Faithless
I don’t know when it started. Thinking back, it must have been back when we read the scriptures of Germonique after Marach had tantalized us with the knowledge within. Navarre had been there too. The three of us, Ramza, Navarre and myself, had pored over the scriptures that elder Simon had left us, and what they claimed had been a shock to us all, but mostly to Navarre, who came from a pious family.
None of us saw the change in him, the doubt. Not even when we showed Argath a second time where he could stick it, or even when we defeated the lucavi Zalera. But the doubt had changed into certainty by the time we reached Dorter.
Navarre left our group. He had thought about it, and the teaching of Saint Ajora would not have us kill others, and he could no longer stand for it. Our paths would separate. His faith had run too high and he could no longer associate himself with the heretics that we were.
The Gariland Apothecary
If that wasn’t the worst news we could have gotten over the course of this journey towards Eagrose to face Ramza’s brother, even after the ambush at Dorter just moments after Navarre left, then quite possibly the worst news was the message that arrived to us by messenger in Gariland.
We had absolutely no intention of visiting the Akademy, but many of us were from Gariland, or had been here long enough to have made some friends. We stuck around, at least for a short while. That was when the messenger brought Greg a letter.
His sister had learned that he was in town, and she needed him back with the family. His father had come down with a severe illness. Greg was torn. He could not leave us behind, nor could he abandon his family, so we made the choice for him. Ramza dismissed him from his duties, assuring him that we could manage without him, but that he should always remember that it was his guidance in chemistry that taught us all what we knew of potion administering. We owed him, all of us.
I am Bathsua, and I’m not crying, you are, and these are my memoirs.
Memoirs of a squire 