The Price of Freedom (Richter/Clair)

[Richter Abend]

OoC: This takes place before the assault on Ariston's fortress on the way back to Richter's tent after Clair got a face full of poison gas.

Clair slung over his shoulder, ex-High Officer Richter trudged back to his tent. His Assistant Officer was fairly light, so carrying her wasn't too physically exerting, but despite her words, he couldn't help but be worried about her condition. A small amount of poison, even just the fumes, could be harmful, even if not fatally so. He'd gone through fits like this after plenty of botched assassination attempts on his clients back when he was working as a bodyguard in Etruria.

Still facing forward, he addressed Clair.
"You sure you're alright?"

[Clair Feldsky]

"You sure you're alright?" She heard him ask. They were on their way somewhere, she didn't really know where, or care. Richter was taking her somewhere to recover for a while, and that was that. She trusted him to know where they should go.

She turned her fuzzy mind to the question he'd asked. No. She wasn't sure she was alright. She had a headache, her eyes and nasal passages were still burning, and her throat still felt raw, but she could also feel the systems in her body kicking in to fix the problems. The headache had already come down a great deal from where it had been, and her eyes weren't tearing so much. She was actually beginning to make out shapes as more than blurry blobs of color. She still felt dizzy, a little light headed, and somewhat weak but it was clear that this was not going to be a lasting problem. At least she hoped that's what the signs pointed to. Her heart really went out to Rayl... and to the soldiers that were going to have the stuff delivered to them through their water.

"I'm sure I'll be over this in a few hours. Fit as an Illian folktune." She said, trying to show how she was confident of her recovery. Confidence had always had a place in her. Even when buried by insecurity, there was always a bit of confidence, and perhaps hope, pushing her forward to achieve the goal.

They traveled a bit more, and she began to see clear enough to recognize that they were near the Command tents.

"My heart goes out to those who will be suffering from this poison soon. It's not something that you'll wish to encounter." There was a kind of dark humor in the fact that the very weapon that would aid her the next day, was hurting her now.

Something was bothering her. It was the poison, but she was no longer thinking about the physical effects. This was something that would not go away with time. She'd just as well have it out here, as let it wait. Or maybe they'd talk more on it once they got wherever they were going. She gave a rough sigh.

"Commander, I don't like this poison business. Something about it... it just feels dirty..." She'd been trained to be refined, and polite, honorable, and to uphold chivalrous behavior, at Arphen, in order to represent Illia as it should be. She'd also been taught to win in the most efficient way possible, to cut losses when she could. These lessons at times seemed to clash, quite often in fact, but each Illian had to find his or her own balance to the system. She'd alway found a way to come to terms with these sorts of troubles before, but something about this just refused to go away without some real thought. She needed someone to talk to about it.

Ordinarily, she would have sought out an instructor, or her parents on the subject. Failing that, a trusted friend. She liked to think of Richter as more than just her commander. He was an instructor for her, and a friend, as well, she hoped. Always before, he'd seemed to put her concerns to rest with his rock steady surety.

[Richter Abend]

Richter nodded his head slowly as Clair voiced her concerns. He could tell she was struggling with his plan. To be completely honest, Richter hadn't completely accepted the idea yet either. It was low, dirty, and made him feel like he was as bad as the men he was fighting. True, Richter's parents had always taught him to fight to win, and life had proven that such an attitude was necessary, but he also believed that there was honor in combat. There was no combat in this. There was no honor in poison.

"I don't like it either," replied the commander. "I won't try and sugarcoat it: Using poison is underhanded and dirty. Instead of facing the enemy head on, we're using trickery and shadow tactics..." Richter paused. One could tell he really believed what he said. "Then again, I don't like this war either. It'll probably cause death and destruction on a large scale. Many cities will be burned, and many men will die, but that doesn't stop me from fighting it," spoke the commander, his voiced laced with assurance. "Because I know that if I don't, more innocents will die regardless."

The two reached Richter's tent. Opening the door-flap, he guided Clair in and sat her down on his chair. He then walked over to his desk, grabbing a pitcher of and a glass, pouring his assistant officer some water. Richter handed Clair the glass.
"Here, drink this," he said with concern.

[Clair Feldsky]

Clair exhaled softly, in partial relief, as she leaned on her commander. It was a relief that she wasn't the only one who was ill at ease with the mission. The thief boy, and the healer, Evayl, had seemed to hardly question the idea, and the strategist, Mavick, hadn't even seemed to care. They were all so ready to make use of the treacherous weapon...It troubled her a bit. Then there was Rayl. She didn't know him personally, but his reputation would lead people to think he would never support use of such a tool. Rather, he would oppose it, probably strongly.

She couldn't agree with either extreme. She believed it needed to be treated as a possible weapon. If that's so, then why am I having such a hard time accepting it's use...?

Everything Richter was saying was true, and he was opening her eyes to the fact that this war would result in more than it's effect on her, the army, and a few cities.

Once they made it inside, and she'd been seated, she took the glass and nodded a brief thanks before starting to drink it. It was long slow drink which left it half at half it's capacity, giving more time to mull over his words.

