Rhea's Knight

Catherine had been assigned to help get the new knight ready. She wasn’t sure who they were, but only that their name was Charloette and that it’d be pretty easy to spot them from their attire. Catherine wondered what exactly was meant by that. After all most knights worse relatively heavy armor. 

Catherine herself had quite a bit of armor on at all times and so did Alois. Shamir and Seteth didn’t, but they also had different roles in the army. So they weren’t required to, nor was it always appropriate for them to. So when she entered the barracks she didn’t expect to see…. the lack of protection that Charlotte donned.

The only protection she truly had was… her legs, shoulders, and neck? Her midriff was showing and her chest armor was nothing but fabric. Catherine never cared if people wore more revealing clothing, or more conservative clothing, to each their own. But she was a knight about to go on a dangerous mission! She would need protection from weapons! As…. admittedly beautiful as she was, she needed to keep herself safe to keep the student safe.

“Hey there. Name’s Catherine. I’m going to take a guess and say you’re the newbie right? Charlotte?” She asked curiously as she walked up to her.

“I wouldn’t say that. Just a Knight of Rhea. As many of the others are here. As you are now too. Looks like you may not have gotten your armor yet. Need help finding the armory? Or was the prepared not the proper size?” Catherine asked curiously, not letting her face show that she had recognized the woman’s act. Ironically she had to play dumb herself, pretending just to be a more on point knight than the rest. She wasn’t what went through the newbie’s head, and until she did it was best to observe and note down.

She was honestly hoping Charlotte would just go put it on, because at that point this conversation could end. She had to at least warn Alois.... But he was married so... It should be fine. 

( 乌鸫 ) — The chase takes them back to the catacombs. With the exception of locating a new entrance, the plan has gone without a hitch but he cannot help the concern that bleeds into his hand even as he steadies himself against the rocky surfacing and heads down into its depths. The rope had been serviceable at best, but even he could tell the fibrous threading was starting to give way. No sooner does he think this does he see that woman fire off an arrow to lead the mages off their trail. She is a skilled archer, he must admit.

Reservations make him wonder if she would have been better suited to delaying the arrival of the Morfian mages along with the other two, but that is kept quiet and tucked into cheek. The last thing he needs is to incite her wrath.

And predictably, the rope snaps but he does not rush forward in time before she hits the ground. “Are you alright?”

Lon'qu can get no closer before he’s suddenly jerked from standing and the relative dark of the catacombs turns off-kilter. Head snaps back over his shoulder, breath catching in his throat. So, the beast had arrived to its final destination at last, had it? “Of course,” comes his next reply before he draws his sword from its sheath, but offers her his hand so that he could steady her onto her feet. ( The apprehension is gone, replaced instead with the desperate need to survive. ) It’s only once she is does he disappear into the darkness.

Heart is squeezed like a vice in his chest.

Fear is not a familiar feeling that he associates with the battle. But, he is desperately afraid now that perhaps for all the training those children claimed they had — it would not be enough. Again, he is rocked from his feet at as the serpent trawls through the catacombs. Its wretched cry as flesh is rended from bone and it grows louder and louder as it approaches, Lon'qu reaching out to jerk Mozu and that other child ( his name, the swordsman forgets ) into the nearest alcove.

A flash of steel in the dark.

lon'qu rolls a 13 ( hit )! but, leto rolled a 19 ( critical hit )!

And wing is narrowly reamed from its body, stopping just short of the bone. Leto reels, screeching and Lon'qu turns to call to the others left behind to give chase when the beast gives way and its wing — barely holding on, the tendons pulled taught and sinew and veridian blood — turns as the serpent rushes forward. Before he can think to move, it’s already lashed out with furious and teeth made of the sharpest of knives and it tears, rips at his sword arm.

He can hear nothing. Just the screaming, his screaming as he furiously works to yank his arm from its vicious jaws and he bleeds. Gods, he bleeds.

Catherine heard magic from behind her, seeing Python and Inigo face off against someone. Oh.... the mage Catherine felt iffy about.... Those two had it. She was confident they’d be fine. Still she wouldn’t be long. Not in her mind at least. When she heard the screaming from deeper within the cave, she knew where she had to be.

