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Frederica Gunnhildr glanced at the man across from her, sitting at the other end of the long table. Between them, strategically placed, were the five of the captains and the Grandmaster. Soon, they would be taking off on one of the most important expeditions yet, and Varka had called in all the highest ranking official in the city to discuss who could be spared for the trip. Those of them who were in the room today were those who had already agreed to follow him out of Mondstadt in pursuit for whatever had warned him of great catastrophe.
Seamus Pegg was not one of the men that she had anticipated seeing here, and there was something almost comical at the thought. She wondered how many of the others had known of his agreement and not said anything. The man she had once known was far more competent than the one with her today. It had been years since he was outside Mondstadt's walls, and years still since he was willing to pick up a sword. It was absurd, and she wanted to know what he thought he was proving by entertaining the thought of joining their expedition.
Once, in their youth, he had been her husband. An adventurer who was well known within the international guild of brave souls, he was recognizable and admired for the great feats of skill that he had once demonstrated across the nations. That had been the point of her interest, even, to witness the action of a man who could disable traps in domains and return with records long believed as lost.
She remembers approaching him, curiosity leading the conversation as she asked him about the findings he returned with about the people of the icy mountain. Seamus had smiled, barely more than a shy lift of his lips that was far more endearing in youth, and told her about a scribe and a princess. Frederica leaned in, fascinated with the historical revelation, and they spoke about the secrets of Mondstadt across the ages for long after the sun had set. It was a shared interest in their nation that led her to invite him out again. Then, again after that.
She had been pleased to call him her partner, a man who she could cross swords with and understand her strategies with minimal explanation. He was a man who her parents would acknowledge, even if he was not a Mondstadter, because of all the deeds he had done for their nation, and they were pleased for her. A man who had sworn to stand by her family's vows, understanding the promises he was making when she spoke them. He was clever and competent, and it was enough for her to let him step into her life. The city had been delighted as she fell in love. He had settled down in Mondstadt for her, and Frederica had believed it the height of romance. How could it not be? The man who traveled their land and studied their history decided to build a life in the city she swore her soul to.
Frederica missed it then, but that was the beginning of the end. Her husband began to settle more into a life of faith as he stepped away from adventuring to step into open roles in the church. Adventurers constantly took up commissions, and the church was always willing to accept new hands, which had made the work familiar. His experience with old scrolls and hidden documents in domains made his study of the ancient worship simple, and people had easily recognized his wit and charm the same way that Frederica did, and they began coming to him as a mentor. His new position allowed him to be in certain meetings behind closed doors between the two branches of Mondstadt's government, and he would send her small smiles when she spoke at those.
"I like seeing you in your element," he had told her once, almost shy. Frederica remembers scoffing. Her element was certainly not cooped up in a conference room.
Now, she wonders if he simply felt a need to prove himself, to make his name recognizable. There were no illusions over where she stood with the people of Mondstadt, of course. Alder Knight, Lady Gunnhildr. As the youngest adult of her family, she was the next acting force of their great responsibility to the city, and everyone knew of her diligence. She began to teach swordsmanship to the youth while he began to climb the social latter of respected church official and sometime in between, they welcomed a daughter in the early spring.
Something between them changed again, when she began to tell Jean stories of her lineage and of the honor that Barbatos had left them with. Her husband started searching for her truths in the written gospels, and would question her about them in private. He did not understand that her family would not make their history public, that the weight of their responsibility was not one for Mondstadt to know. For as long as the people allowed the Gunnhildrs to hold their hand, for as long as the Wind was gentle, they would serve without complaint. Furthermore, and perhaps this was just Frederica's sentiments, but the Gunnhildrs were the oldest family in Mondstadt history. In a sense, the nation was under their guidance, as their fellow man, and it was their responsibility to make sure that the people's faith was not misplaced. A city of travelers, and their family was the appointed ones to ensure that the hearth was always warm and there was food on each plate. If every good man could settle and build a life here in the same breath that every good woman could get up and leave it all, then there had to be someone who made sure that the city had solid roots for all people with heads full of clouds. It was a honor that her family kept close to their heart.
Her husband did not understand this sentiment either. Of course he didn't, he was one of the travelers.
