A5G

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

"So be it."

Mirielle charged, soft glimmer of gold materializing over her person, fully trusting her divine armor against any maneuver the poleaxe could bring. Letting Carmen and the rest to deal with the sergeant, she bypassed him in favor of running straight at the musketeers with sword drawn. Between the phantom heat that would soon take effect and her own formidable approach, better if they panic and try to shoot her than anyone else.

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

Mirielle had almost thought that a supernatural phenomenon had befallen the entire territory and whisked everyone else away, what's with two entire weeks went by without meeting a single living person. She had expected to at least run into someone coming out, but nothing. Odd, just like that barkeep had said.

Thankfully it turned out to not being a completely deserted land after all, though the circumstances of the encounter could've been better. Urging her horse after Carmen, they soon ran into a small group of uniformed men surrounding a ragged sixth.

The former preparing to execute the latter.

Scowling at the sight, Mirielle dismounted and followed closely behind the captain who tried to talk to the men, not like he's making much headway - the fools had more bluster than sense, lots of good those muskets would do when outnumbered at this distance even if her companions were but mundane soldiers.

Her scowl deepened as Carmen's speech made little progress in front of the near-suicidal idiocy of the fools before her, bringing back to the little conversation they've had at their last rest stop. To think that it came to relevance so soon after meeting the locals...

"Indeed. We are not always afforded the chance to be kind. Try avoid unnecessary harm if you can, but do not hesitate to take action for both your own well-being and the mission itself."

And it looked like the time to take action was now. The hanging started, though by her experience such method wasn't immediately fatal. Enough time to subdue these fools and mount a rescue.

"The Order of The Golden Sun does not recognize your authority over this land." Mirielle stated, stepping past the captain as her burning aura flared. "We will be taking custody of that man. Stand aside, or be made to."

She hoped that this much was sufficient show of force. Best if she didn't have to expend the holy power to power through musket shots, though if necessary she wouldn't shy away from drastic measures. Would need to break some limbs for it though, just to ensure they didn't try again. Wouldn't that be such a shame?

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

Mirielle's mind wandered into less wholesome stuff, the manifold cooking steps reminded her of her last job as an inquisitor. An entire village taken by insanity after landslide rendered them cut off for two years, with only a handful of crazed husks left in there. The state of the missing travellers when she and her team found them...

...well, let's just say she wasn't a fan of entering the kitchen for a while after that.

Past the morbid thought, her straying attention landed onto the subject of close monitoring for the past month. The penitent - no, she wouldn't be one for that much longer now, would she? It was difficult to imagine her as anything else, at least until the sarkaz started stumbling like a village maiden. A crack in the facade? It's so easy to see Amaris the witch, that Amaris the person was lost inbetween.

Mirielle clicked her tongue, shaking awake from her reverie. Tch, do not sympathize with the sinners. Doing so will only expose one's weakness. Her absence from the inquisition must've clouded her judgment.

...but Amaris would've absolved her sin soon, wouldn't she? Then she's just another person.

The arrival of the food saved Mirielle from the logic spiral, where the difficult thoughts sank into the background. Right, one step at a time. Future problem was something for future Mirielle to deal with. For now, breakfast. The sausage rolls actually looked like a serious contender for "the best sausage rolls in the east".

She saw the troublesome penitent's lips curling into a now familiar smirk followed by anothet tease. Mirielle, for her part, recalled the interesting shade of bashful red Amaris had turned just mere seconds earlier and immediately felt better.

So she simply returned a smirk of her own, saying nothing as she bit into her sausage rolls.

"Heh."

Yep, best sausage rolls in the east.

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

Mirielle was halfway expecting another bout of impalement, but turns out with proper warning Amaris wasn't as stabby as before. But then her thought practically stopped at the sheer intensity of the emotion the quiet man suddenly displayed even if his choice of words were kinda sappy. Even when it was directed to probably the most questionable person in a dozen miles, there's something beautiful in loving someone regardless of their shortcomings...

No, wait. She should be concerned. And was that a jab at her?? Was he implying that Mirielle was the one hard to befriend?? The sheer audacity of this man.

Fuming but not wanting to ruin the mood, the ex-inquisitor tuned out the troublesome duo and switched her attention to the source of all her trouble today. As always, the frank straightforward attitude was putting her in the back foot. The simplicity in the inquiry was surprisingly thought-provoking, almost enough to forget that it easily put her in a tough spot earlier.

Almost.

"Well, Amanita dear." She coughed twice, buying time to rearrange her thoughts. A free hand idly twirled a lock of golden hair. "There are both wonders and horrors in life, and the line between the two are a lot blurrier than we'd expect. Take, for example, the drinks. Nothing wrong with indulging in alcohol from time to time. Drink too much every day though, and it is a gateway to violent and slothful behavior. Ruining both one's body and mind in equal measure."

