⟬ Flashback: Several bells earlier. ⟭
Loyalty.
pαndα noνɐ1,сoМ It was a notion that humans craved.
To an ideal. To a cause. To another human.
It's so valuable because... well, people are fickle. People change.
...And so, loyalties change.
Or rather... maybe it was never 'loyalty' at all?
Haelvia didn't particularly feel like she was loyal to anyone...
She didn't feel like she had to be, either... not on a personal level.
She conveyed basic human-to-human good will, but she didn't have regular contact with anyone that she particularly cared for... or cared for her.
Dad didn't count, of course. Dad was wonderful and she loved him very much.
She chuckled to herself, imagining what people would say if she spoke her thoughts aloud.
Loyalty was *huge*, back in Tyrion.
That stated, Haelvia was undoubtedly 'loyal' to her nation. She always thought of the Shield Wall of Tyrion as... romantic.
Still... that was... nationalism and duty-- nothing like what she considered as loyalty.
Haelvia was 'loyal' to her guild.
...It was literally her job to be that.
Even if she wasn't contractually obliged to... if she had the power to protect a coworker or civilian in any given situation, she would.
Thus, that wasn't so much loyalty. It was more... common sense.
Haelvia was 'loyal' to her friends. She'd do anything for them-- within legal boundaries, anyroad.
Probably.
In theory, anyone she considered a friend would do the same for her.
The only issue with that was... she had exactly one friend in the company. The two friends she'd made before... the ones from her village-- she hadn't seen them in years.
Haelvia missed them. Terribly.
That... type of friendship was probably what she longed for. She was nostalgic for it.
'Loyalty' was just a fancy word that tried to oversimplify it all.
She wanted... a place where she felt like she belonged, people she could put her faith in... people she could fight for and who would fight for her.
A boyfriend would be nice, too-- a 'loyal' boyfriend.
...not that that was an actual priority.
Finding a modern gentleman that still held the archaic values of honesty and loyalty? Haelvia would have an easier time finding clothes in a shop that fit her without modifications.
...or a dragon.
That is to say... they didn't exist.
When Haelvia signed with Guild Metal Wolf, she got a whole spiel about joining a family... a sisterhood of sorts.
'The shield wall stands,' they said.
'You'll know the feeling when you become part of it,' they said...
'The man or woman on your left and right-- you'd be able to trust them to take an arrow for you. You'd do the same in a heartbeat.'
'The sum is greater than all its parts'... or something like that.
Haelvia was recruited by the Centurion, himself-- and he wasn't the most eloquent man. She could sense his sincerity, though. It would have been rude if she was anything less than polite.
It was a shame that the Centurion was wrong-- at least about her.
...Nevermind an arrow, Haelvia couldn't even trust her guildmates to wait until she was out of earshot before they began insulting her.
Centurion Januarius couldn't be blamed, though...
The camaraderie was there... it was just shared amongst everyone else. It was heartwarming, really, that people can come together and be happy in their shared suffering.
That sense of belonging-- that shared 'loyalty' or whatever it was called... Haelvia just didn't rate.
It had already been a year since she became a mercenary adventurer, striking off on her own, becoming responsible for herself like a proper adult.
She was doing well enough.
She ate two good meals per sun, which included meat, veggies, and some fruit if she was lucky.
She had a cot and a tent to sleep in... all to herself, too. The guild only issued tents made for two persons.
The wages were good. Half of it got sent to her father, back in the village. He didn't need the money, as he was still earning half-wages from his military pension... but he promised to use the extra silver to repair the house.
Maybe he could build a new fence to keep the coyotes out. Maybe he'd finally fix the hole in the front porch.
If Dad didn't have anything to show for it when she returned to Ezyria, she'd give him an earful.
Anyroad... Haelvia didn't need to make friends.
She had her duty. She had her father's letters. And she had the loyalty of the strongest, sweetest, and most handsome guy in the guild.
"You holdin' out alright? ...⌈Gaheris⌋?"
Haelvia touched the cool metal of her silvery Divine Armor, Gaheris.
She was his summoner-- his pilot, riding inside of his open chest as he carried her alongside the rest of the century. Being so intimate with him, though, she was subject to all his groans and creaks and wheezing. It was like he was made out of real materials, instead of mana.
⟬ From the rate of mana consumption, it looks like Gaheris will last until sundown before needing to rest... It would be best not to get into any engagements, though. ⟭
That was good. Even though Haelvia was rarely thanked for her service, there was a lot of unspoken value in having a friendly, fifteen foot tall Divine Armor in the guild's ranks.
Haelvia would protect the Wolves-- partly because that was her job... partly because that was the burden of responsibility that came with having a fifteen foot tall suit of magic armor.
In turn, Gaheris would protect her.
...And in turn, Guild Metal Wolf would make semi-annual payments to the Church of the Eternal Flame.
"[Flame TAKE me...]" A booming curse echoed from nearby, accompanied by the heavy plomps of another Divine Armor's feet. "[We've been walking forty suns and forever...]"
Haelvia grabbed one of the handholds on the inside of Gaheris' chest and leaned outside to shout at the big lug, "Hey, guy! How 'bout you keep your inside thoughts INSIDE?!"
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