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<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-r">Diplomacy 36 vs DC 20</span></span>
You and your men fall silent for a moment, the air in the church going as still as the glassy waters of Lake Lilien on a windless day. Boric and the men-at-arms tense up and wait for an explosion. If any one of the soldiers under your command had done as Damien had done, a raised voice would have been the least of their concerns. You have little tolerance for folk who abandon their positions.
In the days of your grandfather, the sentence for slipping out of formation without permission would be twenty lashes. Those were relaxed in your father's day, though not for lack of discipline. Philosophers claimed the rod and lash ineffective means for keeping stable order, and the men who put those philosophies to practice found even greater success with alternate means.
You have found success in keeping order among your men-at-arms by making them do pushups as a penance.
Of course, you cannot just demand Damien drop and give you fifty. The purge of this village is messy affair because it involves three forces with completely separate chains of command. Eren and his warriors have only a loose hierarchy and do not truly answer to anyone. You answer to the Grand Duke of Sonnenblume as one of his sworn knights. Damien answers to the Grand Master of the Order of the Imaginary Colors.
While both you and Damien are ultimately sworn to the service of the Daffodil Throne, your places in the Kingdom's hierarchy are on completely separate branches. In truth, he has no more obligation to tell you what he's doing and where he's going than you have to him.
Still, you feel the need to inform him that, "It would be helpful if you could keep me informed, next time you decide to run off into the fog. Otherwise, you might get mistaken for an apostate in mist, and end up on the wrong end of an ally's blade."
Boric doubletakes at what you say, and quickly tries to follow things up with, "What madame means to say-"
"-Is that she's quite concerned for my wellbeing, <span class="mu-i">hah</span>!" Damien lets out a bark of laughter. The magenta flames that peak through his blindfold twinkle with merriment. With a wave, he dismisses Boric's concern and says, "I'll keep that in mind. It'd be a shame to ruin my boyish good looks with a smiting or three..."
Your lips curl into a thin smile at his response. Fiona spoke the truth when she told you of Damien's rotten sense of humor, but you don't mind playing into it if it means continued cooperation. "So... where are these reinforcements you mentioned? We found some children... did you find their parents?"
For some reason, Damien finds your question awfully amusing. "Grandparents, maybe? A bit older than that?"
A frown crosses your face that gets mirrored by Boric. You share a look with him, before telling Damien that, "We're in the midst of a purge, Damien. It's good you rescued hostages, but we can't-"
