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“Do you think there may be another way to unity than war?”
Their late work nights had rare interruptions, with Ferdinand and Hubert working in a hard-earned comfortable silence. An assassination attempt would have been higher on Hubert’s list of anticipated disruptions than that particular declaration. Perhaps he should have anticipated that Ferdinand had more confessions in him after his professed love for Hubert. The radiant general had a wealth of sentiments, plus the disposition to share them at great length. A singular romantic revelation—no matter how unexpected it was by Hubert and evidently Hubert alone—would likely place him below quota for that month.
“Pardon?”
Hubert kept his quill poised above the page and ignored the fallen drop of ink. The noble who received the missive would have to accept it. Ferdinand set his own quill down into the inkwell and began his impassioned speech.
“Perhaps, if we could have Lorenz speak with Claude wherever he has withdrawn to outside of Fódlan, then we might reach out to Dimitri as well.” With a flicker of recognition on how that might sound, Ferdinand’s confidence faltered. He stood from his desk to start his habitual pacing once he became anxious. Lantern light shone distractingly on his waves of honeyed hair, but fortunately, Hubert had gotten ample practice at dividing his focus on several matters. “Not to say I will not fight if we must, I—”
“I understand your meaning, Ferdinand.” Settling his quill onto the desk, Hubert prepared for the change in plans. Linhardt had a point—they were far too dedicated to their workloads. These missives and administrative files could wait. A partially formed plan about unifying Fódlan without force was decidedly promising enough to postpone the rest. “Your dedication to our cause is never in question.”
Ferdinand slowed his endless march, facing Hubert with a smile that didn’t seem possible to be for him. Still. There it was, and there it remained as his partner waited for his input on the dream that he’d envisioned. One greater than Her Majesty’s if it could be realized.
“Tensions are high,” Hubert conceded, clasping his hands together on the desk. “Inevitably, we will soon meet Dimitri and the Kingdom’s forces in battle when they realize we mean to march on Fhirdiad.”
Ferdinand perched on the corner of his utilitarian workspace. One of the many benefits of a clear surface, certainly. He didn’t quite mind having Ferdinand over him now and again despite their usual standing height difference. Hubert pushed aside the soft temptation to touch him for his warmth.
“Yet I can tell you are assessing the likelihood of the plan’s success.”
With that caress of hair over his evening wear, Ferdinand smiling down at him like that… Hubert felt it was understandable that he did ultimately end up resting his hand over Ferdinand’s on the dark wood desk. Solid and soothing, his presence acted as a beacon to far more than simply Hubert himself. He enjoyed entertaining the private fancy that its effect on him was special somehow. In an undefinable way, their resonance was distinct from others. Hubert realized he’d also begun to smile.
“If we could end this while minimizing unnecessary bloodshed—and that is a considerable uncertainty—there is an obligation to attempt it.”