First Knight Trista only paid a minor amount of attention to the conversation between the Paladin and the Priestess. Most of her attention was spent on constantly scanning her surroundings. It was theoretically impossible for any threat to approach a monastery without being detected long before it got within sight of the building, but life had taught her a few harsh lessons about taking security for granted. Her disfigured face was proof of that. She systematically moved her eyes constantly, taking notes of the landscape, of bushes where goblins could hide, trees where an archer might lurk, a rocky outcrop that could hide a troll. Her fellow Knights at the fortress-monastery that she called home had ridiculed her once they had discovered that compulsion. They called her paranoid, insane, and a few had even called her out for lacking faith— as if the Lord would ever tolerate monsters and evil to approach a sanctum! The women who had voiced those accusations had faced her in a duel shortly after that— all three of them versus her alone, in a single battle. They had kept quiet after that, even when their bones had healed. Her Protector, the leader of the fortress-monastery, had admonished her for it. Even though the woman had agreed that the insults were vicious enough to warrant her issuing them a challenge, trashing them so thoroughly to the extent that they needed months in the infirmary was taking it too far. Trista had accepted the penance the Protector had set for her. She would not tell the woman that the main reason she had reacted so aggressively was because the accusations were true.

When the trolls had ambushed her patrol, she had lost faith. She had seen most of her team get torn to shreds in seconds after the beasts had struck. A human stood little chance against a being easily twice as tall as you swinging a club that was the size of a tree trunk. How those monsters gotten that close to a fortress-monastery that employed a full squad of scouts had been anyone's guess. She absentmindedly brought her hand up to her nose, and snapped it down violently once she realised what she was doing. That beast was dead now, by her own hand. Two other trolls had died as she served as the only line of defence while protecting three heavily wounded comrades-in-arms, though she had taken that dreadful, disfiguring blow in turn. The fourth beast would have overwhelmed her had the Protector not launched a lightning-quick assault, arriving just in time to prevent the First Knight from being pulverised and to shove a lance through the troll's torso.

In a way she was glad for it, though it was a thought that made her feel guilty. It made people believe that the real reason she had so violently beaten up the Knights that had been spreading tales like fish-wives, was because they also commented on her new appearance rather than her lack of faith. And it was that lack of faith that bothered her so. She still believed that the Order was a force of good, but she could hardly trust and support the Lord when he allowed His faithful to die for no reason. She had begun questioning Him more and more ever since the attack, and had only found more questions— questions that she would voice to no one. Being stripped of everything she had, getting whipped till she had no skin on her back and being thrown out of the Order would be the most merciful of fates she could expect. So she had thrown herself into her training even harder, to all the world appearing to be a woman driven by the fires of faith, zeal and vengeance on the evil that had wrested her beauty and friends from her. Her teachers had held her up as a shining example to the rest of the Knights and Squires, an irony she both appreciated and loathed simultaneously. She cared little for the Lord, even though she still followed. But she cared for those around her, for the Order. The Order was good. The Order brought peace and prosperity and those who ascended in its ranks were worthy and would do their task well, regardless of how they felt. And it was her home.

And that's when she had been assigned to accompany a Priestess on a missionary sending. The belief in the competence of the Order as a whole had not so much taken a beating as it had been dismantled entirely. The Priestess had been arrogant, aggressive, had abused her magic to impress and punish without discrimination. Any man, woman, child that had not worshipped the bitch had been harshly punished. At first the Paladin that was with them had tried to voice complaints, all which were either pointedly ignored or resulted in the Priestess yelling so viciously at her that the Paladin bade a hasty retreat. The situation had escalated as time progressed, and had only been violently ended when the Priestess lost her temper with the wrong people. She had used magic to strangle one of the Squires over a perceived insult and the poor girl had been turning blue. Trista had returned from her patrol just in time to see the end of that. The frail girl was near death and the furious Priestess was still livid and dead-set on administering a proper penance. The sound the Paladin's blade made when it pierced the Priestess' gown and flesh would be forever associated with the downfall of the Order to her. The Order was an organisation made up of humans, and humans were fallible. She had been trained well enough to know that she was more than slighty biased, and that the individuals the Order produced were incredibly capable. Usually the only people who reached a high rank were indeed those who truly believed and would go on performing countless good deeds. But she no longer believed things on hearsay. She would judge what her own eyes witnessed and believe those whom she deemed trustworthy, but nothing more.

"Are you alright, Knight Trista?" came the Priestess' voice.

She snapped out of her thoughts back to the here and now, glad that her eyes were still moving back and forth and looking for traps and foes. She moved them towards the Priestess and was confused when she saw the face of that young woman again, younger than her by several years at least, which was absurdly young for a Priestess. But what truly confused her was the look of honest concern. She nodded her head slightly. "I am fine, Priestess."

Glissandi nodded in return, the look on her face making clear she did not believe a word of it, but that she would not inquire if the Knight didn't want to share. Trista appreciated that. So when she felt dislike for the woman well up, she pushed it down firmly, aware that this Priestess could not be blamed for the actions of the previous one.

"I would like to request the same of you as I did of Paladin Lisa; I would like to hear your honest and open opinion on everything I do. Treat me as you would treat a student." The Priestess' eyes went over to the Squires slaving away with loading the horses and already working up quite a sweat and she grimaced slightly. "Well... Maybe not entirely as a student," she corrected.

Despite herself, Trista's lips twitched upwards. The Priestess had a solid head on her shoulders and seemed to actually be aware that she would be depending on her warrior escort to see her safely around the world once they left civilisation. And moreover, she tried to be friendly, which was another thing the Knight could comprehend. Knights, Squires and Paladins were all used to being out in the field and interacting with strangers on a daily basis, often working solo, but anyone serving the clergy was often locked away in monasteries and saw little of the outside world.

She turned her attention to her superior, a woman she had only known for a few weeks, yet one whom she trusted deeply. Everything about the woman screamed that she was a damn capable leader, and that was before she knew of the dozens of awards the Paladin had to her name, though she never wore them. Lisa seemed to feel the Knight's gaze and turned her face slightly, meeting Trista's stare. She nodded once, but firmly, then returned her attention to the Squires and the Priestess. If the Paladin approved of this new Priestess, then the Knight would follow her lead. "As you wish, Priestess. It shall be my honour."

Glissandi beamed a bright smile. Lord above, the girl —she was hard pressed to think of the Priestess as a woman now— was really looking forward to it all, and obviously felt safe in the hands of her new companions. Had she ever been like that, wide-eyed, innocent and full of eagerness to explore the world?

As the Priestess fired question after question at the Paladin concerning everything from how much difference there was between a warhorse and a travelling horse —a lot— to how long it would take them to leave civilisation behind and actually start their mission —around a month or two, depending on the weather— Trista's expression returned to her usual, unreadable state. She slid her helmet onto her head and fastened the straps, and went over to Steadfast, her own horse. She considered sending a prayer skywards for a good journey, then decided against it as she mounted. The future would bring what it would bring, but she doubted the Lord would deign to personally interfere with her.