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Day 4 - Training
For someone who was the son of a blacksmith, Dedue never had any particular interest in weapons, whether making or wielding them. This perhaps would have been of some problem in his future back in Duscur, for who else would have taken up his father's business? In his opinion, he had thought that his sister would have been a finer fit for it, in all honesty. She dealt well, with the burning heat of the furnace.
The furnace may still be standing, back in Duscur. Hard stone, metal, all things hard to tear down without some measure of effort. No reason to tear down something that can be reused on bloodied soil. Something that can be stolen from the people who had made it with their own hands.
His family stands no more. There is only him. And if he wishes to keep standing, then he must take an interest in weapons.
Yet even with the crown prince's demands for him to stay by his side, there are few in Fhirdiad Castle who would bother to train him. Or, perhaps if they would train him, they would not train him well. Would train him poorly, in hopes that perhaps his mistakes would lead to his death. Dedue is young, and he is new to the castle, but even he can see the filth in their eyes as they look upon him.
There is no honor inherent in Fhirdiad, not like what he was told in fairy tales once upon a time. Its people would see him dead gladly, and cheer for his blood spilled upon the earth, just like the rest of his family. His people.
If there is anyone who is worth anything in this place that makes him sick to his stomach, then it is the same prince who he owes his life to... and one more.
The one person who will train him properly, and make him into someone worthy enough to protect his prince's life.
"An axe is an interesting choice," says Duke Rodrigue Fraldarius as he looks over Dedue, in a private corner of the training grounds that is normally reserved for royalty. There is, by all technicalities, royalty present, as Dimitri is having his own private lessons on the opposite side... but Dedue knows that his presence here is an anomaly. His Grace does not seem to mind much, instead much more preoccupied with observing Dedue.
It is an... uneasy feeling, to be looked at so. Different, from how others look at him with such disdain, such hatred, such disgust. Yet in some miserable way, he's grown used to those looks. There's only one person who matters to him in Fhirdiad, in all of Fodlan, and it is Dimitri's eyes who he finds all he needs to.
Yet perhaps it is because His Grace's gaze is so different that Dedue does not know how to act. Somehow, its sharpness is all the more biting because it is not filled with such loathsome feelings, just bright amber filled with something he does not know how to react to.
Still, this is a man who has had Dimitri's respect and affection for longer than he has ever known a poor commoner such as Dedue. This is a man who, from Dedue's understanding, had stood for him when Dimitri had insisted on making Dedue his vassal. His first impressions are that, if nothing else, he should show himself well to such a man.
"I have heard that there are certain advantages to axes," he says, keeping his spine straight, and tall. "I thought that, if I am to be His Highness's vassal, then... something which compliments him is best."
"And in what way do you think that an axe would benefit His Highness?"
This is a test. Does he even have the right answers? Dedue suddenly feels as though he is doomed to fail. "I was always told that, although it is dependent on more than the weapon... That lances strike first against a sword. A sword slices past the weight of an axe. An axe snaps a lance in twain." What he does not say, as well, is that it was expected that a young man of his health and age to go out and occasionally gather firewood for his father's forge, and that sometimes it was simply cheaper to get such things for himself instead of buying it or bartering.
It doesn't really seem like a particularly noble and grand sort of answer, in a place where the alleged grand and noble history - or at least a history that is perceived as such - is still so very revered.
Duke Fraldarius, at the very least, nods along with the answer. "Very good. An answer that our own knights are expected to learn if they ever hope to make it out onto the battlefield. And it may very well suit your frame, I imagine. You seem to have the makings of a man with broad shoulders."
Is that a compliment? Dedue supposes he must take it as one, even if he is not sure. "Thank you, Your Grace."
Whatever else, that seems to suffice as an answer, and the Duke's expression softens a bit as he nods - more to himself then Dedue, he is fairly certain. "Why don't you show me how you hold it, then? This way, I can better see just where we should take your training."
Ah. And this, surely, is where he is expected to fail. Where the Duke will see that he is a commoner with no proper training whatsoever in how to wield any sort of weapon, and have him dismissed on the spot for being such a failure. While he only knew of Faerghus's culture to some degree from Duscur and it being neighbors, Dedue still knows well enough that its children learn to wield weapons fairly early on. Duscur was different; he never had reason to wield absolutely anything. To a trained and celebrated knight such as Rodrigue Fraldarius, his shortcomings will no doubt be obvious.
The only thing which is puzzling is why wait to do such things far away from the public eye, here with Dimitri taking his own training just as seriously now that he is permitted to be out of bed with no one fussing over him. Any of the other knights in the castle, Dedue is certain, would have jumped upon the chance to humiliate him in front of a crowd. To show him lacking.
Perhaps it is a form of kindness, to humiliate him only where Dimitri can see. Perhaps it is a way to work the facts in the Duke's favor. If fewer see the events, then can he not tell them as he sees fit?
That, after all... is how the Tragedy played out, even with His Highness calling out its injustice for as long as Dedue has known him.
Yet he cannot refuse. Not when the man in front of him is a Duke, and he is but a poor Dusci commoner with nothing else to his name but his oath to Dimitri. So he braces his feet against the ground, and hefts up the axe as best as he can in his hands. Like he did, when he and Dimitri only had one another to depend on for their short time back in Duscur.
It can be nothing like what is demanded of a knight, he knows, but... surely it is a good enough first start, isn't it? Certainly it had helped him well enough when it was the two of them. Yet underneath that sharp and cold stare...
Duke Fraldarius starts to laugh. A quiet chuckle under his breath at first, and then a little louder, muffled only a little bit by the hand he has curled up by his mouth. "Well, a fine form for a woodcutter!" he teases, words which draws out a fierce blush onto Dedue's face. "And yet for foes made of flesh and not wood, there are some openings that they would more than gladly take advantage of." He pauses for a moment, taking in the slump of Dedue's shoulders, and chuckles again. "You need not worry. It is good to see you are used to the weight of a weapon like that, even if a woodcutter's axe is no doubt very different from a warrior's. It gives you something of an advantage, when otherwise you are learning somewhat late. Now we need only to correct the form."
And His Grace is correct on that front - there are many mistakes in Dedue's form that must be adjusted. There are many ways that an opponent could take advantage of a sloppy form. He just hadn't realized how many until His Grace starts to adjust him, putting his arms and grip into the right places, showing how to take full advantage of an axe's weight.
Somehow, that only makes him feel all the more embarrassed, by the time their training comes to an end, and he's all the more aware of his various failings. Dedue has had to learn how to school his expression, since arriving in Fhirdiad... But apparently it isn't enough.
Certainly Duke Fraldarius can see through him, stopping him while he's putting away his practice axe. "There's no need to be so upset with yourself, you know."
Being approached so casually, especially by someone with such high ranking within Faerghus... It has Dedue's shoulders jerk in shock, before he carefully looks up towards the duke. At times like these, he still doesn't know if he's looking at someone 'acceptably'. "Was that as obvious as my inexperience, Your Grace?"
"Ha, perhaps, but... It is more that I am a father, and my own wore similar expressions when their own inexperience was pointed out." And that light and amused expression fades away, revealing a far more flimsy bit of gossamer than Dedue had realized. A heaviness to pale eyes, a tug at his mouth, shadows over his very being. A weight. Had one of the things leveled at Dedue, even just before this bit of training, not been whispered rumors on how wretched it must be for Duke Fraldarius to train such a thing as he?
He remembers, now, that the Duke Fraldarius had two sons. He remembers that Dimitri wakes in the middle of the night, one of the names uttered from his mouth with such pain.
"I apologize," he says, and some clarity returns to the Duke's gaze once more as he looks down upon him.
It had felt the appropriate thing to say - the only thing it seems some people respond to, an apology for his very existence. An apology for daring to be here, underneath Dimitri's protection, wanting to live. It does not work all the time, with some people's revolting hatred never to be truly sated, but, well... What else can he do?
He's not quite able to look Duke Fraldarius in the eyes, when His Grace looks properly to him. He doesn't want to deal with the expression that might be on his face... although he's not sure he's any better prepared for the words, either. "Were you the one to strike down, with your own hands, His Majesty Lambert Blaiddyd of Faerghus? Or my son, Glenn of Fraldarius?"
"No... Your Grace."
A quiet, but long sigh. "Well... If he were to fall to a boy with a woodsman's axe, I would never have sent him out into the world," Duke Fraldarius says with some attempt at humor. It doesn't lift his tone, not really. Just a ghost, attempting to mimic what it can. "There is no need for your apology, lad. There is no blame to be placed upon you, even if it were your very parents that did it - and of that, I highly doubt."
Those words... They should be expected. Dimitri has gone furious over the fact that it should be expected, that the Tragedy should never have happened in the way it did, and Dedue should never hold any blame.
And yet they are uncommon. Rarely heard, rarely expressed to him.
Do they mean anything now, after all is said and done?
"Thank you," he says, for lack of any better idea of what he can say. And then, because it is true but also because he needs some method of escape, he adds, "His Highness appears to be beckoning for me." Sure enough, with his own instructor's back turned, the prince is waving one hand about the air eagerly, watching with no small amount of intent.
His Grace nods. "Of course. Dimitri relies quite a bit on you, so it would not do to keep His Highness waiting. I hope you have a pleasant meal, and remember what I told you on maintaining your stance."
They manage to make it out all the way to Dimitri's small residence on castle lands, into the gardens that surround the area, before Dimitri himself finally gives in with no one else trailing after them. "So what did you think of Rodrigue?" he asks, dropping the Duke's first name so casually. His eyes are nearly sparkling. "Isn't he fantastic? I hadn't thought that he would know much about axes, but I suppose Rodrigue must know just about everything."
"His Grace.. is most familiar with swords, and lances, isn't he?" Dedue can surely remember that much, from what he has heard of the man before. The weapons many Faerghans seem to prefer, or at least those that aspire to knighthood.
Dimitri nods, not heading straight inside through the front door of his home but instead going around the side. Dedue follows him, of course. He, too, doesn't want to deal with the servants that wait and fuss by the front door - a mixture of people the regent has sent to watch over them and people who genuinely think their precious prince is being corrupted. "That's right. Swords go along best with the relic of the Fraldarius family, the Aegir. So... They've all always been good at swordsmanship..."
His voice starts to drift a bit, lost in thought. Lost in quiet pain. Glenn. That had been the voice he'd called more than once, in the depth of his nightmares.
Dedue speaks up, to pull Dimitri out from that pit - just like Dimitri has done so many times for him. "Perhaps it is exactly because he is skilled with a sword that he knows some things about the axe, then," he suggests. "It is always good to know one's opponent, or so I have heard."
It's hard to tell if that's truly dragged Dimitri out from his own internal misery but, for the time being, it seems to distract him, and he smiles at Dedue again. "Perhaps! Rodrigue is very smart. I just..." Dimitri falters, for a moment. "...I wish he would have brought Felix with him. I've told you about Felix, haven't I?"
