Mother Nyx
Mother of Elpis
- Location
- The Kei Klub
- Pronouns
- She/Her
It's the sadist in you, it's okay.
On the Road to Elspar [Book 1] (Dryad Mercenary Schoolgirl Quest)
- Thread starter Kei
- Start date
- Original Fantasy
- Location
- Denmark
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[x] Do not ask Stephanie about her mysterious abilities.
Stephanie knows we saw her do weird shit, if she wants us to know more, I have faith that she'll just tell us, and I am sure she will be happy that we don't immediately jump into asking her about it.
[x] Ask Sieglinde why she did not take command last night.
I feel this is something we should ask, Sieglinde has been practically raised to both fight and lead as nobility, so I want to know why she doesn't and what decisions lead to her making that choice. Furthermore, she is a mysterious person and I want to know more about her.
I can't really think of other topics, but I'm all up for seeing something.
YOU ARE WRONG, FOR IT IS I: ETYMOLOGY MAN.
Sieglinde stems from sigu (victory; modern german: Sieg) and linde (gentle, soft; modern german: Gelinde), whereas Siegfried stems from sigu and fridu (peace; modern german: Friede). While Sieglinde is not the feminine form, the mother of Siegfried in the Niebelungenlied is named Sieglinde.
Stephanie knows we saw her do weird shit, if she wants us to know more, I have faith that she'll just tell us, and I am sure she will be happy that we don't immediately jump into asking her about it.
[x] Ask Sieglinde why she did not take command last night.
I feel this is something we should ask, Sieglinde has been practically raised to both fight and lead as nobility, so I want to know why she doesn't and what decisions lead to her making that choice. Furthermore, she is a mysterious person and I want to know more about her.
I can't really think of other topics, but I'm all up for seeing something.
YOU ARE WRONG, FOR IT IS I: ETYMOLOGY MAN.
Sieglinde stems from sigu (victory; modern german: Sieg) and linde (gentle, soft; modern german: Gelinde), whereas Siegfried stems from sigu and fridu (peace; modern german: Friede). While Sieglinde is not the feminine form, the mother of Siegfried in the Niebelungenlied is named Sieglinde.
Mother Nyx
Mother of Elpis
- Location
- The Kei Klub
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Manus, she's already explained why.
- Location
- Denmark
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Mother Nyx
Mother of Elpis
- Location
- The Kei Klub
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Cries, also, I honestly really appreciated the Eto for Linda's name.you cant tell me what to do
[x] Ask Stephanie about her mysterious abilities.
-[x] In private at a later time.
--[x] Let her know you don't need to know, you're just wondering. You're still thankful she used these abilities to save you, even though she was trying to hide them.
[x] Do not ask Sieglinde why she did not take command last night.
[X] The four of you had no real cohesion as a squad. Figure out how to fix this?
-[x] In private at a later time.
--[x] Let her know you don't need to know, you're just wondering. You're still thankful she used these abilities to save you, even though she was trying to hide them.
[x] Do not ask Sieglinde why she did not take command last night.
[X] The four of you had no real cohesion as a squad. Figure out how to fix this?
1.18 A Eulogy for Lost Apprentices
[x] Ask Stephanie about her mysterious abilities.
[x] Write-in: The four of you had no real cohesion as a squad. Figure out how to fix this?
It's hard to ignore it when it's something that happened before you, but you ultimately resign yourself to the fact that Sieglinde has told you - at least to some degree - as to why she does not consider herself a leader. It doesn't quite answer she was resistant towards it - if utterly ignoring Lucille's pleading looks could be described as "resistant", anyways - especially when lives were at stake, but it doesn't seem like rehashing this discussion in the baths here and now is a good idea.
Of course, the other thing that's hard to ignore is Stephanie's mysterious abilities - channeling some sort of fire through her katana - but that's probably something that's not for the bathhouse.
So instead, you bring up something else that is on your mind. "U-Um," you take a moment to start, feeling a little awkward at drawing attention to yourself. "D-During the battle, we...d-didn't do very well as a squad, d-did we?"
Stephanie frowns a little as she asks, "Didn't we?"
"I...d-don't know," you admit. You did survive. You've even managed to slay several of your foes. It's just... "I thought we c-could've done better."
"Well, sure, I suppose so," shrugs Stephanie. "But you killed three direwolves, you know..."
"Th-The first two don't count."
"...as well as a Squirrel."
"Th-That doesn't count either."
"Yes, it does," grumbles the aseri, an ear flicking once in mild annoyance. "And Sieglinde and I had another direwolf between us, although I guess Lady Marienberg managed to take that third direwolf."
"What she means is that we have no cohesion," Sieglinde cuts in from across the aisle, and you're grateful because you think that's really what you're actually talking about.
"We don't?" ask Stephanie, sounding mildly surprised.
"Well, I suppose I'm not surprised. Most of our training thus far has been personal. Emphasis on squad action doesn't begin until year two. The reality of it is that we're not accustomed to fighting with each other." The elf turns towards you. "Neianne, running off with barely a warning to your squad - one with whom you've never actually fought with before - is foolish." You try not to flinch, averting your eyes instead; this is the closest Sieglinde has ever come to reprimanding you, and it stings a little. But she's already moved onto your roommate as she observes with a bit more caution in her tone, "Stephanie, your swordplay is...interesting."
"My parents taught me a bit."
"Yes, I believe you've mentioned long ago. But there's something about your movements that makes me think you're trained specifically in a way that involves fighting alone. It was difficult trying to fight alongside you."
"I'm guessing I got in your way a few times."
"Deliberately as well. Or perhaps instinctively?" Sieglinde looks thoughtful as she tries to remember the exact pacing of that battle. "As if you were trying to defend yourself from an approach without thinking? It seems like a dueling technique."
"Perhaps," Stephanie shrugs. For some reason, her tone sounds remarkably neutral and level.
But Sieglinde simply continues, "We did not fight well in formation, capitalize on each other's strengths, or defend each other's weaknesses. All of us moved away from Zabanya, and Neianne moved away from us, making it so we could not cover each other. It is fortunate that we had other apprentices helping, and that Neianne was able to cut through a direwolf on her lonesome. But it won't be enough in the future."
"Wh-What can we do about it?" you ask.
"Neianne, as you have discovered, your weapon is peerless when it comes to fighting beasts, and although it did not show last night, it is an excellent battlefield weapon when combatants are many and the fighting chaotic. And I see you have found it useful as a shield, unintentional though it might be."
"It's not nearly as useful indoors, though," Stephanie points out. She's certainly skilled enough with her own sword that she's noticed. "And it's not a great dueling weapon. You'll take down anyone who gets hit like that direwolf, but hitting them might be difficult if they know what they're doing."
"Y-Yes," you acknowledge.
"In a squad, however," adds Sieglinde, "it means until you've chosen a second weapon with which to complement your capabilities, your role puts you in a position where you must manage both offense and defense situationally. Yours is not like Stephanie's katana and wakizashi, fitted almost only for attacks and duels. In a way, you should attack in a way that creates space for Stephanie and I to launch faster counters. Although we, in turn, should create opportunities for you when it comes to larger monsters or crowds."
"Oh," you murmur. For some reason that you can't quite explain immediately, you have complicated feelings about Sieglinde's assessment.
The elf notices this as she observes, "You don't look happy."
"N-No, it's not..." you try to ward off her concerns even as you try to sort out your own feelings. "I-I'm not..." you trail off, pause, take a deep breath, then slowly admit, "...I th-thought I'd have a more offensive role with a buster sword."
Sieglinde makes a soft "ah" sound. "You want to put your oversized blade to use. I understand."
That much, you suppose, it's true. You've always thought that with such a large blade, you were going to swing that around in a hurricane of death, acting as the most devastating mercenary out there. But it seem as if some of your assumptions have been premature. Or you'll just have to work harder to make this work.
But Stephanie cuts in first before you can say anything, her tone dry. "You know," she mutters, "if we weren't fighting direwolves, I'd think most people would run from your sword before you ever actually have a chance to use it."
Judging by the reactions everyone had to your buster sword when you first got it, Stephanie's observation may not actually be an exaggeration.
"There's that," Sieglinde acknowledges with the tiniest of smiles. "Well, this is all conjecture, anyways. It's hard to say what works and what doesn't until we train together, and until we fight together." She looks over the partition to the tiny elf still sleeping in the bath beside her. "Including, I suppose, with Zabanya," she allows.
Eventually, the conversation simply drifts off; all of you are tired, and the warm water you bathe in is good at soothing nerves and lulling you into a shallow sense of unconsciousness. Of course, time passes, and eventually the worst comes to pass: Another squad shows up and tells you that the instructors want apprentices to just go to bed if they're going to fall asleep in the baths. Reluctantly and with obvious exhaustion, the four of you drag yourselves out of the baths. Or, really, the three of you, because in an almost infuriating manner, Elizabeth doesn't really look that much more tired than before even as Squad Four dries off, gets dressed, and returns to your rooms.
