea from Menna’s father, and made his exit. “I will be in touch,” he said quietly to Ferdinand just outside the front door. “You are staying here, I assume?”

“Yes.” Ferdinand looked back at Menna, who was finally eating a bit of her sandwich. Her lavender hair framed a hopeful expression. “I may not be able to help Iuno, but I can help here.” When he turned back to Hubert, it was to find Hubert staring at him once again. Ferdinand raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Hubert shook his head. “Nothing. If I’m not back in a week, you can help her grieve.”

Before Ferdinand could admonish him for saying something so callus, Hubert left. Ferdinand watched him enter the forest and vanish into the trees. He tried to listen for hooves, but there was only silence. Not even a raven’s call.

Menna’s father approached with a chipped mug of tea. “And I thought your animal friends were strange,” the man said. “Think I believe you, now. That he can help.”

“If only you knew him,” Ferdinand said, taking the tea. “Then you would definitely believe me.”