Catherine charged at Leto, seeing that it had a firm grasp on Lon’qu’s arm. She held out her sword and soon it stabbed into Leto, sliding deep into its neck. She smiled and pulled upwards. While it wasn’t a perfect cut due to the tough nature of Leto’s scales and muscle, the wound it spread and widened. Leto let go in a furious roar, and rose up above the two to strike again. Catherine quickly shoved Lon’qu out of the way before running towards the trap, raising the sword above her and having it spark brightly.  Leto was focused on her now.

“I’ll lead it to the trap and keep its focus! Some of you get on the edge of the trap and watch for mages! Get healed if you’ve been hurt!” Catherine barked. She knew Lucina was the student in charge but... if she took the brunt of Leto it’d be best for everyone. Lucina could ensure the trap went off, and the mages were dealt with enough so Catherine could help after Leto died. She wasn’t sure what Lucina’s.... “Crest” could do but she didn’t feel it like she felt others. Until she knew, she wouldn’t push her too much.

She ran towards the mishmash of pillars and stalactites that were weakened by the team before. So far, she saw no mages but her attention was on Leto, and making sure to run away fast enough that it didn’t quite get her. 

She was soon in the middle of the trap, and turned around and pointed her sword directly at the creature rushing her way. Leto was smart enough to raise its head, accidentally hitting the ceiling and having the first stalactite fall onto it’s tail, piercing it.

Catherine stood in the center, her armor earning new kinks as she dodged out of the way of the full attacks of Leto. A full smile presented itself on Catherine’s face, her eyes shone with excitement, and her movements were full of energy. Yes, this was a challenge.  

Anticipation rolls of the team in waves, coating the air they breath. Weeks of enduring suspicious mages, short tempers, and sand covered everything finally ends with this one battle. Inigo rolls his shoulders with a half smile. This pre-fight feeling is something he never thought he’d have to feel again, and yet.

Is it so terrible that it almost feels normal? Some things never change indeed. Different continent, same war.  Inigo readjusts his grip on the bow, Mozu’s advice floating in the back of his mind. Speaking of Mozu. Her flare should be going up any second. Inigo alternates from watching the clear blue sky to the old spire him and Python are stationed across from. It’s a fascinating piece of architecture with some truly beautiful art decorating the stones.

As if on cue, the flare arced gracefully across the sky in perfect time with an ear splitting screech. Inigo grimaced, hoping all those vials of slimy green liquid and even the blood magic actually proved their worth. Capturing the beast and somehow killing it without incurring the wrath of the Mage Society isn’t the strongest of plans. He’d survived on much less, though. Please, Naga, watch over us.

Inigo returns Python’s nod and draws his own arrow. Palms are slick with sweat, fingers shaking with nerves. It takes him a couple tries to nock his weapon against the bow. He’s glad to be paired with a more experienced archer, though he can’t help wishing for a different blue haired soldier by his side.

Python goes still, eyes trained on the sky, arrow ready.

After an eternity measured in second, Leto herself appears. The undulating beast screeches her anger at the world once more.

The archer’s words soothe Inigo’s nerves. He nods again, grateful. “Ah, it’ll take more than that to kill ol’ Inigo!” One final grin before he returns his focus to the beast.

Glittering like a falling star, Python’s arrow hisses towards its target. Breathing in deep, Inigo pulls back his arm. The feathers on his weapon tickle his cheek. With a twang, he releases his hold. The gray fletching is soon a speck in the endless blue, carrying the hope of an entire people with it.

She can hear the screech as Leto takes to the skies, feel it in her bones. With one last glance up at the sky, Lucina lowered herself into the catacombs via the makeshit tunnel they’d constructed in their haste. She could only pray it’d hold through the cave-in, but she’d been up against worse odds. 

Sword strapped snugly at her side, calloused hand grabs a lit torch from its sconce, heading towards the entrance of the cave. Her other hand gently cradles a vial of Yevaud’s blood, ready to be spread at the signal. They needed to wound the beast before crushing it, Lucina doubted even the sheer pressure of the stone and ground could do enough damage alone.

But this–this is something she’s familiar with, comfortable with. A battle with unknown odds and every chance that something could go terribly wrong. She’d take the fall herself if she had to–she’d been reluctant to even have others come down with her, and she intended to keep them at a safe distance from the falling rubble.

Lips pursed, she examines their trap, the unsteady columns already on the verge of collapse. “Just a little bit longer…” She glanced up nervously as rubble clattered at her feet from the battle raging above, praying it would hold up long enough for Leto to reach the desired position. 

