Osterna's Opening

Morning Monday 15th of March; Vatican City 1455
The city was beginning to awaken to the day, the morning bells calling the faithful to their prayers had already rung and the sermons of the day had been spoken; now the men and women of the Vatican were setting themselves about their daily work.

Which; despite much of the pomp and fluster, meant for the Vatican, much the same as it meant for any other city of the time. Bakermen baked, fishermen fished, and clergymen prayed; with the possible exception of two particularly pious Knights.

Sir Bernardo Catus wrote:
Bernardo was an odd sort of man; rigid and flexible at the same time. Oh to be certain he was every bit the pious man, and if ever there were a man who would die before speaking blasphemous verse it would be he; but that part of him was held back from those he met, those he greeted with a smile.

He had once told his apprentice, his partner; that god was good, and to be a soldier of god meant to be a soldier of good. Of course he was still a soldier, armed with la Spada del Salvatore, a twice-blessed arming sword, ornate in its own way, shaped of blessed iron and quenched with holy water; he had often called it a ‘an instrument of death, made to save.’

It clattered against his hip as he marched down the halls of the Vatican beside his protégé. “They say that the rebellion in Toruń is growing worse. I hear that Toruń castle has been rendered rubble.” He mentioned; in that gravitas tone that carried the weight of his station with it. “Our brothers have however defeated King Casimir at Chojnice…  They outnumbered us nearly two-to-one.” Bernardo smiled softly. “I suppose numbers are of little comfort when you fight against the soldiers of the Lord?” He chuckled lightly, looking over to the woman who walked beside him.

Before Bernardo took a solemn sigh. “There is however always more work to be done, and our work will not takes us so far from home.”

Osterna moved alongside her superior in a way one might find consistent with the most terrible of moods, on the contrary; the pallid German found herself in quite a neutral tenor.  Her features schooled, she listened well to Bernardo; though he did seem to fancy gossip, it was not always without its merit. Quite often his topics of choice pertained to the only thing that the likes of them ever truly worried about. Battle and those involved in it.

Though; at times Osterna took pleasure in reminding her superior that it was still gossip.

“Sir Zinnenberg is a shrewd commander of sharp tactical intellect. I dare say there was but only small doubt in my mind that he should fail” Osterna did cast a glance at Bernardo to gauge his mannerisms, he was a difficult man to interpret and at times the lady knight blamed it on the romantic nature of his Italian blood.  The passions of whom rose easily to the surface and often times it was a challenge to ascertain when her subtle teasing and prodding was ill-met or amusing.  “As for Toruń. It is a grievous-- nay a most disastrous blow to us, the Castle held such deep history for our order. I do hope that the rumors of its destruction being a means to end our occupancy of it to be false”

The dark haired youth gave a weary sigh, consequently synchronized with Bernardo’s own solemn suspire. Upon his mention of the more pressing matter of their next assignment, Ostnera turned her internal interests to Sir Bernardo entirely. For her current rank did not deem that orders were granted to her directly. Routinely, they were delivered to Bernardo and then relayed to her by him; often times on transit to said assignment. “Will we not be leaving Italia for this mission? It is a bold sort of fiend that would seek to do wrong so close to the holy city”

Morning Monday 15th of March; Vatican City 1455

Sir Bernardo Catus wrote:

“And yet bold our enemies grow.”  Bernardo spoke grimy. “Between the war, and the failing health of his holiness the pope they think us distracted or weak.” The Italian knight smirked just a bit. “It will be our task to prove them wrong.” He wrapped his fist around the Spada’s grip. “Heretic pagans are massing for some perverse ritual on the cost of Zandia; our brothers cleansed that land of the wicked two-hundred years ago, yet they simply seem to sprout up again.” The latter bit was on a more personal note.

