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Post by Guinevere von Altenburg on Jul 19, 2015 19:44:43 GMT -6
Guinevere awoke early. They had been in this small town for a few days now, waiting for the weather to clear before they could continue their journey. Not that she minded, a little rest could be a good thing. For example, she slept clear through the night, her first time doing so since she left Lycia. She almost didn't want to get out of her bed because it was so warm, but she also knew that she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. With a small yawn, she slid out of bed and landed gently on the floor.
She made her way across the room she was renting. They were staying in a quiet little tavern, and Gwen was actually pretty sure their group were the only people in the place, besides the workers. Pushing back the curtains, she took in the early morning sun. For whatever reason, she had always been a morning person, much to the annoyance of her parents who both liked to sleep in. But Gwen had always gotten up right around sunrise, unless she was incredibly tired or had fallen asleep very late.
Deciding that she wanted a cup of tea, she began to get ready to leave her room. She would have just gone in her night gown, but decided against it in case anyone woke up before she finished her tea. Instead, she changed into a simple pair of pants and an old blue shirt. They were simple enough clothes, but they still showcased her figure. She liked to pull them out every now and then. Not for any certain reason, mostly because she liked the way they fit after being in her armor for so long. With a few quick brushes of her hair, she made her way out of the room.
As she quietly slipped down the stairs, she noticed that she was not the first person awake today. Richter sat at a table by himself. She had noticed over the course of their journey that he seemed to always be up earlier than her, and she was thankful that she had changed from her night gown now. How had she forgotten, even for a moment, that he was an early riser as well. She quietly ordered a tea, as to not disturb the others who were still sleeping, before making her way over to the table the Winter Lion sat at. "Morning."
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Post by Richter Abend on Jul 22, 2015 12:44:50 GMT -6
“Morning.”
Richter nodded at the blonde woman, lifting his cup of tea slightly, then turned his gaze back out the window. It was their standard first exchange of the day. The Ilian’s unfortunate penchant for oversleeping had forced him to learn to wake up at first light. So he would arise the moment the sun first poked its head over the mountains, go downstairs and order a cup of tea, then sit in the dining room for an hour or two staring out the window into the cold, unrelenting snowstorm. Guinevere would show up later.
Like Guinevere, Richter too was wearing a more casual garb his morning, consisting of a grey cotton longsleeve shirt, a dark olive wool jerkin, and his usual brown sheepskin pants. It wasn’t the warmest clothing he had brought, but the tavern keep had done well in keeping his firewood well stocked so Richter had yet to resort to his furs. No doubt they would be dragged out during the trek to Carrhae.
“I had figured that since we already trudged through it for two days to get here, the storm wouldn’t last much longer, but if this keeps up we’ll be stuck here for a week at least,” commented Richter, gesturing towards the window. He realized that starting a conversation with the weather was the sign of a boring man, but in this particular case it was pretty relevant. Only an idiot would try crossing the pass in this weather, so for the last three days they had been stuck in this tiny traveler’s town. Richter himself was getting particularly stir crazy over the situation, since he had little to do but read and stare out windows. That said, he was getting particularly adept at the latter.
“Ilia can throw quite the temper tantrum from time to time, that’s for sure,” muttered the commander, taking another sip of his drink and breathing deeply of its aroma as he did so. The familiarly nostalgic taste of barley tea was, he felt, the only thing keeping him sane.
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Post by Guinevere von Altenburg on Jul 22, 2015 22:13:50 GMT -6
Guinevere took a sip of her tea before following Richter's gaze out the window. She had never seen a snowstorm like this. She had seen snow in her like, so it wasn't something completely foreign to her. But she had never seen a storm of this magnitude. She was torn between a child-like want to go out and play in the snow, and a more sensible want to avoid going out into it again. The two days spent getting to this town had been enough. She was half convinced that the socks she had worn then would never really dry out. "You're not kidding. If it keeps going like this, we might not be able to get out of the door when it finally ends. And if it does go for another week, I'd be surprised if you don't go a little crazy from being stuck in here." She couldn't help but smile at the thought.