“Check the surroundings,” she called out–Lucina didn’t trust that the Mage society wasn’t lurking in the shadows, making sure they got their grubby hands on the beast–she intended to see the creature dead, no matter the consequences. “Make sure everything’s stable enough to hold then retreat. We’ll have to activate the trap quickly once Leto arrives.” 

It was safe to say that she was just bored, waiting for that dumb snake Leto to fall into this obvious trap, and decided to go on patrol to relieve her boredom. She quickly flicked her gaze from one pillar to another as she walked, making sure that each of the devices were in place and watching some dust fall from the pillars as the ceiling tremor-ed, a sign of the battle up above.

The whole plan was dumb, in her opinion. Even if Leto was dumb enough to be lured into these tunnels to begin with, there were nearly a million things in the plan that could go wrong. The devices could fail. Someone could get caught by the intentional cave-in. It might not even be enough to stop Leto.

But, of course, the real problem remained. Leto can fly. She had her doubts whether the thing was even able or willing to be lured down into such a cramped, underground space. It was their best shot, though, because, once again, the bloody thing can fly.

She stopped herself within sight of the underground lake and turned back, poking a little at her heavy leather jacket to cool herself down. If they weren’t all on duty, she could almost fancy herself a little dip in the lake. The desert really wasn’t something to joke about. Thankfully, the walls of the catacombs gave them all a little shelter from the desert heat.

She was worried. Inigo, Severa... Selena?, and Lucina worked together before. She knew they would promote a synergy with the rest of the group and lead them to a solid victory with Leto. But still.... the mage society bothered her. Lady Rhea’s orders were simply to neutralize the threat... but how the Mage Society acted reeked of the same bullshit nobility often did. They wanted this guy alive, but Catherine couldn’t let that happen. She wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

She smiled, hearing the creature screech in pain from the arrows. Leto began to retreat, downwards towards the Catacombs. The kids had set up something to lure it there and it seemed to be working. She prepped her sword as Leto began her descent. Catherine smiled, jumping down her relatively safe pillar towards the creature. All Catherine has to do was keep it on course and force it into the caverns.

“Out of the way!” She called out to anyone still below near the entrance.

Thunderbrand first, Catherine landed on Leto’s neck just below her head. The sword slicing deep into her skin, penetrating her scales. Red lightning cracked around the sword as the duo rushed into the catacombs. Leto reacted violently, brushing into the cavern walls in an attempt to brush Catherine.

At first, she held on, trying to encourage it to go towards the trap. It soon bucked her off. Catherine held tight to Thunderbrand as she was tossed against the wall. She expected some damage, but still, she was left breathless by the sudden stop of the wall. Pain rang through her body, an honestly familiar sensation at this point but by no means a good one. She struggled to breathe for a few moments before finally gasping for air.

She forced herself to take deep breaths, relying on the power of her Crest to stand back up and watch Leto slither towards the trap.

She was grateful Leto hadn’t rammed against the walls, she wouldn’t have known what would happened in that case. It could have ruined the catacombs system, or worse prematurely set off the trap. But with these..... relatively gentle groundings it should still be intact.

the air is chilly, but the fluff is warm

“It’s hand holding season.”

“I got the biggest blanket for us to share.”

“Get outside– you can see your breath in the air!” 

“Your cheeks are so red; it’s so cute!” 

“I’m not letting you forget an umbrella ever again.”

“My mom made soup and sent some for me to give to you.”

“I got us matching fuzzy socks.”

“This scarf isn’t big enough for two people.”

“If your hands get cold, you can put them in my pockets.”

“Maybe if I kiss you, you’ll feel warmer.” 

“I don’t care if it’s freezing, I want to walk through the park!”

“I made hot chocolate.” 

“Hug me; I’m cold and love you.”

“Your coat makes you look like a penguin.”

“Are you really walking in public wrapped in a blanket?”

“My bunny slippers are too cool for you.”

“These roses cost extra because of the season– I hope you’ll give me extra kisses as thanks.” 

“Are you cold? Let’s cuddle, it’ll make you warmer.”

“What time is it? Don’t answer, it’s Christmas.”

“If it snows, wake me up.”

“I thought it would get warm in the day, but I was wrong.”

“You stole another of my hoodies, didn’t you?”

“Christmas songs this early?”

“Please stay warm; I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I refuse to let you go– I’m cold.”