His new desk job left him pious to a god that Frederica did not recognize and rusty in a way that irked her. He said that just as the wind returned to the land, so too would he, but his adventurer's gear sat in the back of their shared closet untouched for months and when she convinced him to pick up his sword again, he fumbled for his grip. He relished in the attention of the brokenhearted when they sought out a comforting word. Perhaps this too, was the guidance of Barbatos leading him to help those in need, and Frederica did nothing but watch as he began to explore an identity that she could not fathom.
These years were disappointing in many ways, but they had also given her a second child. Her husband had been overjoyed, rejuvenated in a way that she missed, and they welcomed sweet Barbara in the middle of summer. Jean, her precious firstborn, was delighted. She was older now, starting her second year of schooling, and her hands were firm as she held her sister for the first time. Frederica reached over and adjusted her grip, and smiled when Jean looked at the infant in her arms. These two were the future of Mondstadt, and she was proud.
She thought that they would make it, and for a while, these things were better. The push and strain of their most recent past had lessened with the appearance of her youngest's joy. Her husband was attentive and engaged with their family, and her daughters thrived under their father's love. However, as she had recovered from her delivery and began to continue her life once more, there it was again. That distant man who changed everything good about himself returned. They argued now, about the most trivial things, such as her time in the knights and her supposed secrecy.
Seamus still thought that her family, old as it was, divinely and socially favored as they were, must have records and mementos of their faithfulness.
Frederica scornfully told him that they did not work for Barbatos' recognition, and they went to bed angry.
Frederica worked more with the knights, and she built up every student that approached her into passable swordsmen. Seamus nurtured the faith in the city, and stayed in that building from sunrise to sunset, which meant that Jean would absolutely stay with Frederica during the days. Her daughter would not waste her time with heretics when there were far more important things for her to learn. Their role was to the city, and their god had recognized that centuries ago. That was all her daughter needed to know. Her daughter studied in the offices of the Grandmaster and Captains, receiving their praise and favor as Frederica's oldest. She learned under the best, each member having a different specialty that could be trained and taught.
The time raising Jean into an honorable Gunnhildr woman was a blessing. She watched as each of Jean's movement refined as she started to internalize their responsibility for herself. Her daughter's sword grew faster, sharp, and her mind sharper still, as she spent her days in Frederica's shadow. To witness her development was her greatest pleasure outside of serving Mondstadt, and Frederica was certain to instill an appreciation for that simple delight in her early. There was a steel in her young eyes, after all, and Frederica tempered it with the reminders of their family's creed that Jean took to like fish in water.
During the nights, she would spend time with her second-born, Barbara. It was difficult to convince her to sleep, so Frederica would make them both cups of warm milk and hold her. After that, it wouldn't take much more effort for the girl to stay awake and Frederica would lay her down before retreating to her martial bed. Her husband would be blessedly asleep, and she would carefully avoid touching him as she crawled into bed. Those looking for trouble will find it, after all.
Their life was good.
The city adored the two youngest Gunnhildr daughters, and Frederica took great pride in showing off how well her daughters behaved. In watching the way that Jean held her sister's hand, nine and barely two, they were the perfect image of their family as they waved politely at the people they passed; her baby giggling when strangers cooed over her. More so, her two daughters got to see what it was that they did everything for. Frederica watched her heir's face as Jean glanced over the joy and excitement in everyone's expressions. This delight, their safety and celebration, was what everything was for. The abyss in Mondstadt had always been an issue, but the nation was safe enough for them to be safe, her to rest comfortably at night and her work compelling enough to be interesting. She turned to her side and— did not react, swallowing back any instinctive response she had as she looked around for wherever her husband disappeared to. Was he ever where he needed to be? Her girls' laughter was louder than usual, the streeters were busier than they were on most days, and her husband had left them alone.
The thought was startling. Where was he? It seemed unfathomable that Seamus would leave their family alone on a group outing. It was practically disrespectful. She ushered her daughters off to the side of the path as she looked behind them to see if he was left at one of the stalls they passed and finds nothing. Frederica pushes back her shoulders. Fine. Let him be. She'll enjoy this rare occasion with the girls without his dreadful bemoaning. It was practically a relief, if she were honest, and that was another thought for her to study when she was alone. For now, she focused on the lightness of watching her girls embrace their city in an era of safety, steadfastly ignoring the itch under her skin.
Their life was good, but she would rather fall on her sword than allow herself to fall into any form of complacency. She would speak with Seamus later.