She took another sip of her tea. They might be trapped in a tavern in a small town, but the tea was still very good. She turned her eyes back to Richter. He was definitely much better than he had been when she had first found him again, but she was still concerned about her former commander, the smile slowly fading from her face. He was acting much like his old self, but something about him still just seemed off to her. Maybe it was nothing and she had just been away from him for so long he only seemed off. Regardless, her concern lingered. Gwen gave a small nod towards Richter, specifically towards his wounded arm. She hoped that she didn't looked too concerned. "How's the arm?"
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Post by Richter Abend on Jul 31, 2015 8:29:00 GMT -6
“About the same,” Richter muttered, giving little more than a shrug in responses. He continued to stare out the window. He was done being angry about it, his arm that is, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed thinking about it. He doubted he ever would. Richter was a fighter. It was what he did. Even before his home had burned, the Ilian had always dreamt of being a legendary mercenary like his father, a proud warrior like his brothers. And after? Hell, after those evil men had pissed all over his life Richter had done nothing but wage war. It had become his reason for being. And it hadn’t always been for the right reasons. At first all he’d fought for was revenge, the catharsis in seeing a bad man die, because the Ilian had believed that it would do something about the the absolute sense of failure and helplessness he had felt in the wake of his inability to do anything about the murders of his parents and brother.
Obviously it hadn’t. Hatred was a fire stoked, not quenched, by violence, but by the time Richter had learned that fact too many people had paid the price for his need for vengeance. Filled with guilt at the sight of his long-lost brother, the commander had jumped headlong into the arms of those close to him, notably Clair, looking for some sort of comfort in their emotions. But peace was not what the Ilian had needed. He had not earned it, and he knew it. He needed penance, and after Clair’s injury and Marcus’s death, Richter realized the only place he would be able to find it was upon Kraft’s empty throne. It had costed him the only chance at a real relationship he’d had since first leaving Ilia, but he stuck by his decision. This world was so much bigger than him.
But what did any of that have to do with his arm? In the face of both his own inadequacies and the evil that seemed to surround him at every turn, Richter did what he knew how to do best: he fought and he strived. And it had made him strong. It had made him strong enough to defeat Ariston, it had made him strong enough to survive Alranus, and it had made him strong enough to destroy Hargus. He had planned to take that strength, that power, and unleash it on the man who had caused Elibe so much suffering and earn his absolution.
But now it was gone. And that made him feel weak. That made him feel like a cripple, which in reality was what he was, though he would never allow anyone to say it.
For a man who had written his name on Elibe with the blood of every foe he had ever defeated, it was the ultimate wound. No longer could he take on the impossible for those who couldn’t fight for themselves, and no longer did he feel like “The Winter Lion.” What good could he do with one arm? It was at a time like now that the healing power of that accursed sword Damonzahn seemed mighty tempting, and for the first time Richter truly understood the sense of loss and desire that caused great men to become villains. Despite the fact that people heralded him as a hero, Richter felt like he bore the sins and flaws of a dozen men.
“How's...” Richter started, attempting to take the attention off of himself but realizing he couldn't echo the question. "How are you? Holding up alright?"
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Post by Guinevere von Altenburg on Aug 6, 2015 23:03:15 GMT -6
As she watched Richter's face, Guinevere could tell there was something going on behind those eyes. She couldn't tell exactly what he was thinking about, but the look on his face seemed to be a mix of anger and sorrow. Or maybe she wasn't as good at reading faces as she thought and was completely wrong. Regardless, something seemed off about her former commander. No matter what he said, she knew his arm was effecting him. She wasn't sure if it was physical or mental, but it was definitely something. She also knew there was no point in trying to push the point further, so she let it go for now and address the question he had asked in return.
"About as well as can be expected," she responded with a smile. It was true. It might not be the more glamorous place to be stuck, but it could always be worse. At least they had a roof over their heads and weren't forced to camp outside in the snow. Sure, she wished it was warmer and that they could continue making progress, but she tried not to get too down about things she couldn't control. There was no point in shouting at the sky to stop snowing, after all, you'd just look crazy.
