Ple-Sen
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Alaria watched with dismay as the Astra's cannons first sank the Cyclops' boat and then began to shoot at the remaining members of his squad. The Lord protected the admiral; all the cannonballs passed by. However, the same could not be said for all his companions. The warrior in armor, as befitting, went to the bottom. The fate of the priest was no less sad - a shell from one of the cannons tore his body to pieces.
Involuntarily, the Tanarrian reached for her prayer book, but at the same time, unpleasant thoughts began to creep into her head. About the fact that she could no longer dream of returning home. About the fact that her companions were killing her own people, and she didn't lift a finger. And about the fact that the Throne was so frightened by a simple old man that they sent one of their best admirals after him. In any other situation, Alaria would have decided that she could no longer atone for her sins before the Lord. But this desire of the Throne to stop the one who, in theory, was doomed to fail, spoke of something else. As Kurat had said before, their faith was weak. Faith in what they present as truth. Faith in what became the reason why her life was ruined. The Tanarrian didn't even notice how her hand clenched her old, worn prayer book. Only a moment later, when the holy flame engulfed the book, she noticed it. And this only strengthened the girl's conviction that what she had been taught since childhood was a lie. Otherwise, why would she, a doubting sinner, still be able to use the powers given by the Lord? She was overwhelmed with anger. Anger and despair. But, along with them, also the desire to achieve a new goal. The desire to help Lord Belring in his mission and, perhaps, learn the truth.
Still reeling from her conclusions, Alaria went down to the lower deck, intending to go to her cabin. By chance, the organizer of this expedition passed by her.
“Congratulations, Mr. Belring,” the Tanarrian said with a forced smile, “you haven’t yet reached your destination, but this journey has already shaken my faith.”
Involuntarily, the Tanarrian reached for her prayer book, but at the same time, unpleasant thoughts began to creep into her head. About the fact that she could no longer dream of returning home. About the fact that her companions were killing her own people, and she didn't lift a finger. And about the fact that the Throne was so frightened by a simple old man that they sent one of their best admirals after him. In any other situation, Alaria would have decided that she could no longer atone for her sins before the Lord. But this desire of the Throne to stop the one who, in theory, was doomed to fail, spoke of something else. As Kurat had said before, their faith was weak. Faith in what they present as truth. Faith in what became the reason why her life was ruined. The Tanarrian didn't even notice how her hand clenched her old, worn prayer book. Only a moment later, when the holy flame engulfed the book, she noticed it. And this only strengthened the girl's conviction that what she had been taught since childhood was a lie. Otherwise, why would she, a doubting sinner, still be able to use the powers given by the Lord? She was overwhelmed with anger. Anger and despair. But, along with them, also the desire to achieve a new goal. The desire to help Lord Belring in his mission and, perhaps, learn the truth.
Still reeling from her conclusions, Alaria went down to the lower deck, intending to go to her cabin. By chance, the organizer of this expedition passed by her.
“Congratulations, Mr. Belring,” the Tanarrian said with a forced smile, “you haven’t yet reached your destination, but this journey has already shaken my faith.”