Long ago in centuries past, back when humanity was chained to a singular planet and had not discovered interstellar travel, there had been fictional stories called fairy tales read to children. Most had, according to her literature stories, meant to be allegories or cleverly disguised moral lessons that could be consumed by young minds. Her father had a few tomes of these fantastic tales on a shelf in the library, but they were for display only; he had never bothered to read them. Solae had been confined to the estate one summer in her teenage years due to a leg injury. Curiosity and a desperate need for entertainment had resulted in her reading volumes plucked from the bookcases indiscriminately. One ancient faded brown binding contained fanciful descriptions of princes, princesses, knights, villains, and the like. It had not been much to her taste and once she finished the last page she had carefully closed the book, slid it back on the shelf, and not thought of it again.

Until now.

Even with corpses strewn on the ground, blood pooling beneath the neck of a solider whose head had almost been brutally sheared off, Rene was reminiscent of a proverbial knight in shining armor. True he had a pistol rather than a sword, sullied garments instead of plate armor, and no pristine steed to carry them off towards safety, but he was a radiant beacon of protection in an terrifying blizzard of violence.

Solae's gaze had flitted momentarily to the deceased as she evaluated the situation. The spectacle of three bodies, their eyes glassy, their faces frozen, with muscle and bone visible made her stomach lurch. Muscles of her neck tensed as it forced down the bile and swelling nausea that had nearly bubbled for the surface.  Solae's chest heaved with the effort as she refocused her pale eyes upon Rene.

[i]Rene Quentain.[/i] Somewhere in the depths of her mind Solae recalled having heard the name before. There were things more immediately pressing than trying to excavate the memory associated with the allusion (for she was certain they had never met before this moment) but the familiarity spoke to a truth: he had to be noble. Sheltered as she was in the Falia lineage and employment with the embassy she'd not come across commoner names nor retain a shred of them. The slip of Rene's tongue in referring to her as lady only verified her belief. Underneath the grime that painted his handsome features was a birth of aristocracy. That he called himself a marine and tried so valiantly to self-correct into that station made Solae wonder why he hid and discarded his heritage. Was his name associated with shame or criminal behavior?

"They're all dead," she whispered, more to herself than to him. She climbed over the stone wall, undoubtedly flashing him considerably more skin than was proper, but given the circumstances neither of them could be bothered with etiquette and pretenses. News of the destruction of the Imperial Garrison slowed her mental processes as her psyche tried to shield her from grim reality. It had faltered and failed her this far but it had not abandoned her yet. Solae swallowed hard as her intellect failed her. Sanity begged her not to draw the inevitable conclusion that these two assaults met for her present and future.

"They destroyed the Imperial Embassy. I'm the only survivor," she admitted, choking on the words as tears sprang up in the corner of her eyes. "And even if you could have made it there, you couldn't have sent out a signal. The PEA requires genetic identification- living identification at that, it was recently revised in light of the rebellion on Duivis last year- which is only granted to embassy employees after their first year provided they have the correct qualifications." It was the most tactful way reference she could make to the nobility requirement without outright admitting the aristocracy were sectarian.

"My name is Solae Falia," she introduced briefly. For a second she considered not confessing that she also possessed a title, one she knew had passed to her in the last day. These enemy forces, regardless of who they were loyal to, would not let the Marquess and Marquise live if they had murdered all the diplomats and marines. "Marquise Solae Falia, but I'd prefer you just call me Solae. If they..," here she choked again, silent tears running down her face that she felt but chose to ignore, "if they executed all the supporters of the Empire, some of their homes will be empty. We might be able to find one to clean up and eat," she suggested, doing all she could to maintain some semblance of composure.