December Q&A — Part Two (Patreon)

• Hadrian, why did you pick a sword as your primary weapon, and is there a story of how you obtained it?

Hadrian scratches the back of his head. "It was what the Templars trained me in. Ever since I entered the Order as a squire, we always used blunt swords for our training. I didn't really have a choice, but it's not like I needed it. I was good with the sword, so..." Hadrian shrugs. "I never looked at any other options."

He pauses then, and looks up, eyes wandering through memories. "I tried a bow once and—" He chuckles. "Well, it didn't go very well. I almost took an eye out of another squire. Blaise. He never did forgive me. And I know how to use a lance because it's good for when you're on horseback, but, uh. That's it. Knights use swords, and Templars are the Knights of the Lord so..."

Hadrian smiles. You note it doesn't reach his eyes. "So I was trained in it. Nothing else to the tale."

"And the sword?" you ask, eyeing the thing. You may not be what most would call a blacksmith, but you can tell that it's expertly made. The steel is smooth, the handle heavy and simple, yet obviously well-crafted. And Hadrian keeps it in pristine shape. You've never seen him take better care of anything else in his possession.

Hadrian's smile drops. He follows your sight to his sword and tightens his grip around the scabbard. "Oh," he says, avoiding your eyes. "This, uh. I got the sword when I was knighted. It's... it's a rite of passage. Some Templars name them, but it's usually after they do a great deed or a heroic sacrifice. I— I did neither so. It doesn't have a name."

"Would you like to name it?" you ask. It's hard to describe what you see on his face. There's a fondness in his eyes as he stares at the black steel, but tight lines around his mouth.

"Once, I did," Hadrian admits, voice low. You try to catch his eyes, but he avoids you still. All you see is his hair falling over his forehead. "Not anymore."

You bite your tongue, soaking in the odd tension. But an idea makes you grin. "What would you have named it?"

Hadrian looks up, surprised, but then his cheeks immediately redden. "It's embarrassing."

“What was it?”

"I was a child."

"C'mon," you say.

“A very young child.”

"C'mon, Hadrian!"

He sighs. "God's Judgment," Hadrian mumbles.

You swallow a chuckle. "God’s what?"

His shoulders slump. "I wanted to name it God's Judgment."

And now you throw your head back and laugh.

• Same with Alessa, why knives? And do you have a specific set of knives you are more attached to?

Alessa opens her mouth, the answer on the tip of her tongue, but then, she hesitates. Her brows pull together, and now she seems to really take in your question. "Why knives?" she echoes, voice as absent as her eyes. "I... suppose 'twas a skill born out of convenience. I did not care to carry big loads of weight that would slow me down like those mauls and clubs or hammers."

"What about swords? Spears? A spike, even?"

Alessa grimaces. "Cumbersome," she declares. "Besides, I did not have access to any of those. Unlike our Templar fool, I did not have the privilege of formal training. I carried knives as a child, so, naturally, it..." Alessa seems stuck by a realization. "It so developed."

"Hmm," you hum. "Why not daggers, however? They're sturdier."

"Longer. They do not fit my hand as they should."

"So, knives."

Alessa smiles. "Knives."

"And do you have a favorite one?" you ask. You can't see a single of her knives on her person, but you know she has them in spares. Hidden in her belts and boots and who knows where else.

Alessa's smile turns sharper. "Favorite?" she asks, the tone like the chilling wind. "Should I also have a favorite fork? A favorite sock, perchance? A fa—"

"Alright, alright" you cut, frowning at her. "Some people have favorites."

Alessa chuckles. "Some fools with inflated egos. I believe they are known as knights."

You smile back, but she sobers. "I hold no attachments. 'Twould be a waste. I prefer knives because they are light, they are quick, and, most of all, they are disposable. They break, they are thrown, and they rust. I do not need to worry about one. I need only worry if I have enough."

You nod. "That makes sense."

"What relief," Alessa says dryly, but she smiles still.

• Was Hadrian's lover also the person that taught him how to do medicine?

She was not.