“It’s icy outside– also, can you help me limp to the couch?”

“I don’t need mistletoe to kiss you.”

“I’m glad I get to spend this season with you.”

“You’re my designated cuddle-buddy tonight so stay close.”

“Pajamas and movies sounds really nice.”

“Your favorite winter drink was back on the menu, so I got it for you.”

“Can we take holiday card pictures together?”

“Your cheeks are rosy and cute.”

“Are you shivering?”

“I ran you a bath since it’s freezing outside.”

“Stay in bed with me, it’s warmer here.”

“I don’t understand how you love this kind of weather so much.”

“I know you’re excited about the snow, but please put on better shoes than slippers!”

“The cookies and I are the only things hot this season.”

“I bought you a beanie! Isn’t the pompom cute?”

“Are you blushing or cold?”

“Oh, darn, I seem to have forgotten my mittens– please warm my hands?”

“Is it too early for Santa hats?”

“I don’t think cold weather is an excuse to drink ten times more coffee.”

“Well, you can never have too much hot chocolate.”

“I’m gonna stay up and wait for it to snow.”

“Being with you makes the season even better.”

“Since it’s cold should I start calling you ‘snow angel’?”

“Matching hoodies!”

“Are you going to share this coat with me all night?”

Though she must jump over several objects or duck every now and again, she’s enjoying herself. She dances around her obstacles, all while tossing the knight runes. Thunderbrand red lights up the room every several seconds, and it only adds to the energy of the room. But, it’s quick to end. 

The room goes quiet, after the last rune is destroyed. She stays still, arms outstretched as she listens for any kind of noise that may signal that an object is coming their way. When there is nothing, she relaxes and steps towards Catherine’s voice. 

“Yes… I believe that’s all of the runes.” A deep sigh. Her hand goes to her collar bone. “I’m glad that’s over.” Eyes travel up to where she thinks Catherine’s face is in the very dim light—not that there’s much of it in the first place—”You did a wonderful job, Catherine. Your swings were very impressive.” 

“Thank you. You did well yourself. For a choir teacher you sure had very agile maneuvers.” Catherine complimented. She wasn’t sure what the woman’s past was, but some things were better left for the mystery of things.

“Well.... I believe our job is done.” Catherine replied, putting her arm around Azura and leading her out of the room.

eyes flashed with an indiscernible emotion, perhaps … fear as her gaze traveled to the bandits rushing ahead. her breath caught in her chest, trapped like a small fluttering bird desperate to leave its cage. catherine’s voice was nearly drowned out from the pounding of her heart through her ears. 

her feet couldn’t travel fast enough as she backed away. instinctively she reached for her beaststone about her neck, pulsing red with energy, as she moved towards the end of the caravan where a few more bandits lay in wait.

her blood pounding, a white noise drowned out the voices and her heart beat faster and faster until she felt the stretch of skin become fur, the lengthening of her legs to better suit faster speeds and the unbridled strength that shot through arms turning to legs. she was monstrous.

with speed startling for her size, her arms reached for the bandits, easily brushing them away with one long swing, as one hit the back of a trunk and slid down with ease, the others had dodged her swing with a quick duck and aimed to swipe at her from the sides. how could they not see this coming ?

Catherine quickly dispatched of the bandit who had parried her and shocked the one who was getting up from the caravan. She then looked up towards the back of the caravan. Catherine was struck with awe for a moment as the tiny girl she was just talking to transformed into a massive beast. Velouria must’ve been immensely strong in this form. 

Catherine turned her eyes to the forest to see two more people there aiming bows, ready to shoot at her. It didn’t look like there were many more bandits. After all, three on her end, a couple on Velouria’s, and a few in the woods as back up was probably all they could afford. Catherine would be quick with the snipers.

“Didn’t think they were dumb enough to forget about me.” Catherine sighed, rushing at them. Her armor made her presence known and soon one of the archers had their sights trained on her. They shot at her, grazing her arm as she started shifting her position.

“HAAAA!” Catherine called out, her battle cry echoing towards the near by enemies and drawing more attention away from the young wolfskin. Catherine knew she’d be fine, but wanted to make sure no one got a long distance sneak attack on her.

She struck at the first near by archer, not bothering to use non-lethal damage as Thunderbrand quickly dealt with their foe. She held the body as cover in case more arrows came her way but continued rushing towards the second and last archer. She literally body slammed them as they attempted to flee. She then hit them with the flat of Thunderbrand, knocking them out.

