[[Day 8 of Month -3, Bastille (Afternoon)]]<br/><span style="color: silver">“As if I’d believe that!”</span>Lethe protested in disbelief, one hand shoving Lance sideways.  Amusement and dismay warred on her face, unwilling to give credence to what Lance had just told her.<br/><br/>“I swear it’s true!”  The orange-haired Knight lifted his hands to his shoulders as if showing his innocence.  “They really did!”<br/><br/>The woman stared at him incredulously, visibly speechless.<span style="color: silver">“<span style="font-style: italic">What? Really?</span>”</span><br/><br/>The clear surprise finally made him lose his resolve.  Lance burst out laughing, unable to contain himself any longer.  The indignation spreading on the smaller Knight’s face only made him laugh more.  He reached a hand out and ruffled her hair, messing up previously neat strands.  “No.  Well.. Yes, they did, but not like you’re thinking.  Or, well, not the way<span style="font-style: italic">I</span>made it seem,” he amended with a self-deprecating smile.<br/><br/>Lethe huffed and rearranged her hair back into order, finishing with an imperious sniff of her nose.<span style="color: silver"> “See if I trust you again, Mister Lance Fitzherburg!”</span>She threatened with affected airs, turning her head away snobbishly.  Her mock outrage ended at the sound of a shout: “Caaappptttaaaiiinnn!”  Valiar was waving at the door they were headed for, one hand cupped around his mouth to augment his shout.  Seeing he had the duo’s attention, he beckoned them closer, prompting them to jog over.<br/><br/><span style="color: silver">“Yes, Valiar?”</span><br/><br/>“I just spoke with the medic,” The oldest Knight winked conspiratorially, “and he says a certain tiny Knightlette needs to scoot to bed.”<br/><br/>Said Knightlette frowned and shook her head,<span style="color: silver">“I need to go over the plans another time, make sure we don’t get any new intel that could affect our plans.”</span><br/><br/>Valiar released a long suffering sigh, shaking his head in mock sadness.  “That’s the<span style="font-style: italic">exact</span>same thing Adair said when I told him to get some rest. ‘Noo, I need to review the maps one more time!’”  He crossed his arms over his chest as he looked out into the courtyard thoughtfully, “If only there was someone who could convince him to get some rest.. Oh but Adair’s so stubborn sometimes.. You know how he gets,” he looked to the unamused Lethe for commiseration, “so slow he only learns by mimicking.”<br/><br/>Lethe glared at her medic, arms crossed over her chest unhappily.  There was a beat of silence, then another, then,<span style="color: silver"> “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing!”</span>She exclaimed in exasperation, her arms dropping violently to her sides.<span style="color: silver"> “Fine! Which room?”</span>Valiar’s melancholy mood immediately transformed into a grin, “You and Adair are sharing a room to make sure the both of you stay in bed. Excuse us, Fitzherburg.”  With a nod to the other Knight, Valiar took Lethe by the arm and started leading her to the room he’d wrangled out of some Bastille Knight called Makar.<br/><br/><span style="color: silver"> “I can find it by myself, Valiar.”</span>She finally spoke up with an amused look as she slipped her hand out of the other man’s,<span style="color: silver"> “Go get Adair and run your ridiculous story by him.  He does need to sleep as well.”</span>She endured his scrutiny for a moment before the veteran shrugged his shoulders and nodded in agreement.  “See you later, Cap.  I’m checking up on you later.”<br/><br/><span style="color: silver"> “Yes, yes,”</span>She shooed him off and then headed towards the room he’d secured for them.  She did still need to go over the plans a final time.  With such reduced forces, she was no longer certain (or as certain as she could be) that they would win.  If only.. She sighed and cut that thought off before it could form.  If only many things, none of them reality.  The room she entered was on the sparse side; it looked like the room foreign messengers would be stuck in while waiting for an audience: two twin sized beds lining the walls and a nightstand between them.  She sat down on the right-side bed, easing a boot off.  Well, even having a mattress and pillow was a luxury, she supposed.  Both boots now lined near the foot of the bed, she looked around the room but saw nothing.<br/><br/>A pincer attack at night.  Her head dropped down, her body slumping along with it.  She would have preferred to attack in the day, but with only two days to plan and execute the attack..  Why did these timelines have to be so rushed?  She knew they needed to attack Santa Olivia,<span style="font-style: italic">knew</span>it had to be taken down, but she would have preferred more time to prepare before attacking.  Who knew how long the Sinners had been there?  From the reports she’d seen, most people had avoided the area for fear of its misfortune clinging to them.  Superstitions.  But with everything that had happened on Palaugrim, she couldn’t blame them for their myths.  This land had been shrouded in the dark for too long.<br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic">Kill the Sinners. Just punishment. Fake Pristine Knights.</span></div><br/>And what little Light had come through had been warped beyond recognition.  No, she couldn’t blame them for their delusions.  No.  It was more the reason to fight, to clear out Santa Olivia.<br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic">A whip snapped against stone floors.  Tortured eyes under matted red and white hair.  Mottled blue and grey skin reached for her. KILL HER. RUN!</span></div><br/>Even with the pall of Eve’s imminent attack, she couldn’t let Sin exist any longer if she had the ability to end it.