Gregor lurched slightly as the cart hit another pothole. The road had been rather sketchy in quality for a while now, but the past few miles had given him cause to consider at what point you actually drew the distinction between a road and a relatively treeless stretch of ground. He was considering going up to the lead wagon to ask if this shortcut was really worth it, but decided against it when he realized that he would then be held responsible for the condition of any alternate route. If he somehow turned them down an even longer and bumpier road it would be his fault, whereas right now he was perfectly entitled to complain alongside everybody else. Far easier and more convenient.
Not that anybody else was doing any complaining right about now. It was far too early for most people other than Gregor to do anything that required parsing something as complex as displeasure. Gregor himself was only functioning out of long-acquired and slightly lamented habit; every time he tried to sleep in late he woke up smelling burnt pitch.
` Opposite of him, fast asleep despite the cart rocking like a cheap merchant vessel, Libra was sitting half-upright, snoring gently as they rattled along. As he watched a strand of his hair fall across his face Gregor was once again seized with curiosity about it- partly regarding why he grew it so long, but mostly regarding how he would react if he woke up to find it all cut off. For now, Gregor kept the impulse restrained. He could do without having an angry axe-wielding priest for a partner, and until he could get rid of the axe he indulged himself by attempting to braid a lock of Libra's hair every night to see how long it took him to notice.
As Gregor was about to up the count to five, Libra opened his eyes, forcing Gregor to switch gears and pretend that he had merely been shaking him awake. Fortunately this did not arouse suspicion; Libra simply stretched his arm out and shifted to a more upright position.
"Forgive me, it was disrespectful of me to behave like that right in front of you," he said sincerely. "I shouldn't indulge my desire for sleep if it means violating my duties."
Gregor shrugged. The way the priest's mind worked always seemed strange: he finds himself shaken awake during a desperately-needed nap on a rickety cart, and his first response is to seek out some way of taking blame for the situation. Such thinking suited Gregor's purposes just fine, but it was somewhat alien to his own point of view.
"Do you think that we will arrive today?" Libra asked, stifling a yawn as he spoke. "The wagon master said that this shortcut would get us to the village in two days, and this will be day four by my counting."
Gregor shrugged. "Perhaps we arrive today. Perhaps we arrive in week. Perhaps we arrive two days ago and village was just inside us all along," he said dismissively. "Is being unwise to expect good things to happen while sitting in rickety cart."
Libra nodded in comprehension, glancing around the planks of their vehicle. They were probably the best Chrom could have spared for a comparatively minor excursion, but that became a hard thing to accept after the first few days traveling across rough ground on unpadded seats.
"I wish I could attain such indifference, but the journey has worn me down. I just wish to get there so we may do our job," Libra said.
"Is true. Gregor is missing warm bed, and food, and days of beating skinny men holding swords," Gregor said. "And wife," he added quickly. He had set what was viewed as something of a speed-record among the Shepherds when he had married Olivia about a month after they met. Certain people had commented skeptically on the stability of the union, but Gregor was firmly optimistic. Years of experience on the battlefield had given him vast reserves of patience off of it, since any disagreement that didn't result in somebody screaming towards him with a sword over their head seemed rather trivial by comparison. Though admittedly getting sent away on such a trivial assignment so soon after his marriage had put a bit of a strain on things.
"I too miss my friends, and my betrothed," Libra said. "But my concerns lie more specifically with-"
"Oy, oy. Wait," Gregor said. "Where do you get wife?"
"I'm not married yet. But I do have something of an arrangement with Panne," said Libra, cautiously.
"Is not Gregor's issue," Gregor said, waving his hand dismissively. "Why did Gregor not know? And how is monk getting wife anyway? Would run against job description."
Libra pulled out a book from inside his robe. In the time they had been traveling together Gregor had seen him do that three times, and each time it had been a different book. Gregor had started to wonder exactly how much of his church's scripture Libra kept stored on his body, and finding out was an ambition of his second only to the hair-braiding project. In this particular instance the book was a small black volume with the words "Devotional Practice of the Southern Church of Naga" written on the spine in thin gold letters.
"Well yes, strictly speaking, I am a monk," he said, flipping through the pages. "But it's somewhat of a misnomer. The title of 'war monk' is given to male members of the clergy who abandon their normal mission for some righteous purpose on the battlefield, to signify that their departure is accepted given that they are devoting themselves to the gods in another sense. It's been a subject of debate in the church because the title by necessity grants reprieve from oaths forbidding violence. My particular branch of the church was founded during a schism by-" he paused in mid-speech after looking up from the book. Gregor had affixed his face with his best "attentive but noncommittal" expression, but from Libra's reaction it had apparently translated across as "dead fish". He smiled weakly and shut the book. "Well, suffice it to say I'm sure it will work out."
"Then how did Gregor not know about wedding?" Gregor asked, glad the lesson was over.
"I'm not entirely sure. We had something of a party to celebrate the announcement, and you were there."
Gregor considered this for a moment. "What was menu?" he asked.
Libra leaned back in thought. "Let me see. We had some roast pork and bear meat, carrot stew, some wine-"
"Ah," said Gregor, nodding. "Last one. That is why Gregor not remember." It was nice when the world started to make sense.
"Regardless, that's not the primary reason I am anxious to arrive at our destination," Libra continued. "I'm sure you realize why this voyage might leave me with trepidations."
"No," said Gregor, shortly and honestly. He barely knew what "trepidations' meant.