Yes, that sounds perfectly reasonable. All that scripture-reading paid off.

The chatter continued, this time by the redhead noble. She's talking about... Mirielle was pretty sure it's about food, but she's completely lost somewhere around the second step. Was cooking really complicated? Her knowledge mostly extended to cleaning, cutting, and boil/grill/fry the ingredient with a bit of salt and spice sprinkled in. She smiled and nodded along anyway, but anyone paying close attention can see that her eyes already glazed over as her mind wandered into a distant place.

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

'F-FRIENDSHIP?!"

Despite managing to keep a stoic front for the entire trip, it all crumbled at the end from a single plain sentence of the winer. Mirielle sputtered in indignant outrage at the seemingly random statement, made worse by how genuinely it was said. Just which part of their interactions looked like friendship?

The moment of shock was enough for the party to move along, filing into the quaint tavern that could've easily be mistaken for several hundred other similar pit stop all over Helvetia. Mirielle had to jog a bit to catch up, inwardly cursing at the missed opportunity to clarify the fact of the matter. Now that there's other people present, there's little chance to properly talk about it without compromising their relative anonymity.

A fuming Mirielle slipped into the seat next to the penitent, with an obvious gap inbetween if anyone's paying attention, chair angled so that she can keep Amaris in her peripheral vision. She flicked an errant strand of hair away from her eye, wondering if it's time for another trim, even as the bulk of her attention fell into the ongoing conversations.

"I'll have the sausage roll. And some water please, thank you."

An eyebrow rose at the sudden chatter from the witch. Surprisingly lacking barbs this time around. Mirielle remained quiet for a few seconds, mulling whether to keep the silent game, before deciding that she should at least remain civil in return. With a shrug her posture eased, leaning into the backrest instead of remaining straight as a flagpole.

"I shan't judge you over your choice of breakfast," The W word was at the tip of her tongue, but she switched it seamlessly enough. "Miss Amaris. But there is wisdom in avoiding overindulgence." Honestly, Mirielle herself could appreciate good meals. It's just she need to remain in perfect condition at all times, or at least until the mission was deemed over. There's potential danger both within and without after all.

And look, Amaris even took the initiative to mend the bridge with Ludvig (with a V). About three weeks late, but better late than never. Seeing the man mope like kicked puppy wasn't exactly pleasant so far. Heh, a murderous witch comforting a puppy. Wasn't that an image? Mirielle lightly chuckled at the thought.

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

Mirielle took one last lookover from her little personal notebook, glancing past the name, description, and little sketches of her travel companions. Took a while but she finally got used to everyone's names, though just to be sure she'll refrain from crossing them out just yet. That done, the ex-inquisitor stored the notebook in a pocket before drinking in the sight of Dragon's Maw.

It looked just like any other cities this close by, the illusion of a crown of manmade stone atop a fallen wyrm not quite working when most of the wyrm's body was obscured by the too-close walls. The distinct air of a city built around a permanent garrison was unmistakable, from the rugged architechture to the winding streets and tbe hardy people living in it. Mirielle had been around such places before, though just like current experience it was mostly a resupply stop. Even the color of the Order was no guarantee out of troubles, though it did serve as some deterrence.

Some, under normal circumstances. Compared to the presence of the witch... probably not much of a deterrence at all. Soldiers had always been a superstitious lot.

Speaking of, said witch had been a real test of self-control over the nearly four weeks travel. The impertinent comments wouldn't be half as annoying if it wasn't specifically directed her way at every opportunity, such as now. Grumbling and inwardly reciting a passage about the virtue of patience - and not arguing with fools -, Mirielle dismounted her own ride before closing in with the rest of the group.

"Worry not, I shall be escorting... miss Amaris here. With some discretion, we'll get to avoid the worst of troubles." Beside from the most devout folks, few would be able to tell the exact rank one held within the Order beside some vague impression that the fancier outfits were reserved for the higher ranks. Mirielle, as an Archbishop's personal guard, would appear more important than she actually was. While she loathed the small deception, it was done for good cause and wouldn't hurt anyone (beside her own conscience). She'll pray for forgiveness later. "I swear that she will not be mistreated under my watch." She added, still not addressing the penitent directly.

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

Brisk, purposeful footsteps echoed through the hallways where Mirielle treaded with familiarity. While the entire complex was pretty sizable, personal space was still a luxury that few enjoyed. Spoke volumes that Carmen was afforded a single room, at how high he had climbed the rank unnoticed by most.

