Ever since she was a little girl, Celica knew that she was different. That she would one day need to bear the weight of the crown, to live under the burden of her father's sins, the people's hatred. That she would need to be the one to restore the land, heal the rifts in the people, forge her own peace with Rigel to mend the Divine Accord. She never wanted to do any of that, however.
She just wanted to break pots.
Garreg Mach's kitchen was never exactly the calmest of places — providing three meals a day for thousands of knights, students, monks, and staff was hardly a leisurely affair — but today was different.
"Strange dungeon. Human enemy type, spawns... infinite? No matter. Small urns. Provision Probability Eighty-two point six six. Most common drop raw meat, dried meat, eighteen point one eight percent, favored by Saber, Valbar, Kamui, Atlas, Jesse, Est. Mana herbs. Rough group, favored by Atlas. Yoghurt, rich, favored by Genny, Kamui, Palla. Restores 20 HP. Minimum spawn 2, maximum spawn of 8 per area."
There was a warpath through the heart of the Officer's Academy. Newly-rebuilt walls now lay crumbling again, splintered pieces of wood and shards of pottery lining a wake of destruction. Grass and foliage were cut seemingly at random as the chaos seemed to meander, spiraling and backtracking in a chaotic fashion towards the dining hall.
The interior of the dining hall was not unscathed either, as the tables lay overturned, slashes marring the wooden surfaces as broken plates and abandoned cups littered the floor. A group of students and staff stood huddled at the far side of the hall, anxiously watching the chaos on the other end of the room.
At the entrance to the kitchens, a slick coat of wine and oil coated the stone floor as spices slowly dripped from smashed pots. In the center of the chaos stood the Liberator of Valentia, warrior priestess known as Mila Incarnate. With her sword hand, she held off five knights simultaneously, keeping them at bay as the other threw pottery off the shelves onto the floor as it joined the sticky slutch.
Backing to a corner, she kept her sword pointed at the nearest knight as she reached down, scooping up over thirty oranges from a basket on the floor, depositing them into her cape. All the while, she was talking, rattling off figures without pausing.
"Large wooden crate. Spawns in groups of three, diminishes by one per re-entry. Notable drops, rusted sword, rusted bow, rusted lance, three-point-two-seven percent, summed drop rate nine-point-eight-one percent, probability of rusted regalia one-point-eight-three-five percent. No, that can't be right. Average boxes to search one-thousand-six-hundred-sixty-six-point-six-six, estimated thirty-six minutes per ascent, estimated two-hundred-seventy-seven-point-seven-eight ascents, one-hundred-sixty-six-hours and forty minutes per instance drop."
Her sword comes down onto the crate, and a white plume of flour jets into the air, sacks slashed open. A knight takes the opportunity to tackle the rogue student, and the two fall to the ground. Celica recovers first, and she manages to kick the offending knight in the side as she staves off two others with her sword.
However, as more and more knights pour through the doors into the enclosed space of the kitchen, even the famed rigain of Valentia could not hold off their sheer numbers, and as her vision faded to black and she was drowned under the weight of their numbers, Celica let out one final cry.
"No! It— hasn't... dropped... Astra... yet..."