Naturally, you and Stephanie waste very little time in collapsing into your respective beds, ready to sleep the entire day away, to hibernate until every single one of your muscles feels less dead. Already, the sleepiness that has been dogging you since you've stepped into the baths is dragging your mind down to sleep. But before you do...
"Stephanie?" you murmur.
"Hm?" comes Stephanie's drowsy reply.
You hesitate for a moment, trying to assess just how secretive your roommate is trying to be with this just based on what happened last night. "I-I know you didn't want me to talk about it then. And m-maybe you don't want me to talk about it now, a-and you don't have to tell me, and I'm still g-grateful you saved me from the direwolf, but..." you trail off, hoping Stephanie gets the point.
It takes a long moment before Stephanie echoes, "...But?"
Again, there is a pause where you reconsider, where you wonder - given that Stephanie either missed or ignored a hint for her to catch on - whether or not it's a good idea to press. "What happened when your k-katana caught aflame?" you finally ask.
A stretch of silence longer than anything since the conversation began follows. And for several almost-terrifying moments, you wonder if your roommate has fallen asleep or if she's now angry with you for asking. But before this anxiety can transform into outright panic, Stephanie replies in a surprisingly clear voice for someone so tired, "It was just fire. It's really not very important. Thank you for being considerate."
"Oh," you murmur. You can read between the lines. "O-Okay."
Sometimes, people have their secrets. Stephanie clearly has hers. But you have already resolved not to pry too much...at least, not tonight. Not after everything that's happened. And for now, you'll just have to be fine with that.
Besides, you don't really have to think about it that much longer. Your pillow seems to channel drowsiness into your mind, and you are - after so many hours kept awake - finally asleep before you even know it.
"This was not how they thought they would pass on."
Despite the mournful occasion, it is neither particularly foggy or rainy, as you'd often imagined the weather to be. Nor, in fact, is it even particularly cloudy, with only a few white puffs in the sky floating idly by, typical of the weather in Faulkren. It feels almost inappropriate, as you and around a hundred other apprentices stand silently in rows in the courtyard of Faulkren Academy, surrounded by your instructors. Conspicuously, there are empty spots in the rows of squads, apprentices who are either not in attendance because they are still recovering from grievous wounds in the infirmary, or laid to rest in sixteen small wooden caskets arranged on the stone platform functioning as a podium before all of you. A reminder even now that something has gone missing, and will now never return.
It's hard to ignore it. Several apprentices are openly crying. Some stand with injuries that have been stabilized by magecraft, but still resulted in bandages and scars, some light and temporary, others seemingly permanent. You are lucky in that the arrow that grazed your shoulder resulted in a wound that was only skin-deep; three days after the attack, you can't even feel that slight stinging sensation when you press down on where magecraft healed your now-invisible wound anymore.
You still remain at attention, though. None of your squadmates or your closest friends were killed, so you feel like it's unseemly for you to do anything but stand solemnly. It isn't just that; standing beside the podium is Countess Lorraine Estelle Celestia, the master of the entire region of Apaloft. The woman, looking almost as old as the headmistress herself, stands quietly in quality riding clothes stained by mud at the hems. She looks quite different from Lucille, what with the higher cheekbones and a sharper nose and a more severe expression compared to the much softer features of her niece, but you can see at least a bit of a resemblance if you squint. She rode in on horseback just in time for the funeral, and she didn't come alone; a small army of guards and soldiers have accompanied her on horseback, even as many of them now man the walls of the academy, providing security for not only one of the five Caldran countesses - one of the five paramount leaders of the confederacy itself - but also for the apprentices here.
Given the distance between Faulkren and the regional capital of Arkenvale, the messenger from Faulkren must've rode as fast and hard as Countess Celestia herself.
From the platform, Headmistress Rastangard concludes her eulogy, speaking to the crowd assembled in the courtyard, "And though they have departed in untimely ends, we will carry them with us in our hearts and memories through the years to come. We will remember their sacrifices as we soldier forwards. We will remember them as the cost of war, and why we fight. For our homes, for our loved ones, and for the Confederacy."
The headmistress did not say that those who died are now Caldran mercenaries, even if only honorary. Nor did she speak of whether they died bravely, or fought with valor against the enemy in their last moments. You suppose you appreciate the honesty and the avoidance of platitudes, but then again, you didn't lose anyone; a part of you wonders if it would've been better if the headmistress at least gave token praise to those lost, if only for the sake of those who lost them.
Cornelia closes her eyes and bows her head, a cue for a moment of silent prayer. By tradition, everyone present prays in accordance to their own faith, but it is hardly surprising that most present - including the headmistress and the countess - place their right hand over their sternum, the classical Primordial prayer position. A few apprentices intertwine their fingers at their abdomen in a Conceptualist stance, while a few dryads - with the obvious exception of Azalea, who also touches her sternum - take a knee in the Gaianist way with a hand to the ground.
This lasts until Cornelia's voice murmurs just loud enough to be heard over the crowd: "It is done." Turning to the instructors, she murmurs, "Take them home." Then, to the apprentices, "Dismissed."
With quiet murmuring and hugs exchanged, the crowd of apprentices slowly begins to disperse. The headmistress quickly marches over to the countess, and they start talking with the air of old friends, the former soon guiding the latter indoors. The instructors march forth to carry the caskets into waiting wagons beside one of the academy's gates, although most of the squads to which the deceased once belonged are quick to rush forward and help send off their late squadmates one last time.
"You'll send her home, back to her family, won't you?" you hear one of the apprentices carrying a casket tearfully ask a grim-faced instructor by the wagon.
Without hearing the answer from the instructor - you've just sort of assumed this will indeed be the case - you think about how the families of the deceased will feel. How their only warning for the deaths of their children will be a casket and an instructor to accompany it. How they will process the fact that their children died horrifying deaths before the first year of training is even over, that they were killed before even stepping onto the battlefield.
You try not to make a face as you detach yourself from your squad, but blood is pounding in your head.
"Are you going somewhere, Neianne?" Sieglinde asks, noticing you stepping away, having assumed you were just going to return to your dorm room.
"Just the r-restroom," you say. Which is true enough, at least. But it isn't really an answer to why you're heading for the restroom in one of the academic buildings on campus instead of the one in the West Wing. Thankfully, Sieglinde doesn't pry, and merely acknowledges your departure with a tiny nod.
After everything else that has happened, classes have not resumed yet. The staff has returned to their duties, but there is an air of disquiet that accompanies their chores, a heavy weight that bears down on everyone here. Still, it means that the building is largely vacated of any apprentices save for a wandering few. Stepping into one of the first-floor restrooms, you quickly duck into one of the stalls and sit down on one of the toilets.
One of the things you've been too embarrassed to admit to your friends or squadmates, considering most of their backgrounds compared to yours, is that the restrooms at the academy were a little intimidating at first. While a rudimentary level of plumbing existed in your own village, hot water on demand simply from turning a valve seemed like an absurd luxury, and while you've long since gotten over this, you now and again still have pangs of being out of place.
Not that you need to relieve yourself - not right now - but it just seems like a quiet place to sit down and clear your mind without being disturbed. Just a few minutes so that you can stop thinking about how your parents and younger sister would react if you had been sent home in one of those caskets.
"That shot really saved Jessica, though."
The voice is muffled at first, coming from beyond the door of the bathroom; it's coming from an apprentice, judging by the tenor, accompanied by what you think are two sets of footsteps. You don't think much of it, at least until you hear the sound of the door creaking open, and then footsteps walking in.
"It was nothing," says the second apprentice. "She wasn't really in that much trouble, what with Instructor Ana there. You should've seen Lady Marienberg with her longbow on the walls. I can't even dream of landing shots like that."
You can't immediately place either voice, although they have the quality of dim familiarity. The school isn't that big, and you've almost certainly had some sort of interaction with one or both of them. You're too preoccupied with memories of the battle, anyway, to immediately invest time in trying to figure it out. You can still sometimes smell the fetid breath of the wolf that a different shot from Lady Wilhelmina narrowly saved you from.
"She is Lady Marienberg," the first girl says, with almost the quality of gushing. She doesn't seem particularly deterred by her first example being sort of ignored. Her voice takes on a dismissive, almost smug tone as she adds, "Brianna was being stupid and talking about how people were only saying Lady Marienberg's the best shot because she's a noble. I'd like to see her swallow her words now."
There's a heavy pause, before the second voice says, cautiously, "It's probably bad fortune to say that sort of thing. I haven't seen Brianna since the fighting started. Have you?"
