>>6012274The relief of the blessed cameo seems to calm your nerves a little bit. You should remember that it is not your own strength that matters, but that of Ansàrra. You are not alone in this endeavour.
And yet — the thought of facing thralls of the Seven Sisters makes you feel a knot at the base of your stomach. During your training with Master you have faced mindless beasts and corrupted highwaymen. The two of you have carried out the justice of the Holy Land with nary a trouble.
But usually only fully-trained Knights are allowed to face anything like this.
Your eyes shift towards the carriage, with its pulled curtains, darkened glass, and its aloof occupant. A strange thought occurs to you: maybe it’s not four apprentice Knights escorting her, maybe it’s the other way around.
You grip on the reins and focus yourself on keeping pace with the carriage, as the rain seems to let up a little.
Then, the martial chaplain turns his horse to the right and starts to run a large circle around the carriage.
“Heed me and heed me well, ladies in wait!” He shouts as the droplets shower his metal armour. “Trouble awaits ahead! We shall take a moment for a hearty meal and a prayer.” He reaches close to you.
“I see you have stopped daydreaming, madama Candente. Keep your wits about you.”
“I hardly ever let them wander, Sir.” You reply with a sharp nod, then swiftly pull back your silver locks beneath your cape.
The chaplain does not grace you with an answer. He runs to share words with the other three, and when he reappears ahead of the carriage he’s aiming his sword at a spot further uphill. You can make out the shape of a large slab of rock peeking out into the dusk, like a raven’s beak scraping at the clouded sky.
“We shall take a quick break there”
“What if we wish to apply sacred oils and petition for a Sanction ere the fight, Sir?” Asks Salicera’s smooth voice from the spot to your left that’s hidden by the carriage. The chaplain hesitates at her question, then turns his head towards the carriage.
“I will have to ask when we arrive.”
Nobody else speaks as you follow the road towards the slab of rock.
Your right hand moves to reach for your assigned weapon, seeking comfort. Master trained you with many different ones, but after seven months you can feel a little bit of kinship with it. Your hand coils around…
>the pommel of a battle axe. Master has always praised your heavy strikes, piercing armour and putting the fear of Ansàrra into the hearts of heathens.>the hilt of a longsword. Master taught you how to be graceful and quick on your feet, dance around your target as a swift steel hornet, and twice as vicious.>the short metal shaft of a morningstar. You were a little surprised when they assigned you with the ancestral weapon of Saint Bragia. Perhaps it is a good omen, and it makes you feel like you are on the right path. 