Gregor's boots thumped rhythmically on the cobblestones as he turned a corner onto what he hoped was the correct path through the village. It was so nice to be on real pavement again that he would have knelt down and kissed the roadway if he weren't familiar with how frequently streets like this were traversed by cattle. Libra had gone on ahead, and the Ylissean forces were going to be busy setting up encampments for quite a while before they actually thought about dealing with the bandits, so he had no problem taking a detour on his way to the church, taking what had recently become a rare opportunity to stretch his legs and escape from the behind of a horse.

The village was rather small, with a population in the triple digits and family trees that probably looked like they were eating each other. It was thus unsurprising that he didn't encounter any traffic on the streets. While he could have blamed it on the early morning, the periodic sight of window shutters banging shut in front of him was a rather sure sign that the residents weren't familiar with large, heavily armed strangers wandering through. Or, perhaps, they were far too familiar with such occurrences.

Whistling to himself, he turned another corner and found himself facing his destination, the modest chapel that served the village, stuck in the middle of a plaza from which other streets branched out more or less at random. The construction, simple though it was, looked considerably higher in quality than the homesteads and shops surrounding it, probably the work of some enterprising missionaries who vastly overestimated the town's rate of growth. Somewhat disconcertingly, Libra was not waiting outside for him as they had agreed, which presumably meant that he was already inside trying to assume responsibility for their priest getting himself killed.

The doors of the chapel were invitingly open, unlike every other building in the village, and Gregor walked through quickly after eyeing it nervously for a second or so. His skin failing to sizzle, he made his way through the pews down towards the altar, where he could see Libra having no doubt a pleasant chat with two clergymen, one an elderly priest and the other an acolyte barely younger than Libra himself. Gregor quickened his pace towards them, catching only the tail end of what must have been a fairly long and uncomfortable monologue by Libra.

"…was a kind and wise man, absolutely unflinching in his devotion to the gods. His loss pains me dearly, as I'm sure it must for you. If there are any questions regarding his fate that you'd like to ask, or services that I might render while I am here, I implore you to ask," Libra said with a note of finality in his voice. Gregor sidled in as unobtrusively as someone of his frame could, earning a confused stare from the older priest and an expression he couldn't read from the acolyte. Libra turned his head to see what they were looking at, and gave a small approving smile.

"Oh yes. This is my companion. Gregor," Libra said, raising a hand. "I asked him here with me for moral support, though I'm afraid my own nerves were too much for me to wait properly. He is a good man, as well. Though of a different sort." Gregor nodded and tried to look as nonthreatening as possible, starting to think that one sword might have been enough today.

Libra glanced back towards the other two clergymen nervously. The elderly priest gave a small, awkward smile, and said, "Well, I think we-"

"Absolutely ridiculous," came a voice sharply cutting across his.

The old priest looked to his side with surprise. The acolyte was standing with his arms folded defiantly across his chest, an indignant grimace on his face.

"Absolutely, completely ridiculous," the acolyte continued fiercely. "You lead away our priest, my brother, on your idiotic excuse for a crusade, get him killed, leave his body in the open wilderness, and don't even get close to achieving your goal. Then you have the gall to come back here, unrepentant, alongside this barbarian"- a finger was leveled at Gregor- "as an example of the sort of company you prefer to him."

The old priest frowned. "Now, I think we shouldn't-"

"Why are you here?" the acolyte continued forcefully. "To taunt us with his death? We knew he was dead. Or are you just trying to show off how much happier you are now that you've abandoned the priesthood for a life of violence and bloodshed? Perhaps you think my brother would still be alive if he were an axeman and not a priest. That would make sense, given the respect you've demonstrated for the profession. We're glad to see you're making well in your new trade, but that hypocrisy is merely sickening to the rest of us."

The acolyte shook his head. "You've already killed my brother. Isn't that enough people?" he said disgustedly. Without another word, he walked out of the room.

The old priest was silent for a few moments, looking very uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," he said eventually. "I shall have a word with him. He has not taken the loss very well, and I'm afraid your visit has brought up some unwelcome emotions." He looked between the two of them imploringly. "I believe you when you say that you came here with only good intentions. We should speak again, at a better time."

Gregor, taking the hint, nodded a goodbye and steered Libra alongside him as he walked toward the exit. Libra muttered words of farewell over his shoulder, but was silent for the rest of the way. He was obviously lost in thought, staring at the ground as if it were eager to provide the answers to all of life's questions.

Gregor sat down on the steps outside, and Libra slowly lowered himself next to him. Neither of them said anything for quite some time. Gregor simply sat and stared at the iron-gray sky, careful not to accidentally start the conversation. He had been around enough awkward homecomings that he knew when not to speak, and he knew Libra well enough to know what the first words would be when he did want to talk.

"I'm sorry," Libra said eventually. "I shouldn't have asked you to come."

"You have done Gregor no harm. Gregor has seen much more embarrassing arguments in life," Gregor said. "Has been cause of most of them."

"I suppose," Libra said blankly. He stared at the sky alongside Gregor for a moment, then rose to his feet.