Libra appeared taken aback. "Did Chrom not inform you about the nature of our expedition?"
Gregor shrugged. "Prince walk up to Gregor and says, 'Gregor, village is being attacked by deserter bandits. Army goes to stop them, I am needing two Shepherds go with them so that I know things are going well. Will you slay bandits with mighty sword and handsome features?' And Gregor says yes, because Gregor is deeply stupid man inside." He waved a hand through the dim fog of the early morning, to illustrate exactly where this decision had gotten him.
"Well, yes, that is the basic nature of our mission," Libra said. "But I agreed for a more specific reason, and I hadn't considered that you might not have been informed. The village we are being sent to defend has a church in it that I have a rather unfortunate history with."
"Is church you abandon to go chase evil away with axe," guessed Gregor.
"Not quite. You recall that when I made the journey to attempt to save the Exalt, I was accompanied by several of my peers who shared my vision, all of whom eventually fell victim to perils of the road during our travels? This church was presided over by one of them."
"Ah," said Gregor, nodding deeply. He could feel deep sympathy for such a predicament. No matter how glorious of a victory a battle was, the family of those who were killed in it always seemed to miss the big picture. There was crying, and lamenting, and promises of ongoing revenge that only ever seemed counterproductive in hindsight. More than a few times the responsibility had fallen to Gregor to inform next-of-kin of a comrade's passing, and repeated experience had taught him that the correct approach was to knock firmly on the door, explain the situation to whoever answered in as few sentences as possible, and then walk briskly in the opposite direction. The more time you spent around them the greater likelihood that they were going to blame you.
Unfortunately, this approach was not going to be an option considering they were going to be spending at least a few days defending the village. A priest essentially acted as a family figure for an entire community. And now that Libra was showing up with the story of said family figure's demise, there were going to be a lot of awkward questions and no direction to briskly walk.
"Prince sending you is strange decision," Gregor remarked aloud.
"The prince didn't single me out. I volunteered when I heard about the nature of the assignment," Libra said.
Gregor raised an eyebrow. "Villagers will be unhappy if they find out. Is priest foolhardy or simply tired of living?"
"Neither, I'm afraid. I feel like the responsibility lies with me to explain exactly what happened to him to the church, his family, and anybody else who cares," Libra said.
Gregor raised another eyebrow into position beside the first. "You are making strong argument for tired of living."
Libra sighed. "I know you might not agree, but this is something I have to do. I'm the only surviving member of our expedition. I'm the only one who can tell them how he died, where he was buried. I'm the only one who can give them closure, and it's my responsibility as a priest to do so."
"Gregor is thinking that letters exist."
Libra smiled weakly. "Would I really be fit for my duties if I felt that a letter would suffice?" He leaned forward with sudden confidence. "I appreciate your candor, Gregor, but I can't be swayed from this decision. Come what may, I have to explain what happened, in this village as well as those of my other comrades eventually. I would not hold it against you if you want to abandon the expedition."
'Yes, Gregor scamper home with legs of mighty deer. Is brilliant idea," Gregor said sarcastically. "Compromise. We defend village first, then you make villagers cry. Keep overall sadness even."
"I would agree, but if I were to fall in battle before I could explain…" Libra said, his voice trailing off as if he didn't want to finish his sentence.
"You are thinking you will die? Then tell Gregor about dead priest. Gregor will not be dying. Has forgotten how," he said. "Gregor has special method for dealing with next-of-kin. Is very brisk."
Libra seemed to consider this for a moment. His hand idly tapped on his knee. After a brief few seconds during which Gregor tried to figure out how he had offended him, Libra looked forward and nodded.
"Very well then. If I can hold you to your word, I will agree," he said. "On one condition."
No conversation in Gregor's entire life had ever ended well after somebody used the phrase "on one condition".
"Condition?" he asked.
"The rest of the village can wait. But I will visit the church as soon as we get there," Libra said. "And you will come with me."
Gregor's eyebrow returned to its roost. "You are making funny joke, yes?" Even if it was on reduced terms, Gregor didn't exactly want to be in the room while Libra explained that he had led somebody's colleague to their untimely death. Besides, he was half certain that some curse he had picked up a few years ago made his skin burn whenever he walked into churches.
"I am not, Gregor. It's simply the most agreeable arrangement for me," Libra said. "Visiting the church first will ensure that anything that needs to be said will be said should the worst occur. And forgive me for presuming, but I would be much more comfortable with you by my side."
He was resorting to flattery. It worked. Damn him.
"Okay, okay," Gregor said. "Gregor will be helping. Will provide strong imposing presence to make it easier to explain bad news. Sight of large man often comforting in situation. Reminds that life goes on, in form of Gregor."
Libra made an awkward smile, as if not sure how much of what he had heard was a joke. "Thank you again, Gregor," he said finally.
The conversation petered out after that, but the cart continued to trundle along its path. The fog of the early morning burned away as the day grew older, and before long the rest of the convoy seemed to be regaining their mental faculties. The hours wore on, and just as Gregor was about to start conducting idle fantasies about lunch, their cart passed around a bend in a hill.
Gregor ran an eye over the tableau that presented itself, then turned back towards Libra, who was engaged in reading one of his books of scripture. A tap on the shoulder brought him out of his meditation.
"Yes, Gregor?" Libra asked.
"Take in sight," Gregor said, pointing down towards the small village clearly visible in the distance, a modest church in the center its only notable landmark. "This is site of most uncomfortable conversation in your life."