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Letter delivered by regular post to Garreg Mach Monastery. Written in a delicate hand on fine vellum paper, sealed in green wax with the Crest of Cethleann.
Dear Linhardt,
Though I enjoyed your previous letter greatly (you have always had quite the wit, like your mother) I would appreciate it if next time you would take the time to respond to all of my questions, including the ones regarding your studies. That said, I am glad that you are enjoying your personal research, given that it is not (as I am prone to suspect) interfering with your coursework.
Your mother and I are well—she has entreated me to tell you that she misses your sulking around the house.
Now, I have a certain matter to discuss with you, with regard to your future and that of our house. I suppose you might accuse me of burying the lede, but I thought I oughtn’t shock you with it. Your mother and I, having taken your… previous dismissals into account, have found a potential bride for you. She is your age or a little older, and is in fact a student at the Officer’s Academy with you. We thought you might take more kindly to an engagement with someone you already know. Besides, you may be interested in her crest. Unlike ours, it is martial in nature.
Have you become acquainted with the young Lady Galatea?
We are still working with her family on the details of this arrangement, but a formal proposal should follow in a few weeks’ time. In the meantime, why not take the opportunity to spend more time with her? I have heard she is an industrious young lady—perhaps she might rub off on you.
Your father,
Johann von Hevring
Letter delivered to House Hevring, splattered with green sealing wax as if the seal was smashed into it.
Dear Father,
Absolutely not.
—Linhardt
Note written on the back of a shopping list, wedged under Linhardt’s door.
Linhardt—
I assume your family has told you the news. We should find a time to meet up and discuss it, since our families seem intent on following through. We should at least consider it, for their sake.
—Ingrid
Note on the brittle, mottled parchment of a book’s torn endpaper, delivered by Dorothea to Ingrid.
Ingrid—
Absolutely not.
—Linhardt
Letter delivered by henpecked express courier, who had to wake Linhardt up to deliver it into his hands as directed.
Dear Linhardt,
I understand your opposition to this matter. I truly do. It is the same way I felt once about marrying your mother. But look at us—twenty years later, we are very close, very dear to one another. And we can rest easy knowing that House Hevring’s future can be secured in you.
Besides, son, we have spent so much time, so many resources sending a dozen potential brides your way, only for you to reject them all without a thought. We—you are running out of options. Frankly speaking, a marriage to the young Lady Galatea would be a downward movement for you, even considering her crest. (I say this to you, Linhardt, in absolute confidence.)
Enclosed, you will find a copy of the contract signed by myself and Count Galatea. (In my dealings with him, I have judged him a virtuous man. He will make a good father-in-law to you.) The young Lady Galatea will be receiving one as well. No further action is required on your part until wedding plans begin in earnest.
I only entreat you once more to endeavor to grow closer to your betrothed. I regret having been so reluctant to interact with your mother at the start of our relationship.
And Linhardt? Do not use this as an excuse to further neglect your studies, even though you are upset.
Your Father,
Johann von Hevring
Note slipped under Linhardt’s door, which he did not notice for two days because he was in the library.
Linhardt—
I must insist on speaking with you about this matter. Meet me after strategy lessons tomorrow, or tell me another time. I know you keep irregular hours.
I won’t bite, Linhardt. It’s not as if I’m thrilled about this either.
—Ingrid
Note written on a torn corner of scrap paper, left by Linhardt’s head as he slept facedown in a book in the library.
Linny come see me when you wake up you haven’t been to class in days and you look so pissed all the time and I’m really sorry about the wedding thing.
Caspar
Entry in Ingrid’s personal journal, written in hasty script and blotted with ink.
Spoke with Linhardt today. He was blunt and nonchalant as usual. Wouldn’t look me in the eye. Unpleasant boy, no manners.
I asked him what he thought about our engagement. He rolled his eyes at me—at his fiancee!—and took out a piece of paper— a page torn from a book. (Can you believe it? Who tears up books?)
