Honorary Golden Deer

Better late than never...

Linhardt was scribbling away with his owl feathered quill when he first heard the news. It was like the light had returned to his life as the cloud of darkened sorrow lifted. He had swiped away the smile that came to fruition when the messenger looked up at him, steadily awaiting a reply. He ran his fingers down the rachis of the quill as he dismissed the man who came on behalf of the Empress. The smile returned as the door closed and Linhardt leaned back in his chair. The professor was alive. He had hoped, but as the years went on a small dark part of him convinced him that his teacher was gone. But now whispers of the alliance leader and his friends nearing the borders of their countries had Linhardt recalling the promise they had made five years ago. He immediately knew where they were and why, and tried not to allow the quip of his lips to gather any further up his cheeks in dread that someone was watching him. He hadn't told the messenger that, and he felt his pulse quicken at the thought of Edelgard smashing down his door and threatening his life for information. It was clear he was still untrustworthy in the Empress's eye, having transferred from the Black Eagle class to the Golden Deer and then fought alongside them against Edelgard in the fight for the Monastery. In the aftermath, Linhardt had been dragged back home. He stood beside his fellow Black Eagle students before their new Empress, her slitted eyes wholly on him and him alone. Edelgard had taken pity on him – much to Linhardt's surprise – and found himself whisked away back to his family's manor; where he found himself bombarded with tedious jobs Edelgard tasked for him. There was no doubt it was to keep him out the way and it certainly didn't help that he was monitored almost twenty-four hours a day.

He had to get out of here, escape the constricting claws Edelgard had around his every move. Now that he knew the professor was alive and it seemed Claude was ready to make his move, Linhardt needed to be ready for what was to come. He yawned and scratched his cheek, placing his well-kept quill back into its case. He ran his finger over the engraved writing and blinked some of the tiredness away. It was one of his most prized possessions. From the professor, of course. Received over a lovely cup of angelica tea to discuss whatever Linhardt had desired. He had felt the exhaustion from their conversation instantly lift when the man offered him the beautiful feather. Linhardt took it with surprised thanks and had spent the rest of the afternoon inspecting every barb with a delicate touch – despite insisting he would nap. That was when he realised that, perhaps, the professor could provide more for him than professor Manuela could. It did help the man had a mystery inside him that had him intrigued to study – which was extremely odd for Linhardt.

As soon as his monitors left for the night, he packed a bag. The quill the last to be placed delicately on top. Linhardt looked in on his sleeping parents, silently apologising before he fled into the night. Though he was one to dabble in magic, stealth was something he could use to his advantage. How else could he nap in class so obviously without anyone batting an eyelid? He was tense as he ran, not wanting to alert anyone if he took an empire stallion. As he got closer to the border the lighter he became. He hoped Claude and the others would recognise him and remember him for who he was as a person and not from where he hailed. Linhardt didn't sleep – he couldn't – not with Edelgard. The Empress was most certainly aware he had now bolted. He continued on with the thought of being able to rest his head on his bed at the monastery; that was only if the dormitories still stood.

He reached the town below the large church and found it slowing lingering with life. People were slowly returning, hearing the news that Claude and the new archbishop were making a stand. As Linhardt started to trail with his footsteps, allowing himself to finally stop looking over his back for a swinging axe, he found himself thinking of the professor. Had the man changed significantly? Perhaps he had grown a beard? Linhardt had to sneer his nose up at the thought. Or had he grown out his hair? Had he grown in stature? Was Linhardt now taller than him? That thought caused the young man to blush, wondering what it would be like to admire at his teacher from above. His fascination wasn't long-lived when his arm was suddenly grabbed firmly. Linhardt snapped his gaze up to the knight who caught him and stuttered out in panic.