“The Vatican has seen fit to send us two in answer to these heathens. While we may not be as weak or distracted as our enemies believe, our numbers are however, stretched thin.” Bernardo almost smirked at this. “Our mission is simple; we locate the heretics and put an end to them. The region is mostly farmers; good god-fearing folk. It is the belief that our adversary seek to hide among them. It may be necessary to search the home of the faithful, or punish those who shelter our enemy.”

Osterna bowed her head at the mention of His Holiness; the Pope, her brows arched as a sudden show of sadness overtook her preciously neutral continence. The wellbeing of the Pope troubled her greatly, and yet Bernardo was right; she did not have the time nor the inclination to linger long on such sad imaginings. Instead she snarled and clutched the pommel of her own, sacred blade. “Zandia, its citizens shall have nothing to fear from us if they do not house the worshipers of false gods”

The black haired youth eyed the smirking Italian; she could never understand the stranger perverse pride Bernardo seemed to take in the hardships of disadvantages. As if the thought of potential loss brought him joy and satisfaction.

Osterna had to shake her head at that and continued onwards. “And the Lord shall deliver me from every evil work, and will preserve me unto his heavenly kingdom—“  In times of doubt, the young German felt comfort in reciting scripture. “Our faith shall strengthen our resolve come what may, the Lord will absolve us; if truly our swords must be drawn against common man”

Morning Monday 15th of March; Vatican City 1455

Sir Bernardo Catus wrote:
“Amen.” Bernardo spoke with a somber nod.

Before taking a heavy breath and returning to business. “The archdiocese has been kind enough to charter us passage on a merchant vessel leaving port in three days. We should arrive in a Zandia port within the fortnight, and from there we shall hire horses to carry us to our destination. The diocese has been kind enough to provide funds for our travel, though additional comforts are to be our own expenditure.”

“We should make ourselves ready to depart…” Bernardo raised a hand and ran it over his chin. “I should see the padre about confession before our departure… I believe there is to be a game this evening…” He rubbed his hand over his jaw. He restrained himself from further audible musings; it was clear he was considering how to spend what may have been his last time in the Vatican. “I should see when the Captain wishes to leave; we have been chartered on the Santa Madre. It is anchored down the Tevere, perhaps a day’s mother Roma.”

Osterna took in the most essential parts of Bernardo’s musings and nothing more, she cared little for the idle fancies that her fellow knights sometime partook in to chase away the doldrums. She instead spent her free time in more intellectual pursuits, like learning her alphabets and languages. She was still rather bad at speaking Italian; one of the Padres would make a decent tutor. “Three days is plenty a respite from our active duties, I trust you will have no trouble finding me when you are ready to depart for the port?”

The youth cast a subtle smile in the Italians direction before once again her face was stoic and unreadable. “I shall seek out the padre as well. Confession is a worthy endeavor during these times of inner confliction” In a rare moment of vulnerability, the dark haired German lowered her head and sighed. “It troubles me to put my blade to the populace Bernardo—Perhaps if you do go to consult the Captain for his preference of departing times I might accompany you?”

Morning Monday 15th of March; Vatican City 1455

Sir Bernardo Catus wrote:
“Only if I may trust to find you in one of the invariable places in which you tend to be found.” Bernardo taunted with a warm chuckle. For all her endeavors and adventures Osterna was not the most unpredictable of paladins. There were only so many places in which she could conceivably spend any amount of time; even in the Vatican.

“Ah.” Bernardo wiped the chuckle from his frame with an almost weary sigh. “I fear the padres may have heard quiet enough confessions in these times of conflict, so many bad men seeking absolution for their deeds… so many good men seeking absolution for theirs. I find it contradictory that a good man might find himself capable of any deed for which he might request absolution… any yet here I stand, sword on my hip poised to go on another bloody venture with, and this is meant of no offense to your character, one of the most dour women pray I ever will meet… and a chaste one at that.” He gave  another clearly weary sigh and shook his head, putting those thoughts aside for now.

“I hardly think there will be need for violence. He’s only a ship captain after all and we’re paying him besides.”