Later doesn't come immediately. Days pass as she leads her team towards small villages across the nation as they check on both their storm-watchers and people off in the more isolated places in Mondstadt. They do not all reside in the city, but they still fall under their responsibility. The weather, despite how ever-gentle as the wind was, was leading them into the annual storm season and it was important to make sure that every Mondstadter was safe before the season changed. Note's knights brought in baskets of jams and jars of preserved food, and her knights followed them with swords in hand as guides and guards. While one team worked to bring resources to any individual citizens, the other would set out to surrounding areas and clear out leyline abnormalities.
It was a standard routine for this time of year, and the work was done within the week. By the time her sword was clean and her troops were all returned safely to their beds, she finally removed her armor and went home herself.
The house was largely quiet, and for a moment, she thought that her family was already asleep. Soft words and muffled voices carry as she hears one of her little girls—Barbara, if she had to guess—squeal. Frederica takes off her heavy boots, and goes off to greet whoever is awake.
In her youngest daughter's room, as expected, there was her husband with an old scribe and little girl in his lap as he read off scripture. She stands outside the door, just out of sight, and listens to the stories of their god. Her heart lightens as she hears her husband's gentle voice and daughter's sweet curiosity. For a moment, all is well.
"… And then, when the young Gunnhildr performed the ancient ceremony dedicated to the thousand winds, Barbatos was pleased and his ire soothed. The icy winds returned to the mountain, and the gentle breeze of summer returned."
Her mind stopped, comfort leaving her in an instant. That wasn't right. Something about that story wasn't true. She began to flip through different Gunnhildrs throughout their history in an effort to remember what story this was. The ancient ceremony dedicated to the thousand winds… was the sacrificial dance. That was an offering to Lady Time, wasn't it?
"With Barbatos' favor returned to the people, the nation prospered and music played in every street! Like dandelions, good fortune turned up at every corner for all the children who listened to the Wind."
Her stomach dropped. That certainly wasn't right. Frederica turned the corner immediately into Barbara's room, and ignored the way her daughter jumped as she scowled at her husband, her voice crawling out of her throat painfully.
"What the hell are you teaching her?"
Seamus' face flushed a bright red as he jumped in surprise at her sudden arrival, and she didn't know if his expression was one of love or hate as he greeted her tensely, "Honey! Welcome home."
"Hello husband. Answer my question."
He sighed, and Frederica adjusted her posture to stand taller at the tone.
"You just got home, wife. It's already late, and I'm sure you're eager to rest after that tiring job, right?"
"Seamus."
"Daddy, is Mommy mad at you?" Barbara whispered and Frederica stopped at the fear in her voice, startled as she struggles to match these circumstances together. Why was her daughter afraid?
"It's okay, baby, don't worry. I'll talk with her." Seamus soothed her gently, lifting her off his lap and into her bed. Her body betrays her, muscles tightening to the edge of painful as she stands still. She forces her face into a blank expression as she watches her daughter nod at her husband slowly and glance towards her cautiously. Frederica meets her gaze, and is uncertain on what the girl sees back in her. Seamus kisses the top of Barbara's head and Frederica leaves, certain that he would follow her.
Frederica turns on him as they enter their kitchen, further away and hopefully out of earshot for their girls, as she points in his face, "Is this what you do when I'm gone? Demonize me to our children and slander our god?"
He frowns, "No, no, of course not. Honey, I was just trying to teach them their history." His face twists, bitterness coating his tongue as he continues his justification, "They're Gunnhildrs, after all. You've been very clear on how important that is. They should know their god."
She stares at him, fingers twitching as she struggles to keep her composure. She could just scream. Insecure man! It would do her no favors, not with the image of Barbara's frightened expression in the back of her mind, but the concept was staggering. Nothing about what she heard resembled their god, resembled the being of their devotion or relevance of their job. Hell, it didn't even properly teach the importance of their work! If he had meant to teach her daughter why they do what it is they do for Mondstadt, he was failing spectacularly.
"That is not our god, that is not Barbatos, those are not his values." She spits, and she feels her hands shake with anger. He looks over his shoulder, towards the rest of the house, and scowls back at her.
"Do you think I'm a fool? Frederica, whether you respect it or not, I am the Seneschal of the church. These are the stories of Barbatos, the written word of the Winds."
