As her comrades made quick work of the ambushing Bandits, the remaining unfortunate souls were either captured or outright executed. Marianne watching with a look of disgust and revulsion. Since childhood, valiant and heroic stories of the exploits of the Iron Rose Knights were told to her at her bedside at night. As she matured, she thought she had a clear understanding and picture of what the Iron Roses stood for as symbols of hope. That they were all shining Knights worthy of praise and the utmost respect, who could do no wrong. Not these...[i]barbarians[/i]. The way the bandits were dispatched was effective, to be sure. But, was it completely necessary? It appeared to Marianne that some of the other Iron Roses even [i]relished[/i] in the cruel bloodshed and carnage. Swallowing dryly as she lowered her bow and relaxed her hold on its drawstring, she could feel her stomach churning and feeling ill.

When she came of age, Marianne participated in what was called [i]Éveil[/i] or Awakening. A rite of passage for all future Delacroix knights. As children, they selected a piglet to become their companion as they grew older. Taught how to care and raise their new friend as if they were their own family member and was even so far treated as such. Eating together at the dinner table. Sleeping in the same bed. Even bathing together. All to culminate in a single day when the Delacroix child was given a knife and told to butcher their years-long friend, forced to watch as their beloved pet squealed and screamed in their death throes. Bleeding and dying before their very eyes all to allow them the reality of war. The cold harshness of combat and how brutal and filthy it truly was. That was the only time Marianne had seen bloodshed. The only time she truly witnessed the death of any other living creature, to prepare her.

Yet, she hardly felt prepared for this. Marianne fully aware of how relatively inexperienced she was on the battlefield, she slung her bow and watched as her fellow Knights began their interrogations of the captive Bandits. To her, though they were her enemy and threatened her life, the bandits were still human beings. She couldn't know who they were in their own lives. She didn't know their names or even what led them to live such a horrid life of crime. But even still, at their very core they were still her fellow man. She could hardly bare witness to their swift slaughter, having felt a pang of guilt with each arrow that found their homes in a bandit's throat or chest.

Sighing wearily, she held onto her composure. Smoothing the front of her skirt and kneeling on both knees, Marianne clasped her white gloved hands together and bowed her head low as she closed her eyes. Uttering a soft and sweet prayer, for the bandits they had slain, their victims, and the future bloodshed to follow. As it was Delacroix tradition after battle. After all, bandits or not...

They weren't pigs to be butchered.

Marianne was determined to uphold her Knightly vows and traditions, to preserve their purity. If not for the sake of ritual, then for herself. It was very clear that she did not approve of the ways her fellow Knights conducted combat. Having been trained herself in fighting techniques meant for swift and clean executions to allow her foes retain their dignity and honor in death.