The best friend from birth, the crybaby, the person who will now have to grow up to become the new Duke of Fraldarius. "You have," Dedue confirms.
"Mm. I've heard that Felix might need new lessons to become a duke..." Neither of them say why, exactly, that is. "But there can't be any lessons he couldn't learn here in Fhirdiad, too, or a tutor that wouldn't come here." They're in the back gardens fully, now, and this time it's Dedue's turn to guide Dimitri as he takes him to an old tree whose branches reach towards the sun. "I wonder... if Rodrigue thinks it would be bad for him, to be close to another person like me."
Another person like him... Dedue frowns, not understanding. "...I think anyone would be glad to be close to you, Your Highness. Especially... if he has known you all your life. His Grace is someone I do not know well, but he seems to be kind." If nothing else, certainly he does not mindlessly hate. That has to speak for something.
Dimitri nods a bit. "Yeah... Rodrigue is really nice." And yet the question is still weighing on his mind, a bit. Maybe more than a bit.
That can't do at all. "Then I could ask him, since he is training me every day, until he returns back to Fraldarius," Dedue suggests, even though, once the words leave his mouth, he suddenly loathes the idea. Just the promise of trying to speak in any sort of manner to a duke of Faerghus, the duke of Faerghus...
But he really has no choice on the matter, not when he sees the way Dimitri perks up and flops down onto the grass beneath the tree. "Will you really, Dedue?"
Yes. He really will. Because he is incapable of denying Dimitri anything when he looks up at him with sparkling blue eyes, hopeful and happy. That is the exact reason that he ends up spending a good portion of his training the next day staring intently up at Duke Fraldarius, working himself up to ask that simple question even though it absolutely cannot be his place to.
Dedue does not feel subtle. This is because he is absolutely not subtle, with Rodrigue staring right back at him with a raised eyebrow before he brings a break into their training. "Is there a particular reason you have rarely taken your eyes off of me?" he asks, with no small bit of amusement. "Because that is getting in the way of your training, and throwing you off. I hope you are not dwelling too deeply on what happened only yesterday."
It would be a lie to say that some part of his mind isn't lingering on that conversation, and just what he should do about it. How he should feel. He didn't even speak of it to Dimitri, so there it lingers in his head and in his chest.
But if it is not something he will speak of to Dimitri, then certainly he will not speak of it to His Grace. Besides, he does have other things on his mind. A different purpose. "I actually was pondering a question, Your Grace," he says, lowering his axe just a bit as he speaks to the older man; it doesn't feel right to speak to him with a weapon raised even if they are in training. He doesn't need more rumors swimming around him. "I am just unsure if it is in my place to ask it." Surely if he said that it was a question weighing on Dimitri's mind, then Duke Fraldarius would no doubt answer quite willingly. Probably.
But if Dimitri hasn't been able to speak of it to him in the first place... Then it doesn't feel right to say it out loud. Dimitri's trust is precious to him, more precious than anything. So Dedue stays quiet, and hopes that he is not so transparent in this.
Duke Fraldarius considers him, and the problem he has brought up to him. "I see..." Another pause, and then he smiles a bit. "Then I believe I can help you in that area." Yet instead of just giving him blanket permission, or even just a momentary permission to speak his mind, Duke Fraldarius turns away from him and starts to walk towards the weapons racks. He peruses what is available, which is honestly not much - everything is sized appropriately for children and teenagers, such as Dimitri and Dedue.
Yet eventually, he picks up one of the swords that is there, something that would be a bit too long for the average youth but which serves him perfectly well as a short sword. "Your Grace...?" Dedue asks hesitantly, as the duke jogs back to him with quite a lively kick to his step.
"Since you feel it is not your station to ask me any questions, then let us put part of your training on hold for a moment," Duke Fraldarius says, gesturing with one hand off of the sword. "Instead, we will take the time to do a bit of sparring! It is always good to have some practical training in as well, so that you have a better idea of how it will feel in a proper fight! Going through the forms and practicing against dummies can only do so much, after all."
Ah. Dedue blinks, his mind still trying to properly grapple this sudden change up in his training. Should he be allowed to argue with his mentor? "If... that is what you wish, Your Grace. But I cannot imagine that I will make a decent opponent, since my skills with an axe are still at an amateur's level."
No, they're even worse than at an amateur's level, and by no means any ways decent enough for him to serve as His Highness's protector. Duke Fraldarius must surely know that.
"Oh, I am aware." Well, at least now he has some confirmation. "Still, if you manage to land a solid hit upon my person, then I will permit you the freedom to ask me any question that you like, and I shall answer you with utmost honesty." Another grin, almost boyish on a rather mature face. "How about that?"
"...I am still at an amateur's level, Your Grace."
"Then that is all the more the reason for you to improve, depending on what you wish to ask me, isn't it?"
And that does make a sort of logic, Dedue supposes. Like rewarding any child for doing basic chores at first, only this happens to be a matter of learning a life or death skill. He eyes the sword there in the duke's hand, how inconspicuous it looks. A simple practice sword. He still feels uneasy with it pointed at him. Sick, to some degree.
But he still does not back down. Instead, taking a breath, he does his best to remember the proper stances, and hefts up his axe once again. "Then I shall do my best to not disappoint you, Your Grace."
Dedue loses. Spectacularly. Oh, he does not lose right away, and yet he is fairly certain that he loses all the worse for that. It is one thing to hear about Duke Fraldarius's skill with weapons. It is another entirely to actually see him wield a sword, moving past Dedue's sluggish and clumsy swings or blocking them without even the slightest bit of hesitation. There is absolutely no doubt in Dedue's mind that this isn't even a fraction of the duke's skill, either.
"I hope you won't consider giving up just from one loss," the duke says, far too cheerfully as he stands over where Dedue is laying against the ground after having thoroughly exhausting himself. "You're still young, after all! And not a bad study, either."
He doesn't feel like a quick study. He just feels like a fool laying there on the ground after embarrassing himself in front of a duke who is also his teacher. "Thank you, Your Grace," is what he says.
"You're quite welcome. Now, up onto your feet. I think we should still have more than enough time to go over some of the mistakes that you made, during that little sparring session. Some things you can practice and repeat on your own."
And from that point on, that becomes a part of their training schedule: Dedue starting up with some warm ups and practice against air or a simply sparring dummy, followed by a proper spar against Rodrigue that he never seems to win. Once he has caught his breath from that, they finish up their lesson by Duke Fraldarius explaining to him what he did wrong or well in the spar.
So much of training is just repetition, as it turns out. Repetition until he can use it just a little better against Duke Fraldarius in the next day's sparring match.
Against a foe like His Grace, it is hard to feel as though he is improving, or that he is worth the steel that he wields in his own hands. It would be easy to feel discouraged through it all, that he is somehow failing in the goal that he and Dimitri promised to move towards together.
And yet, for how many people in the castle alone would say he is not worth it, Duke Fraldarius gives him nothing but careful attention. Every single day, he makes sure to point out Dedue's strengths, where he is improving, what he shows a talent for in his pursuits. There is no true failure in a day, just not meeting the high expectations that he has set for himself while still stepping ever closer to them.
"No doubt when you get a proper teacher who is more skilled in such respects as the axe, you will improve even further," Duke Fraldarius tells him one day, as they finish up the warm up portion of Dedue's training. "I can only teach you the very basics, and help you improve upon them. That will have to be enough, especially with my leaving back for Fraldarius for a short while." He says those last words so casually that Dedue almost misses them, and, when they register, he looks back up with a jerk.
It is almost certainly not his place, but - "I did not know you were leaving, Your Grace."
It is of course expected; why would anyone else tell him about Duke Fraldarius leaving? Even if he is being taught under him, that does not mean anything. It does not mean some Dusci commoner has the right to know about the goings on of a duke. Yet even as those thoughts start to go through his head, Duke Fraldarius frowns somewhat. "I am fairly certain that I instructed one of the castle servants to inform you of my departure..."
Ah. So that is what happened. It is interesting to hear that he is so disliked in the castle that a servant may even disrespect a duke and avoid giving him the message. "I am sure that they have merely been busy with their duties," he murmurs, trying to cool the heat in his heart that bites at the idea of not being told something so important.
If the duke leaves tomorrow, then... This may be the last chance he has, to ask the question from Dimitri. The last chance Dedue may have to get an answer for him.
His Grace's expression is schooled and quiet in its own way. "Well, it may be as you say," he answers at last. "Certainly life in the castle is rather busy, and so some matters may slip through the cracks. Regardless, my duties back in Fraldarius call for me, and I must answer them. I will be back in a month or so, just to check on things before the long winter comes." He smiles a bit. "That includes your training, of course."
No doubt he means to be reassuring. Dedue cannot be reassured regardless. "I see... Then I will be practicing on my own, for the time being until you return, both in a month, and then after winter."
"Not quite. I will have one of the knights here train you in my absence, of course. There are some things that can only be spotted by another pair of eyes." The consideration is kind and appreciated; Dedue just wishes he was a little bolder or in a better position to tell His Grace that he'll likely not be treated with anywhere near that kind of consideration by the duke's replacement. "Now, don't let your mind dwell on such matters." That grin appears on Duke Fraldarius's face again. "This will be our last spar for many moons. You have to be at your best."
Yes... He has to be at his best. This is the last chance that he'll get, to ask that question which weighs so heavily on him, which weighs on Dimitri. And so Dedue takes in a deep breath, and hefts up his axe.
It is only the two of them, today, with Dimitri having to break his training for a short while so that he may attend to a visitor, and perhaps that is for the best. Dedue still would never call himself a valiant knight. Never an experienced warrior, not at this level. And yet he refuses to hold back as he goes against Rodrigue, pushing himself in a way that undoubtedly cannot be pretty: the grunts when he swings his axe, the sweat that gathers along his brow, how forcefully he pushes himself forward.
Still, Duke Fraldarius does not falter. His steps remain sure and graceful where he dodges, his parries steady. Unhesitant. Dedue has sparred enough with him at this point to know that he is being guided.
He'll never win like this. Dedue acknowledges that, bringing up his axe to clumsily block a swipe from Duke Fraldarius's sword. It is absolutely not the hardest that the man can hit. Still, Dedue stumbles, follows the momentum so that the follow up attack misses him. One does not always need to fight that force. One of the lessons learned, until he becomes more unmoveable.
But that future is not the present, and Dedue grits his teeth together. Readjusts his stance. Smarter, not harder, not even necessarily quicker. He doesn't need to win the battle, only get in that one hit-!
He takes a couple of steps back, muscles aching, gets room to breathe. The duke is right there after him, not giving him even the slightest bit of that space. No retreat. Of course, there's no retreat on the battlefield, and even less of a chance for it here when it is only the two of them. No chaos to duck into, no ally to have his back.
Will someone like him even have an ally that would want to protect him?
