Meet Belit

The camp to the southwest turned out to be a bit of an enigma, an eclectic mix of all things valuable and worthless. A shabby tent, decorated in expensive silk curtains. Plain wooden training dummies all around, made up in some of the most ornate armor you'd ever seen. Bowls of animal food set out here and there, some plain, others ridiculously expensive. Whoever lived here wasn't decorating out of taste, or else, they had no taste to begin with.

The banners hung here and there, without much care for aesthetic sense, were light green, with the brown shape of a squirrel overlaid. It was a fine enough banner, to be sure, but the person who owned it obviously wasn't the same person who'd woven it, based on how carelessly they were arranged and maintained. You moved in further, hoping to encounter the saintess.

The air was eerily still. Was it possible that you'd come while she was out? All of the saintesses should have been anticipating your arrival, but this one seemed like a free spirit... Perhaps she decided she didn't care?

You were just about to head back when you noticed something strange. One of the training dummies was holding a sword... a familiar sword. Etched into its handle was your last name: Lavender. This was the family sword that you'd been entrusted with by your father! How could it be here when it still rest in the scabbard by your side?

You reached down for your sword. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was missing in its entirety. Only the empty scabbard was left hanging at your hip.

"Ha ha ha ha! You finally noticed! I snagged that all the way back when you first entered the camp. Consider that a lesson from the famous saintess, Belit Von Bromide!"

A girl suddenly emerged from inside a pile of armor, one you'd assumed to be housing a training dummy. The figure shook off various pieces of armor until all that was left was a small, slim girl, dressed in tight, brown leather trousers and a matching vest. A short, green cape adorned her shoulders, one of those pieces that seemed a bit fancier than the rest of her clothing. Now you began to understand: the reason nothing matched was because half of it was stolen.

"You're the dummy here, not me," she quipped, strolling past you and tossing you your blade back from the training mannequin. "I can tell I'm going to have a lot of fun playing around with you. Heh heh heh... Another rube, but this one can't report me to the town guards! This is a dream come true, ya know? All my life, I've been running from rubes and talked down to by dopes, but finally, I'm a saintess with my very own squire!" the young lady smirked, throwing her arms over the shoulders of one of the dummies like she was joking around with a friend.

You thought you'd take this time to introduce yourself, given that the girl's mouth seemed to run a mile a minute. You stated your name and extended your hand out for hers-- to shake or to take hers and kiss it. You weren't sure what she'd prefer.

Instead, she raised one eyebrow, then placed the dummy's hand in yours instead. "Ba ha ha! You two are made for each other! A dummy for a dummy!" she joked, dancing a few steps back from you as if to take in the amusing picture. She framed you with both hands forming 90 degree angles, creating a rectangle in her vision.{if Muscular = True}

Something she saw seemed to give her pause for a moment. "You're uh... You're kind of a big guy, ain't 'cha?" she asked rhetorically. "I mean, not like I care. I guess a big guy like you's fit to be a squire, huh? So you can protect them properly and all that. Just know that I don't need protection," she boasted, pressing one thumb to her modest chest. "And I sure ain't gonna be intimidated just because you've got muscles for brains!" As if doubting herself on that account, she let her eyes wander over your body a few more times, before turning them away, acting aloof.{endif}{if Master = True}

You crossed your arms, letting her look all she liked. She was confident now and acted like she was always on top, but you had a different image in your mind of where this relationship would end up. As if sensing your thoughts, she arched her eyebrows irritably. "Huh? You're the kind of guy who likes getting his sketch taken, huh? Awfully full of yourself," she huffed, crossing her arms and looking standoffish. "Though... I guess a confident guy is better than the alternative. I don't hate it. I wouldn't wanna bully you too much. Just don't expect me to buy all your macho crap."{endif}

Once she'd satisfied herself measuring you up, she stepped back a little and pulled out a shortbow. She made a show of nocking an arrow, then took the head off the dummy she'd been hugging a moment ago with amazing speed. "See that, Vin? I'm the group's archer. That's just a little taste of what I can do, but trust me, I can hit a target way farther off than that. I can hit a cyclops in the eye from further off than you can see him, I wager," she bragged, spinning her bow on her fingertip vertically. An impressive trick, if not a useful one. "Only thing I've been missing to make myself a legend is a worthy squire!"

You couldn't help commenting: if she was only nineteen years old, and given her earlier excitement at having a squire, you had to assume that she was pretty new to the business.

"Huh? Well, duh! You're not much older than me, though, are you?"

There was a height significant height difference, but she had a point. The two of you were actually closest in age of all those assembled here.

"So let's make a deal, alright? We're in this together. Your legacy and mine are tied together, so you don't drag me down, and in return, I'll make you the squire of prophecy! Geod helps those that help themselves, right? So let's help ourselves to everything we can!" she laughed, crossing her arms at her chest. "And if you drag me down, I won't think twice about kicking you to the curb for a new squire, got that?"

Belit turned on her heels and rocked on them for a moment, then crossed her hands behind her head. "How about this? I'm your saintess now, so you should give me a little gift! It's normal for squires to give saintesses gifts, ain't it? So go ahead! I wanna see what you've got to offer! I'll turn around and cover my eyes and you give me whatever you got. Don't worry! I didn't take anything but your sword yet, so you've still got whatever's in your pockets."

You weren't expecting to be shaken down by a saintess today, but no need to get off on the wrong foot... what makes sense to give her as a gift?