She propped her head on her hand as the smile on her face began to grow. "Much better than the time that Rayl insisted on pressing on passed a town instead of staying at an inn for the night. Not only did we end up getting caught in a thunderstorm, our tent was blown away." She let out a light laugh. "I don't think I was properly dry for a week, and it took another week after that before I forgave him. I swear, he's a great warrior and diplomat and all that, but sometimes I think he lacks common sense." Guinevere shook her golden head at the memory. She could still get Rayl to apologize to this day simply by bringing it up. "So compared to that, I'm doing just lovely, thank you very much." She gave the Ilian another smile. She had a duel purpose for telling this story. The first, obviously, was to help answer the question presented to her. The other was she hoped by telling a silly story about Rayl, maybe it would cheer Richter up a little at least. If she was lucky, she might even get a smile.
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Post by Richter Abend on Aug 25, 2015 10:29:37 GMT -6
Richter did smile at Guinevere's story, though it probably came off like a sneer given that only one half of his face had decided to cooperate. One of the quirks of being such a dour faced man was that when you tried to make expressions your face would occasionally forget how. And given that the Ilian wasn't that personable to begin with, misinterpreted looks had gotten him onto plenty a person's bad side. Even a barfight once.
"Lacks common sense, or sacrifices it to his sense of duty?" the pink-haired warrior replied, countering with a question. He placed his fist on his jaw and leaned to the side. His eyes became just a bit wistful as he recalled time traveled with Rayl. "Duty, honor, and country have always been important to Rayl." The commander shook his head. He wasn't the same way, never had been, though he couldn't say part of him didn't admire Rayl for it. "Unlike me, though I imagine that's why he's the soldier and I'm the mercenary." Richter had tried a soldier's duty before, more than once, but his own personal goals always seemed to get in the way, and he was the type of man who, when push came to shove, would always choose his own goals over his obligations. That was what had forced him from Ilia in the first place, and that's probably why his relationship with Clair had fallen so flat on its face. Richter only seemed to be capable of being dutiful until he found something else he thought more important. He realized he needed to tame that passion, for the sake of his family if nothing else, but it kept him wondering if he'd ever find solace in peace when there was always the urgency of war.
"That's why I'm worried about meeting with the Lords again..." Richter trailed off, and his eyes drifted back out the window. He'd last left Edessa with an army at his back, and the full authority of the Council of Lords in his possession. In a way, with that Emblem in his hand, he'd held more power that day than any single one of them, and yet now he was preparing to waltz back into the citadel, nothing to show for the trust they had placed in him, and demand they sacrifice their own immediate interests in Bern, interests he had been assigned to protect, for the good of Elibe. Hell, might have him arrested for desertion the moment he walked in through the front gates, and Richter wouldn't blame them. Only a madman would think anything good could come out of such a situation, but then the Ilian was starting to see himself more and more as mad with every passing day. Who else but a madman would put himself through such turmoil when he had the option of just going home and spending a peaceful life with his remaining family?
"Perhaps I'm just naturally a hypocrite," said the commander, flashing Guinevere an awkwardly sardonic grin. The words were said in jest, but only a fool couldn't see the thought was bothering him. Would history remember him as a hero? Or as a disloyal, twice-traitor? Richter could find truth in both. "A crippled one at that."
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Post by Guinevere von Altenburg on Aug 27, 2015 10:49:03 GMT -6
A disgruntled look grew over Guinevere's face as Richter began to talk about Rayl's sense of duty. "Duty, honor and country..." She repeated, bitterly. If Richter was right, common sense wasn't the only thing that Rayl had sacrificed to his sense of duty. She knew that, technically, they had both agreed to end their relationship due to the limited time they could spend together from his traveling. But in reality, she had grown frustrated at how he always seemed to pick duty over her. She knew she shouldn't, as she had known that going in, but she hoped that some times he would choose her first. And so their personal relationship became a work one. Gwen was fine with it most of the time, but every once and a while she would grow bitter when thinking about it.
She shook away these feelings, however, when Richter mentioned how he was worried about meeting the Lords again. She couldn't remember the last time she had known him to be worried. Even when he tried to play it off as a joke, it was pretty evident that it was still bothering him. She was surprised how affected she was by seeing the Commander worried like this. He was usually stoic and full of confidence, so to see him differently threw her off. Her instincts taking over, she reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. "It'll be alright. We'll figure it out, one way or another." She tried to not show so much concern in her eyes, as she felt Richter might not want someone to be concerned over him, but she couldn't help it.
