You Will Live

Healing & Amends

Setting up camp properly would take a few hours. While the soldiers could collectively do so in the dark after years of war, no one wished to test that theory. It was nearer to twilight than dusk when the forces began. For Hubert, it was bizarre not to be coordinating the affair. His agents knew his procedure well enough to carry it out without instruction, but the infantry could be staging a musical for all Hubert knew.

In regards to security, it was wise that he did not have a full understanding of the camp. He could not easily discover the main leaders of Fódlan in the night, when they would be their most vulnerable. Instead, he had the rare displeasure of standing about and feeling useless among the activity.

There was a single item on his list of tasks to see to, outside of his coerced bargain with Dorothea. Hubert was unaccustomed to having nothing to distract him from tedious matters he would rather ignore. But, regrettably, he had to be certain his recovery was on course for when they arrived at Shambhala. It wouldn't do to be at less than his best when avenging Lady Edelgard.

Who could Hubert entrust that to other than Linhardt?

Yet he stood and observed the united militaries going about putting up tents, waiting by the mess tent and smelling the start of dinner. The hunters had clearly made more progress in their duties than he had. All that accomplished with the impending rainstorm keeping animals in their dens, and Hubert felt deservedly foolish.

Dedue's arrival transformed that paralytic waiting into something productive by pure chance.

His neutral expression showed nothing of his thoughts, as usual. Hubert was confident he wouldn't need to wait long to hear it for himself from the King's loyal right hand. A forthright disposition was one of many virtues Dedue possessed.

"Hubert. Allow me to thank you."

"Hm?" That—he hadn't expected. Dedue's opinion of him was rather obvious at the original debriefing on the Agarthan base. The Duscur guard stared at him, and Hubert blinked. They were getting nowhere. "I can't fathom what for."

"Enbarr is not safe for His Highness, and you were careful not to lead the assassins to the palace."

Bizarrely, the topic was somewhat soothing. Dedue was fully aware that the King of Faerghus could singlehandedly slaughter dozens of Imperial soldiers. Hubert had known Her Majesty was comparably efficient in battle. But they both swore fealty to their leaders, and what else mattered? The gnawing unease that was making slow, torturous work of Hubert's resolve had a fragile respite.

"It was nothing. Merely the minimum effort for a friend of Lady Edelgard's, however turbulent their bond," Hubert stated. Based on their talk in the Adrestian kitchen not so long ago, he had a correction to make. With it, that uneasiness burrowed under his skin once again. "Evidently a friend of mine as well."

"His Highness is too kind," Dedue acknowledged, more fond of Dimitri than critical of Hubert.

He was beginning to buy into the outlandish suspicion that they were conspiring to behave in unpredictable manners, keeping Hubert reeling. So to speak. Dedue was correct, yes. But his resentment of Hubert ought to have been far stronger than even his sentiments on the king. Forced to accept that wasn't the case, Hubert was left in uncertain territory.

That seemed to be the new standard. Edelgard was dead and he was not, his countrymen held him to be a traitor, and his shaky alliances contained a shocking number of sympathetic hearts. Enough to win a vote, if only just.

Hubert took in a deep breath, letting it out at his leisure. It wasn't as though he had a schedule to follow.

"We certainly agree on that."