He read it to me. It was some statute, the law we all know about engagement contracts not being binding unless the betrothed are of age. (Why did he have to rip it out? Everyone knows that law!)
“See?” he asked me, as if this presented any kind of solution. See?
He told me that all we needed to do was refuse to be married, and nobody could make us. I told him, well, shouted at him, a little, that it was not that simple! And it’s not! It’s not that simple!
I asked him, do you know that this is our obligation? I told him I wasn’t happy about it, for—well, I said it was for ‘a number of reasons,’ that I didn’t want to marry him, but that he was the best suitor I’d gotten thus far and that I might as well quit while I’m ahead.
And then he looked at me as if he was genuinely sad. And he must be, he must think it’s sad to even consider carrying out one’s obligations, because he never does. He just lives his life of leisure, never stopping to consider that the money might run out, that the peace might break, that someday he might have to get out of bed in the morning and work.
He said he’d figure something out. I told him he’d better not pull out some harebrained scheme and make us both look childish.
I’ve had enough of that without having to worry about it from my fiancé.
Note that Linhardt cajoled Flayn into bringing to Caspar, written in an extremely sleepy hand shortly after dawn.
cas—
i am In Fact Pissed, caspar.
i will work this out. not as interesting as crestology but Much Higher Stakes.
i find i don’t Like high stakes. or ingrid.
it’s not even fun to dislike her, i just feel bad for her she’s so fucking miserable.
—lin
Entry in a journal that Caspar keeps nominally for tracking his training regimen, but is primarily concerned with fervent scribblings about Great Justice.
PULLED LINHARDT BY HIS EAR OUT OF THE LIBRARY AND MADE HIM EAT THINGS. PRETTY MUCH SHOVED STICKY BUNS INTO HIS MOUTH UNTIL HE STOPPED LOOKING LIKE A DEAD PERSON. AND HE STILL LOOKED KIND OF LIKE A DEAD PERSON.
MAYBE I’M NOT SMART ABOUT THIS KIND OF THING I TOLD HIM BUT I THINK HE AND INGRID WOULD BE SUCH A BAD COUPLE. HE JUST LAUGHED SO I CARRIED HIM TO BED AND TOLD HIM I LOVED HIM AND THAT I’D BEAT UP INGRID’S DAD.
AND HE SAID DO YOU REALLY LOVE ME.
AND I SAID LINNY YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND WE HAVE THIS TALK ALL THE TIME.
AND HE SAID EUREKA AND THEN HE STARTED SNORING. AND IT WAS CUTE? WHAT DOES EUREKA MEAN????
AAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHH I WISH I COULD FIX IT.
Note left in a hasty scrawl on Caspar’s bedside table at around midday, when Linhardt finally woke up.
Caspar—
You really, really mean that I’m your best friend in the world and you love me?
—Lin
Wadded-up scrap of paper shoved down the collar of Linhardt’s jacket during a boring part of their tactics lecture.
LINNY—
OF COURSE DUMBASS
—CAS
Note written on reverse of aforementioned paper scrap, handed to Caspar while the professor wasn’t looking.
I’m going to need to talk to you after class, then.
Letter slipped under the locked door of Seteth’s office far, far after hours, on crisp stationery given to Linhardt by his father. Sealed with the Crest of Cethleann.
Dear Seteth,
What was I supposed to have called you? Are you… His Grace? The Reverend Seteth? The Reverend Seteth what? Do you even have a last name?
Anyway, I have a question for you. I know you do weddings here, they’re practically every weekend and they’re very loud and joyful while I’m trying to do my research. And I know that often, you’re the one who officiates.
Seteth— your Grace, your Eminence, whatever it is—will you officiate my wedding? I am, apparently, going to be getting married far sooner than I might have expected. It’s a pain… will you please make it less of one?
My fiancé and I would appreciate it.
Best,
Linhardt von Hevring
PS: Please enclose a copy of whatever paperwork we have to sign to get this done as quickly as possible.
Excerpt from Ingrid’s personal journal, following a pages-long diatribe about Sylvain’s most recent fool philandering.
