What's the point of living if everything is already decided from the moment you're born?
(That's his take from all of that. If someone was born under an unfortunate star and told there was never a chance to succeed, what would even be the point of living? It reminds him of those families that toss aside their children for not possessing Crests. And it brings to mind the Church dictating everyone's believes and lifestyles to the point the masses were blind and thoughtless. It reminds him of everyone who assumed he was weak and easy prey that wouldn't survive into adulthood.)
Well, you showed everyone.
(And another bubble passes by and idly, Claude taps at it.
The arrow hits the bandit between the eyes, knocking him down a set of ruined stairs. He lies on the ground, crumpled, his head bleeding as a blue haired girl lets out a startled shriek and scurries away, covering her mouth. She’s clearly distressed but a familiar face appears to to push her up the steps, away from the body. The two of them exchange some sort of words Claude, from his vantage point atop a rocky cliff can’t make out the words.
“Up there!” Another bandit yells and an arrow flies carelessly in his direction. Claude ducks behind a ruined pillar and readies his next arrow. Nearby, a soft looking boy whimpers and cowers behind what looks like the remnants of a wall. He clutches a bow tightly in his hands and shuts his eyes. Trembling and pale, the boy looks like he’s going to be sick.
Claude frowns, his brows knitting close together in sympathy. It’s not that he doesn’t care but there isn’t time for pity or patience right now, “We have to keep moving,” Claude insists, his voice calm and even.
“Claude…” He starts to plead, looking back at the battle unfolding below them.
“We need to provide cover for the others so they can meet up again.” Claude explains evenly, trying to redirect his attention. Bring him back to focus instead of that anxious, horrifying place he's going.
“— Did you...?”
That gets Claude to go quiet and his finger brushes against the feathers at the end of his next arrow, "Yeah," He replies. He killed him. "We were taken by surprise last time but… I guess this is what we can expect from battling thieves.”
“I can’t…”
“Then don’t.” He replies patiently, “But our friends are down there fighting for their lives right now, Ignatz. These bandits don’t care about your mercy. Trust me, if it hadn’t been for Teach last time, these guys would have killed me without a second thought. That’s why I can’t take any chances.”
The boy goes quiet, eyes staring down at the bow and arrow in his shaking hands. His eyes shine bright and he bites down on his lip and Claude is sorry. He’s so, so sorry he can’t do more in this moment. They don't have time to sit and talk deeply, offer reassuring words, and comfort.
“Ignatz, I know I’m your leader but I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. Don’t worry about Teach. I’ll take care of everything. But whatever you decide to do? I support you.”
Anyone can take a life, he thinks, but not everyone can do it easily. There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, maybe there’s something wrong with him for being able to do so without a second thought. But if he hadn’t, his friend below could be dead right now and if he had to choose between the stranger or someone so precious to him… he would choose his friend each time.
Down below, a woman cuts through the enemy, her sword slashing at bandits with a skill and confidence beyond that of her other allies. She calls out orders and moves expertly, quick to pull others from danger and cut down anyone who gets in her way. She doesn't react to the bloodshed, she doesn't care about the curses thrown at her.
One of her allies falters, hesitating mid-spell and she swoops in, delivering a killing blow. There's no time to hesitate. Stopping for a moment is the difference between life and death.
Of all of his allies, she's the one Claude's eyes keep wandering towards. He doesn't worry about her like the others. Instead, he watches her with... a sense of regard and curious fascination. She cuts down two bandits and a third leaps at her from behind. Claude fires his shot, his arrow zipping close to ear and hitting the man in right in the chest. The woman doesn't flinch and looks up at the direction of the shot, eyes staring blankly at Claude... and she nods before dashing off to the next enemy.
"Hah...." Claude laughs, watching her back and he moves his attention away, turning towards his less experienced allies. Another archer takes aim at Hilda.
Claude readies his next arrow, takes aim, and fires.
The memory fades and Claude pours himself another cup of tea. )
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(That's his take from all of that. If someone was born under an unfortunate star and told there was never a chance to succeed, what would even be the point of living? It reminds him of those families that toss aside their children for not possessing Crests. And it brings to mind the Church dictating everyone's believes and lifestyles to the point the masses were blind and thoughtless. It reminds him of everyone who assumed he was weak and easy prey that wouldn't survive into adulthood.)
Well, you showed everyone.
(And another bubble passes by and idly, Claude taps at it.
The memory fades and Claude pours himself another cup of tea. )
That seems like forever ago.
(His first kill.)