She slammed a hand down onto the counter, frustration bleeding into her voice as irritation builds beneath her skin like a curse, "Then as Seneschal, you ought to know better than to teach Barbatos as a punishing hand! When have you known him to personally take action against his people?"
"We personally do not give him reason to!" He exclaims, matching her tone incredulously, "Lord Barbatos is gentle, because we have honored his wishes and taken care of his city! This is why we must teach our children to respect him!"
"It is our city, Seamus! Mondstadt does not belong to the gods, but to herself! That is what we fight for, that is why we take care of the city. How are you blind to this?"
"I'm the blind one? Frederica, how do you not know your own scripture? These are the written word of our god, of our nation! It is our responsibility to ensure that our god continues to find favor in us, so that he continues to bless us with his gentle presence!" He trails off, looking at her in a way that turns her stomach, "I believe that you have lost sight of what you fight for. You are gone too often, working too far off from home, and you do not even know what it is you argue over."
His voice takes on a softer, patronizing tone as he reaches for her, "You're exhausted, Frederica. Let's not fight today."
She pulls away from his hands. She's so angry, she's never been this disgusted with another person before. Everything about what he had just told her sounded absurd. Never once had she ever thought, ever said, ever implied that they needed earn Barbatos' favor in the way that her husband believed that they did.
"Unlike the Bructeri, who raise sacred halls," Frederica starts, her voice low and dar, "or the Sitones, who present exquisite verses…"
"Frederica, honey, what—"
"We lay before the wind nothing! Nothing but blossoms, ardent hearts, and a sincerity that shall never fade." She points in her husband's face, furious and righteous. "That is my scripture. I know I told you our promises. Why would you teach my daughter differently?"
"Our promises. Your Daughter. Are you ever going to consider me your equal?"
"Perhaps if you acted like it! Seamus, who are you? Where is my husband?! A man, clever with his words and skilled with any sword, adventurer known across the nations?! Where is the man I married?!" Her voice raised, and Frederica hated the way it shook. She was not begging, she was not, it was a demand for answers. Seamus ran a hand through his hair, messing it up from that perfect style he wore, looking less like the symbol of faith that he enjoyed portraying himself as. Good. She did not need a symbol of a man for this conversation.
"We're not young anymore, Frederica! That man died so that we could settle in Mondstadt! Together!" His own voice had sharpened into something accusatory, and she bristled at the thought of his change being her fault. She did not ask him to lay down his sword, nor did she ask him to stay.
"Bullshit! You have gotten lazy and weak in your complacency, but if you had sparred with me more or left your damn desk more often, you would still be in shape! Do you think that I'm weak now?"
"That's not what I'm saying, but not everyone is like you. Nobody can live up to your perfect standards!"
"Jean can, and she is nine. Already, she understands more of our place in this city than you do, more about the true nature of Barbatos than you do. How could you say that we must earn Barbatos' affection? Do you not understand how naturally it comes to us?"
Her husband's face goes carefully blank, and he covers his face with his hand as he breathes in a slow, calming breath. Somehow, of all the things said, this was something that truly struck a nerve in him. The notion is somehow even more insulting. What reason does he have to be frustrated? He was the one in the wrong!
"Perhaps for you, it is natural. For the rest of the nation, Barbatos does not grant us the same audience as he does your family. Even now, I've yet to hear his voice. Can you understand how that must feel?"
Frederica stared at her husband, pushing herself back to cross her arms in disbelief. In the back of her mind, the separation between them settles into something cold. If he would not call him part of her family, then there was no need to burden either of them for any longer. More so, perhaps he had already served his purpose to her and she had failed to prune the dead branches when it was more opportune.
"If this is how you truly feel, then you know nothing about Barbatos, and more so is the fact that you clearly know nothing about me. I cannot believe that this is the man you have grown into. There is no more need for us to continue clashing like this. If we cannot be united in the home, then perhaps it will be easier for us to separate before it sullies the unity of our work."
His face changes rapidly from confusion into surprise before landing on an exasperated expression, "Honey, you can't mean that."
Frederica tilted her head lightly, "Did I stutter? Here, let me speak plainly: Seamus, I want a divorce. Pack your things, sleep in the guest room, and get out of my house tomorrow. I don't want your name associated to mine for any longer."