<br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic">We are gathered here today…</span></div><br/>There would never be another child like her.  Not while she still lived.<br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~</div><br/>“Come on, just make sure she stays asleep, okay?  You know how Captain is...”<br/><br/>“And I had to do this<span style="font-style: italic">in</span>her room and not just outside it.. why?”<br/><br/>“Uh…. I didn’t want you to block the halls?”  Valiar tried valiantly, an uncertain look on his face.  Didn’t Adair get almost no sleep yesterday?!  Why was he asking such good questions?!<br/><br/>“How have you been married for so long when you make up such bad excuses?”  Adair wondered aloud with a roll of his eyes.  He too knew exactly what the other Knight was up to.  With Captain sleeping, it was even more important that he look over the plans they had put together before the assault this evening.  However, even he knew how important rest before a battle was.  It hadn’t helped that Valiar had pointed out that the others, who had all gotten a good night’s rest, were just as capable of reviewing the plans, updating it for any changes, and would be depending on him during the battle.  The last had been the one to convince him to go along with the farce of “ensuring Captain rest” (though it was a valid concern).<br/><br/>The two made their way to the room before Valiar could respond, probably to the older man’s benefit.  When they opened the door, it was to the sight of Lethe deep asleep atop the covers.  Her legs were still hanging off the side of the bed even as she laid on her side: it looked like she’d sat down and then toppled over when she fell unconscious.  The two men shared an amused look.  They’d been together long enough to not need words as Adair lifted her and Valiar pulled the blankets back, tucking the corners in around her when she was set down.<br/><br/>“Now go make sure she doesn’t wake up.”  The veteran whispered, jabbing his finger at the other bed.  The only response was a deadpan look, but Adair did as bade.  When Valiar was sure both were lying in bed, he backed out and closed the door.<br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~~~</div><br/>[[Day 8 of Month -3, Bastille (Night)]]<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Five. Six. Seven.</span>Exhale.<span style="font-style: italic">One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.</span>Hold.<span style="font-style: italic">One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.</span><br/><br/>Leon counted the last number in the breathing exercise and then opened his eyes, feeling his nerves settle into a semblance of normality.  He’d done patrols and Sinner raids and even rushed headfirst into overwhelming Reapers, but this was his first time really… going to battle, knowing that in X hours (or, as of right now, in less than a few minutes) he was going to be charging into an enemy fortress filled with Light knew what.  It was pretty daunting, he’d admit, to knowingly walk into what might be his death.<br/><br/>It also didn’t help that the last time they’d been here, all that had remained were corpses.  He looked uneasily at the fortress, still remembering the bodies hanging from the walls. A shudder travelled down his back at the memory.  Thank the Light they weren’t still there.  If he had to fight with them above..  He shook the morbid thoughts and the half-formed memories from his head.  He was better than before, than the last time he’d been here.  His fingers brushed against his breastplate, remembering the letters he’d stored there.  He hadn’t dared bring them to Palaugrim a second time--they were too precious to risk losing--but the reminder was enough to fill him with resolve.  He wasn’t walking into his death.  He had his team beside him.  His gaze turned to the others.  Seraphim was smirking slightly, one fist dangling by her side while the other was cocked on her hip.  Deimos stood still beside her, his attention on the Knights around them.  Cricket was bouncing on the balls of his feet, face filled with uncharacteristic grim resolve.  The man was usually more carefree, baiting Seraphim into banter.  YunQiao was also looking in Santa Olivia’s direction as he unconsciously twisted his hands into various wrist stretches.<br/><br/>Vice Captain and Captain stood with a group of Knight Captains, going over the plan one last time.  Currently, a tall Knight with orange hair was speaking: the “Lion” Lance Fitzherburg.  Why was he here?  The other “Crests” had been training Team Prissy; wouldn’t it make more sense for Fitzherburg to be with Master Guilford’s squad?  A hand clapped into his shoulder, figuratively and knocking his thoughts into disarray.<br/><br/>“Why the pensive look?”  Valiar rumbled with a curious look at the group of Knight Captains and then Leon.  The blonde shrugged; his speculation hadn’t been that important, “Let’s go group up with the others.”<br/><br/>“Sounds good to me.”  The older man agreed, striding towards the rest of their team, “You’re not nervous, are you?”<br/><br/>“No.”  Leon replied, surprised to find it was true.  He wasn’t any more nervous than if this was a normal Sinner raid.  He had been personally trained by Lady Ethera; he was following a plan that Captain and Vice Captain had put together; and he was with his team.  What was there to be nervous about?<br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~~~</div><br/>Seraphim crossed her arms, catching the downward strike on her interlocked forearms.  One hand snatched the over-extended arm and used it to pull the Reaper closer while the other pummeled the body with punches.  Each strike was accompanied with a satisfying<span style="font-style: italic">crunch</span>.  Holy magic hadn’t worked well against the Reapers last time, but divine magic seemed to work fine.  