She idly noted the lack of personnel, adding an eerie dash to the supposedly solemn air. Many was temporarily sent away for one reason or another, she noticed. The Archbishop took secrecy more seriously than he ever did before. The fact resoubled her resolve, yet also strengthen the doubt on the choice of team members. Why go to such extent concealing their departure, only to pick some of the least stable individuals she had ever met?

All can be answered by the man she seek. Hopefully.

Arriving at the door, she saw the light escaping underneath the crack of the door and quickly rapped on the sturdy old wood thrice.

"Carmen." Said the ex-inquisitor, hardy tone completely businesslike. "We are overdue some words, I believe."

"Very well, come in" The man answered.

Mirielle did not hesitate, entering into the living quarter provided to the captain. Pale yellow eyes flickered to drink in the sight, finding it just about the same as it was before. It's on the smaller side, just enough to fit the basic necessities like the bed and a desk and a simple foldable rack while leaving enough room to move around. A travel trunk sat untouched at one side, evidently Carmen hadn't started unpacking... if he ever had the intent to in the first place. They both leave early tomorrow after all.

"The penitent, really?" Mirielle only afforded enough time to close the door behind her before cutting straight into the heart of the matter. "You and I both know her presence is as much a liability as it is a boon. Moreso if her strength is half of what the stories told. Why are we risking it on such a long mission?"

"Sauniere's plan." Answered Carmen, dragging away an extra chair so both of them could sit. "Well, go ahead, knowing you this will be anything but brief. Like I am one of the cultists in an interrogation room. Anyway, like I said, it was the Archbishop's plan. Not that I object. Our time is short as it is, no thanks to that elf from the council. One more hand joining this mission is a massive boon as you said. So what's the problem?" He took his seat, back ramrod straight and attention fully ahead. "And yes, penitent and all. Well, they didn't tell you, did they? Not even Sauinere did. Let's say for the safety of The Archbihop, it is better if she is with us rather than leaving her here."

Mirielle took the offered seat, straddling it backward with her chin resting on the back. Not very formal of her, but it's Carmen. She can unwind a bit.

What followed was a rare bout of hesitation, the ex-inquisitor seemingly picking her words carefully for once. Conflicts rarely rose in her decision making process, but that only meant she's stuck at the rare occasions it happened.

"To be honest, I..." She paused, one hand flicking a strand of hair away from her eyes, idly twirling the end before letting go. "I have less reservation of her right now. Just a bit. She knows how to control herself, that's better than most. But still water runs deep, remember? The control ring isn't completely foolproof, and that far away from the Order there's too many ways this could go wrong."

Sighing in a mix of frustration and exasperation, Mirielle couldn't help to recall that witch's words said moments after Carmen's departure. The Archbishop had enemies, and they'll not hesitate pulling him down if it help them rise to his place. Did someone caught wind of their plan and hoisted the landmine that was the Blackthorn Witch to Saunieré and hope the problems solved itself?

This was why she hated politics. They're almost always synonymous with underhanded maneuvers, the exact opposite of the scriptures. Yet all that was mere speculations at the end of the day, and she couldn't tell where reasonable deduction ends and where paranoia began.

"...you're right again, of course you are. If she's with us we could turn a potential catastrophe into a major asset. But I really dont like this, old friend. Play with fire and we'll get burned sooner or later." She shook her head, but when her gaze stopped on Carmen all the doubt and hesitation had been replaced with grim determination. "But we're no stranger to fire and danger, are we? Once more into the fray, as we did before."

Carmen didn't seem to return the sentiment. Or at least showing a similar level of zeal. "Indeed we are. But the decision wasn't about daring a risk but a necessity. I just want to help people, and if we have to bring a sledgehammer, so be it. Besides, the arrangement seems like a win-win for everyone, We keep her away from Sauiniere's back. She gets her freedom and we have her loyalty at least until Thomas is found..."

The word was cut short as if there was more to it, but Carmen didn't say. Instead he inquired.

"Say, what do you know about the locals in Sielse?"

Mirielle knew she had reached the limit of what could be pried out. She'd already gotten over her greatest concern, and pushing for more was both unnecessary and will strain their relationship. Recognizing the change of topic for what it was, she played along with a curious tilt of the head.

"Sielse? Not much. I know Sir Thomas lost contact there, and that it's a land torn by the ongoing civil war. There's nothing especially notable otherwise... is there?"

"Civil war." Stressed Carmen "Mirielle, I hope you are as cautious as I am to understand that our mission might not be entirely peaceful at all. Please Keep that in mind."

Then he shrugged. " Well if that's all, good night."

"The entire region is filled with desperate people, and people do unspeakable things under such circumstances." Though hearing about it and experiencing it directly was two different beasts. Mirielle had the vague feeling that she should know of it, idly tucking a bleached strand behind her ear, but nothing come to memory. "I will keep that in mind. It is but another trial of our conviction, and we shall prevail. We always do."

