The Elimine church in Bern's capital has a familiar smell of wax and varnished wood. Light bounces off the domed ceiling, illuminating depictions of Saint Elimine blessing the continent of Elibe and shedding light, then performing various healing acts through Etrurian and Bern villages. Her marigold hair and ivory skin in the stain glass depiction colour the white altar cloth. On one side of the altar, my childhood friend Ellen is a tiny figure in a white dress and veil lighting candles. She has only been a cleric in Bern's capital for two weeks but has become a matching accessory in this holy diorama.

'Miledy! I didn't think you were interested religion,' Ellen's sandals slap against the wooden floor as she scurries towards me, 'have you changed your mind? There are many knights in Bern who also follow St. Elimine, not just in Etruria. We have priests who holds services around Bern's military bases. Saint Elimine's love knows no borders.'

'Thank you, Ellen,' I feel guilty when her puppyish brown eyes fixate on me, 'but I have come to ask you for an important favour, one that could decide whether our country survives or disintegrates. You see,' I unfold a yellowed parchment square from my pocket, 'my mother has sent me a concerning message.'

'A message from General Lurja!' Ellen reaches for the letter, 'how wonderful that the most esteemed tactician in Bern's history is a woman. You mother gives me hope that I might someday overcome my fear of men. N-Not that I would dream of being as great as her. I'm getting better: now I can continue my church duties even if a young man starts kneeling at the back to pray before the beginning of mass — oh, I've made this about myself again, haven't I?! I apologise. Please show me the letter.'

My brave daughter, Miledy,

Your father and I received excellent news of your promotion to wyvern captain when Zeiss visited us. The fall from his wyvern Rubley has left him with an injured shoulder but your younger brother will be able to return to training within the next month.

Zeiss also mentioned his new squad captain, Captain Gale, whose fighting prowess you praised in your last letter. Captain Gale seems a great deal more respectful towards his juniors than that vacuous twat, Captain Narcian. I have known Captain Narcian since he was young: I have never met a boy so vain and reliant on petty gadgets and trickery to win. As the cliche goes though 'all is fair in love and war', so one could argue that his underhanded tactics are valid. Still, I despise the substitution of an honourable duel for backstabbing. Trickery may win battles, but it forever smears the reputation of one's nation and its culture.

On the topic of trickery, I would warn against becoming too friendly with Captain Gale. This is not an insult to his combat skills. Like your father and grandfather, I too believe that ambitious armies must reward the highest ranks to those who demonstrate military talent, rather than based on lineage or ethnicity. General Murdoch must have had some justification for admitting him to the Bern army. However, I cannot ignore the fact that Captain Gale was born in Etruria, Bern's primary economic and military rival.

In a time of rising tensions between these two countries, the sudden arrival of an Etrurian mercenary well-versed in wyvern-back combat should be subject to intense scrutiny. Battles are not won at the point one side blasts a spear its enemy king. The seeds of victory are planted well in advance, often decades before any declaration of war.

Be wary and take care, Miledy. I am always thinking of you.

P.S. Please tell Ellen that the children at the orphanage in our hometown miss her very much. They taunt Zeiss endlessly.

'General Lurja,' Ellen holds the message to her chest just as I try to retrieve it. She gazes up at the stain glass window of Saint Elimine. The shards making up her green cloak brighten as the sun shines through, 'seldom do we see such sagely figures.'

'The point is that Captain Gale is a national security concern,' I take the letter back and place it in my satchel, 'I believe he attends the Elimine mass each week. I'm asking you to monitor him for any suspicious behaviour.'

'If I read correctly...' Ellen continues murmuring to the stain glass window, 'you have been writing to your mother about this Captain Gale.'

'A litt—'

'And you have been following him to church,' Ellen's eyes widen as she cups one hand over her mouth, 'oh, Miledy!'

'Wait, no— Ellen,' my cheeks burn under the light bouncing off a metallic portrait frame, 'you misunderstand—!'

'I'm thrilled!' Ellen squeezes my hand, 'you should have been clearer about your feelings for Captain Gale from the start. I would do everything to aid you for Saint Elimine herself is a representation of love.'

'You just love gossip…' I take my red braid to one side and observe my reflection in the holy water well. In truth, I had never considered myself a woman capable of love. When General Murdock placed the sword on my shoulder, my life wedded itself to the lance and protection of country. Aside from my wyvern, Trifinne, no other sort of soul mate entered my consciousness.

'Just seeing Captain Gale makes me fear for my life,' Ellen fiddles with a vulnerary hanging around her neck, 'oh, Saint Elimine, give me the courage to ask that man about his likes and dislikes! For my dear friend, Miledy, whose gifts in battle come with great deficits in matters of the heart!'

'Please don't!' I exclaim, still evaluating my reflection. Am I beautiful? Not when I shout like a soldier. That is my job. What about my features? No man has commented on my beauty, perhaps because my face is often under a helmet or splattered with mud during training. Occasionally at the markets, old women selling fruits and vegetables will touch my crimson hair, murmuring about the resemblance to my mother in her youth. Most of the time though, I stand as bodyguard behind Princess whom I imagine was the model for Saint Elimine's portraits, 'perhaps you need to spend some time at the orphanage. The children seem to provide plenty of entertainment, certainly more than this romance you've imagined for me.'

'I do miss them,' Ellen screws and unscrews the vulnerary cap, 'I'm honoured to have been brought closer to the church in Bern's capital to serve Princess Guinevere. But it's also scary to suddenly have royal duties—n-nothing like the pressure on you, of course! But sometimes, I just want to go back to the monastery at home and spend time with the children.'

'I can only deal with them for short periods of time and that's only when you're around,' I place my hand on the back of a pew, reflexively turning around when footsteps resound. Can it be Captain Gale? It's simply one of the bishops. Mass starts in the evening, 'I don't know how you handle them the whole day.'

'No, they're sweet. Even after losing their parents, their smiles are so simple and honest. I often escaped to the orphanage when soldiers visited the chapel to interrogate the head priest. The men who came were threatening.'

'Soldiers at the church?' Is this the political tension my mother was alluding to?

'The Bern government has been cracking down churches in its country and accusing them of allying themselves with Etruria, the birthplace of our religion.' Ellen sits in a pew, arranging her white skirt over her lap, 'but Saint Elimine taught us to serve all of Elibe, not act as political pawns or traitors to countries that offered space for our churches.'

'I know you would never,' I sit beside her, trying to avoid getting sunlight into my eyes, 'but there are some priests who would curry favour with the enemy to obtain some promised wealth or prestige.'

'I'd rather not think about it,' Ellen's brown hair covers my view of her face, 'you must think I'm a coward. A wyvern rider would never wish away an opponent in front of her. And I'm using the orphans to escape adulthood. I thought taking up Princess Guinevere's offer would help me grow up. But I'm useless.'

'I'm sure Father Renault appreciated your kindness and efforts at the orphanage. Princess Guinevere recognised that in you too. Otherwise, she wouldn't have brought you on as a lady-in-waiting,' my shoulders crack into place when I lift my arms, 'I'll be flying back to see Zeiss and my parents tomorrow morning. You can hop on with me. We haven't been home in months.'