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[hider=Earlier that Morning…]

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Every morning Clarissa found herself in the cathedral, eagerly awaiting the waking sun, as she basked in the comforting weight of holy expectation. Today was no exception; although, she found the cathedral’s usual comfort lacking. Her typical spot on the front pew sat vacant as Clarissa chose instead to stand closer to the front, her typical conversations with the morning clergy caught in her throat, as she stared somewhere far beyond the windows. Her thoughts were a maelstrom she struggled to escape.

Sleep failed to find her, only bringing back images of those she’d help and those she’d lost. The poor and downtrodden weeping at the wreckage of their homes, at the loss of their loved ones, at the burns and cuts that littered their own bodies. Their cries haunted her on the carriage ride back but what was even worse were the quiet ones. The ones who only stared vacantly at the shattered remains of their homes. The ones who set to work with no tears nor cries at burying their dead. The ones who barely reacted as bandages and magic washed away their physical pain, like they were barely even living. The ones that were ghosts in all but name. Those were the ones she remembered, asking for a name, trying to wake them for naught. Maybe it was a mercy for them but her heart broke over and over seeing them denied their rightful grief. 

She barely even noticed the light start to creep into the cathedral. 

Auberon wasn’t a stranger to morning services, but his attendance was far from perfect either. Personally, he found that his room seemed a far better place to quickly greet the Goddess in the morning before breakfast or hitting the training grounds. Still, he had access to the highest church in the land, and he wasn’t one to squander the opportunity if his morning was otherwise free. After that tragedy at Luin, he was less than eager to get out and flail his axe around again so soon, and he doubted any would-be sparring partners would feel up to it either. Once he’d finished reading through the letter addressed to him that morning, the cathedral all but called to him as an ideal spot to organize his thoughts.

The young Galatea slipped in just after the break of dawn and paced solemnly toward the front of the chamber. He paused near a statue of Saint Seiros in contemplation, eyes searching for some unspoken wisdom in her stone features. He found nothing, and thus moved on to stand beside Clarissa, heedless of her apparent consternation. He had enough of that for himself, honestly.

It took Clarissa a few moments to register the body next to her. The quiet steps drew her from her thoughts and she cast a brief glance at the newcomer. Auberon wasn’t the first person she’d expected, especially considering the hour, but she supposed she wasn’t as surprised as she could have been either. Regardless of the parts they’d played, tragedy was tragedy and those who kept the faith would always flock when comfort was needed. She left him to his thoughts, content for just a while longer to watch the sun creep it’s way across the floor and bask in the company she hadn’t thought she needed. 

[color=FF650E]“I feel I ought to be angry.”[/color] Clarissa broke the silence. [color=FF650E]“Senseless violence inflicted upon the innocent chosen for nothing other than the slaughter should fill me with some sense of rage or determination but I feel. I was certain I could reason with them, return to them some semblance of empathy but I was wrong. They found purpose and delight in their bloodshed, chose to turn their faces from light, and yet I am not angry, not frustrated, not vengeful. Just sad. Sad that we couldn’t save more, sad that we weren’t there sooner, and unbelievably, sad that none of the bandits wanted to be saved. We did what we had to, I recognize that, but why was that the answer?”[/color] 

Auberon’s gaze shifted over curiously once Clarissa spoke. He wasn’t even sure of the topic at first, confusedly applying her words on anger to the nonsensical images of random Blue Lions wielding Thunderbrand and other vague musings about House Charon that had been on his mind the whole morning. Right. The village. He’d been trying to forget that. He took a moment to consider her words, with only a hum offered at first to confirm he had heard her.

[color=ffd700]“Sometimes words just can’t solve everything,”[/color] He muttered simply, [color=ffd700]“Even small disagreements can come to blows with the right people involved. I can’t imagine what would possibly compel someone to do what they did, but evidently they thought it worth dying for.”[/color] That was a thought he liked to dwell on even less than the carnage they’d witnessed - that people were capable of that much malice with no visible gain.