No. Dedue's lungs burn. No, when it comes to the battlefield, while there may be many people who will want to protect Dimitri, there will be no one else who will protect him, who can protect him. Even with all that he tries to do, Dimitri cannot protect him. Not truly. And he cannot run.
So he pushes forward.
The axe feels all the heavier in his hands this time, hefted over his head, so it falls all the harder in his swing. Clumsy, falling like an ox, and Dedue knows he has missed even before his brain registers that Duke Fraldarius has moved, before his axe embeds itself into the ground. His Grace must surely be already moving behind him, he knows it, knows that there will soon be the flat of a sword smacking into the back of his calves. An end to the match. To the sparring.
Not yet. Gritting his teeth, Dedue doesn't bother to try and pull his axe up in time. Instead, still gripping its handle for stability, he pushes himself forward again and twists around. Wind whistles right behind his legs as he does so, the sword missing its mark, and he can see it. Can see His Grace's shoulder, pointed downwards, the sword still following its swing.
There is no time to hesitate, no time to think twice. Dedue moves on sheer instinct and desperation, lunging forward with a guttural noise that comes from the very pit of his stomach. His shoulder slams into the duke's, knocks them both off balance. There was no plan for after this, no follow up. All he does is fight as though he were a pathetic child, smacking his fist into the duke's side in an attempt to just get him down.
He fails, of course. All it takes is for Duke Fraldarius to not only regain his foot, but to hook his foot behind Dedue's ankle and use his own weight to send him tumbling to the ground. All the air rushes out of him with the impact. This time... he doesn't bother to get back up.
His Grace's delighted laughter from somewhere above him certainly doesn't help matters, of course, although the impact alone would have kept Dedue on the floor all on its own. "Well, weren't you just full of energy this time!" he says, sounding quite pleased with everything. Is his shoulder even a little bit sore? Dedue would bet that it isn't in the slightest. "What a surprise that was!"
Dedue adjusts his face if only so that it isn't directly in the ground, thus allowing him to breathe. A thing he is, alas, still obligated to do. "Yet I still lost, Your Grace," he points out, doing his best to keep his voice calm and not sulky at all.
"Oh? Yet from what I recall, a part of our agreement had nothing to do with you winning a match, but merely that you made a hit." Dedue blinks, and then pushes himself up onto his elbows, all so that he can look up at Duke Fraldarius better. The older man is staring down at him with a smile on his face, one hand on his hip and the other holding his sword loosely at his side. "While it may not have been with the use of your axe... Whenever in our agreement did I say that had to be the way to do it?"
Ah.
"Ah," he says aloud, blinking a few more times as his mind still slowly tries to catch up with this surprise development. "Your Grace, is that truly all right...?"
Duke Fraldarius sheathes his sword, making it all the easier for him to lean down and offer his hand out to him. "Well, if I say it is all right, is it not so?" he chuckles. "Come - you have done exceptionally well in your training today. Since it is the last time I will be here for some days, we can move past the usual end to the day, and instead have tea together. Dimitri has mentioned that you are particularly fond of ginger tea, isn't that right?"
Somehow, it hadn't occurred to Dedue that Dimitri would speak of him to someone like Duke Fraldarius. He knows that the duke is someone dear and close to Dimitri, of course, but for him to matter enough...
There's no denying a duke's invitation, even though Dedue isn't entirely sure in some ways how he ended up in the situation he has. Having tea with a duke is something that not even the knights of the castle must be able to do even uncommonly. While Dedue has had the occasional lesson in etiquette in regards to the noble past time of tea, he can't say that he's ever been expected to really use it. When him and Dimitri have tea, well... At first, it used to be just a chance for them to have a moment to themselves, and relax from everything. Relax, if they could at all.
Lately, Dedue has been taken aside in private to warn him away from such things. From being too comfortable with the crown prince of Faerghus, and remind him of his place. If he can just serve the tea instead...
Well it is fortunate that he adores Dimitri so much and wants to help him, make him feel more at ease as things weigh down heavily on his shoulders, or else Dedue would come to loathe the very idea of any sort of tea time. It helps that, despite his station, Dimitri often tries to return the favor, and gets quite annoyed when people try to tell him otherwise.
It seems as though a duke has no such problems, although perhaps the simple fact that Duke Fraldarius is an adult also works in his favor. All it takes is one cool look when a servant of the castle tries to speak up about His Grace's tea time guest, and that is the end of that.
"I feel I should at least serve you the tea, Your Grace," Dedue says awkwardly, seated there in one of the nicer seats he's ever been involved with since arriving in Fhirdiad.
But if there is anything that Dedue has learned since arriving in Faerghus, it is that many of her people are extraordinarily stubborn. Dimitri is very similar, although Dedue would call it more 'determined' and 'kind to a fault'. That seems to be very much the same case with Duke Fraldarius as he stands there, pouring some ginger tea out for Dedue. "Oh, nonsense," he says in a rather relaxed tone - nothing like how he'd been to the person who'd questioned his choice. To have the confidence and power of a duke... "I was the one who rather selfishly asked you out to tea instead of going along with our usual schedule. This is the least that I could do."
Dedue eyes some of the pastries that have been set up along the table, bright and delicious looking in the afternoon sun. It's still relatively warm in Faerghus for now, but that relative does a great deal of work. The harvest season is at its very end, with winter nipping at all of them. "Then... Thank you for your consideration."
"You are quite welcome," Duke Fraldarius says, and settles down into his seat across from Dedue. "Now then... Do you still remember what question it is that you wanted to ask of me?"
Well... Now that he has earned it, there should be no problem with him asking, should there? And yet still Dedue hesitates, almost a moment. "...Why did you count that hit I did, during today's spar?" he ends up asking, before his lips thin. That's not what he wanted to say, so why did it leave his lips? Now he's gone and wasted his chance, speaking here with Duke Fraldarius...
His Grace takes a sip of his tea, in no particular rush to answer the question. "Because it is just as valid as anything else," Duke Fraldarius tells him. "You are being trained as His Highness's retainer. That is not the same thing as a knight of Faerghus."
Dedue frowns, before he remembers to school his expression back to normal. Fortunate, really, that he is with Duke Fraldarius, who doesn't seem to mind such displays of emotion, but he must be better. The rest of the castle is not so generous. "I did not know that there was anything else to be but a knight of Faerghus, especially in service to royalty."
"We do have the average soldier," His Grace chuckles into his tea. "Some even manage to rise from such positions to be of great importance to the Kingdom. But no... For His Highness, sometimes I wonder if a knight would be the best thing to be... Of course, to be a knight is a great honor. I would never say otherwise." Dedue wonders if he could say otherwise, with his son having been a knight himself. With having given up his life in name of honor, and protecting the prince. "But as the person who Dimitri is determined to keep by his side, as his retainer, you must have some amount of freedom. Being a knight would not necessarily give you that." A low huff, and Duke Fraldarius's expression shifts into something a little more solemn. Contemplative. "Besides, from what I understand, few would have any interest in knighting you... So to some degree, it is keeping you out of that entire mess to start with."
Freedom. It is a funny thing to hear sold to him, when they both know that he has no true freedom here, that there is no one of Duscur's blood that has any true freedom. They do not even have their land, the place where they were born, any longer. Being reminded has Dedue curl his hands into fists, underneath the table; one day he will be able to never react to anything. He can only hope.
But he supposes that His Grace does have a fair point in that getting him knighted would be a whole lot of trouble for very little worth. Simply having Dimitri's trust, what of his authority exists, be there behind him... That is enough.
Perhaps there is some kindness in it, as well, keeping him from it. Dedue wonders at that. Still, he cannot venture too far from what he meant to say in the first place. "So the fact that I am not a knight... means that it is fine to win a match in such a way?" he asks, trying to wrap his mind around it all.
"That is right. For many who are honorable and forthright - those who are knights - then it is in their interest to win such a match fairly. It shows a dedication to the vows that they have made, and displays the progress in mastering their chosen weapon, whether lance or sword. However, for someone who has not made such vows, who wishes to protect His Highness with all that he is capable of..." Duke Fraldarius's shoulders roll in a slight shrug. "Then it matters not if you win through axe or fist. So long as you can reach what you must, that is the important thing."
"...If I may speak freely, Your Grace?"
Duke Fraldarius takes another sip of his tea. "You may."
"That seems a strange thing for someone of your station and reputation to believe, although I admit I have little knowledge in the ways of Faerghus or the responsibilities of nobility." Is that enough to shield him? He is not sure.
Certainty comes with Duke Fraldarius's dry chuckle. "No... It is not, at least for the common idea of us. However, any noble who seeks to be nobility and do their duties is expected to know that one can not only use a lance for every problem, and thus knights are not the only ones who should be relied upon. For example, many noble families hire mercenaries to help protect their land, or go after bandits, even if they are nothing like knights." He puts his cup down with a small clink, and folds his hands together upon the table. "When he takes the crown, His Highness will have no shortage of knights who will pledge themselves to him, and shield him with all their might. You will be someone different from all of them. For the better."
On Faerghus, being someone different is a sin. It is a mark upon his back, a free-for-all if people simply know the right time and method to target him. The idea that his differences are of worth, that he is someone who could still exist truly as different...
"This is a great deal of consideration, for someone from Duscur, who is not even one of your people, Your Grace."
"Perhaps." Duke Fraldarius sighs, then, and shakes his head. "...It seems as though far too many people in the Kingdom have forgotten how close we were, to Duscur, and what that meant. They are ignorant, or swept up in emotions seeking an easy solution..." His eyes grow dark, steely, like a blade in moonlight. "Or simple greed." A breath, and he continues as though nothing had crossed his face. "Even as a duke of this kingdom, there is frustratingly little I can do in response. My reach extends only as far as my lands do, and, even then, that is not as much as one might think."
"...I had not asked of it, Your Grace."
Duke Fraldarius lets his eyes slip shut a moment, huffs out a laugh. "Perhaps I merely felt a need to selfishly confess my own guilt," he says, which is an interesting choice of wording. Confess, as though this is in some Faerghan church. As though he as any kind of worth as a priest does. "At any rate, are you sure that was what you've been wanting to ask all this time?"
Dedue's shoulders jerk into a stiff stillness, and he can only imagine the look on his own face. "What?" he asks, eloquently.
Whatever expression he wears, Duke Fraldarius seems to delight in it, a laugh rolling from the pit of his chest. "Now now, there is no need to look so caught off-guard! You merely responded a little too quickly, I had thought." Leaning back in his seat, Duke Fraldarius grins. "My Felix used to do the same thing, sometimes - answer too quickly when he was caught off-guard, whether that was what he meant to say or not."
His son... Well, if there is any good segue into his question, Dedue supposes this is as good as anything else. Certainly, this is a second chance he had not expected, and he cannot waste such a thing. "Speaking of your son, Your Grace... His Highness has mentioned how close the two of them were. I thought... You would have brought him with you to Fhirdiad."
There. That should make it seem like his idea, and not Dimitri's. That should make things neat.