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Post by Richter Abend on Sept 2, 2015 15:53:37 GMT -6
Normally Richter shied away from uninvited physical contact, but in this case... he didn't. Even if it was just a hand on his shoulder, Guinevere's touch was comforting. So often the Ilian emotionally isolated himself that he forgot the relief in knowing that another human being was there for him. After leaving Bern Richter, in all his turmoil, had convinced himself that it had been a good thing that Clair had stayed behind. In Bern, at least, she would be kept safe from the hellish trials the Ilian commander would no doubt put himself through, but truth be told he would have rather had her come with him. He would have rather had her say yes. Now Richter knew that, as much as he tried, he couldn't shoulder his burdens alone. No man could, especially not with a useless arm. And Guinevere had chosen to join him as his bodyguard no less! So there was no reason to push her away. It had taken him so many failed opportunities to do so, but Richter had learned his lesson:
Seeing those you care for walk away, not knowing if they would ever return, hurt. Seeing those you care for injured and damaged hurt even more. And seeing those you care for die, well, there was no pain like it. But never having those companions, those bonds, in the first place made life empty. It made life hard. Having companions to stand with you, to fight at your side, was worth all the pain in the world.
So Richter nodded to Guinevere as she assured him that, in the end, this would all work out. The Ilian couldn't say that he felt the same optimisim, but he appreciated that someone did. And he hadn't missed the upset look that had momentarily made its home on Guinevere's face when he had mentioned Rayl's sense of duty. Richter had thought he'd seen something between her and him, a spark perhaps, back when they'd fought in Sacae, but at the time had thought little of it. He'd been to busy planning for the battle. But now it seemed that Rayl had sacrifice more than his common sense to his duty.
"You and Rayl were... close?" asked Richter, turning his gaze back out the window.
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Post by Guinevere von Altenburg on Sept 3, 2015 10:00:26 GMT -6
Guinevere smiled again as Richter acknowledged her statement that it'll all work out. It was nice to see that her former Commander at least valued her opinion, even if he might not believe it underneath. That smile started to fade, however, when he brought up Rayl again and asked what their relationship was. She realized that she had never really talked about their relationship to anyone besides Rayl. She looked up at Richter as he stared out the window. She almost laughed for a second. If you had told her when she was under his command that she would be talking to Richter about her relationship, she would have called you crazy. But here she was.
She followed the pink-haired man's gaze out the window before speaking. "We dated, for a time. It was nice, but it never really went any where. I think more than half the time we were together he was off doing one thing or another for his duty. It's one of the things I always respected about him, how dutiful he was. But a part of me wished he was dutiful to me as he was to his country. But again, that's Rayl." She sighed. "So we ended it and ended up simply working together. I don't hate him or anything for it, we actually work pretty well together, but it's disappointing, you know? When you hold someone up higher than they hold you..."
Gwen pulled her attention away from the window and shrugged. "What can you do but move on?" She gave Richter a weak smile.
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Post by Richter Abend on Oct 24, 2015 22:32:48 GMT -6
“Not much.”
Richter was hardly one to disagree with Guinevere’s sentiment. He could relate. Her relationship with Rayl was mirrored by his relationship with Clair. A strong working partnership to be sure, but something that just didn’t work right when romantic feelings were thrown into the mix. There was a level of emotional separation and professionality that Richter appreciated between him and his second-in-command, and intimacy left no room for such a divide. And Richter didn’t even do intimacy right. He was objectively bad at it. It was still nearly impossible for him to entrust himself to another person on such a personal level, so by attempting to do so in such a poorly executed manner he had ruined a perfectly functional friendship and partnership.
And yet, life had gone on. The connection between him and Clair had seemed so monumental at the time, and yet now it was just another footnote in his story. It was kind of sad to think about how quickly their friendship had deteriorated, though it left Richter wondering just how much had ever been there to begin with. He'd once called her "his love", but he felt none of that now. Had it always just been a friendship of convenience? Had his romantic feelings for Clair been little more the result of shared adversity? It was something he found himself thinking about a lot recently. How many, if any, of his friendships were actually genuine? Was he even still capable of forging real bonds with people, or had that too atrophied over years of neglect?
“At least you’re still on good terms,” continued the Ilian, nodding at Guinevere. "Would hate to see a soured romance ruin a good friendship."
