"Agreed." The paladin rests her teacup on her knee where it's crossed over the other leg. "There are many forms of love and devotion, and not all need be akin to those recounted in the tales. The same is true of faith; for every martyr willing to throw themselves screaming upon the foes of their religion, there are tens of thousands quietly wrestling with their beliefs even as they go about their lives, doing good works."
Konstiantina holds Arabella's gaze, her own growing kind. "Further, you were already intent on attempting it. Nothing has changed now other than our being by your side. Together we can try to break this curse, and if this attempt fails, it won't be from lack of trying."
"It seems we must return to the pumphouse to see what sickness it has dredged up from the mire." Konstiantina sighs and rises from her table. "I'll reach out to our previous pilot and see when his ship is next available."
Having suffered a recent intrusion with its accompanying threats, Velvet's own intrusion is met by Konstiantina with swift suspicion; the paladin rises to her feet and turns to inspect the well dressed woman with narrowed eyes, swiftly checking her for signs of evil or depravity even as she listens intently to the stranger's words for duplicity.
Sense Motive:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26
"Do you often take liberties simply because you can?" asks the paladin, who finds the woman's light and pleasant tone at odds with her effrontery.
She pauses and takes a sip of tea, both to calm her nerves and to give the others a chance to speak.
Konstiantina frowns at the note, then hands it over to Marius.
"What's clear is that we need to increase security. We've grown to comfortable here over the past few weeks, and we should be grateful, I suppose, that this was a threatening letter from the Swan and not a group of assassins sent by Lotheed. What do you think, Marius? Should we set up patrols as if we were camping in the wild till this business is over?"
She considers Lotti, going over the gnomes' words, and then give a slow nod. "I think you're right in that whomever did this most likely has inside intelligence as to what's happening in the manor. I'll speak with everyone who has normal access and see if I detect anything unusual. I hope I don't, but I dislike even more the idea that our activities are being reported to outside enemies."
Konstiantina is going to speak with each person who has access to the house, and use both Sense Motive and Detect Evil on them as she goes.
Konstiantina stares levelly at Rose, not answering for several moments, her gaze hard and unyielding.
But then inclines her head. "You know I trust you. I shall reserve judgement. But do not expect me to be pleased, nor to look forward to a stranger taking your place."
Konstiantina listens with a hard expression, stepping back and crossing her arms as the other woman makes her case.
"I'm sorry Rose." Her tone is flat. "I've spent enough time with you to know when you're deploying your skill with words to get away with something. I'm not convinced. That was an impressive web of excuses you just wove, but the fact is you're a crucial part of this team and your leaving us now will hamstring our efforts."
It's clear the paladin isn't interested in debating the matter. "If you feel you must leave, then obviously you should go. But don't disrespect me by pretending your absence will be an advantage."
"You're leaving?"[/b] Konstiantina's shock is clear. "We're only weeks from striking at Lotheed, we've the requisite nobles almost lined up, and you're... going... now?"
Sense Motive:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20 "Oh Rose." Konstiantina steps in and embraces her friend, holding her close until she finally steps back. "I'm so sorry. As busy as we've been, as positive and tireless as you are, it's too easy to forget it's been only a year. I'm so sorry."
"But I know you don't want my commiseration. All I can say is that I hear you. Your frustration, your anger, your masks - I know them all too well. You saw me that other evening when my anger got the better of me. I believe it's the same frustration. That we have to jump through these hoops and play this game the best way we know how so as to raise the odds of our eventual success, even if it means tolerating evil all around us."
"One of the hardest aspects of this life, and my faith, is knowing that we shall never win. Humanity is reborn each generation with all the same strengths and weaknesses, with some achieving sainthood while others plumb the depths of wickedness. Each victory of ours is struck only in the moment, and then lost against the tides of time that wash over it with new rulers, new perfidies, new hatreds and petty corruptions. We face the ocean, you and I, and demand that the waves cease washing up the shore. At best we can for a time build bulwarks of sand, but we both know how permanent that is."
"Does that make our efforts futile...? Some nights, I'm not sure. But then I think of the tangible good we've done, the lives we've touched, the difference we've made. Even if the consequences of our actions are washed away in time, if those we helped die and are forgotten, if new despots arise to crush our little sandcastles, it doesn't change those moments of grace we were able to bring those in need. And I suppose that's what gives me comfort, in the end. We have precious little control over the fate of nations, the systems of government, the taxation rates, the endemic corruption, the venality of nobles, and the far worse horrors that lurk beneath the surface of civilization. But if we take strength from the small acts of kindness we can make, and take solace in knowing there are men, women, and children who breathe a little more easily for the deeds we've done, then perhaps we can arise each dawn with renewed purpose and resume tilting at windmills with naive and over-wise vigor."