"...no," the first admits. "But I've been hibernating in my room for the last day or two. I mean, her name wasn't mentioned at the funeral...was it?"
"No, but she could be one of those badly hurt." The second girl, the archer, stops talking long enough for an uncomfortable silence to descend, broken only by the sound of running water in the basin. Rather than leaving, though, as you had quite been hoping, they pick the thread of their conversation back up, if haltingly at first. "They say some of them won't be able to make it through training anymore, you know?"
"Didn't you see her at the funeral?"
"I...wasn't really looking at the time. Were you looking?"
"No, not really." A shorter moment of awkward silence, before the first girl quietly replies. "She'd better be okay."
You thought about leaving but ultimately hesitated, gripped by the admittedly absurd concern that you'd somehow be interrupting. By the time you've told yourself that this is absurd, you've already waited far too long, and you're now afraid of being thought of as an eavesdropper. Which, if even just inadvertently, your proximity to the conversation moreorless makes you anyway.
The quiet stretches on for another second or two further, before - with the air almost of apologizing for sucking the fun out of the conversation - the second voice picks up the thread of the original conversation. "Well, noble blood isn't perfect. Lady Celestia, remember?"
You hunch your shoulders with discomfort. Eavesdropping someone exclaiming over the skill of a classmate is one thing. This...feels somewhat different, and more uneasy.
"Yeah, she was disappointing to watch," the first girl agrees, eagerly accepting the topic change. "And terrifying to be in a group with, now that I look back."
"Like, she just literally walked us right into those direwolves." So the two are from the West Wing, and were present with you on the night the apprentices started gathering out in the hallway.
"And, what was she thinking after that? Trying to make up for it by volunteering her squad to hold them off with training weapons?"
"Well, she was brave, at least," the artist offers, a little dubiously.
"Brave? Sure, if it was just her own life she was risking, but it was her whole squad, and they didn't stand a chance on their own before Instructor Mara showed up. I mean, I ran for the armory too when she told us, but we could have held them off together, I think. Half her squad is gone."
You're recalled, vividly, to the sight of Lucille's vacant, shocked face, at her almost directionless anger taken out on Sieglinde. You're not sure that the girls are wrong, necessarily, but it's still quite harsh. After all - and maybe you're just feeling this way because of the mood pervading the academy, but - it's not as if these girls volunteered to help, or even went back to try afterwards.
"More than half, I've heard," the archer comments, lowering her voice. "Have you heard about Erin?"
"Erin wasn't hurt badly, was she?" the first girl says, suddenly alarmed.
"No! No, nothing like that. But she's been talking about...well, going home and not coming back next year, I've heard. The instructors are trying to get her to wait a week before making the decision, but she looks like she hasn't slept a wink since the battle."
"So she might have lost her entire squad?" The girl sounds scandalized, almost affronted.
"Looks that way," the archer agrees. Finally, mercifully, you can tell that they're heading for the door. "If it were me..." the rest of the words are lost as you hear the door click open, then shut.
Hesitantly and cautiously, you finally pull open the door of your stall, peeking out with almost comic apprehension as if to make sure both of the girls are indeed gone. Peering around, you do see that the area around the water basin is now entirely vacant.
Although when a stall door slowly creaks open behind you, you realize that you may have been paying attention in the wrong direction. And you try not to look too startled and embarrassed when you realize who steps out from it. Lucille Lorraine Celestia doesn't look directly at you, but her gaze passes over you just enough to be certain of who was "eavesdropping" in the next stall. But if you were afraid of a rebuke - afraid of being on the receiving end of Lucille's anger, as Sieglinde was days ago - your fears don't ultimately come to pass; the elf merely walks by quietly, moving for the water basins.
"They're right, aren't they?" Lucille asks in a quiet, tired voice, even as she turns on the water and begins to wash her hands. She stares into mirror, not looking at you, as if she doesn't want to see your expression. Her own expression is uncharacteristically flat, and her voice uncomfortably thick with bitterness. You've only seen her quite like this once before, when she was reminding Aphelia exactly whose necks will be on the block first if you lose the war. "It's funny," she continues. "Everyone at home already knows I'm a disappointment. Now you all know it too." She sighs, turning off the faucet and trying her hands in a towel nearby. "This is going to get back to my aunt eventually," she whispers in a tone that's simultaneously resigned and bitter, "and then my parents will find out about it, and then they'll send a scolding letter about being an embarrassment to the family name. Like that's the worst part of me getting people killed. If the Spring has any mercy, it'll be that instead of her finding out right now and saying it here. I guess I'll have to face the music sooner or later."
With that, she gives you a bitter but mostly sad and resigned smile, waves a tired goodbye, and walks out the door. And in your hesitation, you actually stand there at the door of your stall, stunned and frozen for just a moment. But then impulse takes you - the events three days ago still fresh in your memory and an mental insistence that this is the fault of the Tenereians rather than anyone here - and you quickly rush out the door after Lucille - she hadn't gotten very far, fortunately, heading for the stairs leading up the building - and blurting, "I-I don't think you're a d-disappointment, Lady Celestia!"
Lucille whirls around for a moment, looking a little stunned - if not cringing a little bit - when she realizes that you're suddenly following her. Her shoulders visibly slump as you catch up, and although she waits for you just a little, she also starts climbing the stairs of the building with a mildly bitter smile. "I'm a lousy shot with a bow. I'm not much of a healer. I can't get people to listen to me when it matters, like back in Roldharen. And when people are listening to me, I'm terrible at leading or forming strategies. I'd say that's a disappointment."
"But I-I can't do any of those things."
Her smile turning a little less bitter and a little more resigned, the elf gently murmurs, "I'm a Celestia. It's expected of me. I'm supposed to bear the responsibilities of a household that governs Apaloft. People are supposed to look to me to solve their problems. My aunt is one of the five most powerful leaders of Caldrein." She hesitates, as if trying to very carefully word her next sentences in her head, trying to make sure they don't come out the wrong way. "I'm...I don't mean this in a bad way, and you're definitely more capable than me, but....I have to be able to do these things. No one asks you to tell them what to do in a crisis, or to shoot a bow as well as Wilhelmina or to know everything." She takes a deep breath and sighs, even as the two of you reach the third floor of the building, you following somewhat absentmindedly along. "What people expect of you are different from what they expect of me. That no one else can do it doesn't cut it, not for me." She visibly deflates. "And I'm just...mostly useless. A wishy-washy good-for-nothing whose greatest accomplishment is consistently shaming the Celestia name."
But you try to sound as insistent as your feel. "You f-fought against the T-Tenereians, Lady Celestia. Anyone who d-does that can't be useless."
And you mean it. Maybe if you were a noble who really, truly understood the expectations foisted upon people like Lucille or Sieglinde or Elizabeth or Azalea or Aphelia, you'd feel differently. But noble or not, it's hard not to think about the battle that was fought, those who fought in it, and those who died. It's hard not to come away from three nights ago and remember that everyone helped against a vicious enemy willing to do anything to win. You mean it.
And maybe Lucille understands that - that you mean what you say, at least - because she gives a tiny, tired laugh, a hint of gratefulness in her eyes. "It'd be nice if my family felt that way," she sighs almost wistfully, "Or, you know, everyone else." She shrugs and stops in the middle of one of the corridors, and, a moment after, turns around and adds, "And please, just call me Lucille. 'Lady Celestia' sounds stupid."
"Oh," you blink, nodding before you even think about it. The number of nobles who are insisting you not address her with "lady" - even if it's just in private with Azalea - is steadily climbing. "O-Okay, L-Lucille."
"Yeah," Lucille smiles a bit more broadly, even if it looks like a forced attempt to give more cheer to the moment. She fidgets awkwardly for a moment, then, "And, um. Than..."
"Well, then you're a blind bloody fool!"
Both of you whirl around in shock, staring at the door that you're standing right outside, behind which that angry shout came from. The voice was definitely that of an adults, probably one of your instructors. And then as you look closer at the door and realize exactly what it is, you blanche. You didn't really pay attention to where you were going, just following Lucille along while trying to assure her that she's not useless, but now that you actually remember which building you're in and what floor you're on and whose door this belonged to, you suddenly realize that you're standing right outside the office of Headmistress Cornelia Rastangard. And someone inside was angrily shouting just now.
The words that come afterwards are also angry, but they're quieter this time, unintelligible behind the heavy wooden door. For a long moment, both you and Lucille are paralyzed with shock and maybe even a little bit of fear, and it takes another moment for the two of you to stare at each other in confusion and uncertainty. But before any of you can make heads out of tails, or really even ask each other what's going on, the wooden door is abruptly opened with angry force. From the headmistress' office, Countess Celestia marches out stiffly, a stormy expression barely suppressed on her face. From where you are standing outside the door, you can't actually see Headmistress Rastangard, which is probably all for the better; you're terrified at the possibility of looking at the face of a possibly-furious Caldran mercenary right now.