Mirielle stood up, keeping a confident poise though her hand itched for the reassuring weight of a blade. She seldom met a problem that could neither be stabbed or hoisted to her superiors, and her nerve quivered in a mixture of vague dread and anticipation. She barely remembered to mutter "good night" before the door closed behind her, only for a missed tidbit from a few moments back to resurface.

"Wait, freedom?"

Turning around revealed the thick door blocking her way, and though she could've knocked again this matter felt too inane to intrude yet another time. It's already inappropriate to be visiting him this late in the night... with a shrug, Mirielle strolled back to the shared quarters as she mumbled softly to herself.

"If this is to be the last one... perhaps I was too harsh with her?"

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

Carmen was leaving, and if there's time to grill him for more information in private it had to be now. Mirielle finished what little left of her soup in two big gulp, muttering a small prayer of thanks before getting up much quieter this time. The witch's pointed words weren't lost on her, though she never regretted preparing to outright leap over the table to stab her with a butter knife should the retribution be disproportionate. And it would take more than some unverified statements to shake her conviction.

"Do not presume to lecture me, witch. I know well the Order is not perfect. But for all its fault, the world will be a darker place without it." Was this the angle? Try to make her doubt her trust? If so, the witch had chosen the wrong target to needle. "Have a good evening, and stay out of trouble."

With that, Mirielle briskly strode after her once junior.

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

The grinding scream of the chains masked the noise of a chair abruptly shoved backward as the owner stood up with haste. Mirielle's eyes momentarily widened in shock when the redhead vanished and reappeared behind the penitent, blatantly ignoring her warning. Why he's taunting her in that manner she had no idea, but that didn't mean the sinner appreciated the gesture.

The silence that followed was deafening, simmering tension almost palpable on the skin. Mirielle's hand paused halfway reaching for a sword that wasn't there, creeping toward the nearest butter knife as the penitent monologued her history. A flash of recognition, eyes narrowing in grim determination... then it all deflated the moment the redhead stood back up not even bloodied.

Well, the spike stabbing through his hand wasn't drawing blood somehow. Of course. Someone picked by the Archbishop cant be any ordinary joe.

He retreated with an apology, though whether the transgression was forgived or not was up to debate. It certainly wouldn't be forgotten anytime soon, especially by Mirielle. Exhaling a deep breath, the ex-inquisitor carefully settled the knife onto the table before returning to her seat. The creaking of the wooden legs a lot louder now that there's no cacophony of grinding metal to mask it off.

"So it's the Blackthorn Witch. Never thought I'd see you in person." The initial hostility seemed to have receded for now, bottled and hidden under the surface. Yet only a fool would've thought that it had vanished. Despite her own misgivings however, credit where it's due. Molestation was a serious breach of dignity, and people had suffered more than a couple light stab for it. Amaris had been rather merciful in her warning, all things considered. "I would've expected you to run him through... good job holding back."

That said, Mirielle wouldn't readily believe everything the sinner said. Slavery ring? Condoned by the government? Hogwash, the Order would've stormed the parliament if that's the case. There were lines that one should never cross, no matter how great the temptation was. Whatever the goal of the backstory was, there must be something greater at play.

She'll find out eventually. No nefarious plot can be hidden forever from her ever-vigilant watch.

Absolved Will Be the Saviors

"Not an inquisitor. For now." Mirielle corrected, her attention turning to the other redhead in the room. As much as she missed her old title, she wouldn't go as far as impersonating it. "You may not be familiar with it miss, but many accepted the penitent robe to avoid the alternative rather than a desire for repentance. Alas, we knows not what lurked in the heart of men. So until the latter is proven, vigilance must be maintained."

An inquisitive side eye swiveled to the penitent in question, currently savoring the provided meal with undisguised satisfaction. Slightly further away, she caught Carmen shaking his head and inwardly bristled... though eventually Mirielle managed to find her calm.

There will be some talkings later. For now, the penitent was at least calm. Deep breath, bottle in the screaming instinct.

"But very well, far from me to question the Archbishop's desicion. Since you missed our introduction, penitent, I am Mirielle. While I no longer stand amidst the inquisitors I shall be keeping a close eye on you."

That should be all communication the sinner get from her. Best not to listen to whatever they say, they had a propensity for lying after all. And from the look of it... creator grant them all some luck, for common sense apparently was in short supply.

"It is the robe of penitence, an artifact designed as insurance to keep dangerous individuals in control while they prove themselves absolved of sins." Her gaze fell upon the circus clown - was it a clown? -, the disappointment so think it's practically dripping. "Before you ask, I recommend not touching it. The artifact is almost as dangerous as the wearer."