• I got the feeling that the Church/Inquisition is after the Romanus family. Does Hadrian know about them, and would the knowledge change his perception of MC when he finds out we're a Romanus?

First, let me say that you have a good feeling. Romanus is indeed a name known by the Church – to what extent, however, is yet to be determined. But you know that Neia knows. The former head of the Inquisition searched for a Romanus in person.

That should tell you something: the order came from high above.

As for Hadrian? He doesn't. The Templars serve a very different purpose to the Church than the Inquisition — a very important purpose, of course, but different. They don't deal with information the way the Inquisition does, and especially the Eyes. The highest-ranked Templars may know a little bit more, but they carry the orders to the lower ranks without questions.

Templars know what they need to know to do what they must, and no more. Hadrian wasn't close to being a high member. He was freshly knighted when he left the Order, he didn't have time to climb the ranks. H never heard the name Romanus in his life.

Will his perception of Romanus change when or if he ever finds that you are a wanted person by the Church? Well... I suppose you have to play to find out. 😋

• How did Vallen become a member of the Red Guard?

Ah, I struggled so much with this question! Part of me wants to tell you... the other part really, really would rather you find out in-game. I know how frustrating it is to hear: spoilers! But this question is intertwined with the plot, believe it or not. 😊

I will say that Vallen is where she is by both merit and circumstance. Like so much in life, you're shaped by what you can and cannot control. Fate brought Vallen to the Red Guard, but she didn't gain the title by sheer luck or happenstance. She may not look like it, but Vallen isn't an idiot. Nor is she dumb, as she likes to pretend, or naïve, or, most of all, gullible. She's of the Red Guard, and she fulfills her duties — no matter how unorthodoxly she does them.

You'll find more about Vallen in Book Two and what her role is in all of this. This I swear!

• Would she mind shedding a little light on her responsibilities as a red guardian?

The Red Guard serves a very simple purpose: to protect the ruling family. Simple in theory, complicated in practice. They're a part of the city guard, but on paper only. Truth is, the members don't answer to Knight-Commander Lorn, the head of Tarragona's city guard. They answer to the Theers and the Theers only, and even within the family, no other voice overcomes Lord Rowan's.

This is a point of tension between the two factions. The Red Guard is like a rogue arm that very few can control. They're traditionally composed of five members, but at the moment, there are only three — one died in circumstances never brought to light, and the other vanished without a trace but a few months back. There hasn't been time to replace them yet.

Vallen makes sure the Theers are safe, and she carries out the orders they give her. That's her job. No more, no less.

• Do the ROs have any guilty pleasures?

Hadrian doesn't have a lot of habits which can be called self-indulgent. He never quite developed hobbies and pastimes growing up, everything was directed toward the Church's teachings and his training. Duty, honor, discipline, and, most of all, obedience were drilled into him. For long years, that's all Hadrian ever did.

Of the pleasures he does indulge in, he feels no shame: praying, hiking, sharing a drink with a friend. Hadrian doesn't feel any guilt for his life's joys. They're simple and humble, and if anything, Hadrian only wishes he had more time to do them.

But he does indulge, very rarely, in a pleasure Hadrian would rather die than admit to. It's... a base one. One that, for most men, doesn't need to be spoken of, it's a part of life. Not for Hadrian. Let's say Hadrian feels shame when he... takes matters into his own hands. Late at night, alone, and plagued by those basal needs. When a particular face refuses to leave his head and a name falls like mumbled prayers from his lips.

That's the ex-Templar's greatest shame.

-

Alessa's guilty pleasure is not one she hides very well. If you've visited the Market, you saw it. She likes sweets, sugar in any form. Every time she travels, she's on the lookout for new desserts or regional treats, and if she has the time — and is alone — she will buy new ones to try and old ones to take on for the road.

Fruit dipped in honey, pastries, sweetened drinks. She will try them all and close her eyes to taste them on her tongue, and if the sun shines on her skin, Alessa understands, for just a moment, what Hadrian means when he speaks of earthly heaven.

-

Alain isn't one for shame. He's truly not bothered by it. The nobleman is well aware of his flaws, and he's accepted them. What others think of them has no bearing on his person: they deal with it. Alain will live his life the way he wants.