The countess seems about ready to storm down the corridor after slamming the wooden door behind her, at least until Lucille whispers in a tiny, almost scared voice, "...Auntie?"
The countess whirls around - and both of you apprentices flinch before the icy glare of a Caldran countess - but then she sees who it is asking for her, and her expression visibly softens, her body language clearly attempting to suppress whatever anger she felt at whatever happened in the headmistress' office. "Lucille," she murmurs with a sigh, her shoulders slumping for a moment before stiffening just a bit again in semi-formal greeting. "I'm glad to see you safe." She places her hands gently on Lucille's cheeks. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," Lucille replies in an almost hesitant tone, and she makes several efforts to not look too hard in the direction of the headmistress' office, as if almost afraid that Rastangard is suddenly going to come charging out. "I mean...yes." Pursing her lips, she is unable to constrain her dread curiosity any longer, and asks, "What was...?"
Catching Lucille's gaze, Countess Celestia sighs deeply for a moment. "We were discussing security," she says blandly, trying to inject some gentleness into her tone. "It's a trifling matter."
Then the countess looks over her niece's shoulder to spot you, and after jumping in surprise, you are quick to nervously drop into a curtsy and greet, "M-M-Milady."
The countess gives you a nod of acknowledgement, and although some of the formality returns to her voice once more, her tone isn't unkind. "And you are?"
"N-Neianne, milady," you introduce yourself, dropping into an even deeper curtsy.
Lorraine gives a small smile, even if it's a touch grim. "It's good to see you safe as well," she says with some warmth. "It's rare seeing dryad apprentices here. We could always use more of you. Are you friends with my niece?"
You try to stammer an answer, complicated by the fact that you're not entirely sure whether or not Lucille technically qualifies as your friend. But before you can answer - or possibly because you're taking so long to say something intelligible - Lucille quickly turns to her aunt and speaks up for you: "She is. She's the one who helped us back in Roldharen, with the wyvern."
"Ah," the countess intones, looking mildly impressed, almost as if recalling a fond memory. "I've heard of your bravery then; it's good to meet you at least. And you've beaten back the Tenereians as well. You've done well. I look forward to seeing you become a Caldran mercenary for true in two more years."
Flustered and more than just a little embarrassed, you drop into another curtsy and stammer, "Th-Thank you." Then, realizing you forgot it in your mild panic, hurriedly add, "M-M-Milady."
The countess smiles kindly at you before declaring, "I need to ride for Invermere; they, too, were attacked, and I need to see to them." She looks at her niece again, asks, "Did you need me for anything, Lucille?"
"No," Lucille whispers, "I just..." she trails off, and it looks like she is thinking about something she wants to say to her aunt. But then, she finishes, "I...just wanted to make sure I passed on my greetings first." She pauses for a moment, then, almost as an afterthought, "Please tell my mother I'm alright."
"I will, of course," the countess nods. "I'll see you in Stengard in...two months or so, I suppose. Or Arkenvale, if that doesn't come to pass." She lets go of her aunt and prepares to leave. "Do honor to the family name, Lucille. Farewell." And, to you, "Neianne."
"Milady," you curtsy one last time in farewell, and the countess marches off towards the staircase you and Lucille climbed up just earlier, presumably heading back to the courtyard, back onto her horse, and off to Invermere.
For a moment, both you and Lucille stand there silently, a little stunned, contemplative, confused, anxious. Then, almost as an afterthought, the two of you turn towards Headmistress Rastangard's closed office door, remembering the angry yelling within, and remembering that the headmistress is still very likely behind that door.
The two of you swiftly flee.
The small army that the countess brought with her, it turns out, is not actually for her own protection, but for yours. Or, really, the academy's; a contingent of roughly fifty guards are stationed on campus for security, and as far as you can tell, they will be here for the remainder of your first year, meaning only for a couple of months. You suppose you feel a little safer with them around, although if you really stop to think about it, nothing really beats security like a bunch of Caldran mercenary instructors actually staying on campus. At the very least, your instructors seem certain that the Squirrels won't be coming back anytime soon.
Not that it's helping all the nerves. An air of disquiet still pervades the academy even weeks after the attack. The instructors are quick in their attempt to restart classes and training, but it's hard for most to focus and keep their minds on it.
In the weeks that follow, as letters are sent back and forth, another small crisis arises as parents learn of the attack. In three cases, a parent makes the journey to Faulkren to take their children back. In one fortunate case, the headmistress is able to talk the parent down from pulling their child out from the academy, but for the others, the academy is forced to say goodbye to two of their number.
There are, of course, some letters that make it back - at least amongst those who are literate - demanding that their children return. Some talk about it openly with their friends, while others are subject only to third-party rumors of their impending departure. Stephanie, at the very least, confirms that she received no such letter - "And I wouldn't leave even if I received one anyways," she assures you with something a bit more than just sheer determination - but it's hard to tell about everyone else.
For the most part, the worst of your first year is over, even as the academy attempts to make a return to any form of normalcy. As the remainder of your academics and training slowly but surely draws to a close, you have more time to befriend, interact, and deepen your relationships with the other apprentices you've come to know.
[x] Aphelia Meredith Treiser
[x] Ashlyn
[x] Azalea Cherilyn Charmaine
[x] Elizabeth Irivich Zabanya
[x] Emilie
[x] Lucille Lorraine Celestia
[x] Melanie Aster
[x] Mia Honette
[x] Nikki
[x] Penelope
[x] Sieglinde Corrina Ravenhill
[x] Stephanie
[x] Vesna Rainer
[x] Wendy
[x] Wilhelmina Adelaide Marienberg
Choose five.
See Also:
1.18X1 Interlude 1: Of Course It's a Political Problem
1.18X2 Interlude 2: Remember the Dead
Once again, votes will not be counted as a set; the five most popular choices win. Certain combinations of characters will have them talking with Neianne together instead of individually. Also, if you'd like, please provide a write-in if there is any particular topic you want to talk about with any specific friend or acquaintance, and I'll try to do my best to accommodate. Otherwise, I'll simply write as I think works best. ^_^;
Please expect two interludes before the next update~
[x] Write-in: In private at a later time.
[x] Write-in: Let her know you don't need to know, you're just wondering. You're still thankful she used these abilities to save you, even though she was trying to hide them.
[x] Do not ask Sieglinde why she did not take command last night.[x] Write-in: The four of you had no real cohesion as a squad. Figure out how to fix this?
It's hard to ignore it when it's something that happened before you, but you ultimately resign yourself to the fact that Sieglinde has told you - at least to some degree - as to why she does not consider herself a leader. It doesn't quite answer she was resistant towards it - if utterly ignoring Lucille's pleading looks could be described as "resistant", anyways - especially when lives were at stake, but it doesn't seem like rehashing this discussion in the baths here and now is a good idea.
Of course, the other thing that's hard to ignore is Stephanie's mysterious abilities - channeling some sort of fire through her katana - but that's probably something that's not for the bathhouse.
So instead, you bring up something else that is on your mind. "U-Um," you take a moment to start, feeling a little awkward at drawing attention to yourself. "D-During the battle, we...d-didn't do very well as a squad, d-did we?"
Stephanie frowns a little as she asks, "Didn't we?"
"I...d-don't know," you admit. You did survive. You've even managed to slay several of your foes. It's just... "I thought we c-could've done better."
"Well, sure, I suppose so," shrugs Stephanie. "But you killed three direwolves, you know..."
"Th-The first two don't count."
"...as well as a Squirrel."
"Th-That doesn't count either."
"Yes, it does," grumbles the aseri, an ear flicking once in mild annoyance. "And Sieglinde and I had another direwolf between us, although I guess Lady Marienberg managed to take that third direwolf."
"What she means is that we have no cohesion," Sieglinde cuts in from across the aisle, and you're grateful because you think that's really what you're actually talking about.
"We don't?" ask Stephanie, sounding mildly surprised.
"Well, I suppose I'm not surprised. Most of our training thus far has been personal. Emphasis on squad action doesn't begin until year two. The reality of it is that we're not accustomed to fighting with each other." The elf turns towards you. "Neianne, running off with barely a warning to your squad - one with whom you've never actually fought with before - is foolish." You try not to flinch, averting your eyes instead; this is the closest Sieglinde has ever come to reprimanding you, and it stings a little. But she's already moved onto your roommate as she observes with a bit more caution in her tone, "Stephanie, your swordplay is...interesting."
"My parents taught me a bit."
"Yes, I believe you've mentioned long ago. But there's something about your movements that makes me think you're trained specifically in a way that involves fighting alone. It was difficult trying to fight alongside you."