She took a quick look towards Velouria, to see how she was doing on her end. It seemed a few of the town militia had already begun tying up the people Catherine had knocked out previously.

Adrenaline pumps through his veins, clearing his mind, narrowing his focus to the woman in front of him. Reverberations rang up his arm again as she blocked his swing. He takes in her eyes, the angle of her shoulders, the position of her feet.

Catherine easily pushes his sword aside and shifts her own balance. Placing her weight on her lead foot. Inigo’s eyes flicked up to her shoulders again, and even though her body language said she was aiming for his hips, he had learned to not fully trust her. Instead, he took a few steps backward, sword held in front of his torso.

Inigo’s suspicions are proven correct when at the last minute Catherine moves and swings for his shoulders. Gritting his teeth, he parries, knuckles white on his sword hilt. It’s not a perfect block, forcing him to plant his feet to halt Catherine’s momentum.

She’s strong. Inigo steps back again, the movement awkward. Typically he fights like he dances; heels barely touching the ground, center of gravity high, arms and knees kept loose.

He shakes hair out of his forehead. Fingers readjust. Inhale. He had discerned no clear vulnerabilities or weak spots. Exhale. Inigo makes his move, sword arcing down, aiming for Catherine’s wrist. He’s lucky they are only using training swords. A real weapon, depending on the quality, could do anything from slicing tendons to severing a hand. No duel is won by playing it safe.

Catherine studied Inigo. Immediately she was aware that he wasn’t.... watching her chest alone. No, he was properly fighting. He watched every movement in her body, even recognizing minor feints. Guarding his midsection and shoulder even though she was implying she’d hit his waist. He was a smart fighter, no once could deny that. 

His face seemed to reflect his struggle, gritting his teeth in reaction to her attack. He might not have had anyone spar him in earnest here, thought she could tell why. With the rumors circulating around him they’d probably assume him to be poor to spar. 

His step back was awkward. It seemed Catherine forced him to stand his ground when he was probably more of an agile fighter. This gave Catherine more information about his style. Had she been in a sincere fight, she’d have struck at him, hoping to end it, but she wanted to see more of his fighting.

He readjusted himself, getting ready to strike. The sword arced down, and while not a bad move Catherine was able to see through it. He was ten years too early to disarm her.

She moved her sword downwards to match the momentum and angle of Inigo’s strike. At their blades met, Inigo would probably realize he was in a very dangerous spot. Inigo’s blade was moving down and forward, at the angle away from Catherine’s body, which left Inigo open on one side. Catherine was in the perfect position to rush into him with her shoulder as her sword protected her body from his.

Catherine began to rush towards him, her sword traveling alongside his to prove protection as she began to rush him.

Catherine wondered how Inigo would react? Would he dodge in time? 

No advice; just an attack. Well, that suited him just fine! Catherine began by punching towards his right. The move was as transparent as he was, and even winded, Caspar dodged easily to the outside of her punch. The thought crossed his mind to counterpunch right onto her open flank, but something was off—her left arm was too low; was she somehow not fully committed to her attack? Somehow he knew he’d be summarily walloped if he went for this, so Caspar dodged wide instead. They circled around for but a moment (hardly a quarter turn) before the older knight attacked again. Her right arm again, but a cross punch; and her left was still low; no way he’d hit her front. But perhaps he was started to get a glimmer of an idea…

Reset, quarter turn. All this idyll was actually quite useful for recovering his strength. But he knew Catherine would scold him if he resumed his normal haphazard aggression; and besides, he wanted to see if he could get her at his own game, try a feint of his own. (When was the last time he’d had such a clear head in a fight?)

It wasn’t hard to feign exhaustion. His stance loosened; his breath deepened. But for the defiant set in his eye, he looked for all the world like his body was ready to throw in the towel ahead of his mind. To finish the picture, he threw a punch straight at her face, high and intentionally sloppy. Would she move as he hoped?

Caspar was moving.... wisely? Catherine was a bit surprised. He avoided her feint twice. He was starting to wisen up, to use his head and his opponent in battle. This was what Catherine liked to see in a trainee. But then his stance loosened and he began to go back into his... haphazard forms.

Catherine wasn’t mad.... just disappointed.