"We should return to the camp," he said distractedly, staring down the street. Gregor obediently rose beside him, and turned him around so he was facing the right direction.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, trying to avoid the growing traffic of the morning. Eventually, Libra broke the silence between them himself.

"Do you suppose he was right?" he said. "About any of it."

"Raving man is rarely right," Gregor said dismissively. "There is easy way to tell if you are responsible for priest's death."

"What's that?" Libra said.

"Did you place axe over neck and make up and down motion?" Gregor said, indicating his throat and weapon to make sure his point was getting across. "If yes, you are responsible. If not, man who made motion is."

Libra took a long look at Gregor's axe, and said eventually, "But what about the other accusations he made"

"Accusations?" Gregor said.

"Gregor, have I truly lost my way?" Libra said. "Is it fitting for a man of the cloth to take up an axe? My crusade is over, and failed. I should have returned to my initial mission, to preach peacefully to the masses." He stretched his arms out plaintively. "And here I am, a member of a prince's private army, with an axe under the arm and an enemy I have intention to slay."

"We have been having conversation earlier today," Gregor said. "Arrangement has changed. You are no longer priest, but warrior monk. Axe is now pulpit, enemy is now masses at which to preach."

Libra's expression continued to falter. Gregor blinked, surprised that his words had not had the bolstering effect he had anticipated.

"Where is shock coming from?" he said. "You have been part of prince's army for months. Surely purpose of axe was not lost on you."

"I don't know," Libra said. "Perhaps I've been rationalizing."

He increased his pace. Gregor found himself struggling to keep up, surprised that a man could move so quickly wearing so much robe. "I told myself that, in my failure to save the Exalt, the next best thing would be to help preserve the Halidom as part of Chrom's Shepherds," Libra said. "If I could protect the Halidom that the Exalt presided over, I could redeem myself for my failure. Perhaps I was deluding myself. Today's conversation was illuminating. This is no work for a priest."

"Do only healing, then," Gregor said. "Less axework."

"The enemies we've been fighting haven't been keen on avoiding fighting our healers," Libra said. "I'd still be in a position where I'd be forced to defend myself."

Gregor shrugged. "Retire, then," he said bluntly. "After mission," he continued after a moment of thought. This was far from the first time he had held this conversation with somebody. Despair was an effective way to keep somebody from killing you. But Libra had been dragging it out for a while, and he was still counting on him to help with the bandits.

"I wish it were that simple," Libra said. He started to slow down again, contemplating.

"Is very simple. You put axe down and do not pick up again," Gregor said.

Libra shook his head. "I don't know. I feel like ever since I left to help the Exalt I've just been distancing myself further and further from returning to my original mission. I took up an axe. I've killed people, Gregor. Deliberately and efficiently. How can I go back to being a priest embedded with so much sin? I'd be a base hypocrite to advise something as simple as violence being wrong."

"Oy," Gregor said, annoyed. "Gregor respect violence."

His patience was wearing thin in places. Few men in history could waffle as effectively and at such length as Libra. "Sin this, redeem that," Gregor said plainly to Libra's mortified expression. "All self-centered. Think of end, not of action. I kill bandit, I stop him from killing many non-bandits. I kill assassin, I stop war. I kill soldier, I stop massacre. Moping only slows the stopping."

"With all due respect, Gregor, you're a mercenary," Libra said. "Are you sure you feel comfortable professing on matters of morality?"

"Gregor makes living- very good living, sometimes," Gregor said, nodding. "But always tries to make sure paycheck is coming from nice place. Is good enough for me."

Libra couldn't field a response to that. They continued on in silence, while Gregor assumed Libra was thinking up other ways to convince himself he was a horrible person. Evidently he couldn't come up with anything damning enough to divert their course, so they arrived back at the military encampment outside the village without further incident. Gregor was pleased to discover that their trip to the chapel had provided a positive result after all, since it had gotten him out of setting up any of the fortifications.

The rest of the day passed without incident. Gregor spent most of it relaxing in his tent, talking with the captain of the expedition about the assault on the bandit camp within the next few days, and a few lovely moments in sparring practice teaching the cockier and younger soldiers why it was wise to respect an old mercenary.

But even as he was sending some swordsman flying backwards into the mud, he tried to keep an eye on Libra. He had never really come to a definite conclusion in his inner crisis, which meant that every passing moment increased his likelihood of doing something stupid. Eventually, and early, Gregor went to bed, ever thankful that it wasn't going to move tomorrow. Libra joined him, and Gregor kept one eye on him as he dropped to sleep.

What felt like a few minutes later, Gregor woke up, taking the pitch-black silence around him as a sign that something had gone horribly wrong. As a veteran of multiple armies, Gregor knew that nobody you were forced to sleep next to was ever a quiet sleeper. Armies all over the world would specifically recruit sleep-talkers, snorers, and toss-and-turners specifically to sleep next to you. And sure enough, it was immediately obvious that Libra wasn't in the tent from the lack of snoring in the background. Which almost certainly meant that he had wandered out of the camp and off to do the stupid thing he had been preparing for.

Gregor sighed and threw off his blanket. Ordinarily he didn't sleep in his gear, but it had been fairly obvious that he wasn't going to get a full night's sleep tonight. He grabbed his axe, and went to find out where the fool had gone.