"After? There's an after? I jest. But no, I haven't given it much thought. The scope of what we're up against seems a lifetime's work. The entire rotting edifice of Taldoran government needs to be improved, and while I pray that the princess be the agent of that change, I don't doubt for a second that a hundred old ministers and noblemen will line up to denounce her. No. I'm afraid this feel's like a lifetime's calling. But - for the sake of argument - should we win through? No. Stachys is a fine town, and will be a finer place still if you and Marius decide to live here. But for myself... Iomedae is a tireless goddess. And as her paladin, I, too, must be tireless. There will always be another battle worth the fighting, if not in Taldor, then in a hundred other places. I'm afraid I shant be settling down anywhere till this golden hair of mine has turned quite, quite gray."
Konstiantina takes the opportunity to catch up with the Baron, finding herself seated next to him at dinner and proving herself an attentive listener and sophisticated interlocutor; her years being raised at court might be resented, but not forgotten.
With the evening a success, she's tempted to turn in for the night and sleep deep, but Sir Gul's presence keeps her on edge. She urges Aiza to get some sleep, and then decides to take a midnight prowl of the home and its grounds, dressed in her armor and with sword at her hip. She moves without lantern, unhurried, but after several hours of prowling the grounds, returns for a few hours sleep.
The tour is a pleasure; she takes pride in what Marius and Rose have accomplished as if she were not involved, but rather glad for her companions to be finally able to demonstrate their advances. She follows to one side, smiling and as attentive as if she, too, were on the tour, and when they finally repair to the manor finds a moment to walk alongside Rose.
"I've been so caught up in the minutiae of our day-to-day affairs that I'd lost track of just how much we've accomplished in so short a time. I say 'we', but my I must pay you my compliments, Rose. You and Marius together are a truly formidable team."
Konstiantina takes the Baroness's stately tone - if not as a challenge, then perhaps as an inducement to continue her covert assault.
"Would that our lands had more cause to celebrate like this. Would that there were bountiful crops of every kind, and not merely that of grain. If this world remained true to its roots and traditions, perhaps we would see civic engagement, fair rule, and prosperity for all."
Konstiantina takes a sip of the wine. "Instead, everywhere my friends and I have traveled we have found lawlessness, poverty, and despair. What little we have managed to accomplish this past month we have done with an eye to bringing the world back in line with how it should be. It is my most fervent hope that our efforts soon bear greater fruit for all who are deserving."
Again she takes a sip, and then smiles at the Baroness. "And I don't know - I think this vintage is quite fine. It's just that some wines take their time in displaying their true qualities."
Konstiantina is ready to greet the guests from the first, clad in an elegant gown with a flowing white cape. Her hair is pulled back from the temples to join in a Y at the nape of her neck, and she appears radiant and relaxed as she welcomes the nobility.
Recalling Baroness Voinum's fondness for wine, she approaches the stately lady with two glasses of their finest vintage and toast the other woman.
"We're glad you could attend, Baroness. It's important to maintain these traditions, don't you think? In the church we are given to the eternal cycle of prayer and devotion, but a Harvest Festival is itself a version of such piety, albeit one dedicated to the rhythms of the year, the labor of the people, and the success we all enjoy after a good crop. Do you by chance know how far back the history of this festival goes? I can't help but wonder as to the origins of such timeless celebrations." Diplomacy:1d20 + 12 ⇒ (6) + 12 = 18
Konstiantina's eyes widen as she takes a step back from Rose, but the other smiles and counts and suddenly the moment is upon her.
A leisure activity - taking care of saddles and tack? Wait, that makes less than no sense, something enjoyable, a - sharpening swords, or - or - what do people - this is foolish, there must be - walking? For no reason? Or - riding horses? With no destination?
Konstiantina's cheeks flame as she finds herself frozen before Rose's no doubt wilting smile. In desperation she blurts out, "Ah - you sold me on the apple pie. I've never - ah - baked in my life. Do we - do we need to fetch apples? An oven? Surely we have an oven in the house. Wood? Do you know... a recipe?"
"Sepsinia?" Konstiantia laughs. "I'm afraid I've put her off, or, I'm not sure, intimidated her? She seems so young, so... nervous? I find myself growing ever quieter around her, which only makes her more uncomfortable around me. Consequently she doesn't spend much time in our room."