She stared down at the table, and shook her head, lightly, carefully, so as not to increase her headache. "This war... is horrible. A belief system which is supposed to inspire...." Well, she wasn't really sure what it was originally trying to teach, but she was sure that it wasn't this. "You're right. Everything you told me is right. There'll be alot of suffering from this, caused by all sides. Contributing to that is hard, but standing by, and doing nothing in all this would be unbearable."

"This poison.... We really need it, don't we?" The question hung in the air, with the power of a statement from one resigned to an unsettling task. She still hated it, but now that she knew her commander's reasons, was willing to listen more. It was one of the best ways to cut their losses, if it could be delivered successfully.

[Richter Abend]

Slowly but surely, Richter looked Clair in the eyes, and nodded his head.
"Yes, we need it," he replied. "More blood will be spilled before this war is over, and I will make sure that as much of it as possible is the Prophet's." The commander let out a small sigh before grabbing a stool and putting it down in front of Clair. Sitting on it, he crossed his arms. "The problem is, we are outnumbered, less equipped, and less supplied than the Prophet's men. He has the entire force of Etruria behind his fist. We're just a band of rebel soldiers, and our only support is what we can scrape up from supporting countries and plundered supplies."

Richter took a deep breath. He wanted to make himself very clear. If he wanted anyone on his side, it was Clair.
"This poison," he said, "is our equalizer. It's the only thing that gives us a fighting chance against the power in Ariston's fort. Normally I wouldn't resort to such tactics, I prefer steel, but this next battle is too important to leave to chance." Richter clenched his fist and looked down at the ground. "Faith is a double-edged sword. Ariston must be killed. The death of a "chosen" leader, especially one as important as Ariston, will shake the very foundation of the Etrurian cause." The rebel commander looked back up at Clair with steely eyes. "Only once we have managed to win a decisive victory against the Prophet can we rally others to our cause. We must show Elibe that Etruria is not invincible. We must put those butchers in their place. To that end, every man in that fort..." He took a long pause, realizing his irony. "...must die."

Richter shook his head.
"If I sound like I'm being extreme, it's only because I am. After seeing what happened to Ostia...I don't see how I can win this war otherwise."

[Clair Feldsky]

Clair listened as Richter spoke. She understood. They needed to prove that they were a force worthy of being relied upon to Elibe. An army that could contribute to the war, hold it's own. Not merely get in the way. If they could manage to defeat High Commander Arriston's forces, while holed up in a fortress, on the the sacaen plains, then that would do a solid job of proving that, as well as avenging the treacherous deaths of their comrades in arms. It would raise their armies morale, it would alarm the Etrurians,.... She hadn't even looked far enough ahead to think about the rest of the Inquisitorial Army. There were still a great deal of fighters back in Ostia. Moreover, she'd joined the army in the field, so she really had no estimate of the strength still held in reserve by the Prophet.

She finished another drink, before speaking. "I understand. We need a victory to show everyone that we can win.... This battle will have a wider effect than Sacae..."She glanced down and to the side, pressing back a few wayward locks of blond hair as she did so. She'd come to a conclusion.

"It is extreme Commander, but so is what we're fighting against. I'd love to offer them a last chance to lay down their arms, but we simply don't have the strength to handle Prisoners of war...." Things were beginning to come clearer now. Something had finally worked it's way into her mindset. She looked up, leaving behind the insecurity of a trainee for good, and trading it for the dedication of a knight. "It's not our job to get them to lay down their weapons. Our job is to fight, to stop the Prophet's army... even if that means with poison. We're not keeping them from leaving the fight, if they choose to. That's their choice."

[Richter Abend]

Richter couldn't help but smile lightly. He appreciated Clair's resolve. Unfortunately, she was learning how harsh the world really was, but it was necessary. In an ideal world, everyone would deal in terms of surrender. Heck, in an ideal world, there would be no war.
But this world wasn't ideal, and Richter couldn't afford to be either.

The rebel commander stood up and placed his hand on Clair's shoulder. It was soft, as expected from a woman, but it was muscled with years of training. She wasn't the same nervous trainee Richter had met at Salvation point the first time they were here. She had grown. She was coming into her own.
"That is their choice, and we have made ours," said the commander. He paused. "I'm glad to have you with me, Clair. There are few people I'd rather have fight at my side."

With a nod, Richter turned to the tent flap door. The sun was beginning to set. If they were to attack Ariston at midnight, he and Rayl would need to mobilize the forces soon. Walking towards the door, Richter stopped to face his assistant officer.
"We'll need to move out now if we want to surprise Ariston with his pants down," said Richter. "Spread the news, I'm going to talk with Rayl."

[Clair Feldsky]

Clair felt his hand on her shoulder, and appreciated the gesture, that accompanied the compliment. At one time, such words would have set stars dazzling in her eyes, now though, she felt that she had truly earned the recognition she was being given.

"Thankyou Commander. I feel privileged to be working under someone as talented, and understanding as you are." A skilled leader, and skilled fighter; someone who could set her at ease over their purposes, or at least help her come to understand things better. Someone who valued his soldiers lives.

"We'll need to move out now if we want to surprise Ariston with his pants down," said Richter. "Spread the news, I'm going to talk with Rayl."

"Yes Commander. I'll get right on it." As he left, she set to getting up, and readying herself for the night's march. Her body seemed to have finally righted itself from the limited effects of the poison. With a deep breath, and a quick step, she collected her battered slim lance, and then headed out to begin spreading word of the army's move.