"Miss Avis?"

The voice broke Saska's stare off out of a nearby window. She blinked, and was surprised when she looked up. "Captain Hellen?"

The tall, broad figure was, indeed, looming high up over the wooden bench and table. Still dressed in his armor, it almost looked as though he was there to arrest her. As though picking up on that fear preternaturally, he held up a palm and nodded carefully as he made eye contact with the woman seated before him. "I'm here to apologize to you, Miss Avis." She blinked up at him as his bright eyes bounced down to check the unoccupied seat at his knees. "Do you... mind if I sit down?" Clearly he chose his words carefully.

Saska blinked again, and gestured her fingers toward the spot across from her. She had certainly not expected to see him again so soon, but she wasn't about to betray any surprise of hers via her face. "I'm not expecting anyone. By all means."

He nodded politely, and adjusted the sheath of his sword so that he could swoop around the empty stool and take a seat. He snapped his fingers audibly, and almost as quickly as the noise sounded, a new mug of cider appeared in front of Saska. She shrugged, and sighed. "Two drinks and I'm howling at the moon like a forest wolf."

"Well, you always end up making it home. And if you don't, well..." he trailed off, "... your sister's squad could always let her know that you need her help heading home." He watched her carefully during a long pause that followed. "Miss Avis. May I call you Saska?"

"Depends. May I call you by your first name?" she answered.

He paused. "Do you know my first name?"

She shrugged again. "No." Her tone was rather doleful as she took a hold of the mug anyway. Clearly, she could have been in a far more cheerful mood.

Captain Hellen furrowed his eyebrows, then took a breath. "Miss Avis," he continued, "you're a seamstress."

Saska's earthy eyes peered into the surface of the cider as she held it close to her face. "That's true."

He nodded slowly. "But you don't particularly love what you do."

Saska smirked and took a long sip of her cider. "It's a job. I don't particularly love it. You're right."

"You want to be doing other things."

"What makes you say that?"

"Most other seamstresses I know have a couple of children following them around, or they're angling toward that. But you..." he paused, and took a quick breath, "you don't seem to even be looking for a husband."

Saska took another long, long draw from her mug. "If you must know," she started, the alcohol clearly beginning to hit, "I am a *terrible* seamstress."

Captain Hellen blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The WORST!" she clarified emphatically while keeping her voice down. "I'd rather be doing other things. But, no, everyone else does all the other things!" She took another sip, then squinted her eyes at the Captain. "Why do you want to know, anyway? I don't really *like* admitting to you that I'm a bad seamstress."

"Your clothes look fine."

"Ahh, because I made these at *home.* *Myself.* By moving the needle with my mind. But put a needle in my hand? Forget it." She took another sip. "Besides, I still would rather be doing other things." She blinked. "Hey, I just remembered that I haven't eaten all day."

Captain Hellen blinked back. "You do seem to be drinking rather quickly," he observed carefully.

"And why are you even asking me about being a seamstress, *anyway*?" she chided curiously, picking the mug up in her hand and letting it dangle precariously on a finger. The beverage sloshed helplessly inside. "Is this part of your apology?"

"Well, I wanted to ask, and try to make an effort to show I actually mean what I say." He paused. "And also to just ask. You haven't been outside of the township much, from what I understand."

"Nope. Every time I try to leave, I just find something to keep me here," she lamented slightly. "People from outside come and go all the time."

"And you're here all the time, too, but you don't leave." He raised an eyebrow as he gestured his hand at their surroundings. "What is it you're asking about in here?"

Saska tilted her head. "If you didn't know, you wouldn't ask," she responded, quite clear for the hazy road her brain was fast headed down.

He nodded. "Well, then I'd like to ask about what brings you to ask about Mantha." Her ears perked up reflexively. "You're rather known for it. But your sister and your father don't have these questions you have. What is it you're trying to find?"

Saska shrugged, and opened her mouth to say something, then her eyebrows knit together in concern. "Where's your ale?"

Captain Hellen shrugged back. "I'm on duty. No drinking. Poor for image."

