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Walking towards what was essentially the center of the camp, Marianne faced towards where the Sun would be setting and carefully kneeled on the ground on both knees. Moving was becoming more and more difficult due to her bruised and possibly broken ribs, breathing even more so. Adrenaline had worn off and the terrible pain in her head had returned. Even still, for as long as there was breath in her lungs and blood flowing through her veins, she would always conduct this ritual.

Removing the white veil she kept in her hair, she bowed her head low and closed her eyes as she clutched it. Holding it close to her chest as she softly uttered the prayer that had been ingrained within her ever since she was a little girl. Only speaking loudly enough for her own ears and the Goddess Reon to hear. As she recited the prayer over and over for the sake of the fallen and injured allies, in her prayers she included the bandits who were slayed. Yes, even the bandits that were to be corralled only to be put to 'trial' and executed later which she knew was inevitable. Yes, including even the bandit leader Jeremiah whom she had ended by her own hand. With all of them in mind as she whispered her gentle words, she grew emotional. Anyone close enough could see tears welling up and eventually falling to the ground and on the front of her skirt. With each sob, her body shook painfully from her minor injuries. But, she did not falter. Reciting her prayer over and over until she was satisfied, until she believed it was enough to save their wretched souls and offer them a chance at salvation in the afterlife.

---

The tears continued to fall, her shoulders trembling as she continued to sob through her sacrosanct ritual. Within her mind, a memory was dredged up from her past. As with all Delacroix children who wished to become knights, as part of their final training they all take part in a ceremony called 'the Awakening' or 'Eveil'. Though heatedly criticized as too cruel and unusual to force children to endure, ultimately the old guard of the Delacroix nobles deemed it a necessary sin as part of Knighthood. It was a moment within her past Marianne could never forget, having been such a major turning point in her development and maturity into a proper Delacroix Knight.

There was even a special chamber dedicated for young squires and knights-to-be to participate in Eveil.
For everyone to bear witness.
Even secret wagers were placed on certain children.
Would they accept the cruelty of the world and move forward with their training?
Or would they abandon their flighty illusions of grandeur and fade away into the darkness to seek other paths in life?

Marianne could remember how much she was shaking, as if an earthquake had been forced into her little body for her to attempt to contain. Thunderstorms raging in her mind as she stared at the center of the chamber where her beloved piglet Jacques was bound to a post. Still able to run around, but not escape. She remembered how difficult it was to see, not for want of lighting. But for the fat tears that ceaselessly streamed down her cheeks. Staring at the sinister ceremonial knife that she was given to kill her cherished friend. How many precious friends had it taken from other Delacroix knights, for all of its false ornate beauty and keenly sharp edge? Turning round, to face her papa and maman. She looked for guidance, though they would offer none.

The ceremony was no well-kept secret, its details were made well known. Delacroix knights-in-training just chose not to believe it. Thinking it all a simple mind game and farse. Making the truth more soul-shattering when they stood with the ceremonial dagger in hand, feet away from their companion that they reared and raised.

Marianne, dressed in one of her favorite dresses for the day, realised how wrong and mistaken she truly was.
Hiccuping as she spoke through her cracked sobs, she cried out towards her parents.
"Papa! Maman! Say it isn't so! That it isn't true! I can't kill Jacques! I love him! He is my little brother! Mon petit frère!"
She wiped her arm across her eyes, but it didn't help stem the free-flowing tears.
She had set herself up for failure since the very first days he chose the piglet Jacques.
She didn't call him her pet. She didn't consider him her friend or companion. To her? The little pig had become as close as a brother. Being the youngest of three, she always dreamed of having a little brother or sister to care for.
But never thought she would have to take their lives. Not like this.
"Papa! Maman! Please, say something! I can't do this! I won't!"
She flung the dagger against the ground, though it did not travel far as it clattered loudly, echoing through the chamber.
She squared herself up, balling her fists as she tried to make herself seem as intimidating as possible. Though it was pointless against her giant tree of a father. She was angry, angry that such a terrible practice was required to become honored as a Delacroix Knight. She couldn't understand why.

Her father's face grew severe, enraged that his daughter acted with such impunity, with such insolence.
"Silence! Marianne Vanessa Delacroix, you will pick up that dagger and do as is required or you shall cast away all that you've worked for!" His voice was typically clear and booming in its tone and volume normally, but the design of the chamber amplified noise made his bellowing all the more impressive.
Marianne jumped, startled. Her father never raised his voice at her. He had never needed to. So, to hear her father berate her, caused her bravado to wither away as her form shrunk in both mind and body.
"In your future endeavours as an honored Delacroix Knight, you will have to commit terrible and atrocious acts! You will kill! You will end the lives of a few wretches to preserve the lives of numerous innocent! Goddess Reon forbid it, but the life you may have to take will be of those closest to your heart! This world knows no bounds in its cruelty and you must accept that fate! You will either accept that fact, or you will die in the battlefields of war!" Her father's face grew red as his shook from the sheer force of his words.
Young Marianne continued to sob and cry, shaking more out of fear for her father than anything else at the moment.
But her father wasn't done teaching her a lesson.
"How many years have you dedicated yourself already to your training!? You dare let that all fall to waste!? The stories you read and read over and over each night before bed! Stories of the venerable heroes belonging to the Iron Roses! If you cannot commit the simple act of killing, whatever in your naive little mind makes you think you are deserving of joining their ranks!? Pick up the dagger Marianne, or walk away from ever becoming an Iron Rose!"
Her father wasn't ever this mean or brutal, it all in part truth and part act for the ceremony.
Unseen to Marianne's teary and reddened eyes, her mother gently touched her father's arm as a signal that it was enough.
The rest was up to Marianne to figure out.