All the jovial good will on His Grace's expression falters, before fading away entirely. The look in his eyes is... distant. Careful. Dedue wonders if his own looks similar, whenever he has to have a handle on his emotions anywhere beyond Dimitri's side, in private. "Well.... That is certainly a question to settle on, although I suppose now it's quite clear on why you hesitated in asking about it." A low, slow breath. In, and then out. Not quite loud enough to be called a sigh. "To be quite honest, I would want nothing more than to keep Felix with me. However... It is not quite as easy as it may seem. At least, it is not easy and safe."
Now, that is a curious word to use. Easy, he'd been skeptical of. What could a duke not do, in the Kingdom of Faerghus? But safe.... "I do not understand."
"Well, I would not expect a young boy not raised in the court to understand, not immediately." Duke Fraldarius shakes his head. "Normally, I would not speak of it so freely... but I have some confidence in the location I have chosen for our tea time, and, almost more than that, I believe that it may benefit for you to know this information as well, young Dedue."
What influence can a simple Dusci commoner, taken in as a retainer, impart upon the Faerghan court? None. However, if he can pick up on anything that might help Dimitri... That might help the both of them one day bring Duscur back, wreak vengeance upon those who have wronged them both so grievously... Dedue straightens up, and looks His Grace straight in the eye. "I am listening, Your Grace."
It is an answer that satisfies him, and Duke Fraldarius nods. "Excellent. Then the first thing you should know is that a gathering of nobles is nothing less than a pit of vipers."
The absolute chill to the duke's voice is enough to make Dedue jolt, not sure he has ever heard it go so cold. Not here in Fhirdiad Castle, where he speaks to even the staff respectfully, where the knights take cheer in his friendly tone. Everyone speaks so well of Duke Fraldarius; have they ever heard him speak in this way? Of his fellow nobles in the court? "What... do you mean, sir?"
"It should be the duty, of knights and nobility of Faerghus, to put honor before anything else," the duke explains, his tone easing back up. Becoming that explanatory lilt that Dedue has grown familiar with over the past weeks and months of training. "However, power can be a... heady thing. It makes those who have it think they deserve ever more, no matter if it is theirs to have or not. And to that end... Honor has no place in favor of their greed." He meets Dedue's gaze right back. "Before the Tragedy, there were more than a few who wanted Duscur's prosperous lands for... Faerghus's own." The dip of his tone indicates more than any words could about how much of an excuse such phrasing was.
Dedue thinks he recalls such discussions. Things heard by him and Dimitri, from around corners, from eavesdropping. How so many had thought that Faerghus should have moved on Duscur far sooner, far quicker, how they didn't deserve the lands they did for being kingslayers.
How poor, generous, kind King Lambert had been too soft on them.
"His Majesty - Seiros tend to him gently," Dedue says, reciting that last bit in perfect practice. "He did not approve of such moves against Duscur."
Duke Fraldarius's head shake is confirmation enough. "No. How could he? In his eyes, Duscur and Faerghus were like siblings, once upon a time. Duscur had done so much for Faerghus, throughout our shared history. To turn against them like that would be like a Blaiddyd turning their weapon upon a Fraldarius. Unthinkable. And... unfortunate, that there are those in our kingdom who do not understand that.
"I could go deeper into the politics of it all, but such things are far too much for one tea session. So I will simply say that, even if one were to get rid of all the passion and hatred that festers, then there are still far worse dangers that lay in Faerghus's court for those who speak against what happened to Duscur. I can thwart them well, as a Duke."
"But... a child such as your son would be in danger," Dedue says slowly, piecing together the pieces as His Grace lays them out for him.
Another short nod. "That is right. Even now, there are many here in the court who would seek to manipulate His Highness's own emotions against him, if they could simply get one foot in. I suppose I should count us fortunate that... he has closed his heart to most, now, with all that he has experienced with the Tragedy, and what he has heard in court." Duke Fraldarius says it is fortunate, but the grimace across his face speaks of other emotions. "It is hard for them to manipulate him in that manner. However...." Here, he pauses, searching for the right words. "I... worry that my son is not the same."
Whenever Dimitri has spoken of his dearest and most treasured friend Felix, he has spoken often about the way the other boy would burst into tears at the drop of the hat. Crying because Dimitri fell off a horse. Bawling because their other friend Sylvain Gautier patted Dimitri's head first instead of his own. Just... far too many tales of crying.
Dedue is fairly certain he would get in trouble, if he were to describe the son of a duke as an enormous crybaby who clearly cannot be trusted in a tense political environment.
"His Highness has spoken of him as having a large heart," are the words he chooses to go with in the end.
There's a flicker of a glance back to him that has Dedue positive that His Grace has somehow read his mind and knows exactly what he really wanted to say. By the kindness of some sort of god, he does not mention it whatsoever. "Indeed," Duke Fraldarius sighs after a moment. "And... with the loss in our own family, he is taking it exceptionally hard as well." A wry and bittersweet smile crosses his face. "We are actually in argument right now as I speak, as a matter of fact, which only makes matters worse. No small part of me worries that if I were to tell him to do something, he might do the very opposite simply out of stubbornness. I have hopes that once I return, with time having passed between us to cool hot tempers, things will be a little better."
It all sounds quite complicated, and deeply personal. Dedue hopes to not get dragged too deeply into it, but he suspects it has a chance of happening anyway if Dimitri and this Felix are as close as everyone says they are to be. Well, he can only hope the best - for Dimitri, for His Grace who has been teaching him, and even as a common courtesy to this Felix.
"Does that mean he may return with you after you leave for Fraldarius for a month?" Dedue asks, because this seems like the most solid thing he can offer to Dimitri. A date, something to look forward to. Something to make up for how long it's taken Dedue.
At long last, His Grace picks up his tea once more, and takes a thoughtful sip. "Yes, I imagine so. By then, I imagine the two of us will have put everything behind us. Ah..." He shakes his head, and chuckles. "But I have been boring you with talk of my family life, certainly, and the dramas which come with it, when all you asked was a simple question. I do apologize, young Dedue."
"I was the one to ask such a personal question, Your Grace. Please do not worry over such a thing." Is that practiced enough? He hopes so. "And... I hope that your trip back to Fraldarius is safe."
At least a bit of honest sentiment seems to be enough to lighten up the mood, and Duke Fraldarius smiles at him. "In such an area, you have no need to worry," he chuckles. "Few would dare to attack a carriage or procession marked with the Fraldarius crest. And besides..." A flash of that cold bittersweetness again, and he moves his hand to the shield that has been resting against his leg this entire tea time. "I can say nothing else but that I am capable of learning."
In Faerghus, a culture of warriors who venerate knighthood and are lead by Crests as decreed by the church, only a complete fool would not be able to recognize the heirlooms of the most noble families. Of royalty. Dedue knows the shape of Aegis, even if Duke Fraldarius has never saw reason to wield it against him in any of their spars.
Even with his limited knowledge in regards to the ways of nobility, Dedue has learned enough to know that a son would not take up the relic of his Crest unless specifically handed down to him by his parents. Would not take it lest they were dead, or they found him in greater need of it than they. A simple journey to a country that had been a lifelong friend... Who could have foreseen the Tragedy?
Would even a Duke of Fraldarius be able to say, now, that no one would dare attack his group on the way back to his own territory?
Dedue isn't sure what else he can say, in this area. So he falls back on what the people of Faerghus seem to care about most, next to knighthood and the crown. "I am sure that many people will pray to the Saints and Seiros for your safe passage." Dedue would add that His Highness would, but, well...
Together, the two of them have stood in the empty expanse of church halls where there is nothing else but the sound of their own breathing echoing against stone. Cold and prettily carved stone, as though the aesthetic of it all could make up for the apathetic silence. In that place, all the two of them could do was stand there under the judgmental gaze of statues that would offer them no kindness. The Seiros that gazed upon them with painted eyes gave them no mercy or reprieve.
Dimitri had said nothing, in those allegedly hallowed halls. All he had done was stare upon the divine with his hands curled into quietly trembling fists and no expectations in his deadened stare.
Again. Dimitri had said nothing. But Dedue had understood regardless. Had understood that no prayers would be uttered from his prince's lips ever again.
Even if it is for the duke who sits there before Dedue now, nodding along with the well wishes. "Thank you for the concern," he says, before he glances into his cup. "At any rate, I do hope that has answered your question well enough, young Dedue. A mixture of... personal complications, along with having to take into consideration the dangers of the court are what have kept me from bringing my Felix with me this time." He brightens up a bit, hopeful in some way. "I do hope that the two of you will get on well. He is such a bright boy, quite fond of swords. I imagine the two of you could be quite fine as sparring partners, if nothing else. He is also polishing up his own sword skills, you see."
There is still plenty more tea left in the pot for both of them, and so Dedue supposes it is only right if he allows the duke some chance to talk fondly about his son. Whatever issues there are between the two of them at present, it clearly doesn't get in the way of the duke's love and fondness for his son. It is a bit much at times, but, well, Dedue must admit that he never quite knows what to do in the face of someone gushing about their loved ones.
At least the food and tea are both pleasant things to eat, both of them pairing well with one another no doubt in consideration of His Grace's presence. They finish up what is on the table soon enough, but Duke Fraldarius holds up a hand to stop Dedue from cleaning anything himself.
"As I said earlier, during your training, I have picked someone to train you in my absence. Of course, should he be a little bit too busy, or perhaps something comes up..." His Grace raises an eyebrow, which somehow changes his tone entirely. "Then that is no reason for you to skimp on your training at all. I have been giving you quite a bit of lessons in our time together, and some of them are simple repetition as well, so that it becomes as second nature to you. As long as you recall properly what we have done and stay aware of the weaknesses or bad habits that I have pointed out... You should be fine no matter the situation, while I am gone."
Something... settles, there in Dedue. Something almost like reassurance, like relief. Truly, for whatever familial problems may be going on in the duke's life, the man cannot be said to be ignorant of things going on in the castle. Cannot be ignorant to the way that Dedue is treated, especially not after having someone ignore passing along his message.
Words won't bring back Duscur. Words won't bring back his family. Words won't help him, not in this place, not when the power is given not to him but lies within another.
Dimitri gave him some measure of power, enough power to keep going, by giving him his position as a retainer. As someone who will be there alongside him when he finally is able to spearhead the effort to make Duscur her own again.
And there is a kindness in giving him the tools to be independent, even when others would seek to trip him and drag him back.
"I will show you the results of my training when you return from Fraldarius, Your Grace."
Sure enough, as they both suspected would happen, Dedue's training under the man the duke chose is not nearly to the class that Duke Fraldarius's was, although he supposes that he must give credit in that it is not nearly as atrocious as he thought it would. Perhaps it is a sense of professionalism that has the knight properly correct his form. Perhaps it is because of loyalty to His Grace, who would certainly warrant that for those of the same kingdom as he, and a desire to not fail him.
