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Rituals, she had come to realize long ago, were so ingrained in the very fabric of their country that only a complete upheaval could change things. In many ways, the people of Fódlan were still shackled to the past, held prisoner by age old traditions that no longer had any relevancy or practicality in today's age.
Edelgard had come to know this very well over the course of her lifetime, and had, in tandem, developed the ability to determine which rituals to play along with and which were safe to forego altogether. One such example had been the ceremony to pass on the title of the emperor, where her sickly father had passed on the crown — and the responsibility of the entire empire — to her hands.
Another, she thought, must be this.
She was sat across the war table from Claude von Riegan, leader — no, king of the Leicester Federation. Between them, paperwork sat in an organized line, X's marking places for signatures and small dark squares on the parchment symbols of yet another odd ritual she knew they would have to undergo.
To the right of the contract, a small knife.
"A little extreme," Claude said, shaking her from her thoughts. "This whole blood thing. I mean, you think a signature and a 'hey, I promise I'll keep my end of the deal' would be enough."
He was good at that, Edelgard found herself thinking for a brief moment — at lightening the mood. Even in their academy days Claude always had some sort of quip on the tip of his tongue, sometimes complimentary — "You look beautiful as always, Edelgard" — sometimes mischevious — "Up to something? Me? I have no idea what you mean." Either way, it was somewhat relieving that even in a time like this he still found an opportunity to be lighthearted.
In lieu of a response, Edelgard picked up the dagger. "I'll go first," she declared. "As a sign of good faith."
"Hey, I trust you," Claude responded nonchalantly, but she couldn't read the expression in his eyes nor could she determine the legitimacy of his words.
That, unfortunately, was not a skill she had acquired at the monastery.
Regardless, Edelgard readied the blade and gingerly raised it to the pad of her thumb. The sharp, stinging pain of the knife sinking through skin, though temporary, reminded her of times better left forgotten. Hastily, she pressed her thumbprint below her signature, watching crimson stain the parchment.
"There."
With that, she slid the contract across the table and reached over to accept the handkerchief Hubert offered her from the sidelines, wiping the wound gingerly.
Claude flipped the paper around and inspected it, as though he were trying to determine the legitimacy of her fingerprint. After a moment, he extended a hand to accept the dagger.
He wiped off the spot of blood Edelgard has left behind on the tip of the blade, then sliced his own thumb open. Silently, he pressed his print right next to hers.
"With that," Hubert declared, "the alliance between the Empire and the Federation is sealed."
"Thank you, Claude," Edelgard said. "I am looking forward to our continued cooperation."
"Of course. So long as our arrangement remains mutually beneficial, I'll keep my end of the bargain."
There was a slight edge in Claude's tone, an unspoken conditional — "if this deal goes south, I won't hesitate to turn on you."
That was no matter. Edelgard felt the exact same way.
Leaning back in his seat as Hubert collected the paperwork and the dagger before disappearing quietly from the room, Claude lifted his hand to inspect the wound.
"Went a little deeper than I should have, I think," he murmured, wincing slightly.
"I do hope that isn't your shooting hand," Edelgard replied.
Claude chuckled, and the sound was strangely pleasant. "No worries there. I could fire a bow one-handed if I had to."
The emperor took a closer look and noted the faint trickle of red still leaking from the open cut. She opened her mouth to offer a bandage when, in one fluid motion, Claude raised his thumb to his lips.
For some reason unbeknownst to even her, Edelgard's breath caught.
The small spot of red staining Claude's tongue and the bottom of his shapely lip disappeared as quickly as it had come, but she couldn't shake the image from her head.
Claude pulled his gloves back on and looked up just as Edelgard ripped her gaze away.
"Hope that doesn't stain. White is a pain to clean."
Edelgard's chest still felt tight.
"We all make sacrifices, Claude."