Linhardt approached me today. He was smiling like Felix’s cat, all smug and a little bit unsettling.
All he said was that I didn’t have anything to worry about. What in the Goddess’ name does that mean? I tried to ask him what he’d done, but he wouldn’t tell me anything, even when I raised my voice at him!
Maybe I shouldn’t have shouted. Maybe if he… maybe it’s better this way.
I really wish it didn’t have to be better this way. For once I want something that works.
Entry in Caspar’s ‘training journal,’ written in enormous letters, smeared and splattered with ink.
GUESS I’M GETTING MARRIED!!!!!!!!!!!?????????
WHICH IS WEIRD BUT… NOT SURE WHO ELSE I WAS GONNA MARRY. SOONER OR LATER I GUESS??????
OH CRAP NOW HE CAN NEVER KNOW HOW BAD I WANT TO KISS HIS FACE………
Response to above, delivered promptly into Linhardt’s hands by Flayn, though not before she took the time to ask why he’d been so unusually vinegary of late. Written on fine, thick paper in an elegant, efficient hand, sealed with the Crest of Seiros.
Linhardt,
I would like to formally congratulate you on your engagement! Though arranged marriages can present difficulties at first, I am confident that you and Ingrid will work through these and make a fine match in time. (Your betrothed, with whom I have developed a rapport, informed me of the engagement herself.)
Until then, might I add, I am always prepared to lend a listening ear.
I must say that I do not believe it strictly necessary that you begin to plan your wedding immediately. You are both busy students, and I do want to repeat that I feel some time to adjust would be beneficial to you. That being said, yes, I do officiate many weddings, and it would be an honor for me to extend that service to you and your fiancee.
I’ve enclosed the necessary paperwork, and I very much encourage you and Ingrid to attend my office hours to discuss matters.
Sincerest congratulations,
Seteth
Notes written on a large envelope containing several copies of Caspar and Linhardt’s marriage license.
FLAYN—
PLEASE GIVE THESE TO YOUR BROTHER. LOVE YOU! LET’S GET TOGETHER AND EAT A BUNCH OF CANDY SOON, I HAVE SO MANY THINGS TO TELL YOU.
—CASPAR
Seteth—
Perhaps not what you were expecting, but not such a miserable match.
—Linhardt
Letter delivered forthwith from Seteth’s desk, on the same fine paper, in a somewhat less-elegant hand. No seal.
Linhardt,
With all due respect, absolutely not.
Though I am aware, as I have made clear to you before, that arranged marriages can be difficult, I cannot simply allow you to attempt to resolve the matter with a stunt like this. Your engagement—rather, your first engagement, is a serious matter, and cannot be brushed easily aside.
Moreover, I feel I cannot cheapen the holiness of the sacrament of marriage by marrying you to one of your schoolfriends on a whim.
I implore you, visit me in my office. We can discuss a more rational way to handle this. And yes, perhaps that might include finding a way to dissolve your engagement to Ingrid—though that depends, regrettably, entirely on the willingness of your respective families to be convinced.
Warm regards,
Seteth
Note left in the pocket of Linhardt’s academy jacket as he slept, curled fetal in his hiding spot in the library’s remotest back stacks.
Linny I looked everywhere for you and when I found you you were asleep so I left you this note. It’s not like I’m gonna let this happen to you cause you’re my best friend and I love you tons and I swear if you want me to I’ll run away with you like we wanted to when we were kids.
And we’ll travel all over the world and have so much fun and help people and you can sleep in meadows and under trees or whatever and fix all of my skinned knees and everything will be okay.
Cas
PS: And I’ll still beat up Ingrid’s dad if you want me to. And your dad. And anyone else.
Unsent letter left in Linhardt’s desk drawer, three days in advance of his planned departure. Written in a steady hand, sealed in green wax.
Ingrid—
Tell your father it’s my fault entirely. You’re so wedded to the rules and I don’t understand a thing about it, but I figure I ought to put it in writing that you followed them one hundred percent, so nobody can yell at you the way they’re going to want to yell at me.