Konstiantina sighs and looks up, searching the heavens. "Sometimes I feel ill equipped to being... to not. being a paladin, if that makes sense. If I'm not training, or praying, or seeking to help around the manor or town, if I'm not engaged, then I begin to feel... at loose ends? Untethered? My thoughts stray constantly to the injustices that we face, and any time spent... not frivolously, but unproductively, makes me..." The paladin stops, searching for the right word, then sighs.
"Saying it out loud makes me sound faintly ridiculous. But there is a surety in purpose, a comfort in dedication. I suppose... outside of being a devotee to Iomedae, and when I'm not fixated on our goals, I'm not quite sure who I am. What I would do with myself if I did not have Aiza to train, monsters to slay, nations to save, and so forth." She smiles, clearly self-mocking.
"Sometimes I wonder if it's my angelic blood that places a... what feels like a pane of glass between myself and everyone else. If that divine blood doesn't have some role in driving me to always be of utility. I'm not sure. Nobody else in my family manifested our heritage."
The paladin frowns, momentarily lost in her own thoughts.
Konstiantina links her hands behind her back as they walk, her lips lightly pursed as she gazes about the garden, seeing it anew through Rose's eyes. She cants her head to one side as the other woman continues speaking, her expression friendly if a little distant, but smiles at the last.
"If I played any role in your courtship it was merely to encourage him to be himself. I've seen him charge the Iron Lash and run into rivers to fight stone snakes, but at the thought of placing the wrong step in the dance you two were engaged in, well..."
Konstiantina's smile is effortless, and she reaches out to squeeze Rose's forearm. "I'm very happy for you both."
"But yes. I would like it, too, Rose, if we were better friends. It's something I have virtually no practice at. I grew up surrounded by scheming relatives and leering older men; I learned quickly to keep my thoughts to myself. The church was a literal godsend, but even there... well."
They walk a dozen paces as the paladin chooses her next words carefully. "When there is so much to be done, service goes beyond a calling and becomes your way of life. All becomes... transactional, I suppose. Opportunities to further honor the goddess, and idle moments, idle conversations, friendships... "
Again the paladin trails off. Then she laughs and smiles self consciously at her companion. "I suppose I'm trying to say that I'm ill trained at thinking of others as possible friends and not a means to a righteous end. But yes. I would enjoy that. What is it that friends do?"
Konstiantina finds herself enjoying these morning sparring sessions with Aiza more and more each day. There's a purity to them, a simplicity, that stands at odds with the world of politics and moral nuance they exist in. The clack of blades, the back and forth flow of guards, the probing, the testing, the revealing of weakness or assumptions - it brings a light sweat to Konstiantina's brow and a smile to her lips each time Aiza curses at another inadvertent opening taken advantage of.
Sensing her companion watching, Konstiantina ends her sparring session a little earlier with Aiza, and handing the practice sword over approaches Rose, mopping at the nape of her neck with a small towel.
"But of course. Perhaps we could walk the gardens while we talk? The fresh air would be most welcome."
Konstiantina is a cool presence at the back of the room, refreshed from their travels and wearing a clean, albeit severe, traveling gray surcoat over her glimmering chain coat. She listens with sharp attention, but neither speaks nor accepts a cup of tea; hers is a gracious if removed presence, and when Marius rises she is the first to slip out the door.
"I had ample opportunity to watch the Abidarians ply their faith while at court," she murmurs to her companions as they step back outside. The paladin raises her face to the sunlight which casts dappled shadow coins across her features through the canopy of a tree above. "So professional, so well spoken, and always so soothingly confident. No matter that they enabled some of the worst excesses with injurious loans, or stepped fastidiously over the poor and the muck on their way back to their temples with forced repayments in hand."
Turning with a smile to the others, she arches a brow. "I believe there are other options worth exploring when it comes to temples at home, but for now, what do you all suggest we do next?"
To prevent Aiza from simply standing around and gawking Konstiantina sends the girl off to collect brushwood for a fire, with the stern command that she not stray out of earshot.
She then sets about moving the carriage off the side of the road, busies herself with tending to the horses, and once events seem to be moving to their climax intones a prayer to Iomedae and launches into a stilted sermon to the struggling mother that she be brave and bold as the goddess was when facing down Rovagug that one time.
She's remains to one side as the birth takes place, ready to step in and heal as necessary, but breathes a sigh of relief when all takes its natural course.
"I think you could probably use that money to provide for the child," she says, voice warm. "I don't know exactly what's involved, but there's probably need for small articles of clothing, a crib... a rattle? Or at the very least, ensuring that her parents stay well fed and happy."
Konstiantina has watched this exchange with subtle awe; the Swan Maiden's beauty and ferocity is bewitching, and her plight tugs at the paladin's heart. "I pledge to do my best to ensure your lake remains as wild as may be. Though none may ultimately stay the advance of civilization, we'll do what we can to make this an oasis."