When the rumors of their divorce hit the city, the people of Mondstadt took it personally. Frederica would be out on patrol when a vendor would call her over to express their deepest sympathies. She blinked, bewildered, and thanked them stiffly. It was the oddest thing, truly. Her people were always kind, and always friendly, but they seemed to rally behind her in a way that left her startled. They asked her if he was a good man, if he had broken her heart, if she was doing alright as if she had not felled more difficult challenges than ending of a relationship.
Frederica lifts her chin, proudly, as she responds, "I do not mourn that man, only the time we had wasted believing that we were good together."
The most recent to call out for her, expressing a heartfelt apology, a young bard sniffles, looking near tears, "Frederica, you're so strong… Such a loss, and yet you continue so nobly… You know that we all support you, right?"
Frederica brings a hand up to her heart, "And I will always support you all in turn."
The young bard smiles, promises a song in her honor, and allows Frederica to continue on her way. Within the hour, Frederica finds herself repeating this interaction with someone entirely different.
Her city was beyond concerned for her well-being, and her marriage was apparently a conflict that she didn't realize was a fight at all. She was working, and the amount of people that were invested in her personal life was startling as Frederica would attempt to sway the conversation towards something else, only for her conversationalist partner to swing back to the original discussion of her divorce. She tried to focus on her job outside, in either protecting the city or in teaching her daughter how to better her swing.
The hardest part of their divorce was discussing custody, and there were long conversations before a council when it was finally determined. She kept Jean, he took Barbara. She didn't look at her youngest when it was decided. She didn't want to see her relief, so she turned to her heir. Jean had looked resigned to the proceedings, but when she looked up at her mother, she smiled weakly. Her brave little lioness. Frederica drops a hand on her daughter's shoulder, and tries to smile back.
"Come, Jean. The Wind is sweet today, we should celebrate it."
Her daughter nods, and Frederica turns, missing the look that Jean gave the retreating figures of her father and sister.
Her life, by all means, did not change much after that day. After all, it was barely defined by her husband to begin with. She woke up at the same time, met with her colleagues to discuss the measures and metrics of the knights, trained Jean privately in discipline, etiquette and conduct, trained Jean publicly with the new squires in swordsmanship and fitness, and then her day would end either sending off the youth to practice on their own or watch as she sparred with their Grandmaster.
Varka, Barbatos guide him, was formidable, and when their swords clashed, it was an exciting rush for everyone involved. Their spars tended to invite audiences, even if they were hidden in private training fields. The younger knights enjoyed the show, and she excused their presence by showcasing whatever she was currently teaching them. It was also an excellent time for her to properly let herself be pushed in that specific way that meant growth. There were not many who could face her equally in combat, these days, and even less had the willpower to try, but their Grandmaster was an allogene and overeager. Like a wild horse, yet to be broken. Like a dog, who enjoyed being tossed around.
Frederica held her sword up in front of her, bracing herself for another close match. Across from her, Varka held his own swords, one in each hand as he grinned.
"Prepared for another round so soon, Freddie?"
Frederica scoffed, tightens her grip on her sword. "Take your time, Grandmaster. It is my honor as a Knight to grant a moment's respite to those in need."
Varka laughed as the younger knights delighted in their banter, shifting his stance appropriately.
"How chivalrous of you! Alright then, let's go again!" He exclaimed, and she brought her sword down swiftly as she saluted him.
The cheers and cries of their juniors fades into the background as she allows her mind to focus solely into the familiar movements of her sword, her blade clashing against both of Varka's as he brought them down heavy above her head. She was faster than he was, if only due to her experience. His Anemo vision lightened his steps in a way only seen by those blessed who were by Barbatos, and it was this that made them startlingly equal in speed as she had to aim for greater precision to challenge his agility. She responds in kind, bringing her sword lower to swipe up. Varka laughs breathlessly, leaping back avoid her attack, before he uses that movement as momentum to force himself forward, swinging his sword across his body to give himself more force as he leaps up. She moves, just enough to be nicked by the twin blades and he grins.
Varka steps back then, "First blood!" he crows, his delight and exuberance both equally obnoxious. She pulls herself back to her full height and rolls back her shoulder.
"Please, two of five does not make you the winner."
"Ah, but I won the last round!" His grin sharpens, no doubt going to gesture broadly before remembering the swords in his hands and dropping his arms again.