But, even so, there's a small habit that the Theer would rather... keep to himself. He won't speak of it in casual conversation, and if someone happens to see him while he indulges in it, a faint — very faint — flush may rise to the back of his neck. Alain likes to watch birds. When he happens to wake early in the morning, or on nights when he hasn't slept at all, he wanders to the gardens and sits by the bird feeders.

He'll sit and listen to the bird's song, so varied and different, and watch as they beat their little wings to feast on the seeds. Sparrows, in particular, are charming beings. It's a delight he doesn't quite understand, to watch them fly free in the branches.

-

Ysabella's guilty pleasure is one she rarely admits even to herself. But the noblewoman likes to watch duels. Not those barbaric ones where they fight to the death but the jousts in tournaments are always the highlights of her day. She can't explain the way her heart leaps when the horse's thunderous steps carve trails on the sand. And the knights hold their javelins high and when they impact, the sound!

Oh, the sound of breaking armor turns her stomach and flushes her cheeks, and makes her feel so immensely alive. Ysabella wants to leap down the platform and run and... she does not know what. But she only digs her nails in her hands, and bites her lip, and pretends she doesn't ogle the tall, strong knights with full armor and faceless helmets that prance around the court.

Such a ridiculous, ludicrous display. It's so silly and absurd. But it is her guilty pleasure.

-

The Pirate King has many pleasures, very few can be called guilty. But there's a habit of his that... he won't say he's ashamed of it, but it's no one else's business. What he does in his cabin concerns himself and no one else.

So, at the end of a long day, with his muscles sore and his throat aching from shouting commands over the wind, The Pirate retires to his cabin. He sheds his coat and lounges on the deep chair behind his desk with a glass of whatever kind of alcohol he has at hand. He lights a candle lamp, sliding it close, and puts on the little half-moon spectacles that hang loose on his right ear but allow him to read.

They allow him to write too. There's a drawer in his desk that he keeps locked tight. It has maps inside, important correspondence, and reports from his various captains and scouts, and headmasters. It also has a journal tucked away at the very back. It's that journal the Pirate reaches for now.

It's made of leather, and elegant, and inside, his handwriting is elegant too. He rolls his shoulders, takes a drink, and picks up his peacock quill. And then, to clear his head and take him outside of himself, The Pirate puts his day into letters.

His guilty pleasure? Journal keeping.

-

Neia is a tough one. Very much like Hadrian, most of her life has been honed in one direction and one direction only: to serve the Holy Church. But, unlike Hadrian, she took to it like a fish to water. Neia breathes, eats, and drinks the Inquisition. Every waking moment was one spent performing her duties. Her title wasn't a job; it was part of her identity. And she took the pleasures it provided her.

She loves to ride, she loves to fight, she loves to travel, she loves the open road. She loves power, she loves control, and, most of all, she loves God. She loves serving Him, and she believes, to her very core, that serving him is what she's doing.

Or well, what she used to do. Not anymore, of course. She's been shunned and burned, and now she's back as something else.

Neia has no guilty pleasures because all her joys were holy ones. God made flesh to feel pain as much as pleasure, and Neia was never ashamed of either one. What remains to be seen, really, is if she finds new pleasures now.

If she finds something she's reticent to admit she enjoys. Or someone.

-

Lance has one guilty pleasure. It is a rather lowly one, but alas, Lance enjoys it immensely. He likes to read private correspondence. Being a spy, one is bound to stumble upon a few opened letters, tucked away in drawers or under mattresses, or hidden in discrete pockets. Letters sneaked from the bags of messengers or taken by force by some of Mist's more... forthright men.

Whatever the means of acquisition may be, Lance always sports a smile when he kicks back and reads through the private affairs of the populace. Or even better, the affairs of the nobles. But the cream of the cream is the ones recovered from the priests and monks.

It reminds Lance that they are, after all, only human.

He reads through affairs, scandalous confessions, backwater deals, undying professions of love, and embarrassing inquiries to a physician about odd rashes. He reads them all and finds joy in them all, guilty joy, yes. But joy nonetheless.