Konstiantina immediately moves to the fore, barking for Aiza to drop back, and draws her blade as she reaches out with her senses to ascertain that the apparition is indeed evil.
"Unquiet spirit!" Her shout is resolute and does not betray her pounding heart. "If you've aught to state say it now, or we'll do our best to bring you peace."
Konstiantina draws back at the last moment, such that her slash misses the pseudopod by a half-inch. Almost overbalancing in the muck, she spends a good three seconds windmilling her arms, that squelches clear of the ooze as she moves to the side.
"Ogre jelly?" Still, she doesn't seem to care what it is, but more that Lotti has a plan. Gesturing to Aiza, she slowly backs away from the emerging monster.
Konstiantina was already wary; when the pseudopod emerges she reacts with swift surety, taking one long stride before swinging her longsword two handed.
While all else takes place Konstiantina does not fail to take her obligation to her new squire seriously.
Perhaps, eventually, to Aiza's chagrin.
For the paladin is cheerfully adept at rising before dawn no matter where they may be and rousting her young charge from her sleep. She brooks no denial, and so calmly confident and assured is her manner that to complain would seem churlish, or, worse yet, weak.
They begin each day with a series of stretching exercises that the young and nimble squire probably finds redundant, and then move to drilling with wooden swords. For now Konstiantina contents herself with the very basics: how to hold a sword, how to move ones feet, and how to do both at the same time. The different basic guard positions, and why one would choose one over the other.
It's dull work but the paladin does not allow Aiza's pleas for my excitement to sway her. Dawn after dawn they pace, shift, swivel, and then transition to Konstiantina calling out the different guards for her squire to move into. The paladin circles the poor girl, pushing her off balance when her stance is incorrect, rapping her elbow or knuckles with her own wooden blade when her guard is out of form, and clacking her sword against the young woman's own when it's correct and showing how and why it would block said attack.
From there they move into physical exercise, with a focus on building stamina. Runs are de rigeur, as are lifting ever heavier stones. Technique is next to useless when you're so winded you can't stand straight, and for all Aiza's electric energy, what Konstiantina wants to see is a deep and abiding resilience.
Each and every time the young squire complains and asks for something more exciting, the paladin just smiles. "Soon," she promises. "You've been training for less than a month. Mastering the sword is the pursuit of a lifetime."
Worse yet, from Aiza's point of view (no doubt) are the afternoon lessons where Konstiantina takes the squire for long walks and explains Iomedae's teachings. They review the goddess's acts, her principles, her tolerances, and the sins that are most grave in her eyes. Konstiantina spends much of these lessons engaged in Socratic dialog, presenting the young woman with the same thorny moral problems she was faced with as a young initiate, and then asking Aiza to reason her way through the correct course of action as would be most pleasing to the goddess. They end each session in devout prayer and then the squire is released to do a three mile run around the estate.
Their passage around the lake is slow and difficult and the paladin finds herself sinking knee if not hip deep several times as they progress. Still, she struggles on in good humor, not minding the mud, and teases Aiza when the girl loses her boot to the sucking squelch and is forced to feel around for it in the mire, her turned face but an inch from the dark water.
Perception:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22
When they reach the northern shore the paladin slows and spends more time scrutinizing the shallows, parting the reeds with her sheathed blade and reaching out with her divine sense probing for evil. After a few minutes she slows and gestures to the others.
"Notice how the area's grown quiet? More so than usual? Might have something to do with all these remains. See there? And there? And... there? Something has been feasting on the wildlife. Perhaps there's a more natural cause for these supernatural rumors."
"I am no barrister, my friend. I only know the teachings of Iomedae. Perhaps if I pray to her on this matter, I may receive guidance. If so, I will be sure to tell you before this court of ours convenes."
Clearly still dissatisfied with the situation, Konstiantina shakes her head and turns back to the manor, intent on finding a moment alone in which to pray.
"Would that I had wisdom to share." The paladin's voice is pitched low, and she waits for them to be out of earshot before continuing. "My heart urges clemency, for surely the penalty is too severe, but my mind cannot help but consider the consequences if we find a means to save his life."
She turns in frustration to gaze out over the sedge, the cattails and the river beyond. "We do not have the authority to change the law, and we shall have to face Count Lotheed's wrath if we fail to enforce it. We cannot allow this to be an example that others will seek to emulate, nor should we kill those driven to feed their family from sheer desperation."
She sighs and looks sidelong at her companion. "There is no neat and clean solution, at least, not one that satisfies all sides of my being. If the law is unjust, then I would see it changed, not merely sidestepped. But how to convince a man such as the count to relinquish his wealth? Unless."