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Post by Guinevere von Altenburg on Oct 27, 2015 17:12:09 GMT -6
Gwen gave a little nod as Richter responded. He wasn't wrong. She had had a number of her friends lose other friends over bad relationships. It was a tribute to how sturdy a foundation Rayl and her's friendship was that even when their relationship failed, they could still fall back on it. She had seem something going on behind Richter's eyes as she had talked, and if she had to take a guess, it would be one person. Clair. Granted, she had no intention of bringing it up, as from what she had taken from him talking about her previous things hadn't ended well. Maybe that was his way of saying that the two of them had a soured romance ruin a good friendship. But again, now wasn't the time to ask.
Instead, she turned her attention back out of the window to the storm outside. She was glad that they had taken shelter in this town for the time being. While Guinevere had earlier had the urge to go out and play in the snow like a small child, she now had changed her mind. The storm was picking up in intensity, and she was perfectly happy to stay here where it was warm. She had a feeling that whenever this storm finally stopped and they began their journey again, it would still be as cold as it was now just without the snow falling. Without turning away from the window, she addressed Richter again. "I hope we'll be ok when the storm stops. I'm not sure even if I wear a number of layers that I have enough to truly stay warm."
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Post by Richter Abend on Nov 4, 2015 22:12:08 GMT -6
Richter stared at Guinevere for a good moment before looking at the bottom of his empty cup.
"We'll be fine," the Ilian replied, nodding his head. "The top of the pass is where the journey will be most dangerous, and that's where it'll be coldest, but without a storm we shouldn't have to worry." Richter's nodding tapered off. "And once we get through the pass it'll all be downhill from there." He chuckled dryly at his unintentional pun. "Ilia itself isn't even that cold." Well, it was cold, but it wasn't that cold, but that was coming from an Ilian. Nevertheless, Richter did his best to downplay Guinevere's worries. There was nothing to fear. The snow would clear, the winds would die down, and they'd be on their way, and as long as they kept a brisk pace and their wits about them, they'd not get caught anything more when crossing the mountains. It wouldn't be easy, but when it was all said and done, everyone would be thankful that they hadn't taken the long route around the mountain range.
"So, uh," started Richter, looking up at his blonde haired companion. He looked mildly uncomfortable, like one who'd just put their hand on something just a bit too cold. "I have to admit, despite our history, I don't know much about you." He stared at the woman intently, his brow furrowed. "I know you're a soldier under Rayl's command, and I know the battles we've fought in together, but I can't say I know much about the woman Guinevere." Richter intertwined his fingers and put them up to his chin, assuming a more business-like manner. His discomfort disappeared. "I like to know who I travel with. Mind giving me the brief rundown?"
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Post by Guinevere von Altenburg on Nov 5, 2015 23:47:43 GMT -6
Guinevere gave Richter a small smile. "I'll hold you to that. If I start freezing to death, you'll have to be the one to warm me back up." She really hoped he was right and things didn't come to that. She wasn't the biggest fan of the cold as it was, and dying to the cold was pretty low on her list of ways to go. So, fingers crossed that Richter was right and that everything would go fine. Admittedly, she had a feeling that everything wouldn't work out as well as they had it planned, but that was life.
She tilted her head curiously as Richter turned the conversation to her. It made sense, she thought. Everyone knew the Winter Lion. But he couldn't know everyone. She sat up a little straighter in her seat to match Richter's new business-like manner. She brushed some hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear before she began. "I was born in Etruria to the von Altenburg family. We were always well off, technically we could be considered nobles, but there were still many of higher ranks than us. It was a nice life, a comfortable life. I could have stayed there, probably married into another well off family and simply minded the house. But that wasn't the life I wanted. From a young age, I was set on being a soldier."
The woman gave a small shrug. "I couldn't really tell you why I wanted to be a soldier so bad, but I did. One of my earlier birthdays I could remember, I got a toy lance." The memory brought a small smile to her face. "And then when I was old enough, I started training and then enlisted. Again, people were surprised that a woman of my status would do so, but that never bothered me. And my parents have always been supportive, so that meant a lot. Eventually, I got my orders. I was to report to a certain Commander Abend." Gwen gave Richter a wide smile. "And the rest is history. Is there anything else about me you'd like to know?"
