30 Aufwachsen

(A/N: This chapter is from Priska's POV. Also, happy Easter for some of you. I'll try to post something for Orthodox Easter as well.)

The room was a study, of sorts. A mosaic window at the far end, behind the particularly large escritoire and man sitting at it, portrayed the crucifixion of Christ in a detailed, colorful manner.

By itself, the place was, if not humble, respectable. Moderately sized, neat, with a definitive style to dictate the furniture, walls and commodities - even the bookshelf, planted against the leftmost wall, was the same as all else: a rich, lacquered oak. The design was comfortable.

Only when taken out of context, however.

The large stained glass window was the only source of light and, with its prismatic colors accented and pierced by the dull orange of the faux sun, radiated an ominous glow onto the main focus of the room - the desk, and the man seated behind it. His broad frame seemed to suck up all potential luminescence beaming from the mosaic rendering of Christ, and it did not help that I was sitting on a stool in the shadow casted by his figure.

Perhaps there was a metaphor there. I would not know. The focus of my mind was the humiliation of being treated as if I were a schoolgirl, one being scolded by the headmaster, and how his piercing hazel eyes had finally deigned to look up from the papers littering his desk - causing me to avert my gaze slightly downwards.

"And how did you dispose of the corpses?"

"My attacks left the mansion ablaze with Holy Fire. We simply deposited them in the… ahem, sanctifying hearth once all were taken care of," I vocalized, using a specific vocabulary and tone of voice to stay my mentor's wrath. Why on earth I would refer to a burning abode as a 'sanctifying hearth' otherwise, I do not know. Months upon months of experiencing Ioann's babblings firsthand have assisted me in this ridiculous venture - I would not know how to sound sufficiently preachy and self-righteous without them.

My mentor's presence still irked me. I hold respect for him outwardly, in this physical world, of course - but inwardly? I hold nothing but contempt for his draconian visage.

Ewald Cristaldi is a swaggering brute, one I can hardly tolerate. I may refer to my partner as such, but the vile boor in front of me truly encapsulates the term.

I despise him. I revile him. His training? One half genuine swordplay and mastery of the art of battle, one half poorly disguised, ill-thought-out death marches. I learned to simply extract the benefits of our transaction and otherwise behave as an obedient and respectful apprentice - the first few months of retaliation, ripostes and rebelliousness on my part brought nothing but torment.

The details are of such a nature that I'd much prefer to bilk any shameful reminisces, indeed.

"You would have been better served in bringing them back for training purposes, but that will do. I assume it demonstrated the effect your Holy Fire has on infernal flesh. How was your performance?" Cristaldi questioned, glancing back at the files strewn across his oaken escritoire before looking back up.

"I do not believe there was much to improve on," I stated, keeping my expression stoic. "Our plan, as I said, was to bombard them from afar. For the most part, Ioann took care of them in that manner. Following the besiegement, one of the scum began his ill-executed escape via flight, and I took chase. It was quite simple to dispose of him, as he was convulsing on the ground, likely due to having finally succumbed to the pain of having his legs cleaved off with a Smoldering Sickle." I cringed at the name.

I do not want it. I did not ever want it. 'Smoldering Sickles'? What buffoon bestows titles on mere attacks?

My mentor, clearly, as it was his insistence to do so.

"So, you were largely ineffective and had that oafish lout you call a partner take on the brunt of the work." He sniffed, his dirty blond mustache scrunching inwards. "Have you not read the Book of Proverbs, specifically the various verses regarding those enthralled to sloth? Chapter nineteen, verse fifteen, for instance?"

I blinked. In truth, I only perused - though, skimming would be a more fitting term - scripture when in search of a verse to use in exorcism.

Cristaldi frowned, leaning back into his treen chair. "Of course not. Try to be more valiant next time, hm? I did not instruct you in the blade for no reason - and last I checked, a swordsman is no archer, cravenly lobbing blows from the rear. Although, I suppose you are no swordsman, given the latter part of the term." He raised his hand to shoo me off, turning back to his documents. "Depart, and do whatever you may. I am busy, can't you see?"