Konstiantina frowns. "Unless we make this the rallying cry that turns the people against the count, and provides us with the justification to remove him."
Konstiantina heals Portimer without fuss or emotion; she lays her hands upon the wounded man and calls down Iomedae's grace, then leaves the room.
She already has a presentiment as to how this will go. The facts are almost irrelevant. Unsure how this makes her feel, unable to divine the currents that swim through the town, she accompanies Marius on his sweep of the southern canal. She's not of much help, but she can't simply remain at the manor.
Konstiantina leaves the shivering cleric to the others. Instead, she calls Aiza over to where the half-eaten body now lies beside the corpse of its killer.
"Take a good luck, Aiza. This is what our business leads to. As much as we may wish it otherwise, Pharasma calls to us all, and in the wilds it is often a monster such as this that comes to collect."
The paladin sighs and hauls the body out of the water. "I hope her end was a brave and valiant one."
For a moment she considers the dead woman, and then she looks sidelong at Aiza. "You've probably seen your fair share of death. Livestock being butchered, mothers dying at birth, villagers going too soon due to accidents. Maybe worse. But this is different. The path we walk leads us toward danger, not away from it. And as fun as that may sound in the stories, this - this, is what it all to often ends in."
The paladin rises from her crouch and claps Aiza on the shoulder. "If we're to avoid such a fate, then we must work hard. Starting tonight you shall begin training with sword and shield - or their wooden equivalents. You'll be on double rations to help you gain some weight and strength, and each morning you'll begin the day with a run carrying a loaded pack. It's time we started stacking the odds in your favor. And most importantly?" Konstiantina smiles. "We'll begin teaching you Iomedae's sacraments after dinner."
Konstiantina drops the last span of yards and dashes across the rocks to Marius's side. Her blade is half out of its scabbard when Rose's quarrels tear the snake apart; the paladin allows the blade to slide back home, then helps untangle the heavy serpent from Marius's limbs and eases him down.
"There, one moment, just let me..."
Her hands glow golden and she closes her eyes as Iomedae's healing washes over Marius's wounds and the bite marks.
Lay on Hands:1d6 ⇒ 1 Lay on Hands:1d6 ⇒ 3 Lay on Hands:1d6 ⇒ 3 Lay on Hands:1d6 ⇒ 5
"There," she says again, and sits back on her heels with a wry smile. Her gaze lingers on the bolts that shredded the snake's neck apart, and she raises an eyebrow. "Looks like Rose is absolutely unwilling to lose you so quickly after gaining you. Watch out, Marius."
Konstiantina takes her farewell from Vort and Felsha with her customary gravity and good will; her face reflects none of the prior night's emotions, and she wishes them both safe keeping in Iomedae's light.
DM:
Konstiantina stands there with her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised, and then, unable to control herself simply laughs. Surprised, amused, and impressed by the girl's resolve, she shakes her head and moves forward to inspect the donkey, running her fingertips gently over its bristly coat, searching for signs of ownership.
Finding none, she turns at last to consider the no doubt anxious Aiza. "A startling amount of initiative on your part, Aiza. That you somehow managed to find a wild donkey, catch it, and then... wash it... before dawn speaks to an uncommon amount of determination."
For a moment she considers the girl, her brow furrowed in thought, and then she gestures for Aiza to follow her to where two stumps emerge from the high grass. Sitting on one, she leans forward, elbows on knees, and fixes Aiza with her stare. "But you're wrong. As I said yesterday, I am no knight. I received my title from no lord, and have pledged my sword to none other than Iomedae herself. This is vital. I am a paladin, Aiza. A warrior of my goddess's faith. I have dedicated myself to furthering her cause in Golarion, and if you wish me to train and educate and provide you with a different future than that which is promised to you here, you must understand this."
She holds Aiza's gaze, making sure the girl isn't about to protest or complain, and then continues, her tone inexorable.
"Iomedae is known as The Inheritor, the Light of the Sword, the Lady of Valor. She is the goddess of righteous justice, bravery, and honor, and those who worship her dedicate their lives to these ideals and the rooting out of evil. She asks that we be temperate, to fight for justice and honor, and to always hold valor in our hearts. She holds the law to be sacred, and good acts their own reward. If you are to travel with me, Aiza, if you are to learn the way of the sword, you must do so because you wish to serve Iomedae first and foremost."
Konstiantina's grave expression breaks into a rueful smile. "Or at least come to do so, one day, once you understand more of what I speak."
