It's strange how foreign a home of two years can seem after only a month away. Approaching the Military Academy, approaching the place I'd shared with Lazierte and the other Comrade Witches for so long, the place where I met Her Majesty... It is both as I remembered it, but also different. Darker, shadowier, deeper. It felt as if I had lived within a painting for my entire military education, and only now am I making my way into the actual building itself for the first time... Were the trees that formed the fence around the grounds always so thick? Was the building's facade always so imposing? It isn't enough to scare or intimidate, honestly quite the opposite. It feels almost like the building is trying to project an image, a little like set dressing in a play, and is trying far too hard to sell the illusion. It honestly comes across as contrived. Some architect somewhere wanted the place to look very impressive to seventeen-year-olds who had not yet seen a battlefield.

Maybe this too is part of growing up, seeing the construction, the contrivance behind things that seem so scary... That part doesn't seem so bad in honesty, it’s almost a little amusing. Even if I know somewhere in the Great Grove of Steel the Academy is built into, a great many bodies are buried. Some I put there myself…

As I approach the gate door I am faced with one thing that is exactly as I remember it. "Minister Rosierte! I fail to see what you believe qualifies a novice like you to criticize our army, but-"

Rosierte... Why does that name seem familiar? "I fail to see what qualifies an insane man like you to be immune from criticism! Sending the Comrade Witches to war with only two years of training was bad enough, but the new students too? Half of them aren't even eighteen yet!"

"The Situation in Alemannia has just about collapsed, Rosierte! If we are to protect our borders we must have more officers to send to the front!"

It's strange how the soft-spoken Rosierte is still able to shout down the Marshal of Avernia, even at half the volume. "And you couldn't take troops from Antoine's army in Samnia for that purpose? By all accounts his front is stable, and going rather well!"

"Militaries reinforce success, Rosierte!-"

"Then I hope the Royal Family enjoys ruling from Genoa, if you're really too busy winning battles in foreign countries to protect the homeland!"

"Rosierte-"

"And all of this would be unnecessary if you had simply accepted my proposal to suspend student fees for talented people from among the common people! We would have no shortage of officers if we simply allowed ourselves to-"

"Commonfolk are not appropriate leaders in a time of war, are you mad?! Steel would never allow it!"

"You mustered Commonfolk witches during the Queen's decree. The God of War and Majesty has hardly struck us all down."

"That was by royal decree, not by- Ah, Serena!" The Marshal notices me awkwardly standing in the courtyard, waiting for the pair of them to be done before I can ask for a place to sleep. "You talked sense to this man before, you must be able to tell him that common folk are not appropriate officers on a battlefield! One needs a certain noble character to-”

"And character is a matter of birth, is it?" Rosierte fires a barb at the Marshal, before turning his attention to me.

And now I am stuck, forced to do what might be the most lethal thing in Avernian politics. Express an opinion... I can't run, I need to find a place in Avernia and this is my last, best shot. But whatever I say is going to take me one step further away from Her Majesty, isn't it? It's going to end up in some newspaper, people are going to curse my name even more... I am beginning to realize why Malmo fears the press more than he fears the battlefield. Even Rosierte, whoever he is, is looking at me with more guilt and condolence than a desire for me to prove him right.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. Hesitation would kill me, after all, I need to act decisively... What’s the question again? Common folk leading armies? ... Lazierte is of the common folk, isn't she?

"... Lazierte was a commoner before she entered Her Majesty's service. If I remember right, you gave her a colonelcy due to her merit as a student and a commander. I never did learn what her witch's spell is, but I can't imagine it was so compelling as to dominate your decision-making. She does as any other commoner could, does she not?"

I can't help but find this appropriate, even if my face can’t show it. He separated Lazierte and I, he had set us apart for his own petty beliefs, and now I can turn that against him. It’s a beautiful revenge of the soul…

And the Marshal looks as if he has been stabbed, betrayed much as he betrayed Lazierte and I. "Well- Well I never! Serena, I would have thought your experiences on the battlefield may have taught you some good sense! Or perhaps your time in Canstatt taught you exactly the wrong lessons!"

And he just had to poke that wound, just like everyone else has today. "I learned my lessons in the hell that consumed Alsace, Marshal! I learned the kind of monster you wanted me to become, the cold and pitiless thing the battlefield demands! And I would never wish to subject ANYONE to such a monstrous transformation, common folk or otherwise! No human being has any place on a battlefield, Marshal… We are all equal in that."

... I am almost as loud as the Marshal. He’s stunned trying to formulate a counterargument, before simply shaking his head and taking off back to the Academy building proper, mumbling under his breath. I sure showed him! ... I sure showed up the man I’m supposed to be asking for a place to sleep... Oh no.

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Rosierte looks at me with some amount of amusement, albeit the amusement of a joke the two of us were in on. "So that's what it feels like to listen to one of your speeches from the outside. You could give half The Convention a run for their money with rhetoric like that."

I look down, suddenly incredibly embarrassed, finding that being praised for yelling my way out of having a place to sleep is something of a painful consolation. "I... I didn't really mean to, I just... I've been dealing with the fallout of my decisions at Canstatt and Alsace all day. I was castigated, my Queen called me a threat to her family, I barely managed to escape having to lodge with Malmo, and now I've screamed at the last person in the city who might offer me a bed... I think I might just have an anger problem."

