Honorary Golden Deer

The Great Bridge of Myrddin

Linhardt wasn't usually one to fret. It wasn't worth the little energy he possessed. He characteristically left his worrying to his good friend Caspar – who worried enough for the both of them – or Ferdinand – who deemed himself Linhardt's teacher in the etiquettes of noble society. But without the two of them here, it was just him and the gut-wrenching feeling that he'll never get to feel strong arms draw him in again. Linhardt had waited, patiently. It was all he could do in his self-sentenced position. He had shuffled up the Goddess Tower's never-ending staircase and found himself gazing at the glass stained windows in interest. It only invoked his attention for a small period before Linhardt began to set an unrestful pace. Back and forth, wondering what was taking Byleth so long. He had surely seen the scribbled note by now. It was well past midnight; even if his meeting had run long, he would be in his room moments later. Linhardt had abruptly paused in his stepping and let out a shaky uneven breath. The warlock allowed his heart to sink dangerously low at the realisation that Byleth was evidently not coming. Linhardt wouldn't be able to apologise for his disastrous and self-centered actions and produce the ring in his pocket and propose and declare his love for the man. It was a flippant excuse of an apology, but it worked for many students back in their school days. Linhardt had borne witness to many occasions. His nose in a book when an arguing couple would come marching past his napping tree. They'd fall out, get a little pushy before somehow one of them would declare that their love was stronger than 'this' – whatever that meant – and they'd start locking lips in front of the disgusted warlock. Linhardt had finally pushed Byleth's tolerance too far, too hard. He felt utterly foolish and his insides riddled ruthlessly with guilt. Why couldn't he just appreciate what he had in front of him? The self-reprimanding sigh he exhaled was drowned by the hurried callings of his name. He turned to the sound in confusion and saw the bespectacled Ignatz running hastily towards him.

"Ignatz?" Linhardt tilted his head and waited for the assassin to catch his breath before he addressed why he was here. "Whatever is wrong?"

"We're heading out," Ignatz informed him and grabbed at Linhardt's wrist.

"But we've only just returned." The warlock responded. "I have yet to rest, I- "

"-Come on, the professor is waiting."

The simply utter of Byleth's title had the warlock immediately yielding and he allowed the assassin to drag him away from the Goddess Tower, with the aching feeling that this would be the last opportunity to ever tell Byleth his true intentions. Linhardt idly rubbed his wrist after Ignatz let go and they headed through the monastery. The warlock witnessed knights running around on errands, gathering supplies and getting surplus armour and weapons ready.

"Where are we going?" Linhardt asked absentmindedly as they passed the dining hall.

"The Great Bridge of Myrddin," Ignatz informed the warlock who blinked at the assassin in surprise. It fully settled in his mind a fraction of a second later and he was suddenly horrified.

"But the Empire has full control on both sides. Count Gloucester has made sure to keep the Alliance holding where they stand and delaying the Empire itself from continuing its conquest of Fódlan." Linhardt pulled Ignatz to a stop. "I must speak with the professor- Claude even." He insisted.

"You speak my name and I shall appear." Claude suddenly materialised behind Linhardt, causing the warlock to jolt in mild surprise. The warlock turned around and disregarded the archer's light comment and spoke of the task at hand.

"I do not think you realise what is going on down by the bridge." Linhardt started and then stopped waiting for Claude to allow him to elaborate. He wouldn't freely give up information, he never had. It always took Hubert all his patience and tolerance for the warlock to finally ask Linhardt for his opinion. It was both humorous and joyful for him to compete with the Imperial advisor in a staring contest.