Ophelia simply nodded at that, her expression unchanging. Arlene's answer hadn't really been positive or negative, despite the strong-seeming statement at the end. She found that intriguing.

Why would a warrior ever deny the fighting spirit within herself, she had to wonder. Some of the other ranked fighters of the organization puzzled her in the same way with their reluctance to seek battles with yoma without explicit orders to do so. Some were simply afraid because they were weak, yes, but other perfectly capable warriors simply seemed to not do so on some sort of vaguely established sense of principle. Why bother holding back, she'd always thought. The life of a warrior could be very short, and always ended in a very painful fashion; why not live it up in that time, taking pleasure in the addictive adrenaline rush of battle as often as possible? That was a big part of the way Ophelia lived her life when she wasn't seeking the one-horned monster.

"Oh, and what might the purpose of your skills be, I wonder?" she asked, resting her chin comfortably on one hand. "Force of circumstance, as with many taken in by my organization . . . or something more interesting?"