[color=ffd700]“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with what you’re feeling. They made their choice and they got what they deserved, but everything about that situation was regrettable - for both sides.”[/color] Auberon hung his head reverently as he finished speaking, as if some explanation would come from on high if he just listened. [color=ffd700]“I’m hardly someone who can speak on giving up anger - I put every bit of spite I could into my swings on those monsters - but I don’t believe in dwelling on anger either. Feel it, use it in the moment if you must, but let it go afterward. It’s poison for your soul.”[/color]

[color=FF650E]“At home, words are more powerful than a sword. We’re the smallest territory on the Roundtable but with a single word, we could crumple every sea bound trade route in an instant. Words are worth thrice their weight in gold there; they’re the Roundtable’s lifeblood. This may be the first time my words failed me.”[/color] Clarissa fell silent for a period, her furrowing brow breaking the blank look she’d worn since she woke. [color=FF650E]“But you’ve made an excellent point. A blow requires weight behind it for it to be effective and what better weight than righteous fury. I’ll sharpen my tongue for next time and lend it that weight, break through the armor of their sin and find that last shred of humanity.”[/color] She straightened as she spoke, the empty, hollow feeling plaguing her filling with resolution once more. 

[color=FF650E]“A distraction, by the way. The bloodshed and violence was all part of a greater plot. The Eastern Church was the true target.”[/color] Clarissa offered, her father’s letter still in the back of her mind. [color=FF650E]“At the same time Luin suffered their losses, House Hyrm of the Empire and House Gloucester of the Alliance answered a call for aid from the besieged Eastern Church.”[/color]

Evidently, the Galateas and the Edmunds had very different ideas on what constituted politicking. His family might collapse trade routes with a word, but that word would be ‘Pegasi’ and it would be repeated a few hundred times for effect. The concept of debate holding so much meaning was as foreign to him as the concept of a Roundtable. As far as Auberon was concerned, debate was either the preamble to military action, or a means of pacifying both sides before the conflict reached that point.

[color=ffd700]“For what it’s worth, I don’t think any fault that they couldn’t be convinced rested in your words. What you said almost had [i]me[/i] throwing my axe down,”[/color] He joked mirthlessly, his tone still weighed down by the solemn atmosphere of the dawnlit cathedral. [color=ffd700]“In Faerghus, political power grows along the tip of a lance. Actions are what’s measured, and words are only as persuasive as the implied threat of violence behind them. When people won’t listen, we fall back to a simpler language that everyone understands - force.”[/color] Auberon raised a hand in a placative gesture, as if to imply he meant no offense. [color=ffd700]“Still, you did more than talk. You threw yourself out there with every bit of compassion you preached beforehand and then some. It’s a Faerghian victory if not a Leicester one, at least.”[/color]

Her admission about the motives of the group was almost welcome, at least for the purposes of Auberon’s thoughts. He’d assumed there was more to the event than they’d witnessed, but to be presented with actual information gave sense to their actions. The attack on Luin was still senseless slaughter, but it had a tactical purpose and fit into a larger scheme. It became less of a question of how people could be so evil and more of a question of intent. Cold, logical; more like an impersonal game of chess than a village full of innocents whose lives had been ruined needlessly. Still, an attack on the Church was worrisome. Were they just bandits after all, intent on looting whatever treasures the Eastern Church kept within? Or did the plot grow larger yet, and could the attack on Luin even be repeated elsewhere to suit this group’s goals?

He didn’t like it.

[color=ffd700]“I guess we were lucky the Goddess placed us there to help,”[/color] Auberon sighed, [color=ffd700]“I don’t feel very lucky, but…”[/color] His statement trailed off as his eyes came to rest on the altar at the front of the chamber. [color=ffd700]“What do you think they were after?”[/color]

Clarissa huffed softly in amusement at Auberon’s joke. It was a sad truth about the world, that threats of retribution were more powerful than loyalty and faith. Still, there were more pressing matters to consider than the lamentable position of the world at the moment. [color=FF650E]“I cannot claim enough familiarity with the Eastern Church’s holding to even begin to consider what their target was. But, I do not think it a coincidence that someone attempted to steal from the Central Church and then there was an attempt on the Eastern Church shortly thereafter.”[/color] Clarissa considered, her fingers tapping as she considered it. The thief’s dire warnings echoed in the back of her mind. [color=FF650E]“I would not be surprised to hear of another attack on the Western Church in the coming weeks, in fact. If the heresy spouted by the thief gives us any indication, we should see more activity against the church on a wider scale in the coming months. Assuming it is all connected but from where I’m standing, I can’t imagine any other possibility.”[/color] Clarissa tracked the sunlight as it grew closer still.