And yet still, there are times when he is busy, or that he at least claims he is busy, and so Dedue is on his own.
So he does exactly as His Grace said.
He takes full advantage of the kindness that was given to him, and he trains.
The furnace may still be standing, back in Duscur. Hard stone, metal, all things hard to tear down without some measure of effort. No reason to tear down something that can be reused on bloodied soil. Something that can be stolen from the people who had made it with their own hands.
His family stands no more. There is only him. And if he wishes to keep standing, then he must take an interest in weapons.
Yet even with the crown prince's demands for him to stay by his side, there are few in Fhirdiad Castle who would bother to train him. Or, perhaps if they would train him, they would not train him well. Would train him poorly, in hopes that perhaps his mistakes would lead to his death. Dedue is young, and he is new to the castle, but even he can see the filth in their eyes as they look upon him.
There is no honor inherent in Fhirdiad, not like what he was told in fairy tales once upon a time. Its people would see him dead gladly, and cheer for his blood spilled upon the earth, just like the rest of his family. His people.
If there is anyone who is worth anything in this place that makes him sick to his stomach, then it is the same prince who he owes his life to... and one more.
The one person who will train him properly, and make him into someone worthy enough to protect his prince's life.
"An axe is an interesting choice," says Duke Rodrigue Fraldarius as he looks over Dedue, in a private corner of the training grounds that is normally reserved for royalty. There is, by all technicalities, royalty present, as Dimitri is having his own private lessons on the opposite side... but Dedue knows that his presence here is an anomaly. His Grace does not seem to mind much, instead much more preoccupied with observing Dedue.
It is an... uneasy feeling, to be looked at so. Different, from how others look at him with such disdain, such hatred, such disgust. Yet in some miserable way, he's grown used to those looks. There's only one person who matters to him in Fhirdiad, in all of Fodlan, and it is Dimitri's eyes who he finds all he needs to.
Yet perhaps it is because His Grace's gaze is so different that Dedue does not know how to act. Somehow, its sharpness is all the more biting because it is not filled with such loathsome feelings, just bright amber filled with something he does not know how to react to.
Still, this is a man who has had Dimitri's respect and affection for longer than he has ever known a poor commoner such as Dedue. This is a man who, from Dedue's understanding, had stood for him when Dimitri had insisted on making Dedue his vassal. His first impressions are that, if nothing else, he should show himself well to such a man.
"I have heard that there are certain advantages to axes," he says, keeping his spine straight, and tall. "I thought that, if I am to be His Highness's vassal, then... something which compliments him is best."
"And in what way do you think that an axe would benefit His Highness?"
This is a test. Does he even have the right answers? Dedue suddenly feels as though he is doomed to fail. "I was always told that, although it is dependent on more than the weapon... That lances strike first against a sword. A sword slices past the weight of an axe. An axe snaps a lance in twain." What he does not say, as well, is that it was expected that a young man of his health and age to go out and occasionally gather firewood for his father's forge, and that sometimes it was simply cheaper to get such things for himself instead of buying it or bartering.
It doesn't really seem like a particularly noble and grand sort of answer, in a place where the alleged grand and noble history - or at least a history that is perceived as such - is still so very revered.
Duke Fraldarius, at the very least, nods along with the answer. "Very good. An answer that our own knights are expected to learn if they ever hope to make it out onto the battlefield. And it may very well suit your frame, I imagine. You seem to have the makings of a man with broad shoulders."
Is that a compliment? Dedue supposes he must take it as one, even if he is not sure. "Thank you, Your Grace."
Whatever else, that seems to suffice as an answer, and the Duke's expression softens a bit as he nods - more to himself then Dedue, he is fairly certain. "Why don't you show me how you hold it, then? This way, I can better see just where we should take your training."
Ah. And this, surely, is where he is expected to fail. Where the Duke will see that he is a commoner with no proper training whatsoever in how to wield any sort of weapon, and have him dismissed on the spot for being such a failure. While he only knew of Faerghus's culture to some degree from Duscur and it being neighbors, Dedue still knows well enough that its children learn to wield weapons fairly early on. Duscur was different; he never had reason to wield absolutely anything. To a trained and celebrated knight such as Rodrigue Fraldarius, his shortcomings will no doubt be obvious.
The only thing which is puzzling is why wait to do such things far away from the public eye, here with Dimitri taking his own training just as seriously now that he is permitted to be out of bed with no one fussing over him. Any of the other knights in the castle, Dedue is certain, would have jumped upon the chance to humiliate him in front of a crowd. To show him lacking.
Perhaps it is a form of kindness, to humiliate him only where Dimitri can see. Perhaps it is a way to work the facts in the Duke's favor. If fewer see the events, then can he not tell them as he sees fit?
That, after all... is how the Tragedy played out, even with His Highness calling out its injustice for as long as Dedue has known him.
Yet he cannot refuse. Not when the man in front of him is a Duke, and he is but a poor Dusci commoner with nothing else to his name but his oath to Dimitri. So he braces his feet against the ground, and hefts up the axe as best as he can in his hands. Like he did, when he and Dimitri only had one another to depend on for their short time back in Duscur.
It can be nothing like what is demanded of a knight, he knows, but... surely it is a good enough first start, isn't it? Certainly it had helped him well enough when it was the two of them. Yet underneath that sharp and cold stare...
Duke Fraldarius starts to laugh. A quiet chuckle under his breath at first, and then a little louder, muffled only a little bit by the hand he has curled up by his mouth. "Well, a fine form for a woodcutter!" he teases, words which draws out a fierce blush onto Dedue's face. "And yet for foes made of flesh and not wood, there are some openings that they would more than gladly take advantage of." He pauses for a moment, taking in the slump of Dedue's shoulders, and chuckles again. "You need not worry. It is good to see you are used to the weight of a weapon like that, even if a woodcutter's axe is no doubt very different from a warrior's. It gives you something of an advantage, when otherwise you are learning somewhat late. Now we need only to correct the form."
And His Grace is correct on that front - there are many mistakes in Dedue's form that must be adjusted. There are many ways that an opponent could take advantage of a sloppy form. He just hadn't realized how many until His Grace starts to adjust him, putting his arms and grip into the right places, showing how to take full advantage of an axe's weight.
Somehow, that only makes him feel all the more embarrassed, by the time their training comes to an end, and he's all the more aware of his various failings. Dedue has had to learn how to school his expression, since arriving in Fhirdiad... But apparently it isn't enough.
Certainly Duke Fraldarius can see through him, stopping him while he's putting away his practice axe. "There's no need to be so upset with yourself, you know."
Being approached so casually, especially by someone with such high ranking within Faerghus... It has Dedue's shoulders jerk in shock, before he carefully looks up towards the duke. At times like these, he still doesn't know if he's looking at someone 'acceptably'. "Was that as obvious as my inexperience, Your Grace?"
"Ha, perhaps, but... It is more that I am a father, and my own wore similar expressions when their own inexperience was pointed out." And that light and amused expression fades away, revealing a far more flimsy bit of gossamer than Dedue had realized. A heaviness to pale eyes, a tug at his mouth, shadows over his very being. A weight. Had one of the things leveled at Dedue, even just before this bit of training, not been whispered rumors on how wretched it must be for Duke Fraldarius to train such a thing as he?
He remembers, now, that the Duke Fraldarius had two sons. He remembers that Dimitri wakes in the middle of the night, one of the names uttered from his mouth with such pain.
"I apologize," he says, and some clarity returns to the Duke's gaze once more as he looks down upon him.
It had felt the appropriate thing to say - the only thing it seems some people respond to, an apology for his very existence. An apology for daring to be here, underneath Dimitri's protection, wanting to live. It does not work all the time, with some people's revolting hatred never to be truly sated, but, well... What else can he do?
He's not quite able to look Duke Fraldarius in the eyes, when His Grace looks properly to him. He doesn't want to deal with the expression that might be on his face... although he's not sure he's any better prepared for the words, either. "Were you the one to strike down, with your own hands, His Majesty Lambert Blaiddyd of Faerghus? Or my son, Glenn of Fraldarius?"
"No... Your Grace."
A quiet, but long sigh. "Well... If he were to fall to a boy with a woodsman's axe, I would never have sent him out into the world," Duke Fraldarius says with some attempt at humor. It doesn't lift his tone, not really. Just a ghost, attempting to mimic what it can. "There is no need for your apology, lad. There is no blame to be placed upon you, even if it were your very parents that did it - and of that, I highly doubt."
Those words... They should be expected. Dimitri has gone furious over the fact that it should be expected, that the Tragedy should never have happened in the way it did, and Dedue should never hold any blame.
And yet they are uncommon. Rarely heard, rarely expressed to him.
Do they mean anything now, after all is said and done?
"Thank you," he says, for lack of any better idea of what he can say. And then, because it is true but also because he needs some method of escape, he adds, "His Highness appears to be beckoning for me." Sure enough, with his own instructor's back turned, the prince is waving one hand about the air eagerly, watching with no small amount of intent.
His Grace nods. "Of course. Dimitri relies quite a bit on you, so it would not do to keep His Highness waiting. I hope you have a pleasant meal, and remember what I told you on maintaining your stance."
They manage to make it out all the way to Dimitri's small residence on castle lands, into the gardens that surround the area, before Dimitri himself finally gives in with no one else trailing after them. "So what did you think of Rodrigue?" he asks, dropping the Duke's first name so casually. His eyes are nearly sparkling. "Isn't he fantastic? I hadn't thought that he would know much about axes, but I suppose Rodrigue must know just about everything."
"His Grace.. is most familiar with swords, and lances, isn't he?" Dedue can surely remember that much, from what he has heard of the man before. The weapons many Faerghans seem to prefer, or at least those that aspire to knighthood.
Dimitri nods, not heading straight inside through the front door of his home but instead going around the side. Dedue follows him, of course. He, too, doesn't want to deal with the servants that wait and fuss by the front door - a mixture of people the regent has sent to watch over them and people who genuinely think their precious prince is being corrupted. "That's right. Swords go along best with the relic of the Fraldarius family, the Aegir. So... They've all always been good at swordsmanship..."
His voice starts to drift a bit, lost in thought. Lost in quiet pain. Glenn. That had been the voice he'd called more than once, in the depth of his nightmares.
Dedue speaks up, to pull Dimitri out from that pit - just like Dimitri has done so many times for him. "Perhaps it is exactly because he is skilled with a sword that he knows some things about the axe, then," he suggests. "It is always good to know one's opponent, or so I have heard."
It's hard to tell if that's truly dragged Dimitri out from his own internal misery but, for the time being, it seems to distract him, and he smiles at Dedue again. "Perhaps! Rodrigue is very smart. I just..." Dimitri falters, for a moment. "...I wish he would have brought Felix with him. I've told you about Felix, haven't I?"
The best friend from birth, the crybaby, the person who will now have to grow up to become the new Duke of Fraldarius. "You have," Dedue confirms.
