[ He clicks his tongue upon hearing the maid being mistreated so. Felicia could be incompetent sometimes, sure, but that doesn't warrant such rudeness! ...Well, only rudeness from fellow servants. Like his father and Gunter. (And Dwyer himself.) ]

Ah...we'll simply serve those who can do something, to the best of our abilities, then. But that's always been our role, hasn't it? Assisting our comrades? That's nothing to feel useless over.

[ Always has been, always will be. There's a certain comfort in the fact that that hasn't changed. Truth be told, he's fond of being a servant. It allows him to help people without upstaging them. He doesn't like fighting, true, but the thought of doing literally nothing while his friends might be in danger doesn't sit well with him either. In a way, serving those who can do something about their situation in Cerealia is still a small form of rebellion. Of asserting themselves, of doing something. By believing in and supporting their comrades and liege, and their ideals, they too are asserting their strength and ideals, aren't they? (Which would lead to that fateful standoff at the Ice Tribe in Birthright...)

Dwyer thinks he's not too great at this comforting thing, however, but he's trying his best. (How long has she been here?...) ]

So...chin up, Felicia. And if you haven't made some friends or found comrades who deserve your support already, I'm sure you will.