[color=FF650E]“We count ourselves among an unprecedented break from tradition, a unit hand chosen by the Archbishop himself, on the threshold of two heretical crimes and an affront to life itself. I feel less a child who wandered into the wrong street than I do a chess piece carefully positioned. I am not one to put much stock in fate but as we are, I cannot discount it.”[/color] Clarissa could feel the familiar conviction filling her as she moved away from thoughts of their battle and onto the future and their position in it. [color=FF650E]“Do you have any thoughts on their target?”[/color]

[color=ffd700]“You think- Hmm.”[/color] Auberon hadn’t considered that strange event in the cafeteria a few days ago could be connected to, well, anything really. It seemed a big step from thievery to outright besieging the Church, but Garreg Mach was a far less accessible target than the other branches. If Clarissa’s prediction was correct, it might be evidence of attempted thievery of Church artifacts on a wide scale. For what purpose, he couldn’t even guess.

[color=ffd700]“I’m not sure I fully agree with the connections you’re drawing, but I can’t discount them either. Assuming what you said is true, they clearly intend to steal for reasons that extend beyond wealth. Going through the effort to plant a lone operative in Garreg Mach only to have him pilfer one thing rather than, I don’t know, open the gates for an attacking army suggests they wanted a specific item rather than to pillage everything and sell it off.”[/color] Auberon glanced around the room at the extensive ornamentation. If a bandit group large enough to even consider attacking the whole Church of Seiros wanted money, they’d need more than a gold statuette or two. [color=ffd700]“I’m sure the Church has relics that date back to the saints or the War of Heroes. Powerful relics. That’s the only thing I could think of that would be worth stealing.”[/color]

Auberon turned his head toward Clarissa assertively after he’d finished his speculation, eyes now hardened with certainty in the face of what he was about to say. [color=ffd700]“I absolutely believe we were put there for a reason, though. Our arrival in Luin was no accident.”[/color]

The nature of these attacks made Clarissa inclined to agree that these ruffians knew what they wanted but she believed they were after things to discredit and undermine the establishment of the Church. The words of that thief were still clear in her mind as the day they were spoken and if they were connected, it made sense that the goal of these attacks were meant to impede the Marked ones from bringing the world down around them. Powerful relics would certainly help with that but considering the Eastern Church's position, generally weaker than the other two as it was situated in a land that mostly ignored it, Clarissa wasn’t certain that the Eastern Church would have been trusted with relics powerful enough to draw their attention. 

But she could contemplate this for the rest of the day and not get any further with what they had so she turned when Auberon did, taking in the resolve permeating his words. [color=FF650E]“You’re surprisingly unphased by that assertion. Why do you think so?”[/color]

Auberon furrowed his brow at the question, as if the very act of asking was absurd. After a moment, his face evened out and he simply shrugged. [color=ffd700]“Gut feeling, I suppose. No, that sounds too… uncertain. You have a group directly chosen by the Archbishop, most of whom are bearing Crests, conveniently arrive in the right place at exactly the right moment to prevent a massacre likely orchestrated by some blasphemous cult from nearing completion. I won’t believe the Goddess’ eyes weren’t upon us that day. It was too convenient.”[/color]

He was surprised she questioned the assertion at all. They carried holy blood, destined to be the instruments of the Goddess. The fact that they’d all made it out mostly unscathed in a battle they weren’t prepared for was a testament to Her grace. 

Clarissa couldn't keep her composure any longer, laughing as quietly as possible at the brief flash of emotion after she asked. After what Clarissa had already said, it certainly was an absurd question; She’d already expressed she believed it was fate but to see Auberon go from utterly convinced to the flash of disbelief and then back again was apparently just what she needed. [color=FF650E]“Our opinions on the matter coincide then! I’m glad. I can’t claim I find comfort in it. My life has demanded I believe in the power of our own choices, that the Goddess gave us power and will to find our own ways to become shining examples of Her will as best we could, that our individuality is the greatest testimony to Her glory that we could offer. If I simply accepted we were where we were supposed to be, what would that make everything I’d strove for until now? Just another mark for me to have hit, just another achievement handed to me as the status of my birth? What would that make…”[/color] Her words trailed off, the sentence left unsaid. She needn’t bring Auberon into her personal issues like that but if this was all but fate, then she was fated with everything she’d struggled against to get here.  