There was a flash of light and the body fell to the ground, decapitated.  The pink-haired Knight let the body drop before scanning for another Reaper.  About twenty yards away, a group of Knights were scattering from a Pure Sinner as a Reaper appeared.<br/><br/>Captain had made it clear that any Knights without divine magic should avoid engaging with the hooded Sinners.  There were enough enemies without wasting energy on creatures resistant to their holy magic.  The Reapers would be taken care of by those trained with divine magic.  Unfortunately, on their side of the attack, that was four of them: her, Deimos, Adair, and Lethe.  Seraphim bounded for the Reaper, reaching it at the same time as Captain.  What? Hadn’t Captain been helping Deimos with that other--well, it wasn’t important.  The two women made quick work of the Reaper, the elder throwing the body into an advancing group of Sinners.<span style="color: silver">“Go help them.”</span>Seraphim looked in the direction of Captain’s nod, seeing the squad they’d just saved re-engaging the Pure Sinner.  With a look back at Captain (who had vanished again, somehow), the Knight ran off in acknowledgment.<br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~</div><br/>“It’s an ice attack,” Leon told YunQiao even as he blasted an incoming Sinner with Banish.  He could feel the nature of YunQiao’s magic changing into water to counteract the Pure Sinner’s spell.  “And there’s a Sin attack from above left, about five seconds.”  The caster looked in the stated direction but formed a barrier just as the bolt struck their location.  “Engaging,” The blonde informed his two squadmates, getting a grunt of acknowledgment from Valiar.  The two remaining members of Squad Ten turned so their backs were against each other.<br/><br/>Leon dashed for the Sinner, sword drawn.  The beast reared on its hindlegs, kicking out with forelegs but Leon had anticipated the attack.  He dodged to the side, knowing the Sinner would have a hard time turning in time to defend.  He slammed an Absolve filled hand onto the Sinner’s back and ducked under the Sinner’s desperate flailing.  The holy magic soon cleansed the taint away and a human woman slumped to the ground.  With a huff of relief, Leon hefted the woman into his arms and ran back towards his team.  Now what was he going to do with her?<br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~</div><br/>Cricket dashed through the window the Sin blast had come through, narrowly avoiding being skewered by a Pure Sinner leg.  He hopped onto one of the Pure Sinner’s knees and stabbed down.  Pure Sinners weren’t known for their mobility, but they had a tendency to move at the worst times ever.  With just him here, he didn’t want it moving more than necessary.  He was blasted away by a sudden surge in Sin and he hit the wall with a shout.  Opening his eyes once more, he paused in confusion.  Where had the Pure Sinner gone?  He tightened the grip on his sword only to feel something unusual.  Smooth wood slide under his hands: a mop?  His hands were unusually bare and his armor!  It wasn’t on him anymore; he wore trousers and a long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves pushed back to expose his forearms.  What was going on?<br/><br/>“Broootthheerrr!”  A familiar voice shouted out from far away, the words barely distinguishable.  “Mom and dad--”<br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~</div><br/>Valiar tackled the frozen Cricket, dodging under the blast of Sin that would have killed them.  There was a troubling crack as Cricket’s head hit the ground but awareness flooded back into suddenly alert eyes.  “Wha?”<br/><br/>“How many fingers am I holding up?”  Valiar interrupted, holding up three fingers.  Dilated pupils tried to focus on them but the cleric could see how Cricket was struggling.  “Okay, never mind.”  He lifted his squadmate into a fireman’s carry and waved at the still fighting Leon and YunQiao.  The former raised a hand in acknowledgment and then the assault suddenly intensified, granting the cleric time to run out.  Outside, he spotted Seraphim landing a final blow on a Pure Sinner before the creature was defeated by Banishes.<br/><br/>“Seraphim!”  He shouted, catching his squadmate’s attention, “Pure Sinner up there with Leon and YunQiao!”  The other Knight nodded and started running towards him and the entrance he stood by, the Knight squad she’d been working with trailing behind her.  Valiar granted them an<span style="font-style: italic">Arms x Vernier</span>buff as they passed each other, finally unloading the still groggy Cricket on the ground in a safe spot.<br/><br/>“Bad time to be zoning out,” Valiar chided even as he healed the injured Knight, “Whatever your problem is, it doesn’t belong on the battlefield.  We’re depending on you.  Don’t make us regret it.”<br/><br/>Cricket said nothing as the healing magic washed over him, feeling the warmth of Cleanse intermingled in the sensation.  The echo of Konan’s voice faded from his ears as he purposefully focused on the present.  Valiar was right.  Captain had already left him behind even though he was also capable of divine magic.  Purportedly, it was to assist Valiar, Leon, and YunQiao as they were used to working from a distance; realistically, he was sure she’d heard of how he’d failed at the esoteric art.  After all, Adair would have been a better compliment to the other three.  The moment the healing glow ended, Cricket bounded back up to his feet with a grim mask of determination.  “Got it; it won’t happen again.”  He could feel Valiar’s assessing gaze on him but the cleric said nothing more, just turning to jog back into the battle.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic">Broootthheerrr!!</span></div><br/><br/>Cricket ran off after the older Knight.