"Mm. I've heard that Felix might need new lessons to become a duke..." Neither of them say why, exactly, that is. "But there can't be any lessons he couldn't learn here in Fhirdiad, too, or a tutor that wouldn't come here." They're in the back gardens fully, now, and this time it's Dedue's turn to guide Dimitri as he takes him to an old tree whose branches reach towards the sun. "I wonder... if Rodrigue thinks it would be bad for him, to be close to another person like me."
Another person like him... Dedue frowns, not understanding. "...I think anyone would be glad to be close to you, Your Highness. Especially... if he has known you all your life. His Grace is someone I do not know well, but he seems to be kind." If nothing else, certainly he does not mindlessly hate. That has to speak for something.
Dimitri nods a bit. "Yeah... Rodrigue is really nice." And yet the question is still weighing on his mind, a bit. Maybe more than a bit.
That can't do at all. "Then I could ask him, since he is training me every day, until he returns back to Fraldarius," Dedue suggests, even though, once the words leave his mouth, he suddenly loathes the idea. Just the promise of trying to speak in any sort of manner to a duke of Faerghus, the duke of Faerghus...
But he really has no choice on the matter, not when he sees the way Dimitri perks up and flops down onto the grass beneath the tree. "Will you really, Dedue?"
Yes. He really will. Because he is incapable of denying Dimitri anything when he looks up at him with sparkling blue eyes, hopeful and happy. That is the exact reason that he ends up spending a good portion of his training the next day staring intently up at Duke Fraldarius, working himself up to ask that simple question even though it absolutely cannot be his place to.
Dedue does not feel subtle. This is because he is absolutely not subtle, with Rodrigue staring right back at him with a raised eyebrow before he brings a break into their training. "Is there a particular reason you have rarely taken your eyes off of me?" he asks, with no small bit of amusement. "Because that is getting in the way of your training, and throwing you off. I hope you are not dwelling too deeply on what happened only yesterday."
It would be a lie to say that some part of his mind isn't lingering on that conversation, and just what he should do about it. How he should feel. He didn't even speak of it to Dimitri, so there it lingers in his head and in his chest.
But if it is not something he will speak of to Dimitri, then certainly he will not speak of it to His Grace. Besides, he does have other things on his mind. A different purpose. "I actually was pondering a question, Your Grace," he says, lowering his axe just a bit as he speaks to the older man; it doesn't feel right to speak to him with a weapon raised even if they are in training. He doesn't need more rumors swimming around him. "I am just unsure if it is in my place to ask it." Surely if he said that it was a question weighing on Dimitri's mind, then Duke Fraldarius would no doubt answer quite willingly. Probably.
But if Dimitri hasn't been able to speak of it to him in the first place... Then it doesn't feel right to say it out loud. Dimitri's trust is precious to him, more precious than anything. So Dedue stays quiet, and hopes that he is not so transparent in this.
Duke Fraldarius considers him, and the problem he has brought up to him. "I see..." Another pause, and then he smiles a bit. "Then I believe I can help you in that area." Yet instead of just giving him blanket permission, or even just a momentary permission to speak his mind, Duke Fraldarius turns away from him and starts to walk towards the weapons racks. He peruses what is available, which is honestly not much - everything is sized appropriately for children and teenagers, such as Dimitri and Dedue.
Yet eventually, he picks up one of the swords that is there, something that would be a bit too long for the average youth but which serves him perfectly well as a short sword. "Your Grace...?" Dedue asks hesitantly, as the duke jogs back to him with quite a lively kick to his step.
"Since you feel it is not your station to ask me any questions, then let us put part of your training on hold for a moment," Duke Fraldarius says, gesturing with one hand off of the sword. "Instead, we will take the time to do a bit of sparring! It is always good to have some practical training in as well, so that you have a better idea of how it will feel in a proper fight! Going through the forms and practicing against dummies can only do so much, after all."
Ah. Dedue blinks, his mind still trying to properly grapple this sudden change up in his training. Should he be allowed to argue with his mentor? "If... that is what you wish, Your Grace. But I cannot imagine that I will make a decent opponent, since my skills with an axe are still at an amateur's level."
No, they're even worse than at an amateur's level, and by no means any ways decent enough for him to serve as His Highness's protector. Duke Fraldarius must surely know that.
"Oh, I am aware." Well, at least now he has some confirmation. "Still, if you manage to land a solid hit upon my person, then I will permit you the freedom to ask me any question that you like, and I shall answer you with utmost honesty." Another grin, almost boyish on a rather mature face. "How about that?"
"...I am still at an amateur's level, Your Grace."
"Then that is all the more the reason for you to improve, depending on what you wish to ask me, isn't it?"
And that does make a sort of logic, Dedue supposes. Like rewarding any child for doing basic chores at first, only this happens to be a matter of learning a life or death skill. He eyes the sword there in the duke's hand, how inconspicuous it looks. A simple practice sword. He still feels uneasy with it pointed at him. Sick, to some degree.
But he still does not back down. Instead, taking a breath, he does his best to remember the proper stances, and hefts up his axe once again. "Then I shall do my best to not disappoint you, Your Grace."
Dedue loses. Spectacularly. Oh, he does not lose right away, and yet he is fairly certain that he loses all the worse for that. It is one thing to hear about Duke Fraldarius's skill with weapons. It is another entirely to actually see him wield a sword, moving past Dedue's sluggish and clumsy swings or blocking them without even the slightest bit of hesitation. There is absolutely no doubt in Dedue's mind that this isn't even a fraction of the duke's skill, either.
"I hope you won't consider giving up just from one loss," the duke says, far too cheerfully as he stands over where Dedue is laying against the ground after having thoroughly exhausting himself. "You're still young, after all! And not a bad study, either."
He doesn't feel like a quick study. He just feels like a fool laying there on the ground after embarrassing himself in front of a duke who is also his teacher. "Thank you, Your Grace," is what he says.
"You're quite welcome. Now, up onto your feet. I think we should still have more than enough time to go over some of the mistakes that you made, during that little sparring session. Some things you can practice and repeat on your own."
And from that point on, that becomes a part of their training schedule: Dedue starting up with some warm ups and practice against air or a simply sparring dummy, followed by a proper spar against Rodrigue that he never seems to win. Once he has caught his breath from that, they finish up their lesson by Duke Fraldarius explaining to him what he did wrong or well in the spar.
So much of training is just repetition, as it turns out. Repetition until he can use it just a little better against Duke Fraldarius in the next day's sparring match.
Against a foe like His Grace, it is hard to feel as though he is improving, or that he is worth the steel that he wields in his own hands. It would be easy to feel discouraged through it all, that he is somehow failing in the goal that he and Dimitri promised to move towards together.
And yet, for how many people in the castle alone would say he is not worth it, Duke Fraldarius gives him nothing but careful attention. Every single day, he makes sure to point out Dedue's strengths, where he is improving, what he shows a talent for in his pursuits. There is no true failure in a day, just not meeting the high expectations that he has set for himself while still stepping ever closer to them.
"No doubt when you get a proper teacher who is more skilled in such respects as the axe, you will improve even further," Duke Fraldarius tells him one day, as they finish up the warm up portion of Dedue's training. "I can only teach you the very basics, and help you improve upon them. That will have to be enough, especially with my leaving back for Fraldarius for a short while." He says those last words so casually that Dedue almost misses them, and, when they register, he looks back up with a jerk.
It is almost certainly not his place, but - "I did not know you were leaving, Your Grace."
It is of course expected; why would anyone else tell him about Duke Fraldarius leaving? Even if he is being taught under him, that does not mean anything. It does not mean some Dusci commoner has the right to know about the goings on of a duke. Yet even as those thoughts start to go through his head, Duke Fraldarius frowns somewhat. "I am fairly certain that I instructed one of the castle servants to inform you of my departure..."
Ah. So that is what happened. It is interesting to hear that he is so disliked in the castle that a servant may even disrespect a duke and avoid giving him the message. "I am sure that they have merely been busy with their duties," he murmurs, trying to cool the heat in his heart that bites at the idea of not being told something so important.
If the duke leaves tomorrow, then... This may be the last chance he has, to ask the question from Dimitri. The last chance Dedue may have to get an answer for him.
His Grace's expression is schooled and quiet in its own way. "Well, it may be as you say," he answers at last. "Certainly life in the castle is rather busy, and so some matters may slip through the cracks. Regardless, my duties back in Fraldarius call for me, and I must answer them. I will be back in a month or so, just to check on things before the long winter comes." He smiles a bit. "That includes your training, of course."
No doubt he means to be reassuring. Dedue cannot be reassured regardless. "I see... Then I will be practicing on my own, for the time being until you return, both in a month, and then after winter."
"Not quite. I will have one of the knights here train you in my absence, of course. There are some things that can only be spotted by another pair of eyes." The consideration is kind and appreciated; Dedue just wishes he was a little bolder or in a better position to tell His Grace that he'll likely not be treated with anywhere near that kind of consideration by the duke's replacement. "Now, don't let your mind dwell on such matters." That grin appears on Duke Fraldarius's face again. "This will be our last spar for many moons. You have to be at your best."
Yes... He has to be at his best. This is the last chance that he'll get, to ask that question which weighs so heavily on him, which weighs on Dimitri. And so Dedue takes in a deep breath, and hefts up his axe.
It is only the two of them, today, with Dimitri having to break his training for a short while so that he may attend to a visitor, and perhaps that is for the best. Dedue still would never call himself a valiant knight. Never an experienced warrior, not at this level. And yet he refuses to hold back as he goes against Rodrigue, pushing himself in a way that undoubtedly cannot be pretty: the grunts when he swings his axe, the sweat that gathers along his brow, how forcefully he pushes himself forward.
Still, Duke Fraldarius does not falter. His steps remain sure and graceful where he dodges, his parries steady. Unhesitant. Dedue has sparred enough with him at this point to know that he is being guided.
He'll never win like this. Dedue acknowledges that, bringing up his axe to clumsily block a swipe from Duke Fraldarius's sword. It is absolutely not the hardest that the man can hit. Still, Dedue stumbles, follows the momentum so that the follow up attack misses him. One does not always need to fight that force. One of the lessons learned, until he becomes more unmoveable.
But that future is not the present, and Dedue grits his teeth together. Readjusts his stance. Smarter, not harder, not even necessarily quicker. He doesn't need to win the battle, only get in that one hit-!
He takes a couple of steps back, muscles aching, gets room to breathe. The duke is right there after him, not giving him even the slightest bit of that space. No retreat. Of course, there's no retreat on the battlefield, and even less of a chance for it here when it is only the two of them. No chaos to duck into, no ally to have his back.
Will someone like him even have an ally that would want to protect him?
No. Dedue's lungs burn. No, when it comes to the battlefield, while there may be many people who will want to protect Dimitri, there will be no one else who will protect him, who can protect him. Even with all that he tries to do, Dimitri cannot protect him. Not truly. And he cannot run.