The blond listened in quiet contemplation, though as Clarissa continued, his brows ever-so-slightly knitted back together again. Of course, he wasn’t opposed to the discussion of such philosophy, but he couldn’t help but think she had put too much thought into the matter. To him, it was simple.

[color=ffd700]“I don’t necessarily think it has to be one or the other. You said earlier that you felt like a carefully positioned chess piece. I don’t find that to be an apt metaphor. A chess piece cannot move in any way except dictated by the rules of the game and the moves you make,”[/color] Auberon gesticulated vaguely in the air, as if willing an example to come to him, [color=ffd700]“Suppose you were in command of a pitched battle instead. You would move battalions and soldiers around like pieces, but a flank might rout, circumstances might change and a sergeant might issue new orders without having time to consult the chain of command; they’re pieces on your board, yes, if you want to be callous, but they’re independents as well.”[/color]

[color=ffd700]“The Goddess can maneuver us into place, show us the smoke on the horizon, but at the end of the day, we had to consciously take Professor Michail up on his offer to march in and help,”[/color] Auberon finished, his eyes aglow with pride and passion and a flurry of other emotions that could only be described as aflame with the heat of excitement. He already assumed she may not match his enthusiasm, but she seemed to understand, at least.

[color=FF650E]“If I get anything out of my time here at Garreg Mach, I certainly hope it’ll be your unwavering conviction. Here in the Cathedral or even out on the battlefield, you found your footing and moved without hesitation. The Goddess certainly does have her eyes on you, Auberon.”[/color] Clarissa let her eyes wander to the altar at the front. In the face of Auberon’s pure and earnest devotion, she found herself embarrassed. Would it matter if the Goddess put them at the scene of that massacre? Would she have made any other choice? No. She would have rushed in to help in any way she could. She shouldn’t be focusing on the hypotheticals, she should be focusing on learning, getting stronger, and making the connections needed to better the lives of those she can help.  She bowed her head in reverence, offering a prayer for all those who they hadn’t been in time to help.

[color=ffd700]“You flatter me, but I think you sell yourself short too,”[/color] Auberon responded as he mirrored the dip of her head and shut his eyes. The act felt almost improper, given how he was still buzzing with turbulent feelings that had no place in a dreary morning cathedral. Still, it was what he had come to do, and he quickly centered himself with a few deep breaths. Maybe he would find his way to the training grounds later after all. [/hider]

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It was rare Clarissa faced a bout of restlessness she couldn’t overcome but when they’d been summoned to a meeting after classes were dismissed, she found herself letting out an irritable sigh. Her father’s letter weighed heavily on her mind even after her conversation with Auberon this morning; despite the fact they concurred that they were clearly more than ordinary bandits, Clarissa still found that the idea of an organization operating against one of the most influential and well protected institutions in modern history with little knowledge of who they were unnerving. The strategy was straight forward for all intensive purposes but that wasn’t what concerned her. Rather, she was more concerned about the depths of the atrocity they were willing to commit and the amount of resources they were capable of putting into it. Bandits or not, that kind of muscle wouldn’t have been cheap and the magic they’d employed even caught their professors off guard. And that was only half the attack. They still had the resources remaining to launch a secondary move against the Eastern Church all while they’d been handling the assault on Luin, under the noses of the Roundtable no less. What an embarrassment. 

