This reminds me of one of my earlier observations of Mathilde. From the outside, Mathilde looks like your standard brooding love interest in those romance novels. To Pan she may have looked that way up until the doggy part.
Then there was the whole teacher shenanigans she was starting to pull. Mathilde is definitely leaning into the showman persona more than the edgy vigilante some might expect a Grey Wizard to be.
That reminds me of this Pan/Mathilde analysis I wanted to write up (which is very similar to your own observations).
Okay, so imagine you're Pan, right? Gifted darling of the Druid faction. Magic has always been there for you, it's your friend, it's your companion, it's a constant presence in your life. Loads of people praise you for it, but underneath that praise is the political turbulence of the Jade College, and you're not sure how much of it is genuine and how much of it is appeasement to your mother. You start to see the darkness in the heart of the druids—the darkness in your own family—and you start to resent them for it, for tainting the beauty and purity of Ghyran with petty politics.
You also start to self doubt—how much of your talent is "you", and how much of it is your mother? Are you actually a talented wizard, or are you just coasting on your mothers reputation?
So you leave home as soon as you can, and end up drawn into the campaign against Mordheim. There, you use magic to strike down unholy abominations, revelling in the purity of the jade wind against the corruption of Dhar. You tell yourself that you were prepared for the other soldiers fear of your powers, but you weren't really, this is the first time you've interacted with non-wizards, and the extent of their fear took you by surprise. But despite that, your power was able to win a grudging respect from them. You feel reassured that your talent is real, not just a political fiction to appease your mother.
But you are still not comfortable, so you travel further afield, and join Belegar's expedition. You're leaving the Empire, how exciting! No scheming druids, no superstitious soldiers. Sure, the dwarves don't understand magic, but they don't fear it either, and the halflings—well, they love you. No judgement from them at all.
And there she is.
Magister Weber, hero of Drakenhof, vampire slayer, elf-friend, knight of Stirland. You don't know which stories are true and which are false, but she strides through the encampment, powerful and confident, a living hero, all seeing, all wise. Even the dwarves give her the time of day.
She is everything you want to be.
Sure, she comes back from scouting expeditions covered in other peoples blood, and that's a little unnerving, and tales circulate about how she single-handedly routed an entire fortress with nothing more than her sword and her shadow—which is downright terrifying. But that's just the nature of her magic. You're good at growing plants, she's good at... murder.
But then again, aren't you? You're a living weapon, honed to destroy the enemies of the Empire. That's your purpose as a wizard. That's your reason for existing—the only reason you are allowed to exist.
And then, before an important battle, she gives you an order. An order you don't like. An order you don't want to follow. An order you don't understand. Instead of participating, she wants you to
sleep. Does she not think you're good enough? Does she think you're too weak, too young, too precious for the battle? It's not your first battle, you've killed before. You are not a child who needs coddling.
You are a wizard of the Empire, you trained for this. You deserve to be there, fighting, alongside your friends.
So you disobey her. You fight, tired and unrested. But you know you can do this—Ghyran has never failed you before, so why would it fail you now? It's your friend, and it obeys your every whim.
Besides, there's no way she could find out—she's supposed to be on a secret mission underneath the mountain, you're going to be in the valley with the archers.
But the Grey Order sees
everything.
She confronts you after the battle, and with a face full of fury, tells you that you are being irresponsible with your magic. You look at her grey robes, her witch hunters hat, and that's when you remember—the Grey Order has a darker purpose.
To hunt down wizards who are threats to the Empire.
And she's telling you that you are being irresponsible with your magic.
The magic that's never betrayed you. The magic that's been your companion, your friend, your entire life.
The magic that could turn on you in a moments notice, and kill all of those around you.
You flee.
What else can you do? She's
not wrong.
But that doesn't help, because later that day she tracks you down again. But she's not here for you, but actually to swap old war stories with Titus, and neither of them object to you listening in.
And then you get the biggest shock of the day.
Magister Weber can't cook. She's never learned how.
Of course, you think, she's a war wizard, a weapon of the Empire. She doesn't have skills not relating to battle. Maybe you feel a little sorry for her. So you decide to teach her.
It's a disaster.
You only turned your back for a moment, but when you looked back,
she'd set the pie on fire.
It's burnt and raw and marinated in brandy, and she eats it anyway, because she's a peasant and who knows when the next meal would be? And then she leaves to "test the ale", and ends up causing all sorts of hijinks over the course of the night.
You're starting to see a side of Magister Weber—no, Mathilde, that you never considered before.
The halflings then introduce you to Mathilde's familiar, Wolf, who, despite the name, is a daft and playful puppy.
He licks your face.
Why is Mathilde raising Wolf like a lapdog? Surely shaping him into a weapon or a tool would be more appropriate for a Shadowmancer? But no, she wants a companion—a companion that's just as fun loving and intelligent as she is. A companion she doesn't—can't—have to hide from.
And then there's the onion soup incident, where Mathilde, rather calmly, lays out how magic changed her life, and she doesn't regret it, because it lets her make the world a better place. She fights so that others don't have to.
It clicks into place—Mathilde wasn't angry at you. She doesn't think you're a threat to the Empire, and isn't going to come at you with a sword in the night.
She was
worried about you.
And finally, you see that beneath the surface of the cold and practical assassin—is a woman who
cares. The core of her soul is
compassion, and violence and duty and murder are just the tools she's be trained to express that compassion.
She wades through rivers of blood, endures tempests of destruction, faces all the horrors and evils of the world, because she
loves the world, and there is no darkness, no suffering, that can dim the light of her soul. She is an oak unbending, standing proud and strong, roots dug deep into the earth—and sheltering all beneath her canopy from the storm of Chaos, so that they might bloom into beautiful flowers.