"So you did." Frederica can't help the slight smile at her colleague. She turns to their audience, "Now then. Back to it! Knights are to remain vigilant at all times!"
They know better than to groan in front of her, but she still shakes her head at the way some heads drop. Varka steps up beside her and claps a hand on her shoulder, and she looks at him with an eyebrow raised at the solemn expression on his face.
"If you mean to ask me about my divorce, Grandmaster, I would advise against it."
"Freddie, I'm going to ask. How's Jean handling all this?"
Frederica presses her lips together firmly. Her daughter was fine. Jean was smart, compassionate, and standing taller everyday. The divorce hadn't shaken that. She was careful to ensure that Jean understood that their separation was not her fault, and her daughter seemed to believe her.
"She is thriving. She's the top of her class in both fencing and history now." She replies stiffly.
Varka looked at her for a moment, eyes searching for something he would not find.
"That's good… Hey, I'm sorry that it didn't work out."
They're really doing this, then?
"Don't be. I'm not."
And she wasn't. The marriage wasn't a failure, she had two daughters now. One of whom was turning out into the perfect heir for the Gunnhildr name, genuine and clever. Her youngest was, if rumor was to be believed, running around the church singing the praises of their god. If she stuck with it, then there would be both a knight and clergyman in their family this generation. Both girls would reach the people and live up to their name. If nothing else, at least, she had ensured that their family would not die with her.
Varka nodded slowly, still looking at her like she might break. Frederica scowls at him, before stepping away from his hand on her shoulder and straightening her posture.
"Is that a satisfactory answer?"
He rolls his eyes. "Sure, whatever, fine. But Freddie, if you want to talk about anything later, my door is open."
She inclines her head in acknowledgement, before turning off towards the showers.
According to the oldest works of the Gunnhildr family records, Lady Time does not encourage gentle forgiveness the same way that Barbatos does.
Many say that time heals all wounds, but it is not her touch that makes the heart grow fonder or softens past hurts.
Merciless, the Gunnhildrs of yesterday call her. She sours what was already there. Her touch corrupting and poisoning and spitting on all that was good about the final memories. The force of erosion, Scholars claim, takes and pulls at what was once there until it is entirely removed. She will take the essence of something and pull at what once was until it is only recognizable through the worst version of itself.
No. Time does not grant forgiveness.
Frederica stands outside the church as she ushers the wounded inside, handing off injured men to the sisters who are rushing to bring them to their healers.
This was the part of her job that required the most of her strength. It was not always easy to be a Knight, and her younger team members did not understand such a sentiment until they bled for Mondstadt's safety. When the last of the injured is inside, Frederica sighs and leans against the railing outside. The courtyard was sparse today, it seemed. A knight was patrolling the front of the stairs, but they were seemingly avoiding her attention while a sister stood before the statue of Barbatos, speaking to a young man. She tilted her head back, and reveled in the feeling of wind curling through her hair, having followed her home to this point. The doors to the church opened, and she straightened as she turned. There stood Seamus Pegg.
"Frederica?" He greeted her, sounding as surprised as she felt.
"Cardinal." She returned warily.
The playful breeze that had curled around her slows. It could have simply been her imagination, or her own emotions of the matter, but it was awkward facing her ex-husband privately after all this time.
"I take it that you're here with those knights inside?"
"Yes. Have you brought any news of their health?"
"No, no. I was just intending to step out and give the sisters more room to work."
They stare at each other blankly, the wind that followed her in stops and all is silent as the weight of their shared history sits between them. It is heavy, and she glances at the way Time has treated him. Wrinkles in his brow, around his eyes. Smile lines in his face where frown lines are on hers. She dismisses the thought immediately, turning towards the city.
"Frederica… It's good to see you." She looks back over and frowns. It surely is not. She is not enjoying it, how could he?
"We don't need to do this, Seamus. Just tell me if my knights are well."
"Have some faith in the healers, you didn't bring anyone on the verge of death today." He chuckles lightly, and she tilts her head. She knows that. The competence of the healers at their church was unquestionable, and she had seen their skill at work on countless occasions over the course of her calling.
"It is not a question of faith." She replied sharply. He should know that she already knew. It was condescending to treat her like she did not.
He laughs again, sounding hollow and bitter, "No, it is not." He agrees and she narrows her eyes in suspicion at such an easy acknowledgment, "Barbatos knows that I know better than to question that from you."