"I think the world simply has a 'being infuriating' problem... I am sorry about your castigation. I know it's not as bad as losing your commission, but it is still-"

"Why are you apologizing? You didn't condemn me on a stage in front of all the boring old people."

"Yes but... The whole thing was technically my idea. And the Queen's. I refused to vote for you being fired from the Army and offered the compromise of a public castigation, a proposal on which The Convention could have a unanimous vote. The Royal Family expressed their willingness to go along with the plan, so for the sake of unity between the two governments of Avernia it was what we went with. If you'd have preferred to have been sent home, then you can blame me all you like."

"... As long as I am a general, I can do better next time. For as long as I live, I can try again... Thank you for having me castigated, Monsieur Rosierte."

"Heh, you rather impressed me when you shouted me down in the Great Groves of Steel. It seemed a shame to let your potential go to waste after such a performance-"

"Wait, I did what?"

"... You don’t remember? When the High King told you that you were all going to war? I showed up with some supporters to protest his decision. You were quite incensed at me, gave me something of a burn or two."

"That was you?!" So that's why this man seems familiar. "... Do forgive me, Monsieur Rosierte. I just... I saw Her Majesty cry and I don't remember much of what happened between that and her smiling at me at the end of it."

"You're a strange one, Serena. You really do treat love the way some treat politics... Did you say you needed somewhere to stay?"

Part of me realizes that I openly called the Queen ‘Her Majesty’ before Rosierte, and he seems to have accepted it without question… He’s surprisingly tolerant of my mild treason. "Yes... Her Majesty cannot offer me a place or any money due to my poor standing in the press. It would be dangerous for her... I am a threat to The Queen, and I must confess it rather stings. Even more than the possibility of having to stay with that odious General Malmo… Oh, apologies, I know he is well-liked by The Convention, I imagine he might be a friend of yours-"

"Oh fuck that arrogant Aeduian Restorationist, those social-climbing wannabe aristocrats are no friends of mine."

“… Aedu-what?” I blink, trying to find some way in which that phrase isn’t complete nonsense.

Rosierte’s eyes develop a spark in them when I ask the question, it seems I have kindled a fire. “The Aeduian Restorationists are nothing more than power-hungry opportunists, attempting to hijack the popular will behind The Convention to replace landed nobles with ruthless industrialists. They want to build a republic that can be bought and sold by the rich, one which can be paralyzed at a moment’s notice by their inclusion of a bicameral legislature with a ‘Senate’ that can veto any legislation passed by the democratically elected representatives of the people! They do it in the name of a long-extinct tribe of Celtic Oligarchs, and have the gall to call it progress! They are scum, they are disgusting scum, and somehow they have been allowed to dominate The Convention of Humanity through lobbying efforts and-“

I smile as best I can, I listen to the best of my ability… But the dense political theory slides off of my brain, I am completely out of this conversation. I feel like my life would be a lot easier if any of this could even begin to make sense to me... Rosierte takes a deep breath, managing to bring himself back from his intensely animated rant. His passion is honestly reminiscent of my own during that unfortunate ‘shouting at him a lot’ incident.

“Suffice to say, I don’t much like the people he associates himself with… And for good measure, he personally just happens to be an asshole.”

... I think I might quite like Rosierte, I find myself regretting siding against the Marshal less and less. "I know enough to agree with that entirely! What kind of General needs three publicists anyway?!"

"The kind that needs a lot of spin to be made palatable!” This gets a smile out of Rosierte, before he turns somewhat introspective. “... I think I would like to take you home."

"Rosierte!” I am shocked, this is our second conversation, and it’s barely less loud than our first one! “That is highly inappropriate and I am not-"

"I didn't mean it like that!" Rosierte's voice honest to goodness breaks just a little, and I realize that in sharp contrast to the old men of The Convention, Rosierte looks not a day over thirty. "I would like to introduce you to my wife, who I love dearly, and offer you my guest room. I am a staunch opponent of the housing crisis in Alesia, so it would be hypocritical to allow you to sleep on the streets while I have a room available."

"I... Wait. You're offering me a place to stay?” This is definitely a lot better, but surely it comes with the exact same objections, right? “… I mean, I barely know you, monsieur!"

"I believe I'd like to know you better, you're a fascinating sort, Serena."

"But... But I'm a threat! You'll be an enemy of the press, same as me!"

"Fuck the press. If I started fearing what those overstuffed men in overstuffed chairs with overstuffed ink pots had to say then I wouldn't be in the business of trying to make the world a better place."

... Her Highness said the same thing about them, didn't she? It’s enough to make me smile. I can't imagine the two would see eye-to-eye on most things, but there is a kind of righteous contempt they shared that makes Rosierte rather compelling.

Rosierte does withdraw just a little bit. He’s still facing me but is now realizing he has offered a stranger use of his home. "I would never attempt to force the issue or try to make up your mind for you... But my wife and I do make a fantastic Celtic Onion Soup."

When was the last time I ate something homemade anyway? The commissary ate everything my mother sent me for my nineteenth birthday, and even then she probably didn't actually make them herself like she said. My family has people for that, after all.

"... Very well, Rosierte. But this soup better be everything you have claimed."

He offers a smile, a rather genuine smile, one which makes me think he is quite genuinely proud of his wife's cooking. "It's as amazing as Celeste is. Ah, Celeste is my wife. And my name is Auguste, if you would prefer to be informal."

"I would. Please, continue to call me Serena."

"Gladly, Serena."