Showing no haste, I slid off the ligneous throne and planted it in a corner before, with no hesitation, exiting and closing the door behind me.

My lip curled up into a sneer and I let loose a huff of frustration, before calming myself and schooling my features. Who is he, to demean me so? The churl knows nothing beyond how to spout off sanctimonious ramblings, how to lacerate his fellow man, and how to decontextualize verses of scripture for the use of bolstering his holier-than-thou attitude! There is nothing in him of true worth, no substance beyond skill in battle and hypocritical, barbed vilification! And he thinks he has the right to speak ill of my performance, my attitude, my physique and very being?

Although… now that I verbally paint him out to be so, I suppose my partner is quite the same. Despite appearances, however, I get along with him better than most.

A testament to the foulness of my mentor, that even one of the same nature as he is not nearly as vexatious. That thug takes his rankling disposition to the utmost extent.

Mindlessly, I began wandering through Cristaldi's halls and searching for the exit, my mind on other matters.

A mere year ago I would have decried both Ioann and Cristaldi in the same vein, would I have not? Perhaps I would have included anyone I'd encountered in that category of 'irritating; sanctimonious; vile', even Leonidas. Now, the only one I would claim to loathe as much as Cristaldi would be that oaf, Joseph, and only then for the purposefully maddening humiliations he would enact in the name of 'humor'. There is a difference between the two, after all, and the line between malicious and whimsical is not particularly blurry.

Hm. And, yet again, I had deplored Joseph and viewed him much the same as Cristaldi a year ago, had I not?

I will not delude myself. I am changing.

When first I came to this Church, having been exiled from my homeland and scouted out for my Sacred Gear, I still harbored my thoughts of absolute aristocratic and ethnic supremacy. These traits are still present, of course - I would prefer for my company to be of that nature, indeed, but I do not make aggressive remarks such as, say, 'all Hispanics are moronic and oafish'. It is clearly not the case, after all; I have encountered a few Iberians, Spaniard or Portuguese aside, and while some were imbecilic, others were moderately intelligent. Some were crass and bumbling, others were florid and clever.

Now, I am willing to offer those people a chance to redeem themselves of their heritage, in a way. Instead of 'all Hispanics are moronic and oafish', it is merely 'most Hispanics are moronic and oafish' - if they prove themselves to not of that vile ilk, the majority, I'd applaud them. If not, they are just another moronic oaf.

I perceived those of the east - especially the Muscovites - to be uncultured, weak and ignorant. Now, I am partnered with one of those Muscovites, one who is mostly educated on matters of importance, fairly effectual in terms of his Exorcist duties, and more knowledgeable than I in the fields of strategy and history, though I shall never outwardly admit it.

Similarly, it is the same as the situation as with Hispanics, as it is with all others. It is still 'pessimistic', I suppose, yet pragmatic. I would say, 'those of Eastern Europe are mostly uncultured, weak and ignorant', and if those I personally bear witness to can separate themselves from the chattel in the same way others have, they shall be welcomed with open arms, as is my magnanimous temperament. It will not change the nature of the majority, of course, but if they have strayed from the flock, I cannot blindly insist that they are still in it.

Similarly, my… let us say, self-regard is lessened.

My partner is more skilled at forming plans than I - therefore, I follow them. At first with some complaint, but now, after my month-long stint in a hospital bed with nothing but my thoughts and recollections of how I was tossed aside like a doll after my boasts, I try to behave more… professionally when the situation calls for it. I cannot proclaim myself to be the strongest when I am clearly not the strongest, after all, just as I cannot state myself to be the most educated when I am clearly not the most educated.

I am still Priska Freya Ilse von Ernst, however. Obviously, German culture and history is superior to all else. Of course, noble aristocrats such as I deserve more than the filthy peasants toiling in the mud. Yes, my partner is uncouth, sanctimonious and hypocritical. But those are more abstract concepts, no?

