It took a certain kind of willpower to get up in the morning knowing that your entire day was going to be cringe.

Out of bed. Jumping jacks! Hi-ha! Hi-ha! Put the lungs into it, work those muscles! Do it in front of the mirror! Your body might not be anything like what those old superstars looked like, but - say it out loud now! This is what peak performance looks like! Nobody ever got anywhere with shame or self awareness!

Shower. Wardrobe! Put the fuckin' laurel wreath on the head Aeglesia! You have an entire wardrobe full of identically coloured and shaped black pants, black turtlenecks and black hoodies that practically guarantee that nobody will ever look at you. But you don't want that! Today they're going to look! A real Princess would have servants for this. They'd be able to glide out of bed on a waterfall of rosepetals and have their hair woven into perfection by flocks of hummingbirds. They wouldn't have to spend thirty minutes buckling up their armour, checking their gear, making sure their hair was bouncy but not frazzy. They wouldn't fumble when they hefted their giant stupid heavy tower shield that's too big for you but you got the wrong size and it took all your savings and you're stuck with it now - but they didn't use shields anyway! Despite how tactically cool and what an incredible canvas for showing off your heraldry a shield was! Many advantages! And if she ever found herself with friends then they could learn cool shieldwall techniques together! Many advantages!!

She used her spare hand to slap her cheeks. That's it! You're not nobody any more Aeglesia! You're not boring old Meng Yao any more! Nobody's going to ask you about your capsicums. They're going to ask you to slay the Swamp Giant - and you're going to tell them that you're not going to have time today because you'll be saving the world from a world-threatening threat! But you'll be back for the Swamp Giant later! With a Legion at her back, a Sunshard in her baggage, and a properly sized shie - no, she'd just master this one! The fact that it was too big was a cool and quirky advantage, and once she had more magic then she'd figure out how to use it to send energy waves or absorb energy waves or - or something! 

All she had to do was prove that in this historical battle royale, Rome would crush every other civilization's champions. Easy! The only thing that could stop Rome was giving up on being Rome - and she would [i]never [/i]make that mistake.

*

"I understand the scholarly consensus has turned on Gibbon," said Lancer, looking at the burning star in the sky. "And that Christianity, in retrospect can't be [i]really [/i]blamed for the destruction of Rome."

She didn't say anything further. Lancer believed in Marcus Aurelius' Stoicism. Controlling her emotions, speaking only wisdom, embodying virtue in her person and her deeds. It would lessen her to say what her irrational emotions said when she looked up at Bohemond with his holy spear, that she felt like she should [i]absolutely [/i]blame this shit in general and this guy in specific for the end of the Roman Empire.

"Even if Christianity wasn't to blame, the Crusades certainly did not help," suggested Aeglesia.
"No, no," Lancer waved her off halfheartedly. "They were there to help. An Imperial electorial crisis was hardly unprecedented. The structural problems ran far deeper and that was just the final kick to the whole rotten edifice."
She trailed off, duty to Rationality complete and unable to bring herself to stall further.
"All right," Aeglesia said, gripping her hands on her shield in determination. She had to get this right! "Looking at it rationally! Bohemond is merely a land-hungry invader wrapping himself in the cloak of righteousness in order to get political support!"
"Well put," said Lancer laconically. "Let's go further. That spear he wields - what is it?"
"D-didn't he say that was the Lance of Longinus?" said Aeglesia uncertainly.
"He would say that, yes," said Lancer. "But I am the cosmically ordained spear specialist here, and I can tell you that when you look past the flashy lights, that is just a standard issue Roman pilum. Likely cast in one of the Capua manufactories in batches of a thousand. Even if," here she slowed down, once again her duty to Reason preventing her from emotively dismissing something she lacked evidence to dismiss outright, "this somehow [i]is [/i]indeed the spear that pierced Christ, why should that grant it any supernatural abilities at all? Christ was not a violent man, and Longinus was allegedly cursed for his crime and not granted a weapon of awesome destruction as a reward. One would imagine if he had something like this he might have fended off that eagle - I mean lion - that came to eat his liver every night."
"So... it's a fake?" said Aeglesia.
"Worse than a fake," said Lancer. "It is [i]fanfiction[/i]. Give me a real spear." 

Aeglesia put a pilum in Lancer's hand. In every way it was the mirror of Bohemond's holy relic, but as a leaden thing of military utility without even a glimmer of divinity to it. Lancer hefted it up to his shoulder in a professional, Olympic pose, judged the distance and air, took her time...

And threw it right through Bohemond's chest. 

It punched through his holy armour and crusader tabard. The golden spear fell from the Angel's hand and dissolved into light. He reached up to clutch the javelin, wings folding on himself, and he fell like a struck swallow from the sky. Only near the ground was he able to recover enough strength to avert a fatal collision and bring himself up into a limping retreat back towards his newly conquered shrine.

"Great throw!" cried Aeglesia, trying to clap against the hand that was wrapped up in the shield - before instead figuring out and then banging against the shield instead. Many advantages! That was a military clap!
"Every legionnaire is trained in the javelin," said Lancer modestly. "Now, let's go and see if we have finally found someone on this new green earth who is not hip deep in fox schemes."