Expecting nothing but agreement from the girl, Konstiantina stands. "Come, let us deliver this horse of yours to your mother. She will appreciate it all the more since she is losing a daughter to the goddess. Then, with her blessings, we'll begin a trial apprenticeship. If you succeed in not only impressing me with your determination and initiative, but also by displaying wisdom and temperance, perhaps, one day, you shall indeed become my squire."
Konstiantina's smile grows wider. "I am shocked. What an unexpected turn of events." She then reaches out and squeeze his shoulder, her tone turning warmer. "Truly, I'm happy for you both."
She rakes her metallic hair back and then sighs. "I think I'm going to turn in. Can the two of you try to not interrupt our sleep too much? It would be most appreciated."
And with that she turns away, her smile growing wry, and enters their cabin.
DM:
Konstiantina crosses her arms and purses her lips as the young woman leaps to her feet and tries to get her words out. She takes a moment to stare at where Aiza had chosen to sleep, her threadbare blanket, her ruined satchel, her brightly burning eyes.
Konstiantina leans forward so that they're at eye level, then frowns. "Show me."
Konstiantina regards Marius. It's a flat, level stare, no emotion in her handsome face. As if she's truly listening to him, or, more accurately, gauging how sincere he is being, and how much might be platitudes.
When he stands, however, she gives him a grudging nod. "Aye. It's a hard road we all walk, those of us who give a damn."
She looks across the impoverished village, its ramshackle homes, its blighted fields beyond. "But no. I don't walk it alone."
For a long, aching moment she simply stares up at the sky, at the low hanging moon, and then, with visible effort, she puts aside her concerns and gravity and links her hands behind her back. "You said I wasn't wrong, and were smiling like a prisoner who's been handed down his pardon. I take it things have moved forward with our Lady Talbot?"
A sidelong glance reveals the slightest of smiles; it's clear she's both amused and pleased for him.
Konstiantina's prayer pauses only briefly as she hears the man kneel beside her, and her grimace is almost perfectly masked. She resumes her silent communion with her goddess, but gives up after another few minutes.
Rising to her feet, she inhales deeply, powerfully, and then exhales all at once, letting the air go.
To fixate her stare on her companion and his effort at solidarity.
Her failure to connect with Iomedae and Marius's willingness to simply pray beside her diffuse the last of her anger. It washes away, leaving her tired and emotionally weary.
"I'm sorry," she says, before Marius has a chance to address her. "You caught me in a foul mood, but that's no excuse for me to take out my..." She trails off, trying to find the right word. What had she been feeling? Not quite anger, not quiet irritation, not frustration either... but...
And such a sharp contrast to what she'd felt just before speaking with Lisa. The elevated emotions she'd enjoyed while tending to the village. She thinks of Aiza's skinny frame, her fierce determination, her willingness to throw herself into a violent life in order to escape this poverty. Had Aiza multiplied in her mind, become emblematic of the millions of such desperate youths that peopled their continent?
Lisa's own words had been the hammer to drive that nail home.
"I find myself growing impatient with the march of progress," she says at last, choosing a different tack. "I would that everything improved immediately everywhere for everyone."
Only then does a slightly self-mocking smile quirk the corner of her lips, and the last of her anger leaves her altogether.
Konstiantina listens with a frown; even as this moment draws the pair of them closer than they have yet been, she's never felt so far from the courtesan.
Several times she has to restrain the urge to interject. To correct an assumption, or ask for a clarification. Is the other woman speaking in metaphors about her soul, or literally?
No matter. It's obvious there's no room - as of yet - to change Lisa's mind or convince her that things could be otherwise. And through painful experience Konstiantina has learned that few things are as painful to others than having people of virtue drone at the about salvation when they're not ready to listen.
So she sits still and watches the other woman depart, not once having spoken, only to turn her attention to the fire once Lisa is gone and frown into its flickering depths.
Worse yet is how Lisa's words struck a chord; she has seen for herself the terrible iniquity and oppression that rules the streets, the poverty and disease, the brutality of common life and the pain that is everyone's lot. And for every good priest who struggles to do better, ten more are content to count their coins and turn a blind eye.
Konstiantina's frown deepens into a scowl, and the firelight dances in her eyes. Even now the nobility accommodate matters after the Senate hall massacre. Even now the poor groan and collapse as the manor houses are filled with festive fools.
Konstiantina blinks when Marius appears before her and sits down, his fatuous smile and levity completely at odds with her mood.
"Is that so?" Her tone is harsh. She stands. "Then that's a first."
Konstiantina considers the scrawny young woman. Truly studies her, and holds her gaze, probing and gauging Aiza's resolve.
How mercenary is her interest? Would she swear next month that she desired more than anything to be a troubadour if a circus rolled through town?