"I'm guessing I got in your way a few times."
"Deliberately as well. Or perhaps instinctively?" Sieglinde looks thoughtful as she tries to remember the exact pacing of that battle. "As if you were trying to defend yourself from an approach without thinking? It seems like a dueling technique."
"Perhaps," Stephanie shrugs. For some reason, her tone sounds remarkably neutral and level.
But Sieglinde simply continues, "We did not fight well in formation, capitalize on each other's strengths, or defend each other's weaknesses. All of us moved away from Zabanya, and Neianne moved away from us, making it so we could not cover each other. It is fortunate that we had other apprentices helping, and that Neianne was able to cut through a direwolf on her lonesome. But it won't be enough in the future."
"Wh-What can we do about it?" you ask.
"Neianne, as you have discovered, your weapon is peerless when it comes to fighting beasts, and although it did not show last night, it is an excellent battlefield weapon when combatants are many and the fighting chaotic. And I see you have found it useful as a shield, unintentional though it might be."
"It's not nearly as useful indoors, though," Stephanie points out. She's certainly skilled enough with her own sword that she's noticed. "And it's not a great dueling weapon. You'll take down anyone who gets hit like that direwolf, but hitting them might be difficult if they know what they're doing."
"Y-Yes," you acknowledge.
"In a squad, however," adds Sieglinde, "it means until you've chosen a second weapon with which to complement your capabilities, your role puts you in a position where you must manage both offense and defense situationally. Yours is not like Stephanie's katana and wakizashi, fitted almost only for attacks and duels. In a way, you should attack in a way that creates space for Stephanie and I to launch faster counters. Although we, in turn, should create opportunities for you when it comes to larger monsters or crowds."
"Oh," you murmur. For some reason that you can't quite explain immediately, you have complicated feelings about Sieglinde's assessment.
The elf notices this as she observes, "You don't look happy."
"N-No, it's not..." you try to ward off her concerns even as you try to sort out your own feelings. "I-I'm not..." you trail off, pause, take a deep breath, then slowly admit, "...I th-thought I'd have a more offensive role with a buster sword."
Sieglinde makes a soft "ah" sound. "You want to put your oversized blade to use. I understand."
That much, you suppose, it's true. You've always thought that with such a large blade, you were going to swing that around in a hurricane of death, acting as the most devastating mercenary out there. But it seem as if some of your assumptions have been premature. Or you'll just have to work harder to make this work.
But Stephanie cuts in first before you can say anything, her tone dry. "You know," she mutters, "if we weren't fighting direwolves, I'd think most people would run from your sword before you ever actually have a chance to use it."
Judging by the reactions everyone had to your buster sword when you first got it, Stephanie's observation may not actually be an exaggeration.
"There's that," Sieglinde acknowledges with the tiniest of smiles. "Well, this is all conjecture, anyways. It's hard to say what works and what doesn't until we train together, and until we fight together." She looks over the partition to the tiny elf still sleeping in the bath beside her. "Including, I suppose, with Zabanya," she allows.
Eventually, the conversation simply drifts off; all of you are tired, and the warm water you bathe in is good at soothing nerves and lulling you into a shallow sense of unconsciousness. Of course, time passes, and eventually the worst comes to pass: Another squad shows up and tells you that the instructors want apprentices to just go to bed if they're going to fall asleep in the baths. Reluctantly and with obvious exhaustion, the four of you drag yourselves out of the baths. Or, really, the three of you, because in an almost infuriating manner, Elizabeth doesn't really look that much more tired than before even as Squad Four dries off, gets dressed, and returns to your rooms.
Naturally, you and Stephanie waste very little time in collapsing into your respective beds, ready to sleep the entire day away, to hibernate until every single one of your muscles feels less dead. Already, the sleepiness that has been dogging you since you've stepped into the baths is dragging your mind down to sleep. But before you do...
"Stephanie?" you murmur.
"Hm?" comes Stephanie's drowsy reply.
You hesitate for a moment, trying to assess just how secretive your roommate is trying to be with this just based on what happened last night. "I-I know you didn't want me to talk about it then. And m-maybe you don't want me to talk about it now, a-and you don't have to tell me, and I'm still g-grateful you saved me from the direwolf, but..." you trail off, hoping Stephanie gets the point.
It takes a long moment before Stephanie echoes, "...But?"
Again, there is a pause where you reconsider, where you wonder - given that Stephanie either missed or ignored a hint for her to catch on - whether or not it's a good idea to press. "What happened when your k-katana caught aflame?" you finally ask.
A stretch of silence longer than anything since the conversation began follows. And for several almost-terrifying moments, you wonder if your roommate has fallen asleep or if she's now angry with you for asking. But before this anxiety can transform into outright panic, Stephanie replies in a surprisingly clear voice for someone so tired, "It was just fire. It's really not very important. Thank you for being considerate."
"Oh," you murmur. You can read between the lines. "O-Okay."
Sometimes, people have their secrets. Stephanie clearly has hers. But you have already resolved not to pry too much...at least, not tonight. Not after everything that's happened. And for now, you'll just have to be fine with that.
Besides, you don't really have to think about it that much longer. Your pillow seems to channel drowsiness into your mind, and you are - after so many hours kept awake - finally asleep before you even know it.
"This was not how they thought they would pass on."
Despite the mournful occasion, it is neither particularly foggy or rainy, as you'd often imagined the weather to be. Nor, in fact, is it even particularly cloudy, with only a few white puffs in the sky floating idly by, typical of the weather in Faulkren. It feels almost inappropriate, as you and around a hundred other apprentices stand silently in rows in the courtyard of Faulkren Academy, surrounded by your instructors. Conspicuously, there are empty spots in the rows of squads, apprentices who are either not in attendance because they are still recovering from grievous wounds in the infirmary, or laid to rest in sixteen small wooden caskets arranged on the stone platform functioning as a podium before all of you. A reminder even now that something has gone missing, and will now never return.
It's hard to ignore it. Several apprentices are openly crying. Some stand with injuries that have been stabilized by magecraft, but still resulted in bandages and scars, some light and temporary, others seemingly permanent. You are lucky in that the arrow that grazed your shoulder resulted in a wound that was only skin-deep; three days after the attack, you can't even feel that slight stinging sensation when you press down on where magecraft healed your now-invisible wound anymore.
You still remain at attention, though. None of your squadmates or your closest friends were killed, so you feel like it's unseemly for you to do anything but stand solemnly. It isn't just that; standing beside the podium is Countess Lorraine Estelle Celestia, the master of the entire region of Apaloft. The woman, looking almost as old as the headmistress herself, stands quietly in quality riding clothes stained by mud at the hems. She looks quite different from Lucille, what with the higher cheekbones and a sharper nose and a more severe expression compared to the much softer features of her niece, but you can see at least a bit of a resemblance if you squint. She rode in on horseback just in time for the funeral, and she didn't come alone; a small army of guards and soldiers have accompanied her on horseback, even as many of them now man the walls of the academy, providing security for not only one of the five Caldran countesses - one of the five paramount leaders of the confederacy itself - but also for the apprentices here.
Given the distance between Faulkren and the regional capital of Arkenvale, the messenger from Faulkren must've rode as fast and hard as Countess Celestia herself.
From the platform, Headmistress Rastangard concludes her eulogy, speaking to the crowd assembled in the courtyard, "And though they have departed in untimely ends, we will carry them with us in our hearts and memories through the years to come. We will remember their sacrifices as we soldier forwards. We will remember them as the cost of war, and why we fight. For our homes, for our loved ones, and for the Confederacy."
The headmistress did not say that those who died are now Caldran mercenaries, even if only honorary. Nor did she speak of whether they died bravely, or fought with valor against the enemy in their last moments. You suppose you appreciate the honesty and the avoidance of platitudes, but then again, you didn't lose anyone; a part of you wonders if it would've been better if the headmistress at least gave token praise to those lost, if only for the sake of those who lost them.
Cornelia closes her eyes and bows her head, a cue for a moment of silent prayer. By tradition, everyone present prays in accordance to their own faith, but it is hardly surprising that most present - including the headmistress and the countess - place their right hand over their sternum, the classical Primordial prayer position. A few apprentices intertwine their fingers at their abdomen in a Conceptualist stance, while a few dryads - with the obvious exception of Azalea, who also touches her sternum - take a knee in the Gaianist way with a hand to the ground.
This lasts until Cornelia's voice murmurs just loud enough to be heard over the crowd: "It is done." Turning to the instructors, she murmurs, "Take them home." Then, to the apprentices, "Dismissed."
With quiet murmuring and hugs exchanged, the crowd of apprentices slowly begins to disperse. The headmistress quickly marches over to the countess, and they start talking with the air of old friends, the former soon guiding the latter indoors. The instructors march forth to carry the caskets into waiting wagons beside one of the academy's gates, although most of the squads to which the deceased once belonged are quick to rush forward and help send off their late squadmates one last time.