Finally, Michail burst into the classroom. Thank the Goddess because all Clarissa wanted to do was bolt out of here, change into riding clothes, and spend the rest of the afternoon exploring the land around Garreg Mach. Of course, his excuse quickly caught her attention. Lady Arainthe Styliano, the former second in command of the Church of Serios, was an instrumental figure to the stability of the Church following Archbishop Ascelpius’ death. In Clarissas’ part of the world, there was little to no information on her; apparently she was quite reserved and preferred to work behind the scenes rather than standing in the limelight. She did know that many people called for her to take up the mantle for the next Archbishop but she declined in favor of respecting Archbishop Ascelpius’ request. The restlessness shifted and Clarissa now had a new goal. She had a mile long list of questions for the woman, from the finer points of organizational management to more personal things of her life and how she found herself in her position all the way from the western church. Of course, she’d have to be more careful considering the Lady preferred her privacy but surely she could…

Clarissa shook her head, turning her attention back to Michail as he brought up their activity at Luin. She was grateful his first point was the suicide heroics the Prince had pulled, resisting the urge to send him a pointed look. The less their supporting soldiers had to rush into the thick of it, the better the entire Unit’s survivability became. Clarissa could barely hold back a shiver when she remembered that monster of a man wielding an axe with such deadly precision and speed. She kept the point in mind. She hadn’t necessarily hesitated but she had been overwhelmed at one point. She would have to make sure she kept her focus through the battle. Maybe that was something she could discuss with Euphemia later. She made a note of that one the parchment she’d been writing notes on, circling it for good measure. She nodded as Michail continued. Even if these points weren’t specifically for her, it was better to use her comrades’ failures as a lesson to improve herself. 

It took everything in Clarissa not to laugh when Michail commended [i]Jorah[/i] on his leadership abilities. She hadn’t any doubt that if he actually put effort into it, he’d excel in any leadership position much like he does with any task he sets his mind to but the simple fact of the matter was Jorah ran from the idea of responsibility and leadership as much as he could and it absolutely tickled her that once again, Jorah found himself in a position that his natural abilities shone through brighter than he’d care to admit. She managed to keep a straight face but her shoulders shook in silent laughter. 

Her mirth vanished quickly as her name was called and she found herself under Michail’s scrutiny. She blinked at his feedback, eyes mistier than she cared to admit. No matter what she’d been told, the Goddess would never witness Clarissa’s back turned to those suffering if she could help them. The poor villagers, innocents in the dark designs of a larger evil, deserved more than what the world could offer in recompense and if what little aid she could offer was enough to provide some succor to them, then she would offer it until she collapsed. She didn’t feel she deserved thanks for offering what any soul with the tiniest ounce of compassion would have but whatever they’d gifted her, she’d thank them and remember why she was here-to create a world where tragedies like this never happened.

At the news of Raimund leaving, she frowned. What a sudden change in decisions. Perhaps the original reason for his living with the Gloucesters was finally coming to fruition or perhaps something had happened at home in response to the recent attack. Still, she couldn’t say he was heartbroken. Raimund had always left her on edge and frankly, she thought of him as a poor influence on Jorah. Jorah by himself was a handful but reasonable. Jorah and Raimund together? Clarissa could scarcely believe the trouble the pair could get into. Jorah would be sad to see his friend go, considering how long they were forced apart, but Clarissa sincerely believed that was for the better. Raimund was a distraction more than anything.

She was confused with the introduction of a newcomer. Usually, she made it a point to mark new faces in a crowd, draw connections and relations before they even spoke, but she hadn’t noticed anyone new in the classroom. Only the few absent faces but other than that―

She startled as a boy made himself known, a quiet, timid thing, in the back of the classroom. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have claimed he’d materialized out of thin air but that’d be ludicrous. She clearly only overlooked him and there was no reason for her to have not to. His eyes were fixed firmly on the ground and she was practically straining to hear him. Much in the suit of the two nobles who left, this was another weak willed noble, without a backbone nor conviction to see himself through the end of a heated discussion, much less a battle. From what they’d encountered thus far, Clarissa was developing legitimate and sincere concerns about the future of the empire. How did they believe they would keep order with leaders who were barely able to keep themselves alive, much less hundred of thousands of others?

But she supposed that none of that was her concern. 

[color=FF650E]“Jorah,”[/color] She turned to her friend as Michail officially dismissed the class. [color=FF650E]“Do you have anything planned for a little later this afternoon? I thought a ride might be a nice way to clear my head and get to know the area around Garreg Mach a bit. I have to discuss something with Professor Euphemia first and I have to get changed so you’d have sometime before we set out. I just need a brief change of pace before we get back into the swing of warfare and studies.”[/color]