C Support

Astrid: Taking care of your weapons, Sothe?
Sothe: Yeah, that’s right.
Astrid: Ahhh…splendid. May I speak to you for a moment?
Sothe: What do you want?
Astrid: You are quite skilled with a dagger. If my memory serves, swords are very effective against axes. But, can you tell me which weapon axes are most suited to attack?
Sothe: Hah! You don’t even know that? I thought you were a mercenary!
Astrid: Oh… I’m sorry. Please forgive my ignorance. It’s been only a short while since I became a mercenary. What’s more, I wield a bow.
Sothe: What did you do before?
Astrid: I wasn’t doing…anything. Nothing at all, really.
Sothe: Nothing? It’s hard to fill your stomach doing nothing! Ahh, I get it. You’re a noble, aren’t you? I can tell from all that poncy talk of yours! Peh! You couldn’t tell a hatchet from a pot of rat stew! Not that you’d ever eat rat stew… But why is a soft-hand like you in this war?
Astrid: …
Sothe: Ah, well… Who am I to judge? As long as you feather some Daein scum, you’re all right with me.

B Support

Astrid: Oh… Where am I…?
Sothe: …
Astrid: What… What happened?
Sothe: You passed out. I thought about just leaving you there, but that would have left a bad taste in my mouth.
Astrid: I’m sorry…
Sothe: I know it’s not my worry, but aren’t you pushing yourself a bit hard? You’re having a rough time just keeping up with the pack. You’re a wreck!
Astrid: I had no idea…how cruel and unforgiving war would actually be. Grueling marches…day in and day out. I can’t even sleep at night because I’m terrified of surprise attacks. It’s made me painfully aware of my frailty.
Sothe: Nobles aren’t cut out for war. As you can see, there are no chambermaids to attend to your every whim out here! I’m sure you’ve got a lavish and free life waiting for you back home.
Astrid: Lavish and free? Lavish, maybe…but certainly not free. I have no freedom.
Sothe: No freedom? What are you talking about?
Astrid: My parents have already chosen and arranged a fiance for me. I’ve heard he is thirty years older than me.
Sothe: …
Astrid: I volunteered for service with the knights of Begnion to live on my own terms. Of course, my family vehemently opposed the idea, but they figured it was merely a phase. They thought I would come home crying. I won’t give them that satisfaction.
Sothe: …Wasn’t trying to pry. Just asking, is all.
Astrid: I know… Thank you.

A Support

Astrid: Hello, Sothe. Thank you…for the other day.
Sothe: What, for talking? That isn’t worth thanking me for.
Astrid: No, you deserve thanks. I feel better.
Sothe: I thought you noble types were too good to thank anyone, but… You’re different…
Astrid: Am I?
Sothe: You are. Most nobles get rich by trampling on the commoners, then spend their lives basking in filthy luxury. I’ve known them to be that way since the day I was born. They’ve never seen a blister or sweat for a day’s meal in their lives. Do you know how lucky you are?
Astrid: But there’s no freedom! My brothers are the pride of the house. As soldiers, they lead glorious lives. But my sisters are traded like commodities, promised to fiances they don’t even know. They don’t know love. I receive letters from them once every few years. The pages are warped and stained from tears.
Sothe: You didn’t want to end up like them.
Astrid: No, I didn’t. That’s why I have no intention of leaving this war until I see it to the end.
Sothe: I see… You’re nothing like the nobles I’ve known. You worked hard… You’re just like the rest of us. Sorry for thinking you were just another pampered noble.
Astrid: Thank you…
Sothe: Keep up the good work. You’ve earned your freedom. Never let them take that away!
Astrid: I won’t!