Honesty is the Best Polity

1628, Earth Season, Illusion Week, Godday


Berra has a quick thing to say to Serala; Humakti thanks. Session SA3.11.


In the afternoon of the second day on the road, as they approach Wilmskirk, Berra angles Shanks’ Pony towards Serala. That is, she walks over. “Hey.” While under strain, she looks like she is handling it. She has been far more tense on the road in other situations.

Serala is, of course, on the Pag-Pony. While she is looking much more relaxed following her conversation and ride with Varanis, and (hopefully) some time riding with her cousin, she looks a touch wary as Berra approaches. Still, there is a smile for her friend. “Berra.”

Berra’s smile widened. “I came to tell you thank you for a thing, and also I am not that good,” she says. “Because it’s been gnawing in me. What Geoffri said at the Temple.” The temple was, of course, the only place they talked to Geoffri.

Serala tilts her head to one side, like an interested wolf. “Geoffri… asked what you were afraid of. Beyond that, I heard little but a lot of blather about how self important he was. Of course, you spoke with him more than us.” She shifts in her saddle, looking for a moment like she might get down to walk, for courtesy, with Berra. And then remembers how fast Berra moves without a pony, and stays put. In the interests of efficiency, of course.

“He asked if the quest would be more important to me than my friends? Um, I’m not as good a Humakti as you think I am.” Berra drops her gaze to the horizon. “I find it hard.”

The Grazelander purses her lips. “Of course it is more important than your friends.” she replies evenly. “Eril is your Lord. You are Humakti through and through. You might not like it, but you will do whatever it takes to bring your High Sword through to the place he needs to be. He knows that.” She thinks about it for a few more moments, “Afterwards…. if there is an afterwards… we should all drink beer around a fire together. A lot of beer.”

Berra looks up again. “You believing in me helped me in that moment. But also if he was not worth it I would go tell him to take a swim in a waterfall. But yeah. Beer.” She smiles, relieved and only slightly anxious on the surface.

“Wine,” Varanis tosses in, as she rides up on Serala’s other side. “You drink beer, I’ll have wine.”

“Hark at the noble.” Serala teases Varanis. “You haven’t spent long enough with Rajar yet, clearly. Anyhow, I like beer. When you had me drink wine, I was sick as a dog.” She returns her attention to Berra, “You are good for Eril, I think. He knows that you would call him on it if he was less than his best. He knows he can trust you with his life, his future and his past. And he is good for you, because he just… expects… you to be who you truly are.” She grumbles a little under her breath, “He’s better to have around than Grandfather, if you ask me… He just berates people until they do what he wants – at least Eril bothers to manipulate you.”

“I sometimes ask him to define long words he uses, even when I know what they mean,” Berra admits. “He’s almost stopped doing it.” She rolls her shoulders back. “I should go get on with being ritually alone, anyhow – the ducks don’t meet me for a while, only they did. I need to work that out properly in my head.”

Serala inclines her head. Opens her mouth to speak. Fails to find the words. Closes it again. In the end, just lifts her hand in a half-farewell, half-salute, something sad flickering in her gaze for a moment. “You’re a good friend, Berra.” is all she says. “Do what you must.”

Berra grins, squares herself up, and walks off the good road and onto the good, solid verge, to keep in pacing alongside the mounted party.