Marianne gasped, freezing up as she took in her father's words and thought hard.
They were right.
Though she knew the historians would never allow stories of infighting, treachery, and betrayal to taint their books...
That didn't mean that they never occurred.
How many heroes did the Immortal Knight have to put down?
Did she hesitate?
Did she struggle with the decision before ultimately committing?
Would her demons eat away at her for the decades upon decades that she had been alive?
Turning to face the knife only a few feet away from her, she slowly reached out with a shaking hand towards it.
Grasping it tightly in her little hands until her tiny knuckles whitened.
Turning to face her 'little brother' the piglet Jacques, she swallowed dryly as she began to take her first few steps towards him.
The pathetic creature had no idea what was about to happen to him, and he cowered away from someone he was normally excited to see.
The sight pulled tightly at Marianne's heart strings. Intense sorrow gripping her heart as with each step, a fond memory shared with him flashed through her mind.

Continuing her careful stride, she looked up at the faces of the family members and friends that she knew surrounding her and Jacques in the center. All dressed in their finery for such a special occasion. The women had their makeup on and hair put up into beautiful styles. The men groomed and cleaned to a shine. Each of their faces brought about a certain sense of anger in Marianne, how dare they treat such a horrid affair as if it were some show. Catching the face of one of her mentors and trainers, the woman's eyes shifted left and right before making it look as though she were scratching an itch on her neck. But as Marianne continued to observe her, she noticed her drawing a line on the side of her neck. A parting bit of advice for the little girl.

Nodding ever so slightly, she turned back to Jacques, only a few feet away now.
Kneeling, she sweetly called out to the frightened piglet.
Beckoning him to come closer.
"H-hello, Jacques. I-I-I know...you're scared, little brother. C-come give your sister a h...hug..."
The piglet refused to come close, terrified and straining to run away from Marianne as his bindings tightened against him.
The tears came even more easily, seeing him in such a way. Knowing what she had to do. Her voice cracked every time she tried to speak so, the needed breath never coming to her as she sobbed pathetically.
Clutching the knife in one hand, she hid it behind her back as she reached out with her other hand towards Jacques.
"P-p-p....lease..."
With the knife out of sight, the piglet seemed to relax and itch just a little closer to her. She seemed distraught and needed some comfort.
As soon as the piglet's snout touched the tips of her fingers, Marianne lunged forward and wrapped her arms around the now-screeching and squealing piglet. The noises it made forever haunted Marianne as it made her blood-curdle and run cold.
Struggling and straining to maintain her hold on the piglet, Marianne begged the poor thing through her sobbing.
"S'il vous plait, mon petit frere! Please, don't make this any harder for us! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
As the piglet screamed, Marianne raised her knife quickly and plunged it into Jacques' neck. With a rip and slice, the act had been committed in seconds. A spurt of blood splattered against Marianne's face and stained her dress as it began to flow with alarming speed, pooling on the ground and on the front of her dress. As the piglet's struggling slowed to a stop and its shrieks died down, Marianne's sobs grew only more intense and loud as she embraced her 'little brother' in his final moments of life.
"What did he do to you! He did nothing wrong!" She screamed at everyone in the room.
It was over in seconds. She would have to think to thank her mentor later.
Smushing her face against Jacques, she kissed his dying self over and over and whispered apologies to him as she sat there with him in his arms.

The room then broke out in applause, as if Marianne had done such a wonderful thing. Looking up and around at them all, Marianne's mouth hung agape as she was just unbelieving of what she was witnessing. The whole scene sick and perverse to her. Catching the eye of her mentor yet again, she saw her close her eyes and bow her head. Hands clasped together in prayer. Marianne wiped a bloodied arm across her eyes which only served to smear more of Jacques' blood on her face, but she didn't care. Nodding slightly, she gently set Jacque's body down on the ground and kneeled in his blood. Looking up, she saw that her parents had both vanished.

Clasping her blood-covered hands together, she closed her eyes and bowed her head as she prayed for Jacques' soul. She prayed for mercy on her own soul, and for the sick souls of the Delacroix nobles who thought the slaughter of an innocent creature a game to enjoy.
"The worst is yet to come, Marianne. You must steel your heart and your resolve." She told herself.

It would take her months to finally recover enough to resume her training as a knight.

---

But these bandits, no matter what atrocious acts they had committed. They were no animals. They were no pigs to be slaughtered. They were human beings just the same as her, though born under less than desirable conditions. Who were they? What were their names? What happened to them that caused them to become murderers and thieves? Were they victims of the world, of a broken system, or had they willingly chose this life? No matter the reason, Marianne thought that each of them could become saved. Each of them could be offered a chance at redemption and salvation. She refused to believe that a person existed that did not have 'light' and 'goodness' within their hearts.

And so, she continued to kneel there for an undetermined amount of time.
Praying for them all out of an all-encompassing love for them.
Pleading and begging to the Goddess Reon to be just and fair in her judgement of their souls.
Praying for her own soul, that the horrors of war never consume her.
Praying through her tears, that she may never hesitate in battle or still her blade out of remorse.

To Marianne, they were all like Jacques. Simply victims of the cruelties of life, the world, and human nature.