When it comes to practical matters, I cannot pull the wool over my eyes, metaphorically speaking, and pretend that I am invincible, above all others and such when half of the people surrounding me on a daily basis could likely butcher me, not to mention those outside of the Papacy. My goal, now, is to make my former delusions of my own self-worth into a reality, so I may indulge myself in them once again - this time, in an educated, sensible manner.

There would be no other reason to grit my teeth and bear the insults and maltreatment of a conceited fanatic who ties you to a tree, upside down, if you do not call him 'mentor'. Cristaldi is a lowbrow vandal in denial, yes, but as I said, one of the only things he knows is lacerating his fellow man - and he is indeed skilled in that aspect, becoming Archbishop-rank in hardly any time at all. I intend to learn all there is from him, and then?

I do not know. Perhaps simply distance myself and forget I was ever subject to his callous persecution, perhaps maintain contact, perhaps murder him, as unfeasible as that is. But even so, poison exists, does it not? Tranquilizer, too. He is no Übermensch.

I may not be the pinnacle of self-awareness, but even I can see that a certain portion of the reason why my ego's size has decreased is because he mercilessly beat it into the ground for a year. How would God not see that a man such as he deserves death? Cristaldi always speaks of how sending others to the Lord is a service to them, so they can be sooner cleansed of their sins in purgatory. Thus, it would be shameful for I, his apprentice, to not extend the honor to his repulsive existence.

Reaching the exit of Cristaldi's home - a large door, just as oaken as the various pieces of furniture in his office - I gleefully bashed my way through and slammed it behind me, beholding the verdant grasses, gardens and various mansions before me. The sub-dimension intended to house Archbishop-ranked members of the Church, whether Exorcists or not, was beautiful when it wished to be so.

"Done?" Leonidas asked, reclining on a bench at the garden connecting various pathways and mansions, having been my guide and token to enter this sub-dimension. He is Archbishop-ranked himself, after all, and has returned to his abode here after Ioann and I outgrew our neophyte status. "Is there anything you've been assigned to do?"

"Yes, and then no," I replied, plodding my way toward him after having escaped that prison. "I have no additional duties - as my mentor said, 'Depart, and do whatever you may'."

"That does indeed sound like him," Leonidas rumbled, rising from his perch. "Would you like to accompany me to visit Ioann and his mentor? He told me of this new weapon he and Wojchiech have been theorizing about. Apparently, they already have a prototype from an Alchemist. I want to see it."

I scrunched up my nose, preparing to decline with an accompanying amount of vitriol fit for the query - and then I realized that I have nothing else to do beyond polish my sword for the rest of the day. No assignments, no machinations, no hunting escapades with my beloved brother, no one else to visit. [1]

Really, was it even a question?

"...Let us be on our way, then," I replied, my voice low.

He smiled, waving for me to follow him.

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[1] By 'hunting escapades with my beloved brother', she doesn't mean Ioann. She's talking about her actual brother who she used to go hunting with. Although, I did purposefully add in that partial correlation for future reasons.

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After a certain person said that Priska wasn't a complex character (she's not that complex, only moderately so, but still not some NPC who just acts rude a lot), I was reminded that, beyond some rantings and out-of-pocket remarks, I haven't really shown much of Priska. Not the details of her character, not anything beyond 'exiled from Germany' for her backstory, and really just underrepresenting her in general.

So, I just made this as a quickie to take care of a little of that and give some padding before the next time skip. The title, 'aufwachsen', is the German verb for 'to grow up', apparently (correct me on that if it's wrong, the German speaker I know who's reading this), and it shows how cataloguing some of her character and character development was the main point of this chapter.

It was a bit of a pain to have to look up 'synonym of x' and practically speak in limericks for an entire chapter to make her dialogue sufficiently highbrow, but I think it ended up good enough, if maybe a little boring/jarring compared to the action we just had. Next chapter is the showcase of the finalized version of that 'weapon' they mentioned at the end of this chapter, and after that should be a time skip to the war, so get ready.

Also, I remember the German speaker saying that he learned a lot of new words from my novel (you're welcome, by the way), so I wonder how many 'what does x mean' google searches I've forced people to make in total by now. This chapter probably increased the amount by 15%.

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