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Post by Richter Abend on Nov 28, 2015 2:44:23 GMT -6
“No, that's good,” replied the Ilian, shrugging his shoulders. He crossed his right foot over his left knee and folded his hands on his lap. He wasn’t looking to share likes and interests, just to gather a quick backstory of why she was here, and she had been forthcoming enough. “From noble girl to soldier woman. You’ve definitely made some interesting life choices.” Richter shook his head, a wry look upon his face. “I can’t say I’d have made the same.”
And it was true. It was odd to think of himself, the Winter Lion, dressed in finery sipping wine at a great oak dining table, but after all he’d been through the idea of living at home as a wealthy man on a comfortable estate was an enticing one. His parents and Eckhart would still be alive, and they’d all be together with Ardus and Mary, and they’d have not a care in the world, sheltered from the horrors that warriors like him fought on a daily basis. Marcus would likely be alive, having not gotten involved in Richter’s grand schemes, and Clair would have gotten a respectable role as a knight in a wing of pegasus riders. Perhaps even a commander herself.
And surely someone else would have risen against the Prophet and his Herald as Richter had, right? It wasn’t as if there was anything uniquely special about him. He had just been a young man with a talent for battle looking for a way to channel his anger at the world into something that made him feel more than helpless. It wasn’t like there was any shortage of such men, just that opportunity had turned him into something greater, and in ways, something worse.
But course, as appealing as it was, such a life had always been an impossibility for him. Richter could have never made the same choices as Guinevere because those choices would never have been presented to him. In fact, if a man named Richter Abend ever had been given those choices, it would not be the man that sat in this chair, drinking this cup of tea, today. This Richter Abend was a fighter, a warrior, and a commander. It was in his blood, a very byproduct of being Ilian. So it was a waste to worry about such things. A man could destroy himself chasing after ghosts of a life never to be obtained. The pink haired Ilian knew that very well. He’d done it, and it had almost killed him.
“I’ll apologize for the crime of being your first commander. I no way made life easy for you.” Richter shook his head while chuckling awkwardly. He could joke about their past battles, but regardless of his goals or the end results, he had done wrong by Guinevere. After losing half of his own, the Ilian had grown used to the idea that family was just something you grew out of. You compartmentalized, and you moved on. But he imagined that was different when you actually had hope of seeing your parents once again before passing into the beyond, and realizing that, Richter would be lying if he said he didn’t feel guilty. Her parents weren’t gone. She’d loved them, and they’d loved her, and then Richter had gone and made her a heretic and a traitor. Now she was an exile until Kraft died. He could only take comfort in the fact that he would see that happen.
“And I guess I will continue to. The next time we march into Etruria, it will be as invaders, not as homecomers,” said Richter, his face now growing serious. “Will you be able to do that? To raise your weapon against your home?”
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Post by Guinevere von Altenburg on Dec 5, 2015 22:17:52 GMT -6
Guinevere gave a little shrug. "Who knows. Maybe they were the wrong life choices, but they were the ones I made and I have to live with them." She did wonder sometimes if she had made the right choices. Sure, the idea of sitting around in a big house doing nothing all day sounded incredibly boring to her. But at the same time, it was a safe living. You didn't have to worry about if you'd make it through the day or not. She didn't think that type of life was for her, but maybe she could have gotten used to it. She'd never know now.
When Richter began to talk again, Gwen shook her head. Pushing her hair out of her face, she addressed him. "There's nothing to apologize for. I wouldn't have wanted anyone else as my first Commander, and there isn't anyone else that I'd rather be following now. And as to marching into Etruria..."
She knew that she was going against the country of her birth and home. She expected it to be harder but for some reason... It just wasn't. The only thing that mattered to her in Etruria at this point was her parents. She had actually been able to have limited contact with them since she left, through few letters that Rayl and her had been able to sneak in. In public, they had disowned her. But in their house, they still loved and believed in her. If they were able to liberate the country, they would be able to welcome her back with open arms. But until then, they had to play their part and keep themselves safe. Guinevere locked eyes with Richter, a fierce look in her eyes. "Yes. Yes I'll be able to do that."
The look faded as quickly as it had come, but it had shown a fierce resolve hid behind her calm demeanor. It was replaced with a reassuring smile. Gwen reached out and put a hand lightly on Richter's shoulder. "So don't worry about me. I'm supposed to be the one worrying about you, remember?"
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