So he pushes forward.
The axe feels all the heavier in his hands this time, hefted over his head, so it falls all the harder in his swing. Clumsy, falling like an ox, and Dedue knows he has missed even before his brain registers that Duke Fraldarius has moved, before his axe embeds itself into the ground. His Grace must surely be already moving behind him, he knows it, knows that there will soon be the flat of a sword smacking into the back of his calves. An end to the match. To the sparring.
Not yet. Gritting his teeth, Dedue doesn't bother to try and pull his axe up in time. Instead, still gripping its handle for stability, he pushes himself forward again and twists around. Wind whistles right behind his legs as he does so, the sword missing its mark, and he can see it. Can see His Grace's shoulder, pointed downwards, the sword still following its swing.
There is no time to hesitate, no time to think twice. Dedue moves on sheer instinct and desperation, lunging forward with a guttural noise that comes from the very pit of his stomach. His shoulder slams into the duke's, knocks them both off balance. There was no plan for after this, no follow up. All he does is fight as though he were a pathetic child, smacking his fist into the duke's side in an attempt to just get him down.
He fails, of course. All it takes is for Duke Fraldarius to not only regain his foot, but to hook his foot behind Dedue's ankle and use his own weight to send him tumbling to the ground. All the air rushes out of him with the impact. This time... he doesn't bother to get back up.
His Grace's delighted laughter from somewhere above him certainly doesn't help matters, of course, although the impact alone would have kept Dedue on the floor all on its own. "Well, weren't you just full of energy this time!" he says, sounding quite pleased with everything. Is his shoulder even a little bit sore? Dedue would bet that it isn't in the slightest. "What a surprise that was!"
Dedue adjusts his face if only so that it isn't directly in the ground, thus allowing him to breathe. A thing he is, alas, still obligated to do. "Yet I still lost, Your Grace," he points out, doing his best to keep his voice calm and not sulky at all.
"Oh? Yet from what I recall, a part of our agreement had nothing to do with you winning a match, but merely that you made a hit." Dedue blinks, and then pushes himself up onto his elbows, all so that he can look up at Duke Fraldarius better. The older man is staring down at him with a smile on his face, one hand on his hip and the other holding his sword loosely at his side. "While it may not have been with the use of your axe... Whenever in our agreement did I say that had to be the way to do it?"
Ah.
"Ah," he says aloud, blinking a few more times as his mind still slowly tries to catch up with this surprise development. "Your Grace, is that truly all right...?"
Duke Fraldarius sheathes his sword, making it all the easier for him to lean down and offer his hand out to him. "Well, if I say it is all right, is it not so?" he chuckles. "Come - you have done exceptionally well in your training today. Since it is the last time I will be here for some days, we can move past the usual end to the day, and instead have tea together. Dimitri has mentioned that you are particularly fond of ginger tea, isn't that right?"
Somehow, it hadn't occurred to Dedue that Dimitri would speak of him to someone like Duke Fraldarius. He knows that the duke is someone dear and close to Dimitri, of course, but for him to matter enough...
There's no denying a duke's invitation, even though Dedue isn't entirely sure in some ways how he ended up in the situation he has. Having tea with a duke is something that not even the knights of the castle must be able to do even uncommonly. While Dedue has had the occasional lesson in etiquette in regards to the noble past time of tea, he can't say that he's ever been expected to really use it. When him and Dimitri have tea, well... At first, it used to be just a chance for them to have a moment to themselves, and relax from everything. Relax, if they could at all.
Lately, Dedue has been taken aside in private to warn him away from such things. From being too comfortable with the crown prince of Faerghus, and remind him of his place. If he can just serve the tea instead...
Well it is fortunate that he adores Dimitri so much and wants to help him, make him feel more at ease as things weigh down heavily on his shoulders, or else Dedue would come to loathe the very idea of any sort of tea time. It helps that, despite his station, Dimitri often tries to return the favor, and gets quite annoyed when people try to tell him otherwise.
It seems as though a duke has no such problems, although perhaps the simple fact that Duke Fraldarius is an adult also works in his favor. All it takes is one cool look when a servant of the castle tries to speak up about His Grace's tea time guest, and that is the end of that.
"I feel I should at least serve you the tea, Your Grace," Dedue says awkwardly, seated there in one of the nicer seats he's ever been involved with since arriving in Fhirdiad.
But if there is anything that Dedue has learned since arriving in Faerghus, it is that many of her people are extraordinarily stubborn. Dimitri is very similar, although Dedue would call it more 'determined' and 'kind to a fault'. That seems to be very much the same case with Duke Fraldarius as he stands there, pouring some ginger tea out for Dedue. "Oh, nonsense," he says in a rather relaxed tone - nothing like how he'd been to the person who'd questioned his choice. To have the confidence and power of a duke... "I was the one who rather selfishly asked you out to tea instead of going along with our usual schedule. This is the least that I could do."
Dedue eyes some of the pastries that have been set up along the table, bright and delicious looking in the afternoon sun. It's still relatively warm in Faerghus for now, but that relative does a great deal of work. The harvest season is at its very end, with winter nipping at all of them. "Then... Thank you for your consideration."
"You are quite welcome," Duke Fraldarius says, and settles down into his seat across from Dedue. "Now then... Do you still remember what question it is that you wanted to ask of me?"
Well... Now that he has earned it, there should be no problem with him asking, should there? And yet still Dedue hesitates, almost a moment. "...Why did you count that hit I did, during today's spar?" he ends up asking, before his lips thin. That's not what he wanted to say, so why did it leave his lips? Now he's gone and wasted his chance, speaking here with Duke Fraldarius...
His Grace takes a sip of his tea, in no particular rush to answer the question. "Because it is just as valid as anything else," Duke Fraldarius tells him. "You are being trained as His Highness's retainer. That is not the same thing as a knight of Faerghus."
Dedue frowns, before he remembers to school his expression back to normal. Fortunate, really, that he is with Duke Fraldarius, who doesn't seem to mind such displays of emotion, but he must be better. The rest of the castle is not so generous. "I did not know that there was anything else to be but a knight of Faerghus, especially in service to royalty."
"We do have the average soldier," His Grace chuckles into his tea. "Some even manage to rise from such positions to be of great importance to the Kingdom. But no... For His Highness, sometimes I wonder if a knight would be the best thing to be... Of course, to be a knight is a great honor. I would never say otherwise." Dedue wonders if he could say otherwise, with his son having been a knight himself. With having given up his life in name of honor, and protecting the prince. "But as the person who Dimitri is determined to keep by his side, as his retainer, you must have some amount of freedom. Being a knight would not necessarily give you that." A low huff, and Duke Fraldarius's expression shifts into something a little more solemn. Contemplative. "Besides, from what I understand, few would have any interest in knighting you... So to some degree, it is keeping you out of that entire mess to start with."
Freedom. It is a funny thing to hear sold to him, when they both know that he has no true freedom here, that there is no one of Duscur's blood that has any true freedom. They do not even have their land, the place where they were born, any longer. Being reminded has Dedue curl his hands into fists, underneath the table; one day he will be able to never react to anything. He can only hope.
But he supposes that His Grace does have a fair point in that getting him knighted would be a whole lot of trouble for very little worth. Simply having Dimitri's trust, what of his authority exists, be there behind him... That is enough.
Perhaps there is some kindness in it, as well, keeping him from it. Dedue wonders at that. Still, he cannot venture too far from what he meant to say in the first place. "So the fact that I am not a knight... means that it is fine to win a match in such a way?" he asks, trying to wrap his mind around it all.
"That is right. For many who are honorable and forthright - those who are knights - then it is in their interest to win such a match fairly. It shows a dedication to the vows that they have made, and displays the progress in mastering their chosen weapon, whether lance or sword. However, for someone who has not made such vows, who wishes to protect His Highness with all that he is capable of..." Duke Fraldarius's shoulders roll in a slight shrug. "Then it matters not if you win through axe or fist. So long as you can reach what you must, that is the important thing."
"...If I may speak freely, Your Grace?"
Duke Fraldarius takes another sip of his tea. "You may."
"That seems a strange thing for someone of your station and reputation to believe, although I admit I have little knowledge in the ways of Faerghus or the responsibilities of nobility." Is that enough to shield him? He is not sure.
Certainty comes with Duke Fraldarius's dry chuckle. "No... It is not, at least for the common idea of us. However, any noble who seeks to be nobility and do their duties is expected to know that one can not only use a lance for every problem, and thus knights are not the only ones who should be relied upon. For example, many noble families hire mercenaries to help protect their land, or go after bandits, even if they are nothing like knights." He puts his cup down with a small clink, and folds his hands together upon the table. "When he takes the crown, His Highness will have no shortage of knights who will pledge themselves to him, and shield him with all their might. You will be someone different from all of them. For the better."
On Faerghus, being someone different is a sin. It is a mark upon his back, a free-for-all if people simply know the right time and method to target him. The idea that his differences are of worth, that he is someone who could still exist truly as different...
"This is a great deal of consideration, for someone from Duscur, who is not even one of your people, Your Grace."
"Perhaps." Duke Fraldarius sighs, then, and shakes his head. "...It seems as though far too many people in the Kingdom have forgotten how close we were, to Duscur, and what that meant. They are ignorant, or swept up in emotions seeking an easy solution..." His eyes grow dark, steely, like a blade in moonlight. "Or simple greed." A breath, and he continues as though nothing had crossed his face. "Even as a duke of this kingdom, there is frustratingly little I can do in response. My reach extends only as far as my lands do, and, even then, that is not as much as one might think."
"...I had not asked of it, Your Grace."
Duke Fraldarius lets his eyes slip shut a moment, huffs out a laugh. "Perhaps I merely felt a need to selfishly confess my own guilt," he says, which is an interesting choice of wording. Confess, as though this is in some Faerghan church. As though he as any kind of worth as a priest does. "At any rate, are you sure that was what you've been wanting to ask all this time?"
Dedue's shoulders jerk into a stiff stillness, and he can only imagine the look on his own face. "What?" he asks, eloquently.
Whatever expression he wears, Duke Fraldarius seems to delight in it, a laugh rolling from the pit of his chest. "Now now, there is no need to look so caught off-guard! You merely responded a little too quickly, I had thought." Leaning back in his seat, Duke Fraldarius grins. "My Felix used to do the same thing, sometimes - answer too quickly when he was caught off-guard, whether that was what he meant to say or not."
His son... Well, if there is any good segue into his question, Dedue supposes this is as good as anything else. Certainly, this is a second chance he had not expected, and he cannot waste such a thing. "Speaking of your son, Your Grace... His Highness has mentioned how close the two of them were. I thought... You would have brought him with you to Fhirdiad."
There. That should make it seem like his idea, and not Dimitri's. That should make things neat.
