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Catherine was still not sold on the whole thing. She was not there to question Rhea, but she found a bit too rushed the fact that the Archbishop offered her a place in the midst of the knights, when it was clear the mercenary wasn’t ever a believer and they didn't know her that well.
There was also the matter of skill. There had been rumours here and there, about the mercenary wandering around, with her bow, and sometimes other hidden weapons, but to see was to believe, and their intense battle just after meeting, was the best proof she could take for the fact that at the very least, she was as capable as the whispers and stories made her to be.
And after the fight, came other of the moments Catherine enjoyed, sharing a jar of ale, sitting on the ground of their battle, having a friendly chat. Or something like that, because sometimes, she had to pull the words out of the other woman.
“So, how come you decided to become part of the Knights of Seiros when you are not even a follower?” Catherine observed her up and down, taking notice of the open area in her chest and reflecting on how an uncovered spot could be without a wound in a warrior. That was another testament to her skill; she supposed.
“I just decided to pay my dues, and I don’t need to believe in your so-called gods and goddesses to offer my protection to Rhea. After all, she was the one to offer me shelter and a place, not some faraway god.”
“Hmm,” Catherine drank a gulp from one of the bottles eyeing her, “But you are still protecting her, doesn’t that mean you are supporting the religion?”
“Are you trying to push me into betraying her?” Shamir retorted back finding a measure of humor in the conversation, “I don’t need you questioning my motives, my loyalty is not for you to judge.”
It was refreshing, the direct and blunt way of communicating, at least it was clear where she stood and for Catherine that was always ways better than snivelling individuals that ended up betraying the church when things didn’t go their way or they believed to be owed more power, more money, more anything. Maybe it was the revelation or the gulps of ale, that made her relaxed, able to enjoy the quietness of the night and the company.
“So, what do you like?” she asked nonchalantly.
“Is that the level of conversation the Knight of Seiros can offer?” and if Catherine could believe her ears, it sounded almost like a mild joke.
“Hey, we have to start somewhere, don’t we? You can ask your own questions if you think mine are so bad,” she answered, holding back the childish want of sticking her tongue at Shamir.
“Well, having a paycheck every month for sure is nice, beats having to look for work here and there.”
Catherine bit her tongue, avoiding to remark that the money was secondary to the honour of serving the church, but she was more interested now in continuing with the conversation, than admonishing her new partner on the joys of being a believer.
“So what does our newly appointed knight use her newly found salary for?” she shot.
“Well, gambling is as good as anything. Sometimes you double the salary, sometimes you lose it, but that’s life.” Shamir shrugged, bottle in hand.
Oh, there it was, a small opening. Probably it would be not the most ethical approach, but there were many mysteries Catherine wanted to unveil with Shamir.
“So what about a little gambling ourselves? Not for money, of course, but maybe for answers. What do you say?”
“Hah, are you that desperate to lose your pay?” Shamir laughed raucously, “but fine, not like we have anything better to do right now.” She snatched her bag, sitting nearby and picked something from inside, a cup and a bunch of dice, “Is this fine with you?”
“Sure!” answered Catherine suddenly drawn to the flicker of light in her partner's eyes.
And the match started, with the first loss going to Catherine who came back with a couple more of bottles of ale. Questions started easy: favourite color, favourite food, place of birth, and easy come and go. For what was worth, Shamir was participating enough to suggest questions when it was her win.
On the nth throw of the night, the win went to Catherine, and she decided to up the questioning a little.
“So…, men or women?”
“Men or women for what?”
“Well… for partnership? For a night of passion? You know, that kind of thing.”
“It doesn’t matter, as long as the person is compatible, as long as they are worthy, and…” there was a pause, and Catherine felt she maybe touched something she shouldn’t have, because the easy mood of the night seemed to be evaporating.
“And…?” Maybe it would be best to finish the conversation, but Catherine was invested.
“And strong enough that they don’t die, I guess.” she said quietly.
Catherine heard the rumours, that Shamir had someone special, a partner that died before she arrived to Garreg Mach as fierce as she was. In a way it would make sense, this desire for a strong partner if something like that happened in her past.
Shamir smiled sadly, “But I guess it’s better to not dwell in the past, the only thing we have is the future.”
“A toast to strong partners then,” Catherine raised her bottle and Shamir gestured back with hers.
The silence seemed to have changed, less oppressive, and more comfortable. Different to the kind she shared to the rest of the knights. And maybe it was the ale, or maybe it was the silly game of truth they played with the excuse of gambling. Or maybe, it was something else starting to sprout.
“I’ll let you know; I’m most likely the strongest knight right now.” she boasted.
Shamir turned her head, eyes wide in surprise, and her shocked expression quickly changing into something softer, and finally into laughter. Not rowdy but heartfelt anyway.
“Heh, let’s see about that. I’ll hold you to that claim, since you are so cocky to proclaim that unprompted.”
“Be my guest,” Catherine smiled, “I’ll make you recognize I am indeed the strongest.”
Catherine's mind was already filling with manyfold ideas to test their skills, to make Shamir see that at least within the Knights of Seiros, there was something that would be able to stand with her.