Diane's advice

It was a typically busy day at the tavern. Diane was occupied, entertaining the highborn patrons who regularly visited. Though it appeared to be a simple bar, it served as a hidden retreat where the elite indulged in activities usually reserved for commoners. Within its walls, no one was considered powerful or all-mighty. Everyone who dined there was treated equally nothing more and nothing less than a guest of the tavern.

As the heavy rain continued to fall, the tavern-goers huddled closer together, the warmth inside growing more inviting with each passing moment. Despite closing time approaching, no one seemed eager to leave the comforting glow of the tavern, "Angel Beats." Outside, Arna stood motionless, drenched by the relentless downpour. Her once steadfast beliefs were now unraveling, dissolving like the rain against the cobblestone streets. The vibrant sounds of laughter and music from within only deepened the contrast between the lively atmosphere inside and the storm brewing within her. She watched the soft flicker of lights through the windows, her thoughts as turbulent as the storm above.  From where she stood, the joyous atmosphere inside was palpable. The tavern door swung open, revealing Diane, gently escorting a drunk lady to her waiting carriage.

"Arna, what are you doing here?" Diane asked, shocked. Arna wasn’t supposed to be there, and something was clearly wrong. The distress and pain etched on her younger sister's face were unmistakable. "It looks like the rain isn’t letting up anytime soon. Come on, let’s get you dry," Diane said gently, ushering her inside the tavern. She informed the owner that she was finished for the day. Seeing that the patrons were dwindling and the remaining staff could manage, he nodded in approval.

Diane led Arna upstairs to her room, one of the few the tavern owner rented out to his servers, who were also given free meals. Inside, she handed Arna a dry set of clothes she had prepared and offered her a bowl of hot soup to warm up. 

"What happened?" Diane asked, concern in her voice as she studied her younger sister, who was visibly frustrated and troubled. Arna, unable to hold back, poured out everything—from her encounter with the nobleman at the rebel camp to the painful revelation from their father about their parents' death. As she spoke, tears streamed down her face, and she collapsed into Diane’s arms, sobbing.

"Hey, look at me," Diane said softly, lifting Arna’s chin to meet her gaze. "Dad may have had his reasons for not telling you everything. And Norbon, the noble you met at the rebel camp? He’s not someone worth your sympathy. He was a terrible man—selfish, a crook who stole from his own people. Arna, this is war. The victors write the stories, and those stories are rarely the whole truth."

She paused, her voice firm but gentle. "Remember the day you brought supplies back to camp? Our men were able to take on the nobles at Tijara Harbour because of that. You need to fight for the future, not for the ghosts of the past. We fight so that our descendants can live in a land where spirit users and weapon users stand as equals—without discrimination, without corruption. That’s the future we’re striving for."

Diane knew that Arna’s heart was always with the people of Zenaad. But right now, she needed time to collect her thoughts and regain her strength. Only then could she rise again as a warrior for her people.

The threat loomed large—soon, spirit users might be reduced to mere slaves with the new laws proposing control devices for each of them. Diane could only hope that Arna wouldn’t back down from the fight, wouldn’t abandon the cause of the rebellion.