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Lienna was well on her way to dozing off waiting for class to start when a meek, quiet [color=b300b3]"What are we doing?"[/color] sounded from the seat next to her that she previously thought was empty. She visibly jumped at the sound, hastily smoothing her hair and skirt to play off her surprise when she saw who the voice belonged to. It was Rudolf, whose name she only remembered because of a big, burly Fraldarius soldier by the same name who shared exactly nothing in common with the skinny, red-eyed boy looking sullen beside her. 

She was actually relieved at the sight of him; the two of them saw more of each other lately in the new Crest class, as well as their usual small-group magic lessons with Professor Tomai, and Rudolf was always content to sulk to himself, rarely saying more than a few words when the class demanded it. Lienna was happy to return the favour; mutual silent focus was the kind of calm, unintrusive coexistence she could get behind (if only her Housemates shared that sentiment). Besides, she couldn’t deny some fascination with his entirely foreign, Imperial style of magic, so fundamentally different in form and function than her own, and his impressive control over it. 

As such, Lienna was uncharacteristically unbothered by Rudolf’s presence, and simply shrugged at his question. [color=baa7c7]“Couldn’t tell you,”[/color] she answered simply, a bit of northern slang showing through. Or maybe it was a lowborn saying – all she knew was it was something she didn’t usually hear the highborn students saying. [color=baa7c7]“Those ones seem to think it’s some big group exercise,”[/color] she added, glancing over to the chatting strangers behind them. [color=baa7c7]“Not sure who invited them.”[/color]

They didn’t have to wait long to find out. Shortly after a few more students trickled in, the geography professor (whose class was interesting enough, but whose name Lienna never bothered to commit to memory) launched into a spiel about dissidents and hostages and the Knights of Seiros. And surprise surprise, almost as if her previous musings had predicted it, their mission – which they [i]would[/i] accept – was yet another illustrious and philanthropic death charge in the name of the Church. 

Lienna’s mood soured as the professor asked for volunteers, the girl sinking back in her seat with arms crossed and gaze icy. Sparkling petals of frost bloomed over her fingertips and forearms as she bristled, seemingly responding to her agitation. Obviously she knew the whole “defending the faithful from the wicked” thing came part and parcel with her Officers’ Academy education (something she had come to find out was so respected by the nobles of Faerghus that not even pleading letters to her mouldering fiancé could get her out of), but she was still no fan of sticking her neck out for strangers that would probably never do the same for her. She knew their type; she grew up with them. Run, run, run, save yourself and maybe your children, take what help you can get and to hells with anyone else in the way. It made sense in Hima, maybe even here too, when you were lucky enough to be the one being rescued, but it did not extend to becoming the rescuer. It simply wasn’t in their nature. And it wasn’t in Lienna’s either. 

At least the last interference had been coincidence (or so they’d been told), but apparently Garreg Mach made a habit of pushing throngs of barely-capable teenagers into the phalanx right alongside the Knights of Seiros. Lienna almost laughed, wondering how the famous Knights lived up to their fearsome reputation if they needed help from cushy highborn students bound for lives of luxury at the end of the year. And of course, once more Lienna wondered what the smallfolk of these southern valley villages – or the Knights themselves, for that matter – had ever done to deserve her own blood spilled on their behalf, and once more came up empty. 

The room was quiet for a moment after the professor finished her brief, presumably the sound of every other student asking themselves the same question Lienna was asking. Then, to her surprise, the first to pipe up was none other than that showboating layabout Deer leader who fancied himself a ladies man. However, instead of the sexually-charged quip Lienna expected, he just about barked that he’d apparently go anywhere he wouldn’t be inconvenienced by the suffering of commoners. 

Reflexively, Lienna bristled, ready to decry his callousness as the typical highborn attitude, happy to let his lessers suffer and die as long as he couldn’t hear the screaming from his castle tower. However, in an admittedly rare moment of self awareness, she realized that his thinking, pompously phrased as it was, wasn’t entirely unlike her own. Sure, his reasoning was undoubtedly rooted in highborn arrogance, and his foolhardy thirst for excitement and danger born of a sheltered life unacquainted with real suffering and death, but the end result was the same: neither of them were interested in dying for a village full of strangers to whom they owed nothing. She supposed she had to understand that, if not respect it. 

Of course, her preference of battle station was opposite. While Blondie there didn’t want the wails of widows in his ears while he played hero, Lienna just wanted to be as far from any fighting as possible. After all, she didn’t come all this way to die defending thatch-roof houses in a field somewhere miles from home. 

[color=baa7c7]“I’ll hang back with the hostages, thanks,”[/color] she spoke up after Blondie. Less chance of skewering allies that way, probably; she’d made some progress with her control, but seeing as she was happy anytime the magic went [i]forward[/i], keeping her out of the fight was probably best for everyone involved. 

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