All the jovial good will on His Grace's expression falters, before fading away entirely. The look in his eyes is... distant. Careful. Dedue wonders if his own looks similar, whenever he has to have a handle on his emotions anywhere beyond Dimitri's side, in private. "Well.... That is certainly a question to settle on, although I suppose now it's quite clear on why you hesitated in asking about it." A low, slow breath. In, and then out. Not quite loud enough to be called a sigh. "To be quite honest, I would want nothing more than to keep Felix with me. However... It is not quite as easy as it may seem. At least, it is not easy and safe."
Now, that is a curious word to use. Easy, he'd been skeptical of. What could a duke not do, in the Kingdom of Faerghus? But safe.... "I do not understand."
"Well, I would not expect a young boy not raised in the court to understand, not immediately." Duke Fraldarius shakes his head. "Normally, I would not speak of it so freely... but I have some confidence in the location I have chosen for our tea time, and, almost more than that, I believe that it may benefit for you to know this information as well, young Dedue."
What influence can a simple Dusci commoner, taken in as a retainer, impart upon the Faerghan court? None. However, if he can pick up on anything that might help Dimitri... That might help the both of them one day bring Duscur back, wreak vengeance upon those who have wronged them both so grievously... Dedue straightens up, and looks His Grace straight in the eye. "I am listening, Your Grace."
It is an answer that satisfies him, and Duke Fraldarius nods. "Excellent. Then the first thing you should know is that a gathering of nobles is nothing less than a pit of vipers."
The absolute chill to the duke's voice is enough to make Dedue jolt, not sure he has ever heard it go so cold. Not here in Fhirdiad Castle, where he speaks to even the staff respectfully, where the knights take cheer in his friendly tone. Everyone speaks so well of Duke Fraldarius; have they ever heard him speak in this way? Of his fellow nobles in the court? "What... do you mean, sir?"
"It should be the duty, of knights and nobility of Faerghus, to put honor before anything else," the duke explains, his tone easing back up. Becoming that explanatory lilt that Dedue has grown familiar with over the past weeks and months of training. "However, power can be a... heady thing. It makes those who have it think they deserve ever more, no matter if it is theirs to have or not. And to that end... Honor has no place in favor of their greed." He meets Dedue's gaze right back. "Before the Tragedy, there were more than a few who wanted Duscur's prosperous lands for... Faerghus's own." The dip of his tone indicates more than any words could about how much of an excuse such phrasing was.
Dedue thinks he recalls such discussions. Things heard by him and Dimitri, from around corners, from eavesdropping. How so many had thought that Faerghus should have moved on Duscur far sooner, far quicker, how they didn't deserve the lands they did for being kingslayers.
How poor, generous, kind King Lambert had been too soft on them.
"His Majesty - Seiros tend to him gently," Dedue says, reciting that last bit in perfect practice. "He did not approve of such moves against Duscur."
Duke Fraldarius's head shake is confirmation enough. "No. How could he? In his eyes, Duscur and Faerghus were like siblings, once upon a time. Duscur had done so much for Faerghus, throughout our shared history. To turn against them like that would be like a Blaiddyd turning their weapon upon a Fraldarius. Unthinkable. And... unfortunate, that there are those in our kingdom who do not understand that.
"I could go deeper into the politics of it all, but such things are far too much for one tea session. So I will simply say that, even if one were to get rid of all the passion and hatred that festers, then there are still far worse dangers that lay in Faerghus's court for those who speak against what happened to Duscur. I can thwart them well, as a Duke."
"But... a child such as your son would be in danger," Dedue says slowly, piecing together the pieces as His Grace lays them out for him.
Another short nod. "That is right. Even now, there are many here in the court who would seek to manipulate His Highness's own emotions against him, if they could simply get one foot in. I suppose I should count us fortunate that... he has closed his heart to most, now, with all that he has experienced with the Tragedy, and what he has heard in court." Duke Fraldarius says it is fortunate, but the grimace across his face speaks of other emotions. "It is hard for them to manipulate him in that manner. However...." Here, he pauses, searching for the right words. "I... worry that my son is not the same."
Whenever Dimitri has spoken of his dearest and most treasured friend Felix, he has spoken often about the way the other boy would burst into tears at the drop of the hat. Crying because Dimitri fell off a horse. Bawling because their other friend Sylvain Gautier patted Dimitri's head first instead of his own. Just... far too many tales of crying.
Dedue is fairly certain he would get in trouble, if he were to describe the son of a duke as an enormous crybaby who clearly cannot be trusted in a tense political environment.
"His Highness has spoken of him as having a large heart," are the words he chooses to go with in the end.
There's a flicker of a glance back to him that has Dedue positive that His Grace has somehow read his mind and knows exactly what he really wanted to say. By the kindness of some sort of god, he does not mention it whatsoever. "Indeed," Duke Fraldarius sighs after a moment. "And... with the loss in our own family, he is taking it exceptionally hard as well." A wry and bittersweet smile crosses his face. "We are actually in argument right now as I speak, as a matter of fact, which only makes matters worse. No small part of me worries that if I were to tell him to do something, he might do the very opposite simply out of stubbornness. I have hopes that once I return, with time having passed between us to cool hot tempers, things will be a little better."
It all sounds quite complicated, and deeply personal. Dedue hopes to not get dragged too deeply into it, but he suspects it has a chance of happening anyway if Dimitri and this Felix are as close as everyone says they are to be. Well, he can only hope the best - for Dimitri, for His Grace who has been teaching him, and even as a common courtesy to this Felix.
"Does that mean he may return with you after you leave for Fraldarius for a month?" Dedue asks, because this seems like the most solid thing he can offer to Dimitri. A date, something to look forward to. Something to make up for how long it's taken Dedue.
At long last, His Grace picks up his tea once more, and takes a thoughtful sip. "Yes, I imagine so. By then, I imagine the two of us will have put everything behind us. Ah..." He shakes his head, and chuckles. "But I have been boring you with talk of my family life, certainly, and the dramas which come with it, when all you asked was a simple question. I do apologize, young Dedue."
"I was the one to ask such a personal question, Your Grace. Please do not worry over such a thing." Is that practiced enough? He hopes so. "And... I hope that your trip back to Fraldarius is safe."
At least a bit of honest sentiment seems to be enough to lighten up the mood, and Duke Fraldarius smiles at him. "In such an area, you have no need to worry," he chuckles. "Few would dare to attack a carriage or procession marked with the Fraldarius crest. And besides..." A flash of that cold bittersweetness again, and he moves his hand to the shield that has been resting against his leg this entire tea time. "I can say nothing else but that I am capable of learning."
In Faerghus, a culture of warriors who venerate knighthood and are lead by Crests as decreed by the church, only a complete fool would not be able to recognize the heirlooms of the most noble families. Of royalty. Dedue knows the shape of Aegis, even if Duke Fraldarius has never saw reason to wield it against him in any of their spars.
Even with his limited knowledge in regards to the ways of nobility, Dedue has learned enough to know that a son would not take up the relic of his Crest unless specifically handed down to him by his parents. Would not take it lest they were dead, or they found him in greater need of it than they. A simple journey to a country that had been a lifelong friend... Who could have foreseen the Tragedy?
Would even a Duke of Fraldarius be able to say, now, that no one would dare attack his group on the way back to his own territory?
Dedue isn't sure what else he can say, in this area. So he falls back on what the people of Faerghus seem to care about most, next to knighthood and the crown. "I am sure that many people will pray to the Saints and Seiros for your safe passage." Dedue would add that His Highness would, but, well...
Together, the two of them have stood in the empty expanse of church halls where there is nothing else but the sound of their own breathing echoing against stone. Cold and prettily carved stone, as though the aesthetic of it all could make up for the apathetic silence. In that place, all the two of them could do was stand there under the judgmental gaze of statues that would offer them no kindness. The Seiros that gazed upon them with painted eyes gave them no mercy or reprieve.
Dimitri had said nothing, in those allegedly hallowed halls. All he had done was stare upon the divine with his hands curled into quietly trembling fists and no expectations in his deadened stare.
Again. Dimitri had said nothing. But Dedue had understood regardless. Had understood that no prayers would be uttered from his prince's lips ever again.
Even if it is for the duke who sits there before Dedue now, nodding along with the well wishes. "Thank you for the concern," he says, before he glances into his cup. "At any rate, I do hope that has answered your question well enough, young Dedue. A mixture of... personal complications, along with having to take into consideration the dangers of the court are what have kept me from bringing my Felix with me this time." He brightens up a bit, hopeful in some way. "I do hope that the two of you will get on well. He is such a bright boy, quite fond of swords. I imagine the two of you could be quite fine as sparring partners, if nothing else. He is also polishing up his own sword skills, you see."
There is still plenty more tea left in the pot for both of them, and so Dedue supposes it is only right if he allows the duke some chance to talk fondly about his son. Whatever issues there are between the two of them at present, it clearly doesn't get in the way of the duke's love and fondness for his son. It is a bit much at times, but, well, Dedue must admit that he never quite knows what to do in the face of someone gushing about their loved ones.
At least the food and tea are both pleasant things to eat, both of them pairing well with one another no doubt in consideration of His Grace's presence. They finish up what is on the table soon enough, but Duke Fraldarius holds up a hand to stop Dedue from cleaning anything himself.
"As I said earlier, during your training, I have picked someone to train you in my absence. Of course, should he be a little bit too busy, or perhaps something comes up..." His Grace raises an eyebrow, which somehow changes his tone entirely. "Then that is no reason for you to skimp on your training at all. I have been giving you quite a bit of lessons in our time together, and some of them are simple repetition as well, so that it becomes as second nature to you. As long as you recall properly what we have done and stay aware of the weaknesses or bad habits that I have pointed out... You should be fine no matter the situation, while I am gone."
Something... settles, there in Dedue. Something almost like reassurance, like relief. Truly, for whatever familial problems may be going on in the duke's life, the man cannot be said to be ignorant of things going on in the castle. Cannot be ignorant to the way that Dedue is treated, especially not after having someone ignore passing along his message.
Words won't bring back Duscur. Words won't bring back his family. Words won't help him, not in this place, not when the power is given not to him but lies within another.
Dimitri gave him some measure of power, enough power to keep going, by giving him his position as a retainer. As someone who will be there alongside him when he finally is able to spearhead the effort to make Duscur her own again.
And there is a kindness in giving him the tools to be independent, even when others would seek to trip him and drag him back.
"I will show you the results of my training when you return from Fraldarius, Your Grace."
Sure enough, as they both suspected would happen, Dedue's training under the man the duke chose is not nearly to the class that Duke Fraldarius's was, although he supposes that he must give credit in that it is not nearly as atrocious as he thought it would. Perhaps it is a sense of professionalism that has the knight properly correct his form. Perhaps it is because of loyalty to His Grace, who would certainly warrant that for those of the same kingdom as he, and a desire to not fail him.
And yet still, there are times when he is busy, or that he at least claims he is busy, and so Dedue is on his own.
So he does exactly as His Grace said.
He takes full advantage of the kindness that was given to him, and he trains.