One Fódlan Day, Caspar bounced up to Linhardt's door and knocked forcefully on it. And when I say "knocked forcefully" I basically mean "punched."

"LIIIIINHARDT!!" he shouted. "WaKe uP!!"

"Ugghhmmpfffhhhttt," came Linhardt's voice from inside.

"It's time for class!" replied Caspar, after mentally translating the groan.

"Urrrgghh," said Linhardt.

"I know it's early, but it's magic class!! You gotta be excited about that, right??" said Caspar enthusiastically. When no reply came, he punched the door again. "HEY!! I'M TALKING TO YOU!!"

"If you keep punching my door like that, you'll either break it down or get a splinter," said Linhardt.

"Oh, so you ARE awake!" exclaimed Caspar. "Not very cool of you to trick me. Now get on out here! We're gonna be late for class!"

"Zzzzzz..." replied Linhardt.

"What the!?" Caspar banged on the door again. "YOU GET OUT HERE THIS INSTANT, LINHARDT!!" After a moment of silence, he said, "Fine, but don't blame me when the professor, or even worse, Edelgard, comes after you!" He turned to leave, but stopped a minute to look at his index finger. "Ow, I got a splinter."

  Later, Petra had just finished her daily sparring in the training grounds. Putting away her practice sword, she wiped the sweat from her forehead and plopped down on a stone bench. But the bench didn't feel like stone...and it also said, "oof."

"What the--" Petra jumped back up and looked down to see Linhardt sprawled out on the bench. "Linhardt? Why are you having a sleep in the training grounds?"

Linhardt's eyes barely cracked open. "Mmrrpfhh."

"Um, what are you saying?" Petra poked his forehead.

"Hrrrghghhh," grumbled Linhardt, turning over.

"Hmm...I am guessing you are not wanting to help me improve on my technique today?"

"ZZzzzz..." said Linhardt.

Petra raised a hand to her chin. "Linhardt gives me much confusion."

  Even later, Dorothea and Bernadetta were enjoying a meal in the dining hall with their professor. Byleth stared blankly and Bernadetta tried not to giggle as Dorothea told them a story about an opera she had performed in.

"...And THEN my co-star tripped over his cape and I had to catch him to save him from smashing a cello in the orchestra! I always say, 'heroes should avoid capes since they just get in the way,' but nobody listens to me." She waved her arms around dramatically as she talked, which caused Ferdinand on her other side to scoot a little bit in the other direction. "Anyway, then as we were scrambling to take our proper places again, I accidentally kicked a background dancer in the shin--" Miming the kick under the table, she gasped in shock when it collided with something soft and was accompanied by an "agh!"

Byleth's eyes widened and he lifted up the tablecloth to see Linhardt laying there underneath the table, rubbing his ribs. "So that's where you went." Byleth said.

"LIN!" shouted Dorothea. "That's the stupidest place you could have chosen to nap! Why would you lie there?! You could have been seriously hurt! What is the matter with you?!"

"Urrrggh," was all he said.

"Dorothea, perhaps you should calm down a bit? I am sure Linhardt has his reasons, strange through they may be," put in Ferdinand.

"Uhmm, maybe he doesn't want to be disturbed?" Bernie suggested.

"Errghh," said Linhardt. He rolled over and hugged Byleth's boot.

Dorothea huffed. "Well I'm not going to tolerate this. He's scared the life out of me, interfered in our daily lives, and immobilizing the professor."

Bernie looked to see Byleth trying to shake off Linhardt's vice grip. "I suppose you could just drag him along the ground to your next class. You're strong enough to handle it, right Professor?"

A bead of distressed cartoony sweat rolled down Byleth's forehead.

  Later still, Edelgard was tidying the Black Eagles classroom for the next day. With a tired sigh, she picked up a stack of books and a tattered overcoat and brought them to the closet. But when she opened the door, it was already filled...with Linhardt's sleeping body.

"AAHH!" cried Edelgard, dropping the books.

Hubert materialized next to her. "Lady Edelgard, you called?"

"I did not call, I screamed!!" she exclaimed, whirling around to face him. "A-and you were not supposed to hear!"

"Is something troubling you?" he asked, eyeing Linhardt in the closet, who after all this time had only snorted and begun to blow spit bubbles.

"No, I'm fine. I was just surprised is all. I can't even begin to fathom what goes on in Linhardt's head to make him sleep in a closet."

"Do you require an assassination?" Hubert asked, smiling pleasantly. (Well, most people would not describe it as 'pleasant' but Edelgard knew how to tell apart his regular smiles from his I-want-to-assassinate-somebody smiles.)

"What? No! Of course not. If you'd like, you can help me clean this up, though. And perhaps get Linhardt out of that closet."

Hubert cracked his knuckles. "Very well."

  That night, Linhardt peeked open his eyes and stretched his arms. Yawning, he looked around and found that his vision was filled with nothing but grass. Then he noticed that his legs were asleep, and that he was slung over a low-hanging tree branch.

"How did I get here?" he wondered, kicking his free-hanging feet. "Well, no matter. I feel energized enough to get in some research in the library, at least."

After wriggling down from the branch and falling on his face, he got up and went to the library. Lighting a candle, he stepped inside and was met face-to-face with Edelgard. Her arms were crossed, her foot was tapping impatiently, and her violet eyes glowed menacingly in the candlelight.

"Linhardt." She started.

Linhardt turned on his heel and went back the way he came.

THE END!