He sloppily attacked her, probably heavily influenced by his exhaustion. Well she may as well just kick his ass here and right now. She put up an arm to block the attack and got ready to bull rush him.  Though as she leaned forward to charge, Caspar suddenly changed his tactic.

He tucked and rolled to her left, completely side stepping Catherine. His rolling form was proper, going in with the shoulder to avoid damage to the neck. Catherine was impressed by that enough that for a millisecond she forgot she was trying to kick his ass. 

As he unfurled behind her he began to swing a leg towards hers. By keeping his center of mass low to the ground Catherine couldn’t physically retaliate, and by making her bull rush where she THOUGHT he’d be she couldn’t block. All she could do was try to dodge. 

His leg aimed for the back of her knees as Catherine took her running steps and transferred that energy to a jump, heading straight forward in an attempt to outpace his kick. IT BARELY WORKED! She could feel his boot ruffling the fabric of her pants as she landed a few feet away and shifted back to face him. She got out of her fighting stance and began laughing.

“Now THAT was some good thinking Caspar! You almost got me!” Catherine complimented. 

“Aw, you don’t gotta worry me none ‘bout any hold up- I’ve handed worse before!” She walked, huffing a bit as the hill got a tad steeper. “I’m fine, though I do ‘preciate the offer- she’s lighter than she looks, since I already field dressed ‘er. But yah don’t gotta keep up yer own work jus’ tah keep me company! Though, if yer patrollin’ I can tell yah I didn’t see or hear nothin’ ‘sides some animals that’re supposed tah be in there, an’ all the footprints I saw were weeks old.”

She smiled as Catherine laughed, shifting the bear on her back again. “Well, that’s only three kids yah listed there, an’ theres a hell’uva lot more than three kids at that school, ‘specially that lil’ blonde with the unfortunate bowl cut an’ that tiny girl with the white hair always goin’ on ‘bout how she’s not a kid- those two are skinnier than ivy vines in a drought! An’ I ain’t gonna sand by an’ watch if I know recipes tah bulk up any kid!” She glanced up and sighed in relief realizing the hill was tapering out.” She couldn’t stop the gasp she gave when Catherine admitted to never having had bear stew though. “What in tarnation-!? Yer tellin’ me y’all’ve got some huge bears in yer backyard and no one ever thought tah take advantage of the resources available tah y’all and make bear stew?! No wonder all them kids are skinnier than trees in a desert!” She let out an indignant huff, picking up the pace a bit. “I’m gonna whip up some’a the best damn bear stew I can manage!”

“That so? Well that makes my patrol today a lot easier. Still actually have to go out for a bit though.” Catherine replied, grateful for the information. Mozu seemed to be excellent on the field. She had to give her props for that. Not many people could just easily age tracks like she seemed able to. Even Catherine had a hard time with that.

Catherine couldn’t hold back her laughter. Yeah there were a lot of.... less than hearty students here. She couldn’t help it. Mozu’s world was so different from everyone elses, and she loved it. It was obvious Mozu grew up in a village, and honestly Catherine believed if everyone got a taste of Mozu’s life, they’d be better for it. Even her, since she grew up a noble.

“Okay you got me there. I can’t deny we have some twig like students around, but they have their strengths too. Believe it or not, not many people eat bear here. At least none that I’ve heard of. You might be our next culinary innovator.” Catherine responded.

“Ah sure, so no murder.” Henry sighed. “It was worth a try. Maybe Fódlan morals would be a bit nicer than Ylisse morals.” Henry thought about the words the knight spoke to him. He mumbled to himself about Risen, experiments and blood, piecing his life together on the spot. “I’m not a healer, but…” Henry thought about all the times he helped his fellow Shepherds with his magic. “My curses aren’t all deadly or hurty. That cape-thingy I did was also a curse! And spirits summoned from the Shadow Realm make for nice playmates! And I can help people sleep!”

Henry’s eyes glistered in the same way it would before a kill. “And I bet Fódlan’s magic can help even more people. I’ve heard some stories about great magical sources of power, I’m sure I can help with those too!”

“Yeah. No random murders. If you’re on the field protecting villages though or fighting for your life, that’s fine.” Catherine replied. She didn’t want him to think harming enemies was bad. Hell she didn’t know what the kid thought or how he thought it. It was hard to decipher what he was thinking.

“Yeah, that sleeping stuff is good. Helping people is very good. Just make sure not to hurt anyone by accident. You know?” Catherine replied rubbing her head a bit.