Saska rolled her eyes and then steadied herself. "I wouldn't have taken the drink if I'd known you weren't going to have one, too!"

Captain Hellen held up a hand. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. But Mantha." He clunked his elbows on the table and leaned in, hushing his voice low. Saska leaned in, but a little quickly thanks to her building intoxication. "Why Mantha?"

Saska purses her lip before furrowing her eyebrows at the man opposite her. "You know Bin-... Captain Avis. Our mother was from Mantha."

"Manthans never come here," he said flatly, then took a breath. "Not unless they're sent here."

"My father left Aethre Nalah and went on a pilgrimage to the Shrine of Amançay. Well, when it still stood. My mother was guarding the Shrine. She was a Mantha Starkiller."

His eyes widened in curiosity. "Your mother was a *Starkiller*?"

"One of the finest!" Saska took a long sip of her second pear ale. "Five thousand, seven hundred ninety two combat kills." She rapped her knuckles on the bow by her side. "All done with this." She paused and took another drink. "All before I was born. I was why she left Mantha. She and my father met during his pilgrimage and, well... they're both impatient people."

"Sounds like a Manthan. But an elf from Aethre Nalah?"

"Have you met my father?"

"I can hardly imagine him charming a Mantha Starkiller."

"I understand my mother had a weakness for blond-haired men who played the lute."

"Mantha women are all unique, each and every one of them..." Captain Hellen commented sidelong with a chuckle, then shrugged. "But it makes sense to me. In Mantha, boys and girls get swords or bows put in their hands as early as four. If they can't fight, they're sent to the slaver ships, so all mothers encourage the fighting. The weakest face themselves to avoid being torn from what and who they know. It's not like Aethre Nalah at all." His eyes bore intensely into Saska's. "Mantha lies in the middle of No Man's Land. Elves are shackled or murdered upon sight there and in the lands neighboring. Never in recorded history has Mantha known a time without famine, without war, without water, or without hope. Some of those things at the same time. In Mantha and in other lands, it's not guaranteed that the sun will rise every morning, as the smoke after a fire attack takes weeks to clear away and those make the night as bright as the day." He cleared his throat and tilted his head. "Your mother likely never had a friend in her life before she met your father. Just battle comrades. And while there are friends to be had among those you're commanded to lay down your life for... the kind of woman who would end up falling in love with an elf on a spiritual journey was never going to find friendship or fulfillment while dodging arrows and giants' spears." He pulled his shoulders back and watched the intoxicated woman pay very close attention to every word he said. "It doesn't surprise me that the daughters of a woman like that would seek adventure outside of the norm. Your sister is a very, very good commander. She's going to be—" he stopped himself, then continued. "She's got a bright future ahead. She's got a warrior's soul but a peaceful heart. People like her have roles to play in the world. Then there's you."

"Me, who likes to play pretend with my mother's old bow," Saska cracked self-deprecatively as she finished off the second mug.

"You're drinking awfully quickly."

"I've had a strange evening. And someone keeps talking about Mantha but they're not saying anything." She eyed Captain Hellen somewhat irritably. "What makes you such an expert on Mantha, anyway? Any why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

Captain Hellen paused for several seconds, then leaned back in to respond but was cut short by the quick arrival of a couple of his younger soldiers, armor glinting in the tavern's torchlight as one bent ahead to whisper something in the captain's ear. He listened carefully, then glanced back to Saska. "Stay here. I'll answer your questions when I come back." He looked toward the bartender and made a motion with his fingers. "Another drink for your trouble."

With a swish of his long red-and-gold banner cape, he cycled out the door hurriedly with his men and left Saska sitting alone. The world was spinning around her. So Captain Hellen had been to Mantha before... and knew something about it. In an instant, somehow, the third ale materialized before her. Someone had probably placed it there quite routinely, but alcohol hit the small woman faster than most and she hadn't spotted it. She sighed and gripped the mug, and sipped a bit at it. She'd gladly wait for more answers.