"You'll send her home, back to her family, won't you?" you hear one of the apprentices carrying a casket tearfully ask a grim-faced instructor by the wagon.
Without hearing the answer from the instructor - you've just sort of assumed this will indeed be the case - you think about how the families of the deceased will feel. How their only warning for the deaths of their children will be a casket and an instructor to accompany it. How they will process the fact that their children died horrifying deaths before the first year of training is even over, that they were killed before even stepping onto the battlefield.
You try not to make a face as you detach yourself from your squad, but blood is pounding in your head.
"Are you going somewhere, Neianne?" Sieglinde asks, noticing you stepping away, having assumed you were just going to return to your dorm room.
"Just the r-restroom," you say. Which is true enough, at least. But it isn't really an answer to why you're heading for the restroom in one of the academic buildings on campus instead of the one in the West Wing. Thankfully, Sieglinde doesn't pry, and merely acknowledges your departure with a tiny nod.
After everything else that has happened, classes have not resumed yet. The staff has returned to their duties, but there is an air of disquiet that accompanies their chores, a heavy weight that bears down on everyone here. Still, it means that the building is largely vacated of any apprentices save for a wandering few. Stepping into one of the first-floor restrooms, you quickly duck into one of the stalls and sit down on one of the toilets.
One of the things you've been too embarrassed to admit to your friends or squadmates, considering most of their backgrounds compared to yours, is that the restrooms at the academy were a little intimidating at first. While a rudimentary level of plumbing existed in your own village, hot water on demand simply from turning a valve seemed like an absurd luxury, and while you've long since gotten over this, you now and again still have pangs of being out of place.
Not that you need to relieve yourself - not right now - but it just seems like a quiet place to sit down and clear your mind without being disturbed. Just a few minutes so that you can stop thinking about how your parents and younger sister would react if you had been sent home in one of those caskets.
"That shot really saved Jessica, though."
The voice is muffled at first, coming from beyond the door of the bathroom; it's coming from an apprentice, judging by the tenor, accompanied by what you think are two sets of footsteps. You don't think much of it, at least until you hear the sound of the door creaking open, and then footsteps walking in.
"It was nothing," says the second apprentice. "She wasn't really in that much trouble, what with Instructor Ana there. You should've seen Lady Marienberg with her longbow on the walls. I can't even dream of landing shots like that."
You can't immediately place either voice, although they have the quality of dim familiarity. The school isn't that big, and you've almost certainly had some sort of interaction with one or both of them. You're too preoccupied with memories of the battle, anyway, to immediately invest time in trying to figure it out. You can still sometimes smell the fetid breath of the wolf that a different shot from Lady Wilhelmina narrowly saved you from.
"She is Lady Marienberg," the first girl says, with almost the quality of gushing. She doesn't seem particularly deterred by her first example being sort of ignored. Her voice takes on a dismissive, almost smug tone as she adds, "Brianna was being stupid and talking about how people were only saying Lady Marienberg's the best shot because she's a noble. I'd like to see her swallow her words now."
There's a heavy pause, before the second voice says, cautiously, "It's probably bad fortune to say that sort of thing. I haven't seen Brianna since the fighting started. Have you?"
"...no," the first admits. "But I've been hibernating in my room for the last day or two. I mean, her name wasn't mentioned at the funeral...was it?"
"No, but she could be one of those badly hurt." The second girl, the archer, stops talking long enough for an uncomfortable silence to descend, broken only by the sound of running water in the basin. Rather than leaving, though, as you had quite been hoping, they pick the thread of their conversation back up, if haltingly at first. "They say some of them won't be able to make it through training anymore, you know?"
"Didn't you see her at the funeral?"
"I...wasn't really looking at the time. Were you looking?"
"No, not really." A shorter moment of awkward silence, before the first girl quietly replies. "She'd better be okay."
You thought about leaving but ultimately hesitated, gripped by the admittedly absurd concern that you'd somehow be interrupting. By the time you've told yourself that this is absurd, you've already waited far too long, and you're now afraid of being thought of as an eavesdropper. Which, if even just inadvertently, your proximity to the conversation moreorless makes you anyway.
The quiet stretches on for another second or two further, before - with the air almost of apologizing for sucking the fun out of the conversation - the second voice picks up the thread of the original conversation. "Well, noble blood isn't perfect. Lady Celestia, remember?"
You hunch your shoulders with discomfort. Eavesdropping someone exclaiming over the skill of a classmate is one thing. This...feels somewhat different, and more uneasy.
"Yeah, she was disappointing to watch," the first girl agrees, eagerly accepting the topic change. "And terrifying to be in a group with, now that I look back."
"Like, she just literally walked us right into those direwolves." So the two are from the West Wing, and were present with you on the night the apprentices started gathering out in the hallway.
"And, what was she thinking after that? Trying to make up for it by volunteering her squad to hold them off with training weapons?"
"Well, she was brave, at least," the artist offers, a little dubiously.
"Brave? Sure, if it was just her own life she was risking, but it was her whole squad, and they didn't stand a chance on their own before Instructor Mara showed up. I mean, I ran for the armory too when she told us, but we could have held them off together, I think. Half her squad is gone."
You're recalled, vividly, to the sight of Lucille's vacant, shocked face, at her almost directionless anger taken out on Sieglinde. You're not sure that the girls are wrong, necessarily, but it's still quite harsh. After all - and maybe you're just feeling this way because of the mood pervading the academy, but - it's not as if these girls volunteered to help, or even went back to try afterwards.
"More than half, I've heard," the archer comments, lowering her voice. "Have you heard about Erin?"
"Erin wasn't hurt badly, was she?" the first girl says, suddenly alarmed.
"No! No, nothing like that. But she's been talking about...well, going home and not coming back next year, I've heard. The instructors are trying to get her to wait a week before making the decision, but she looks like she hasn't slept a wink since the battle."
"So she might have lost her entire squad?" The girl sounds scandalized, almost affronted.
"Looks that way," the archer agrees. Finally, mercifully, you can tell that they're heading for the door. "If it were me..." the rest of the words are lost as you hear the door click open, then shut.
Hesitantly and cautiously, you finally pull open the door of your stall, peeking out with almost comic apprehension as if to make sure both of the girls are indeed gone. Peering around, you do see that the area around the water basin is now entirely vacant.
Although when a stall door slowly creaks open behind you, you realize that you may have been paying attention in the wrong direction. And you try not to look too startled and embarrassed when you realize who steps out from it. Lucille Lorraine Celestia doesn't look directly at you, but her gaze passes over you just enough to be certain of who was "eavesdropping" in the next stall. But if you were afraid of a rebuke - afraid of being on the receiving end of Lucille's anger, as Sieglinde was days ago - your fears don't ultimately come to pass; the elf merely walks by quietly, moving for the water basins.
"They're right, aren't they?" Lucille asks in a quiet, tired voice, even as she turns on the water and begins to wash her hands. She stares into mirror, not looking at you, as if she doesn't want to see your expression. Her own expression is uncharacteristically flat, and her voice uncomfortably thick with bitterness. You've only seen her quite like this once before, when she was reminding Aphelia exactly whose necks will be on the block first if you lose the war. "It's funny," she continues. "Everyone at home already knows I'm a disappointment. Now you all know it too." She sighs, turning off the faucet and trying her hands in a towel nearby. "This is going to get back to my aunt eventually," she whispers in a tone that's simultaneously resigned and bitter, "and then my parents will find out about it, and then they'll send a scolding letter about being an embarrassment to the family name. Like that's the worst part of me getting people killed. If the Spring has any mercy, it'll be that instead of her finding out right now and saying it here. I guess I'll have to face the music sooner or later."
With that, she gives you a bitter but mostly sad and resigned smile, waves a tired goodbye, and walks out the door. And in your hesitation, you actually stand there at the door of your stall, stunned and frozen for just a moment. But then impulse takes you - the events three days ago still fresh in your memory and an mental insistence that this is the fault of the Tenereians rather than anyone here - and you quickly rush out the door after Lucille - she hadn't gotten very far, fortunately, heading for the stairs leading up the building - and blurting, "I-I don't think you're a d-disappointment, Lady Celestia!"
Lucille whirls around for a moment, looking a little stunned - if not cringing a little bit - when she realizes that you're suddenly following her. Her shoulders visibly slump as you catch up, and although she waits for you just a little, she also starts climbing the stairs of the building with a mildly bitter smile. "I'm a lousy shot with a bow. I'm not much of a healer. I can't get people to listen to me when it matters, like back in Roldharen. And when people are listening to me, I'm terrible at leading or forming strategies. I'd say that's a disappointment."
