Perhaps it was the memories of staring down the archbishop's back so many times or ignoring the whispers that have plagued him for the majority of his life. Whatever the case may be, the result was that Aymeric did not waver 'neath his commander's intense glare. In fact, he remained upright and determined until the moment his commander relented, turning to the archer at their feet. With the man's attention elsewhere, Aymeric took the moment to meet the archer's gaze, barely-concealed relief hidden in the depths of his eyes.

"Of course. I understand." And he did. If this all fell apart around them and she truly turned out to be a danger, the fault would be his and he understood that well. Still, something in the pit of his stomach told him that he was right and whether this was the Fury's nudge or something else entirely, he wanted to see it through. He needed to do so.

A moment passed as the flags rose and as Aymeric spied the girl being hauled onto another chocobo, he spared one last glance at his commanding officer. "Thank you," was all he offered in response, a quiet acknowledgement that this was a favor he knew he would be required to repay one day. Whether it was trust, fear, or something else that had caused the man to change his mind, Aymeric understood the cost to him personally and professionally and would not forget it.

All of that was shoved to the side as the girl was brought back towards them and Aymeric slid back into his rank, causing no other fuss and calming what required calming among his comrades. A part of him worried over what would come next, though he knew no good would come of that. So he waited, ready to be dragged in front of the archbishop to explain his position — and fully aware of the irony that, if he was indeed dragged hither, 'twould be a supposed heretic that granted him the audience with his father that he had craved for so long and not the boy himself.

Theirs was a cruel world indeed.