A test, then.
"The path I walk is a dangerous one. It is not that of a knight, dedicated only to blade and her lord's honor. It is a path of faith. A paladin lives to serve her goddess and those in need. No-one is called to such a path out of a desire of security, gold, or prestige. You have never wielded a blade, have not been instructed in religion, and don't know how to take care of a mount." Konstiantina's gaze softens with sympathy. "I'm sure another, more appropriate opportunity will present itself one day."
So saying, she nods respectfully to the mother, then turns to return to their cabin.
Now, she thinks. Let us see how much fight she has in her.
Konstiantina's gaze is considering and grave, and her expression remains still and focused as Lisa answers her question. An evening breeze lifts a curl of metallic golden hair and blows it across her lips. She gently teases it away, but otherwise remains unmoving.
When Lisa winds down, Konstiantina takes her time in answering.
"We are more similar than you might think. I was raised by a venal family who saw the resurgence of our angelic forebear's blood in my veins as a means to grasp at our long gone glory and power. My earliest memories are of being dressed like a doll so as to be presented at court in the hopes of earning a powerful suitor. You say that loneliness is part and parcel of women in your line of work, but so was it in mine. My childhood and early teenage years were more lonely than I care to remember. I never trusted anybody."
An old pain resurfaces, but it's a glimmer of its former self. The aasimar smiles tiredly. "I thought I was trapped. That such was my lot in life. After all, I was born a noblewoman, I had to marry, my family would make the decision, and that was that. Such was drummed into my skull from the moment I could speak. The path of my life seemed foreordained, and sorrow and solitude my only constants. Until, one day, I decided otherwise."
Konstiantina reaches out and takes Lisa's hand in both her own. "In the end, whomever we are on the inside we are by choice. Even if it feels like we have no alternatives. If you do not wish to be so transient, so easily replaced, then... don't be. You need never feel like yesterday's garbage again. All you need do is change. I left my family manor, gave up my dresses and jewels, my supposed heritage and obligations, and took to living in a garret with no coin to my name. It was hard, but I was never happier."
Her smile is genuine, warm, like the sun breaking free of cloud cover.
"And yes. It is nice to be close to Iomedae. To not be alone. To know that I am loved for who I am and whom I wish to be. To know in my heart that I face all the varied and terrifying darkness of this world with an endlessly burning brand of love in my soul."
She gives her words a moment to sink in, words that resonate with the power of her faith.
"At any moment you can make a choice, Lisa. You can choose to accept that pain and solitude, fear and sorrow need not be the whole compass of your life. You can make room for something more. Something true, something profound, something life changing. It need not be Iomedae. Perhaps Calistria would call to you more. But once you accept a god or goddess into your life, once you dedicate yourself to something immeasurably grander than you can ever understand, life - pain - our travails - all of it is contextualized, and you realize how much room we had within us for infinite new vistas."
Konstiantina, upon finding the interest in herself and Iomedae to be more than cursory, sits down on an old crate, leans forward, elbows on knees, and smiles at those who gather around.
She answers the questions honestly and openly, neither dissembling nor boasting, but her joy in her calling shines through, and this opportunity to speak about her faith is so one that her pleasure in talking is obvious.
She shares her story, her past, and the reasons for which she was drawn to her faith. She speaks in glowing terms of Iomedae's virtues and patronage, and the good her goddess brings to the world. She finishes by teaching the small crowd a prayer for those in need of strength and boldness in times of travail, and then offers her blessing on all those who recite it with her.
Refreshed, invigorated, she's about to move on when the lady offers her daughter for a squire.
"A squire, ma'am?" Her first inclination is to immediately decline, but she's uplifted by this interaction and so asks further. Is the girl herself interested? How old is she? Of what faith? Has she ever held a blade, or traveled? Regardless of the answers, she listens intently to the mother, and then asks to see the girl in question.
Sense Motive:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25
Konstiantina is making her way back though the village after finishing her rounds when a cheerful, brazen voice hails her - Lisa. For a moment the paladin simply stands there, genuinely taken aback, and then she gives a rueful smile - though what she's rueing can't be told - and settles down beside the courtesan on that rough and homely bench.
At first there's no space - or need - for her to interject. She listens to Lisa's drunken slurring with something that's north of bemusement and west of concern. She's about to excuse herself after taking a single polite sip, but then Lisa's voice turns somber and her words lose their slur, lose their false festiveness, and still Konstiantina where she sits.
"How do you do it? Like, what are you getting out of all of this? You always stand... alone or with others and you just... you seem so untouchable, unfazed even... Don't you ever... Isn't it lonely at the top looking down on all us mortals?"
