Chapter 43: Reflections on a Roaming Road

Now that we're past the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, we can get back to a bit of a calmer state of being at Garreg Mach. After all, the Golden Deer are going to be busy handling the really dire stuff that happens in the upcoming month, so in theory things should be smoother for Bernadetta and Sylvain. Again, in theory. I'm not sure how that would pan out in actuality.

XXX

The return to Garreg Mach after the events that took place at Gronder Field were fairly honestly nothing to write home about, at least for a good amount of the people traveling in the caravan. Most of the student body was exhausted from the fierce fighting that had taken place, and so had no energy left to be rowdy during the few days that the return trip took. And of course, there was the sizable minority of students that were lacking energy not due to wounds sustained in battle, but rather from partying themselves sick the night before they were due to leave Adrestian Empire territory for the monastery.

Many students of the Golden Deer and Blue Lions Houses were among the ranks of the latter group. As those like Sylvain would attest to, there was zero benefit to getting smashed on snake wine a few hours before he was expected to ride a horse up some rocky and bumpy mountains. If there was one small mercy, it was that since he wasn't riding in a carriage, there was nothing stopping him from leaning over the side of his horse, projectile vomiting, and just keep on riding on his way. Sure, it was hardly gentlemanly and got him disgusted looks from Ingrid and Felix, but it worked. Besides, Ashe looked even worse than he did. The most generous way to describe him on the first day heading back was that he looked like he died the night before, and his soul simply repossessed his body to puppet it. He looked that bad. That was the true extent of getting hung over on the weird snake wine that Claude had access to.

Aside from that group of walking, imbibed dead, there was the small caravan of injured students as well. At least that group had legitimate, mostly not self-inflicted reasons for feeling as if they had gravel in their skulls and lead blocks for feet. It was a haul of students with head injuries, bruised ribs, broken limbs, broken noses, swollen eyes, testicular contusions, shattered teeth, and one rather bad case of food poisoning involving eating some bad mutton the night prior to the departure from Gronder Field.

Bernadetta was one such injured person traveling in the caravan of the wounded. While she was feeling a bit better thanks to some rest and healing magic, the Knights of Seiros still weren't taking any chances with her or any of the other recovering students. Although it might've seemed like the kind thing to do, Bernie had the feeling that it was probably due to the Church not wanting to anger the children of their most important followers and their biggest donors in one fell swoop. That had to be the reason. Otherwise, there would be no point in the medical caravan, at least to Bernie.

Still, even that probably-cynical move on the Church of Seiros' part was somewhat beneficial to Bernie on the way back. It kept her in relative isolation, with at least some thick courtesy curtains separating the injured students in the wagons. It was as good as she could get to her dorm room while on the road. Besides that, the separation from the rest of the Black Eagles upperclassmen afforded her some mental breathing room. She had nothing but time to ruminate on her Housemates' performance in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Namely, how they had all failed her on a personal level.

Bernie had a good memory, and she certainly remembered being promised protection by her classmates during the big battle she had just fought in. Dorothea, the Mittlefrank Opera Company's star diva herself, had promised to be like a shining knight protecting her innocent and frail body. But did she see Dorothea a single time during the battle? No, not particularly. There was the possibility that she saw her during that one weird point in time where her memories and experiences felt fuzzy and indistinct, but that was nothing concrete in her mind. In any case, she felt deceived, completely lied to. It was hardly a good feeling.

"I'm sure they were trying their best," a small voice protested in the back of Bernadetta's mind.

"Even if that's true, it doesn't hurt any less. People who hurt Bernie are people to avoid," a more persistent voice retorted. "It's for the best. Even you have to know that that's true."

Bernadetta couldn't deny to herself the truth of her persistent inner-voice's words. Avoiding being hurt was a top priority for her. It frankly always had been. However, that objective was hard when the fact that the world was harsh and cruel was taken into account. Bernie's fragile heart had little in the way of good defenses, even she knew that well enough. It was thoughts like that which made Bernie wish she was some kind of animal that could easily defend itself, the kind that would always have a protective mantle without expending any effort to keep it up. Something like a hedgehog.

Yeah, being a hedgehog sounded fairly appealing to Bernie. It was small enough to hide in equally small places, it was fast enough to outrun predators, and most importantly of all, they had spiny quills that made it a rather unwelcome catch for the unwary predator. While she could at least say that she had the first two qualities of a hedgehog down, the third one was sorely lacking. And unfortunately, the injured Varley girl had not the faintest idea of how to grow quills. For the moment, just avoiding people who hurt her seemed to be the most realistic and sensible course of action to take. Even if it meant that she would have to push away fellow members of the Black Eagles House.

However, if there was at least one good silver lining about all of that thinking, it meant that people who had already completely earned her trust were safe in Bernie's eyes. Sylvain was still someone she could lean on. To her, he was very much like a lion, the same kind that graced the Blue Lions House banner. Sylvain was a strong, noble creature that could afford to keep up an image of strength even in the face of adversity. Perhaps there was some way that Sylvain could lend Bernie some of his strength, beyond just being the most perfect, strong, handsome, desirable literature editor-cum-friend out there? It was something to consider, at least. If there was some way to learn strength from Sylvain, then it was certainly a thread to follow.

Bernadetta turned over to rest on her side on her straw mattress, her front now facing the canvas wall of the wagon. She could feel some cool air coming in from the small cracks made in the cover by the canvas billowing in the wind. It wasn't a bad feeling. Perhaps it would be a good thing to take the idea of having a cool head literally. Bernie need not concern herself with all of those scary thoughts about people hurting her while she was actually hurt. If anything, all she needed to do was rest, and take in the refreshing cool air that was present in the hills the caravan was traveling through.

Before long, sleep overcame Bernadetta's conscious senses, leading her to a dream world away from the worries of the world around her.

XXX

A bit of a shorter chapter this time around, but still a fairly important one in terms of talking about Bernadetta's character. Comparing her to a hedgehog feels rather fitting, considering she not only has a case of the hedgehog's dilemma going on a bit, but also because I've seen quite a bit of fan art that draws Bernie as an actual hedgehog. I guess that's just a common thing to portray her as, not that I'm complaining. She's a cute hedgehog.

Anyway, this is The Draigg, and I'm signing off for now!