"But I-I can't do any of those things."
Her smile turning a little less bitter and a little more resigned, the elf gently murmurs, "I'm a Celestia. It's expected of me. I'm supposed to bear the responsibilities of a household that governs Apaloft. People are supposed to look to me to solve their problems. My aunt is one of the five most powerful leaders of Caldrein." She hesitates, as if trying to very carefully word her next sentences in her head, trying to make sure they don't come out the wrong way. "I'm...I don't mean this in a bad way, and you're definitely more capable than me, but....I have to be able to do these things. No one asks you to tell them what to do in a crisis, or to shoot a bow as well as Wilhelmina or to know everything." She takes a deep breath and sighs, even as the two of you reach the third floor of the building, you following somewhat absentmindedly along. "What people expect of you are different from what they expect of me. That no one else can do it doesn't cut it, not for me." She visibly deflates. "And I'm just...mostly useless. A wishy-washy good-for-nothing whose greatest accomplishment is consistently shaming the Celestia name."
But you try to sound as insistent as your feel. "You f-fought against the T-Tenereians, Lady Celestia. Anyone who d-does that can't be useless."
And you mean it. Maybe if you were a noble who really, truly understood the expectations foisted upon people like Lucille or Sieglinde or Elizabeth or Azalea or Aphelia, you'd feel differently. But noble or not, it's hard not to think about the battle that was fought, those who fought in it, and those who died. It's hard not to come away from three nights ago and remember that everyone helped against a vicious enemy willing to do anything to win. You mean it.
And maybe Lucille understands that - that you mean what you say, at least - because she gives a tiny, tired laugh, a hint of gratefulness in her eyes. "It'd be nice if my family felt that way," she sighs almost wistfully, "Or, you know, everyone else." She shrugs and stops in the middle of one of the corridors, and, a moment after, turns around and adds, "And please, just call me Lucille. 'Lady Celestia' sounds stupid."
"Oh," you blink, nodding before you even think about it. The number of nobles who are insisting you not address her with "lady" - even if it's just in private with Azalea - is steadily climbing. "O-Okay, L-Lucille."
"Yeah," Lucille smiles a bit more broadly, even if it looks like a forced attempt to give more cheer to the moment. She fidgets awkwardly for a moment, then, "And, um. Than..."
"Well, then you're a blind bloody fool!"
Both of you whirl around in shock, staring at the door that you're standing right outside, behind which that angry shout came from. The voice was definitely that of an adults, probably one of your instructors. And then as you look closer at the door and realize exactly what it is, you blanche. You didn't really pay attention to where you were going, just following Lucille along while trying to assure her that she's not useless, but now that you actually remember which building you're in and what floor you're on and whose door this belonged to, you suddenly realize that you're standing right outside the office of Headmistress Cornelia Rastangard. And someone inside was angrily shouting just now.
The words that come afterwards are also angry, but they're quieter this time, unintelligible behind the heavy wooden door. For a long moment, both you and Lucille are paralyzed with shock and maybe even a little bit of fear, and it takes another moment for the two of you to stare at each other in confusion and uncertainty. But before any of you can make heads out of tails, or really even ask each other what's going on, the wooden door is abruptly opened with angry force. From the headmistress' office, Countess Celestia marches out stiffly, a stormy expression barely suppressed on her face. From where you are standing outside the door, you can't actually see Headmistress Rastangard, which is probably all for the better; you're terrified at the possibility of looking at the face of a possibly-furious Caldran mercenary right now.
The countess seems about ready to storm down the corridor after slamming the wooden door behind her, at least until Lucille whispers in a tiny, almost scared voice, "...Auntie?"
The countess whirls around - and both of you apprentices flinch before the icy glare of a Caldran countess - but then she sees who it is asking for her, and her expression visibly softens, her body language clearly attempting to suppress whatever anger she felt at whatever happened in the headmistress' office. "Lucille," she murmurs with a sigh, her shoulders slumping for a moment before stiffening just a bit again in semi-formal greeting. "I'm glad to see you safe." She places her hands gently on Lucille's cheeks. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," Lucille replies in an almost hesitant tone, and she makes several efforts to not look too hard in the direction of the headmistress' office, as if almost afraid that Rastangard is suddenly going to come charging out. "I mean...yes." Pursing her lips, she is unable to constrain her dread curiosity any longer, and asks, "What was...?"
Catching Lucille's gaze, Countess Celestia sighs deeply for a moment. "We were discussing security," she says blandly, trying to inject some gentleness into her tone. "It's a trifling matter."
Then the countess looks over her niece's shoulder to spot you, and after jumping in surprise, you are quick to nervously drop into a curtsy and greet, "M-M-Milady."
The countess gives you a nod of acknowledgement, and although some of the formality returns to her voice once more, her tone isn't unkind. "And you are?"
"N-Neianne, milady," you introduce yourself, dropping into an even deeper curtsy.
Lorraine gives a small smile, even if it's a touch grim. "It's good to see you safe as well," she says with some warmth. "It's rare seeing dryad apprentices here. We could always use more of you. Are you friends with my niece?"
You try to stammer an answer, complicated by the fact that you're not entirely sure whether or not Lucille technically qualifies as your friend. But before you can answer - or possibly because you're taking so long to say something intelligible - Lucille quickly turns to her aunt and speaks up for you: "She is. She's the one who helped us back in Roldharen, with the wyvern."
"Ah," the countess intones, looking mildly impressed, almost as if recalling a fond memory. "I've heard of your bravery then; it's good to meet you at least. And you've beaten back the Tenereians as well. You've done well. I look forward to seeing you become a Caldran mercenary for true in two more years."
Flustered and more than just a little embarrassed, you drop into another curtsy and stammer, "Th-Thank you." Then, realizing you forgot it in your mild panic, hurriedly add, "M-M-Milady."
The countess smiles kindly at you before declaring, "I need to ride for Invermere; they, too, were attacked, and I need to see to them." She looks at her niece again, asks, "Did you need me for anything, Lucille?"
"No," Lucille whispers, "I just..." she trails off, and it looks like she is thinking about something she wants to say to her aunt. But then, she finishes, "I...just wanted to make sure I passed on my greetings first." She pauses for a moment, then, almost as an afterthought, "Please tell my mother I'm alright."
"I will, of course," the countess nods. "I'll see you in Stengard in...two months or so, I suppose. Or Arkenvale, if that doesn't come to pass." She lets go of her aunt and prepares to leave. "Do honor to the family name, Lucille. Farewell." And, to you, "Neianne."
"Milady," you curtsy one last time in farewell, and the countess marches off towards the staircase you and Lucille climbed up just earlier, presumably heading back to the courtyard, back onto her horse, and off to Invermere.
For a moment, both you and Lucille stand there silently, a little stunned, contemplative, confused, anxious. Then, almost as an afterthought, the two of you turn towards Headmistress Rastangard's closed office door, remembering the angry yelling within, and remembering that the headmistress is still very likely behind that door.
The two of you swiftly flee.
The small army that the countess brought with her, it turns out, is not actually for her own protection, but for yours. Or, really, the academy's; a contingent of roughly fifty guards are stationed on campus for security, and as far as you can tell, they will be here for the remainder of your first year, meaning only for a couple of months. You suppose you feel a little safer with them around, although if you really stop to think about it, nothing really beats security like a bunch of Caldran mercenary instructors actually staying on campus. At the very least, your instructors seem certain that the Squirrels won't be coming back anytime soon.
Not that it's helping all the nerves. An air of disquiet still pervades the academy even weeks after the attack. The instructors are quick in their attempt to restart classes and training, but it's hard for most to focus and keep their minds on it.
In the weeks that follow, as letters are sent back and forth, another small crisis arises as parents learn of the attack. In three cases, a parent makes the journey to Faulkren to take their children back. In one fortunate case, the headmistress is able to talk the parent down from pulling their child out from the academy, but for the others, the academy is forced to say goodbye to two of their number.
There are, of course, some letters that make it back - at least amongst those who are literate - demanding that their children return. Some talk about it openly with their friends, while others are subject only to third-party rumors of their impending departure. Stephanie, at the very least, confirms that she received no such letter - "And I wouldn't leave even if I received one anyways," she assures you with something a bit more than just sheer determination - but it's hard to tell about everyone else.
For the most part, the worst of your first year is over, even as the academy attempts to make a return to any form of normalcy. As the remainder of your academics and training slowly but surely draws to a close, you have more time to befriend, interact, and deepen your relationships with the other apprentices you've come to know.
