Bladesingers were taught to be prepared for any situation, being low on supplies among them. Still starvation seemed to be not preferable, that combined with the unease left by Seleniniel's rash statements left Arathea feeling frustrated. Still they would march on, but the words Seleniniel had left her with continued to scratch at her. "Life eventually makes traitors out of all of us," Arathea looked back on revelations about what the speaker might really be... she supressed the thoughts but they would keep returning. Bladesingers weren't just taught combabt skills, diplomacy, or leadership, they were taught complete and total loyalty, they were broken down and built back up in the image of the perfect soldier and the perfect servant. She had grown to trust Seleniniel, but what would that matter for if Seleniniel represented the opposite of everything she believed. Her words carried the poison of treason, of hatred for their country, and dwelling on this only built more anger in Arathea. She had learned to care about this person, she had grieved the death of her father alongside this person, how could she not see that this person walked the path of the villain? Why couldn't Seleniniel ever see things in a way beyond gloom and selfish opportunism?

She breathed, she kept reminding herself to breathe, these were also the words of someone who was hurt and in a mind that was as much a prison as it was a home, and they were the words of an invaluable asset to the group and the cause of eventually marching into the human lands. Arathea's loyalty could not falter, and any crimes against the Empire could not go unpunished, but there more pressing matters at hand, like the shcoking reveal of corruption.

Normally Arathea would call to celebrate after finding rations while in such a desperate position, but this was something offensive, this was a message being sent by this wytch. "He wants us to fear him," Arathea said as she took in the stank and stared at the rot. "We will cut him down for his hubris, a fate he shares with all traitors..." her last words seemed to almost falter, her eyes looking over to Seleniniel as they rolled off her tongue. "We'll use the good supplies, and we'll march on, our victory against this bastard comes closer, then we can get back to our main objective." It was clear Arathea seemed rushed, time was not an infinite resource now even with food, the threat of the oldest magic remained after all. "We'll make the most of what we have, and what the clerics might be able to cleanse."