-

Rafael's guilty pleasure is rather simple: gambling. The bastard likes to indulge in a little game, from time to time, and if the game has coin involved, then all the better. Cards, darts, dice, races. You name it, Rafael has tried them all.

Would he call it guilty? Not really. He doesn't overdo it. He never bets what he can't pay back. It's not an addiction, like with those sad drunks that slump in the filthy corners of the lowest taverns. It's fun and passes the time, and sometimes, it allows him to listen to interesting information. Rumors and say-so and gossip, but amongst the dirt, there can be a hidden gem.

No, the reason gambling is something Rafael never admits to doing is also very simple: he cheats.

• How do the Pirate and the twins feel about the forbidden places we explore?

This is something that you'll get to experience with all of them in-game. The twins for the first time, The Pirate as one who has been in forbidden places in the past but never had the full context before. He knew the ruins to be special only because they were deemed wrong. And there's value in the forbidden — whether a treasure is coveted to be kept or destroyed doesn't matter. It's valuable treasure either way.

Besides, this Holy God... The Pirate respects Him, but he doesn't abide by Him. He's far more interested in that Church of His. Now that. That has power.

So, they don't have a clear opinion of those ancient relics yet. I can say that The Pirate will be impressed with you because you're bold enough to go where you shouldn't. Alain would honestly be intrigued and Ysabella mildly curious, but neither of the twins is especially concerned with the matter.

They don't particularly care about History and preservation. They both believe in God, it's what they've been taught, but they're not devout by any stretch of the imagination. Certainly not pious.

Bella's eyes are turned elsewhere, and Alain... who knows what goes on in Alain's mind? It seems his eyes are never in the same place for too long.

• Would they fare well in the darkness? I can’t imagine them being as comfortable as Romanus.

Absolutely not. The Pirate, especially, dislikes dark and constricted places. It goes against his nature. He likes open skies and four horizons and being able to breathe. Small, dark tunnels where the walls press in with corners that can hide demons in their impregnable depths?

Paths carved by men and not nature, lightened by sconces almost running out of oil? Air filled with the stench of the earth, heavy and dusty?

Spirits, no. Count him out.

Alain and Ysabella would be so far out of their element. 😄 They're nobles, you see. They never even spent a night on the road, much less exploring an underground ruin that's falling apart. It's actually one of the things I'm most looking forward to writing — Alain and Ysabella traveling and sleeping in tents. It's going to be so much fun.

So no, they wouldn't fair well in the darkness. Bella would shake, even if she tried to hide it, as fear slowly crept over her heart. And Alain would tense all over, his smirk stiff and uncomfortable, his eyes always looking over his shoulder.

And they'd long, then, for the gilded comforts they always took for granted.

• Were there any romantic feelings between Hadrian and Alessa before MC came along?

None whatsoever. I'd classify Hadrian and Alessa's relationship as something closer to a brother-and-sister dynamic than anything else. They may not show it too much yet (at least, Alessa tries not to), but they are close. They care about each other.

But never once had the desire to lock lips together.

Upon first meeting, they both walked out with a negative view of each other. 😄 Alessa thought of Hadrian as a soft fool and a blabbering one at that. Hadrian thought her cold, blunt, and unnecessarily cruel. Basically, what they call each other now, but without any hint of warmth in their voice. They truly believed this of each other. With time... their relationships mellowed, and then, it strengthened when they started going on missions together.

It's incredible what happens when you face peril together. It brings you closer, whether you want to or not. Those long miles on the road are lonely too, and whether you detest the company, it's hard not to exchange a few words.

Alessa can understand, objectively, why some would find the Templar fool to be... pleasant to the eye. Logically, she knows he has desired physical traits. Desired only by even bigger fools than himself but desired, nonetheless. Of Hadrian's mental traits, she'd rather not comment.

And Hadrian knows Alessa is viewed as pretty. Beautiful, even. If anything, it makes him feel a little bit protective of her — Hadrian doesn't like it when men ogle Alessa (and women too, but men tend to be brasher about it), but not out of jealousy. He's not blind to Alessa, he just never felt attracted to her.