[x] Aphelia Meredith Treiser
[x] Ashlyn
[x] Azalea Cherilyn Charmaine
[x] Elizabeth Irivich Zabanya
[x] Emilie
[x] Lucille Lorraine Celestia
[x] Melanie Aster
[x] Mia Honette
[x] Nikki
[x] Penelope
[x] Sieglinde Corrina Ravenhill
[x] Stephanie
[x] Vesna Rainer
[x] Wendy
[x] Wilhelmina Adelaide Marienberg
Choose five.
See Also:
1.18X1 Interlude 1: Of Course It's a Political Problem
1.18X2 Interlude 2: Remember the Dead
Once again, votes will not be counted as a set; the five most popular choices win. Certain combinations of characters will have them talking with Neianne together instead of individually. Also, if you'd like, please provide a write-in if there is any particular topic you want to talk about with any specific friend or acquaintance, and I'll try to do my best to accommodate. Otherwise, I'll simply write as I think works best. ^_^;
Please expect two interludes before the next update~
Khona Moshr
Pink Flamingo Cabal Healer(they/them)
- Location
- Alabama
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[x] Lucille Lorraine Celestia
[x] Wendy
[x] Elizabeth Irivich Zabanya
[x] Azalea Cherilyn Charmaine
[x] Wendy
[x] Elizabeth Irivich Zabanya
[x] Azalea Cherilyn Charmaine
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[x] Elizabeth Irivich Zabanya
[x] Lucille Lorraine Celestia
[x] Sieglinde Corrina Ravenhill
[x] Lucille Lorraine Celestia
[x] Sieglinde Corrina Ravenhill
- Location
- United States
[x] Elizabeth Irivich Zabanya
[x] Melanie Aster
[x] Azalea Cherilyn Charmaine
[x] Melanie Aster
[x] Azalea Cherilyn Charmaine
Spectrum
Tell me a secret~
- Location
- Behind you~
Sorry dear, buster swords are for battlefield control at your level.
(Sorry, we still hold Caldran mercenaries to higher standards.)
*sighs* Oh teenagers.
And that is the price that someone else pays for our contributing to a bad group decision.
Yes, but you're Just Neianne, you're not -expected- to.
Oh Neianne, you have the best random encounters.
*wince* Neianne, quickly remind Lucille that honor is not found in her blade so she doesn't do anything rash.
Seems a bit like closing the barn door after the animals are loose if they're only there temporarily. I guess it's a stopgap measure.
[x] Vesna Rainer
[x] Lucille Lorraine Celestia
[x] Stephanie
Still think Vesna is best girl for how little everyone else votes to let her show up and Lucille badly needs some kind of support structure.
Picking only Stephanie for now for higher relations inside the squad because she has the obvious secret.
edit:
[x] Melanie Aster
And 4th pick for the adorable Melanie to keep ties open there
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Mother Nyx
Mother of Elpis
- Location
- The Kei Klub
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Lucille Lorraine Celestia
-[X] Share with her your own fears of being unable to match up. Tell her of your own hopes of slowly changing yourself and encourage her to walk on that path together with you.
[X] Sieglinde Corrina Ravenhill
-[X] Talk to her about how, just like your squad, all of your fellow mercenary recruits lacked cohesion. Bounce off of her the thought of grooming a stand-out leader for everyone to get behind so it does not happen again. Pitch the idea of the entirety of Squad Four being those leaders.
[X] Elizabeth Irivich Zabanya
-[X] Just random fun Lisa funtimes.
[X] Stephanie
Okay, bear with me here. Linda is a given, she's a part of Team NESS, and we really should take advantage of her as a resource. Just look at that quick sketch of a battle assessment and how spot on it was. She may not wish to be a leader, herself as an individual, but she can as a shining beacon of how to be great as one fourth of this squad. If we work at it and be sneaky about how we present ourselves we can be the inspiring she wishes she could be without having to change. This does mean that we have to work on our cohesion, personal ability, and public image. And keep Lisa for electrocuting everyone who looks at her wrong. But, that's par for the course anyway. Squad For bcome a legend.
As for Lucy, she needs people and we've established a rapport with her. We might even be able to put Lucy and Linda in the same room and get them to make up and bounce off of each personalities in a positive way.
As for the Lisa pick? I just want to see what her version of bonding is. I'm not even gonna lie, Neilisa is my current heavy ship, may it never sink. *Side-eyes Kei*
-[X] Share with her your own fears of being unable to match up. Tell her of your own hopes of slowly changing yourself and encourage her to walk on that path together with you.
[X] Sieglinde Corrina Ravenhill
-[X] Talk to her about how, just like your squad, all of your fellow mercenary recruits lacked cohesion. Bounce off of her the thought of grooming a stand-out leader for everyone to get behind so it does not happen again. Pitch the idea of the entirety of Squad Four being those leaders.
[X] Elizabeth Irivich Zabanya
-[X] Just random fun Lisa funtimes.
[X] Stephanie
Okay, bear with me here. Linda is a given, she's a part of Team NESS, and we really should take advantage of her as a resource. Just look at that quick sketch of a battle assessment and how spot on it was. She may not wish to be a leader, herself as an individual, but she can as a shining beacon of how to be great as one fourth of this squad. If we work at it and be sneaky about how we present ourselves we can be the inspiring she wishes she could be without having to change. This does mean that we have to work on our cohesion, personal ability, and public image. And keep Lisa for electrocuting everyone who looks at her wrong. But, that's par for the course anyway. Squad For bcome a legend.
As for Lucy, she needs people and we've established a rapport with her. We might even be able to put Lucy and Linda in the same room and get them to make up and bounce off of each personalities in a positive way.
As for the Lisa pick? I just want to see what her version of bonding is. I'm not even gonna lie, Neilisa is my current heavy ship, may it never sink. *Side-eyes Kei*
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- Location
- Denmark
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Not gonna lie, I really want to deepen our relationship with Zabanya as an unintentional thing that just kinda happens; poor Neianne is just somehow caught up with her.
But then I realized, all the noble characters are my favourites.
tfw class traitor
[x] Azalea Cherilyn Charmaine
[x] Elizabeth Irivich Zabanya
[x] Sieglinde Corrina Ravenhill
But then I realized, all the noble characters are my favourites.
tfw class traitor
[x] Azalea Cherilyn Charmaine
[x] Elizabeth Irivich Zabanya
[x] Sieglinde Corrina Ravenhill
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Mother Nyx
Mother of Elpis
- Location
- The Kei Klub
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Don't forget to add in the write-in's if you like them. Or, if you don't and have your own ideas to add your own.
Only three choices out of all these interesting and fun characters? Such a cruel restriction.
...You know what? I'll expand it to four. Because clearly I'm just making things more difficult for myself.
So remember a thing to note that is that cliques and circles of friends have already formed, and are very close to solidifying. What this means is that starting from year two, you probably won't be able to simply hang out with people you haven't already invested effort into socializing with, at least not without looking really weird.
Also, it's not a problem yet, but there is such a thing as diminishing returns. There is such a point where you hang out with certain people so much, hanging out more won't really consolidate your friendship that much further. And, of course, keep in mind that since Stephanie is your roommate, and Sieglinde and Elizabeth are your squadmates, you will always have scenes with them.
Again, though, this is not to encourage or discourage any votes. It's just something to keep in mind. ^_^;
- Location
- United States
With this new information, we should broaden our approach as to not get locked out of making friends with people from certain groups. Also, not hanging with our squad doesn't really matter since we'll spend enough time around them to reach the arbitrary friendship limit before we graduate anyway. (Apparently Neianne is a savant at the art of making true friends or can't really make any truly deep or meaningful friendships.)
I know you said it wasn't meant to be encouraging or discouraging any votes but it feels that way to me, I just wanted to vote for people I wanted to see more of.
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- Location
- United Kingdom
[x] Melanie Aster
[x] Vesna Rainer
[x] Wilhelmina Adelaide Marienberg
[x] Azalea Cherilyn Charmaine
[x] Vesna Rainer
[x] Wilhelmina Adelaide Marienberg
[x] Azalea Cherilyn Charmaine
From this, I'm guessing Melanie's not doing so well.
- Location
- Planet Earth
this still says 3
[X] Lucille Lorraine Celestia
-[X] Share with her your own fears of being unable to match up. Tell her of your own hopes of slowly changing yourself and encourage her to walk on that path together with you.
[X] Sieglinde Corrina Ravenhill
-[X] Talk to her about how, just like your squad, all of your fellow mercenary recruits lacked cohesion. Bounce off of her the thought of grooming a stand-out leader for everyone to get behind so it does not happen again. Ask who would be best suited to the role of leader, both of the other students in general and of the squad
[X] Elizabeth Irivich Zabanya
-[X] Just random fun Lisa funtimes.
[x] Stephanie
I want our entire squad on the list to figure out who will lead and how we'll work together, Lucille to prevent a collapse, and I altered Minx's write in for Sieg in favore of something I think would work better
Fixed, thanks.