21 September 2023 part 2
Kyra had always figured traveling with the saintess was bound to come with complications. But this… this was something else. The [x] weeks’ travel from the holy city of Naothair to Cathwain had been uneventful, other than a rare bandit or several, and the fact Fera felt the need to check in at the local cathedrals seemed to come with the job description.
Then the templar captain had stopped them on their way out, with “concerns about the company her holiness was keeping”. Which… fine. It was annoying, but, fair. Kyra knew she wasn’t the most respectable person around, especially when she got herself drunk. Which was often.
No, Kyra’s issue was that the dumbass reused to listen to anything Fera had to say on the subject. Wasn’t she the saintess? Wasn’t her word supposed to be like law or something for these folks? What was even the point of being stuck with the job if the girl got all of the responsibilities but none of the benefits?
“My lady, please, I implore you. Let one of my templars take over as your bodyguard, and let this… drunkard… back to drowning whatever demons plague her elsewhere.”
“I appreciate your concern, Captain [Neumann], but Kyra has proven herself perfectly capable of defending both my person and my honor, regardless of her degree of inebriation. There’s really no need for you to be concerned.”
The templar–[Neaumann], Fera said?–blinked. “If the issue is a matter of gender, my lady, there are a number of women under my command who would be honored to serve at your side.
VERSION 1
Surely they can serve you better than this mercenary? There’s a large difference between fighting bandits and fighting demons.”
Next to her, Kyra heard Fera mutter, “Oh pickles.” Kyra wasn’t sure if that was because of her or the captain, but she wasn’t going to worry about it. She took a deep breath and glared at the templar. “So your brats know what it feels like, then? They’ve seen demons murder their family? Friends? Watched their homes–their whole village–burn around them? Are they haunted by nightmares still, years, even decades later?”
Both Fera and captain stared at Kyra with wide eyes. She spit on the ground and growled, “Don’t talk sh** about things you don’t understand.”
She turned to leave.
VERSION 2
Surely one of them is more trustworthy than this mercenary?”
Kyra’s hands tightened on her belt, and she forced herself to breath slowly and keep calm. “Are you implying I am not as good as my word?”
The templar shrugged. “It is well known that a mercenary’s loyalties lie with the highest bidder. And while I doubt the demon king would be making any viable offers, there are some less-than-reputable nobles who might be willing to pay a veritable fortune to keep the saintess under their thumb. I’m just saying, a more trustworthy and reputable entourage–”
He was interrupted by a snort of laughter from the wall. The three turned to find a hooded man lounging atop it, a nihilistic smile across his face. “You only need to visit the [slums district name] to see the famous ‘honor of the templars’ at work. Half of them would sell out your ‘precious saintess’ before night fell.”
Based on the way the templar captain grimaced, there was at least some truth to that statement. His expression did a lot to relieve Kyra’s building temper.
The templar opened his mouth to reply, but the stranger cut him off. “Besides, your saintess is right. Look at the way the lady carries herself; she’s no green recruit in shining armor. No, she’s a fighter, and she’d be a more capable protector than any of your little knightlings. Probably better than you, even.”
The captain scowled and glanced at Kyra. She shrugged, then grinned as she suggested, “I know a way we could find out.”
From beside her, Fera muttered, “Oh, pickles.” Kyra decided to pretend like she hadn’t noticed.