When One Door Closes. . .
28th day of Eleint, 1350
The paladin's slender, gloved fingers curl tightly around a small silver object, her gaze fixated on the stone statue of the Just God before her. She had reached a crossroad. One she had never thought she would see so soon, if at all. The key in her hand felt weighted, heavy. Ignoring the conversational voices of Ferragus and Ameris behind her, Cecilia turned inwards to her thoughts. Quiet reflection on her decision.28th day of Eleint, 1350
She had given everything she had to the Order of the Radiant Heart from the beginning. Fought alongside it's Brotherhood on the battlefield, participated in numerous trials in court, took upon herself numerous investigations and the penmanship of reports that would see wickedness spared no leeway Her very last breath given to their cause, her cause, even as she had been tortured and hung at the hands of the Zhentarim. Duty had come first, even when one closest to her had become possessed by a demon. The Tyrran had not expected anything from it, not recognition nor fame nor even a pat on the back. To bask in such displays was inappropriate. Yet the paladin was a firm believer in equality between those who claimed themselves 'family' and there was pain. Pain in memories and the dull but effective blade of betrayal. Pain in that which had been left behind. Pain in what had once been considered shared faith. Pain in the struggle to prove worth to those who looked down on her still. It was a poison that would continue to eat away at her lest something be done. A combination of things which could be tied back to her position within the Order of the Radiant Heart.
Here she was, Chapterhouse key in hand in the temple of the Just God about to make one of the biggest decisions of her life. Her heart pattered almost painfully within the armor of her breastplate. Could she leave the Order of the Radiant Heart? A cause that had meant the world to her? Truly all she had wanted was to see it flourish, a tower of righteous might within the darkness. A beacon of hope, a powerful militia force, a united front like the tales she had heard of the Order in it's earlier days. She had joined the Order sponsored and encouraged by Ameris, a breath of fresh air he had said. A breath of change. A challenge she took on determined and to personal extent.
Yet there was another side to the Order, one she had not been prepared for. One she had ignored for the longest time. Cecilia could finally understand why it was others were able to form such negative opinions of those within it's walls. It was not something she agreed with as most of which stemmed from misunderstanding of oaths. Nor was it something she would voice to others, the latter being slanderous and ungallant. It was something she had worked hard to change in the lead up to the steeling of her person. There was understanding there, however. Realisation. A place where words replaced actions, and actions were the form of charging in blindly and at times questionable despite the best intentions. A place which, although boasted brotherhood and unity, was cold and rigid. Strangely it was not in Eliphas' wake she felt this. True, with the departure of Ameris, her Brother, a piece of the Radiant Heart seemed missing. Dull. Colourless. The final forms of life sucked out with the betrayal of Eliphas the Deciever, a father figure. The manor had become less of a home then the stables in the courtyard, a pecking order which looked down on and overruled those whom had not been in service as long as others or who were deemed incompetent when compared to the unshaken leaders at it's foundation.
Cecilia herself had been subjected to this, both previously and currently in her nine months of service. Yet it was when she stood alone in her confrontation and accusation of the traitor Eliphas that had given her pause. When she had put forward her case, shared evidence collected and spoken up knowing full well that were she wrong, her actions would be punished and future words disrespected for the accusations of a mentor. Yet she had spoken when others had not, her voice which drew the gazes of the brethren whom claimed to know but remained silent even as the Chancellor had asked if any supported her claim. When action finally came it was in brutal violence, as it always was, that saw her dangerously close to approaching the domain of the Lord of Bones.
A sense of hopelessness and vexation at inaction had begun to dangerously creep into the Paladin's daily sentiments. Squires went untrained despite the numerous patrols she had attempted to organise, news went unshared with lack of regular meetings and attendance. Even with the gauntlet missing, a direct insult to everything they stood for, and a new Grandmaster selected a blanket of inaction had settled over the ashes of the Order rather than erupting into the phoenix it was supposed to become. It had been over a month and all she was met with was silence. When she, awarded Knighthood whilst those she knew were elevated above her, stepped back, the small measure of respect and authoritative power she had as the Grandmaster's squire slipped through her fingers and she was left to helplessly wait on the sidelines for those on the newly created Senior Counsel to act.
If only the Dawnknight, Sir Lance, had made it to the ceremony and accepted her nomination for Grandmaster. Perhaps it was Eliphas' influence that planted the seed of discontent and was what saw her so conflicted now. She had been so eager to please, to make him and the Order proud. He had effectively groomed her for leadership after all, and the fall was a long one to the bottom.
She is hesitant again in her final moments, unsure. She did not wish to become that which she witnessed. Already she was slipping, the once shy, light-hearted and undoubtedly ill-prepared Tyrran hardened from constant, hounding strife. What if they needed her? What if she was effectively damning those left behind and future persons whom might join the order, when perhaps there was still a chance? Had her idea to leave been her own, or developed from a seed of doubt, discontent planted by the enemy? Was she truly in the right frame of mind to make a decision like this? Yet Cecilia knew there was reason, even as her thoughts swirled and fought for dominance, she knew.
The paladin had achieved that which she had set out to do. She had purged the Order as she had hoped and dealt an intractable blow to the Zhentarim when her mentor was exposed by her own hand. She had risen to Knighthood, despite the extended length in Squire's shoes. She had aided and supported as she needed, seen fresh blood into the gates and most importantly, good or bad, she had given it her everything.
With the conclusion of her thoughts on the matter finally drawing to a close, the chaos of indecision subsiding even as the weighted pain of said decision remained, Cecilia stands. Her chin lifts slightly, shoulders shifting backward as she turns on booted heel and clicks her way across the stonework to the discussion held by Helmite Genasi and Ilmateri Priest. Their talk trails off as she approaches - an ornate key dangling on a chain looped over her gloved finger is presented to Ferragus with her words of termination.
"I resign."
The young paladin knew not where her path would lead at this point, her heart was heavy and she wondered still if she had made the right decision. Perhaps, in time, she might return. She was young, flawed and still had much to learn and experience. There was certainly no animosity or ill feeling toward the Order which had seen her grow from girl to woman. However there was much she questioned as of late and on numerous levels.
Cecilia was ready to strike out and seek answers.