The silence continues again, and she's certain that her mother is rolling in her grave, as Frederica struggles to decide what to do with this moment. They separated for good reason. They couldn't speak casually, they never shared time, they were driven by separated ambitions. Seamus wouldn't get over his own self-importance. She couldn't recognize the man that she had loved, didn't understand the man that was left.
The silence was heavy, and neither of them speak for another tense moment. Burning pressure pulls at her tongue, unbidden and undeserved. She looks at the statue, at the sister speaking in front of it again, and without turning around, she lifts her voice. "How is she?"
Seamus is quiet for a moment, before he chuckles again and it sounds breathless. Frederica can only imagine the expression on his face, surely pleased. Proud of their youngest.
"She is thriving. She's the best voice in the youth's choir, and many praise her enthusiasm in studying the old scriptures."
Frederica slowly releases a slow breath. She is thriving. She's happy, learning well, and intentional with her time. It is a relief to know, and it settles something inside her to think about. She doesn't see her often, typically only from the corner of her gaze while in town square, and sends letters on her birthday to receive no response. Her youngest was easily likened to a lamb, so easily frighted off, but she had an idea of what her daughter thought of her. Barbara had taken on her father's last name, and discarded the surname Gunnhildr from her shoulders like a small coat, after all. Such things, difficult though they may be, are Barbara's own decisions to make however. Frederica will respect those decisions. The freedom to choose for oneself, the safety to remain gentle-hearted, the passion to sing ballads for the Wind, Barbara was the pinnacle of all that Mondstadt fought for.
"That's good."
Seamus doesn't say anything else, but she feels his eyes on her back for a moment longer before she hears the doors to the cathedral open and close again.
This expedition that Varka was planning was dangerous. It promised no answers, no certain location, and placed their nation in a perilous position. They were discussing numbers that would be unthinkable in times of peace. However, he was also certain of the omen that he has received from their new allies, and the witches had not been proved falsely yet. If they wanted to maintain their nation's safety, it would be crucial for them to leave with all the manpower that could be spared.
Frederica swallowed, and knocked on her eldest's door, straightening her shoulders as the door opened to reveal Jean. Looking impeccable and alert, her daughter looked her over.
"Mother?"
"Jean. Am I interrupting anything?"
Jean opens her door, stepping to the side to invite her inside, "Nothing new. Please, come sit. Is everything alright?"
Frederica lets herself be guided towards a chair near Jean's desk, glancing only briefly at the textbooks and papers gathered there, before sitting primly. It looked like she was studying—good girl, always so diligent— so she really couldn't keep her long.
"This will become public news tomorrow morning, but I wished for you to learn from me," she starts, and Jean stiffened, eyes sharpening and hands coming together primly.
"It was discussed today that the knights are to be dispatched for an expedition. The intended destination is uncertain, as is the anticipated duration… Mondstadt is making a stand against her greatest enemy."
Jean nods slowly, taking in the information carefully. "I presume you'll be one of the chosen knights leaving then?"
"Yes, as will the Grandmaster and many of the captains. It will be unprecedented for Mondstadt's knights, for so many to leave the nation at one time, but Varka has deemed it necessary." Frederica is careful to keep her tone professional. If she treats this like any other expedition, then it was easier to discuss. Jean, her pride and joy, smiles gently.
"Unprecedented though it may be, but such things are only typical of our Grandmaster, Mother. I would expect that an expedition of this size means that he believes we are on the verge of victory." Jean reassures her, gently, as if reading her mind. "This is exciting news! Mondstadt will be able to rest assured that the Abyss will defeated."
Frederica returns her smile, "I suppose you're right. This is exciting news."
Jean doesn't relax, and neither does Frederica really, but any stress that she had brought with her dissipates under her daughter's certainty. Many of these knights were ones that she trained herself, she knows that they are capable and courageous. This was the evening before dawn, finally Mondstadt would be free of the Abyss' extended night. She tells Jean what she can, which is laughably little and spends more time discussing the logistics for when they are gone. Perhaps such things would be boring to anyone else, but for them, this was a core part of who they are. At the end of the night, Frederica stands to leave and Jean follows her. They salute each other first as knights would — then immediately embraced as only family might.
Tomorrow is uncertain, but seedlings of yesteryear have grown strong.