None of them ever felt physical attraction to each other.

And now, it'd be so incredibly uncomfortable to even entertain the thought. They really are kind of like brother and sister.

• What does Neia miss most about being in her previous position as Head Inquisitor?

Honestly? Everything. She misses the power, having men and women under her command, being responsible for them — carrying the guilt of their mistakes and the honors of their victories. Neia misses the road the way she used to ride it: with absolute authority. She owned the lands; she owned whichever inn they stopped for the night. She owned their food, their beds, their very roofs.

She was God's instrument, and nothing was to be denied.

Neia even missed the way people cowered just by the mention of her name. She would stand in her armor, helmet under her arm and sword strapped to her back, and she would only need a glance to get someone to kneel.

She can still have that, but it doesn't feel the same. Before, she stood from a place of righteousness. They weren't cowering because of her. They cowered because they faced the Lord, and no mortal should look upon Him with their chin lifted high. Before, Neia had the might of the Inquisition backing her; its moral superiority to stand on.

Before, she stood between the highest members of the Church and carried on orders straight from the Pope's lips.

But now... their fear tastes like ashes. Now, she realizes they never feared some divine punishment, they always just feared her sword. She didn't have any sacred righteousness nor was she some divine magistrate. She only had... power. Raw, brute power.

But, most of all, Neia misses her work. She was like a hound and a good one at that. She stalked, caught, and brought sinners to justice. Brought conspirators to light, squeezed the night out of them, and like her namesake, Neia brought Dawn upon the land. She was good. Really, really, good. She commanded hundreds, so many divisions and different spies, so many reports and rumors and catastrophes. Responsibility sat on her shoulders like a mountain, but Neia never once shied away from it.

She was everywhere, and she was damn good. It was chaos, but it was beautiful, and Neia misses it. She misses believing in it. She misses...

She misses who she was. Neia, the Dawnseeker. She misses how sure she was of herself, of her role... her soul.

• What constricts is she glad to be free from, if there are any?

When she was Head Inquisitor, there weren't a lot of constricts left for Neia. Apart from the usual — the binding of duty, the weight of responsibility, and the need to always uphold the Church's dogma and teachings. But those are all branded so deeply in her that Neia has assimilated them as part of her person.

She never saw them as shackles but as ropes that kept the world in place.

As Head Inquisitor, Neia didn't have a curfew. She didn't have to bow to anyone but the Lord and the Pope. She didn't have to bite her tongue or hold back from giving any opinion. She rose before the sun was in the sky, but if she stayed in bed, no one would come to throw a bucket of cold water over her head. And if they did, they wouldn't live to see the next morning.

She could pretty much do whatever she wanted. Who would dare to say she couldn't? In practice, there was a lot that Neia couldn't do, but, again, it's things she never wanted to do in the first place. Marry and have a family, gamble, get drunk in public. Doubt the Church's teachings, doubt the holy texts, and speak ill of God and His holy disciples.

Neia would rather cut off her tongue than do anything to disgrace her title.

It wasn't always so, of course. When she was younger, climbing through the ranks, Neia had a lot of restrictions. Some of them she hated, others she learned to enjoy. Just like Hadrian in his Templar training, so she was honed to grow into what they wanted. Like a slab of marble, chipped away until Neia, the Dawnseeker, was made flesh. She never once questioned it.

Not until very recently.

• Does Neia keep to her training like Hadrian, or has she foregone it?

She keeps at it religiously. The thought of stopping doesn't even register in her mind. Neia’s exercise routine is like breathing to her. She does it without thinking, the product of years and years of harsh discipline being branded like steel into her flesh.

What she's capable of, her physical prowess is more than a point of pride to herself. It was a reflection of her title and a means to fulfill her duty. Neia fought, that was one of her obligations. She was a warrior as much as a commander. And what good is an inept warrior? A washed-up knight?

A scholar cannot stop reading, a blacksmith can't stop melting. And Neia will stop training the day she hangs up her sword — which is to say, the day she dies.