Konstiantina sits there, eyes wide, completely taken aback. Then her brow furrows and she reaches out to place a callused palm on Lisa's shoulder.
"I'm sorry if I have been remote." Her voice is low, husky, tinged with a noble accent from the courts of Oppara, but her concern is obvious. "But I promise you I stand on no peak. Far from it. Even with my goddess I often feel as lost and confused as anyone else. But are you all right, Lisa?"
The shift from jocose to morose was too abrupt. And never in the past has Lisa hailed her in such manner. Do her questions about Konstiantina instead reveal what she herself was going through? "Has something... happened?"
After the meeting, Konstiantina excuses herself from her companions to walk amongst the settlers. She knows hers can be an intimidating presence, so she moves slowly, hands interlaced behind her back, pausing here and there to observe as the people work or go about their business.
When opportune, she inquires as to their well being; it's an artless question, but she follows it up with an offer to lend Iomedae's divine healing to help those who have fallen sickly or injured.
In this manner she goes from home to home, healing where it's needed, exchanging quiet words of reassurance to those who look haggard and exhausted, and offering time and again to lead those who are interested in a small prayer to Iomedae so that they can receive her blessing and guidance in the weeks and months to come.
Konstiatina spends the hours before dinner amongst the settlers, and will willingly use her x8 Lay on Hands on those who need it. She seeks to bolster their morale and offer spiritual guidance to those who are open to Iomedae's wisdom.
Konstiantina wanders a half-dozen yards out wide, hand resting on the pommel of her sword, drinking in the sight of the thorp. The children, the hens pecking at the rutted road, the dogs with ticks as large as blueberries. She takes in the ramshackle nature of the buildings, the canvas siding, the desolate, miserable nature of it all, and tries to discern: is New Towne so desperate due to hard circumstances, or a lack of industry and focus on the part of the inhabitants?
Konstiantina flinches as the doors slam closed, though whether it's from the brief flash of evil she received or the violence of her friends' exit is impossible to tell.
DC 25 Sense Motive:
It's because of both.
She steps forward after Mosle's apology, her expression somewhere north of a frown and west of puzzlement. "Master Mosle, why are you and your companions still here? You know this curse to be potent beyond your ability to handle, and the Baron seems to be degenerating. Why this loyalty to a man who is now evil in the eyes of the gods? And what is your end game? To feed and placate him until...?"
Sense Motive on Mosle:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18
It occurs to Konstiantina that the men never answered their original question. "And what happened to the messenger whose horse you have butchered?"
"Does the baron recognize you and your men, Master Mosle? Does he still retain the ability to converse? How much of him remains, and how much would you say had transformed into a monster?"
Sense Motive:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15 Knowledge Nobility on the Baron's previous reputation:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13
Konstiantina nods as Master Mosle opens with what is a perversely reassuring line. That they acknowledge most might desire to kill their leader means they are not unaware of the frightful nature of the situation, and shifts the small group of guards immediately into a more relatable and normal category.
Konstiantina purses her lips. Sometimes it's just simpler for their foes to be rank evil. Still...
"We have heard alarming reports as to what's happened here, Sergeant Kalikki. Finding the town wrapped in spider webbing and the people turned out only heightens our concern. Can you explain what took place? What has happened to the Baron? I swear on Iomedae that we come seeking only to help. If there is any healing we can provide, or guidance for his betterment, we would gladly give it."
"Saddlebags means this wasn't meant to be a meal," Konstiantina murmurs, eyeing the swarming flesh with distaste. "Which means a rider might be somewhere here about. Unless Iomedae grants they escaped."
The paladin moves around the hanging horse meat, turning her attention to the other exits. "Worse, this means whatever lurks here is cogent enough to cut and hang meat for later, yet monstrous enough to be willing to eat such rotted flesh. A further indictment of our unwitting host."
She moves to examine the walled in door.
How neat is the masonry? Fresh or old work? Can it be tumbled down?
"Thanks for that," smiles Konstiantina as Rose draws her back. The paladin waits as her friend disarms the trap, then calmly steps over it once Rose gives the go-ahead.
She drifts forward warily, listening intently as she goes, gaze trailing over the old furniture, the cobwebbed walls, the faded finery.
Without a word she pauses by the double doors and listens intently again before probing through the wood for a sense of evil.
Konstiantina moves warily into the doorway and pauses, her darkvision making it so that she doesn't need to wait for her eyes to adjust to the gloom.
"It's almost immaterial as to what's happened to the man. Anyone who can live here for months on end - if live he does - has crossed the threshold of humanity. Perhaps there's a means to bring him back from the darkness, but..."