Thank my lucky stars you’re wedded to the rules and not me.
—Linhardt
PS: Dorothea won’t say it but she’s got the worst crush on you. It was a pain to watch so I figure I better get it out of the way before I go or it’ll keep bothering me.
Note slipped into Linhardt’s bookbag, which he found while making space for several stolen library books. Written in an old-fashioned, loopy cursive on perfumed paper.
My dear friend Linhardt,
Why did you not tell me you were planning to wed!!? I had to hear this news from my brother, who was very, very cross! He went on and on about his frustration with your behavior, and about your Unwillingness To Be Reasoned With!
But I—oh, Linhardt, I cannot express how romantic it is! To escape an arranged marriage by binding yourself to the one you really love, it sounds like a fairy tale!
And my brother sometimes forgets that I am a priestess in my own right!
I have rescued your marriage license from my brother’s wastepaper basket! Please, meet me at the top of the Goddess Tower at midnight. (Tonight is the full moon! How romantic!)
(Is it an elopement if you’re only going as far as the Goddess Tower?)
Oh, and bring at least two witnesses!
Much love,
Flayn
The above, refolded and left in Caspar’s bag while he annihilated a training dummy, with the following addition.
Cas—
I’ll take care of the witnesses. You just… come marry me.
I fully acknowledge that it’s ironic that I’m the one saying this, but don’t be late.
—Lin
Note on the back of Flayn’s perfumed envelope, folded and foisted on Petra for urgent delivery to Dorothea, even if it interrupts choir practice.
Dorothea—
Wouldn’t it be nice for you and Ingrid to sneak into the Goddess Tower at midnight tonight?
Moreover, it would be a favor to me, and I know you owe me one.
And by all the saints, don’t tell her it was my idea. You’ll see.
—Linhardt
PS: I am begging you.
Scrap of paper torn from the margins of a book, covered in tiny scrawling script. Rather worn from being twisted throughout the ceremony.
Caspar, you are now, have always been, and always will be my dearest friend. Ever since we were children, you’ve been there for me to rely on. When you drag me to class, when you make me go to sleep—hell, last week, when you force-fed me cinnamon buns just because I looked upset.
And I’ll be that for you. It’s like you said. I’ll fix your skinned knees, I guess, for all your life.
I suppose I would have done that if we weren’t getting married right now.
But truly, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather elope with in a blind panic. Honestly, I can’t think of anyone else I’d marry, full stop. Anyone who’s fool enough to spend their time with me, anyone who I can stand for long enough to be… committed to.
So I suppose everything turned out alright, and I can finally get some damn rest.
Page from Caspar’s school notebook, the reverse of which is covered in messy, incomplete notes on the history of cavalry. Limp from being crushed in a sweaty hand while Flayn read out the rites.
Cripes, Linny, I’m not good at this.
You remember, though, when we were kids? And you married me under that tree at your house, with the white flowers?
I married you then, and I’m marrying you now, and even though it’s kind of just to help you out I really, really, really don’t mind and I really, really, really want to.
But like, as your best friend. Because you are my best friend. And you know I’ll always want to help you, like I’m doing now.
And I would have run away with you. That sounded fun as hell. Let’s do that for real someday.
Note Ingrid wedged under Linhardt’s door on her way to class, knowing that he’d still be asleep.
Linhardt—
That was reckless and childish and I cannot believe it was legal.
That being said, I suppose I ought to thank you. So.
You have my thanks.
—Ingrid
Letter delivered by express courier to House Hevring, written in Linhardt’s most official script and sealed in green wax with the emblem of House Bergliez. Enclosed is a copy of Linhardt and Caspar’s marriage certificate, signed by the couple, Flayn, and witnesses Dorothea and Ingrid.
Dear Father,
Honestly, you’ve got to understand by now that it’s a fool’s errand trying to get me to do things I don’t want to.
Sincerely,
Linhardt Bergliez von Hevring
PS: I’m going to be needing that heirloom ring.