Although Solae had expected that her absence as a casualty of the Imperial Embassy would be noticed, her blood ran cold when the first patrol passed within close proxitity and she heard an allusion to her person. Humanity had been stripped from her existence by the rebellion. The beautiful noble was a target, a bitch, a thing for them to possess undoubtedly in an effort to communicate with the Empire. No device they found would be functional without her genetic identification. While the operation of a PEA or other long-range transmitter required her alive, she had no illusions as to what they could and would do as they gleefully utilized her to send missives. Solae would be a trophy, a depository for their lust, an avenue to take out their aggression and rage, a toy that they could force to continue one of their own genetic lines. The leader of the rebellion had not yet been unmasked to her, but her status (and that of any children she bore, bastard or not) had to be tantalizing if they [i]must[/i] to keep her breathing. In her heart Solae was not certain that her survival of the assault on the embassy been a blessing.

Revelations regarding herself as prime prey for the coup's forces made her question the motivations of Rene. Being of noble birth was not compelling for his investment in allying with Solae; he had shed whatever finery and position he once possessed when he enlisted as a marine. They were not fellow scions of the Empire. Swooping in when she had been cornered by hostile Gids had been a risk he was not bound by blood oath to take. Had he slipped by in the shadows, unseen as he had obviously been before he leapt out and killed the sergeant, none would be the wiser.

Rene had not made any requests of her yet but it was necessity that strangled their conversation and kept them silently bound together. Solae could not find any clues in his countenance, his steady gait, his broad shoulders, nor his slightly stiff mannerisms that she suspected came from the knowledge she was a Marquise. Despite her suspicions she found that her analytical staring only made her more hyper-aware of qualities she found fundamentally attractive. Underneath the sweat and grime he was muscular but not to an intimidating degree, his step was sure and confident, his cheekbones were high, his jaw was masculine, and his hair long enough to be luxurious rather than course stubble. Once he had reached back to grab her wrist before she blundered into the vision of a contingent jogging by and her heart had fluttered at the contact.

"I know... knew the owner," Solae said as she squinted in the bright light. It was deathly silent with the singular exception of the door that was battered by the wind. No plumes of smoke nearby indicated a rebel encampment or presence. Without waiting for Rene's permission she squeezed by him and through the doorway without touching either the frame or door itself; rather, she timed to pass through while it was agape.

The interior had been predictably ran-sacked. A streak of blood as wide as a man's torso led down the left side of a grand staircase and out through were they had came. Solae paled slightly at the reminder of the inhabitant's demise but did not dwell on the crimson stains soaked into pale carpet and polished marble flooring. Portraits of the owner's ancestors had been ripped from their gilded frames and littered the entryway. Delicately she nudged the folded oil canvases to the side with her bare feet.

"He was a bachelor," she elaborated as she heard Rene enter the home behind her. "We dated briefly... long enough I know the layout and that no one is coming here. His parents and sister live on Ilnora II." Nimbly she led him towards the back of the house, navigating through hallways that once had been lavishly decorated with priceless original paintings. Only the decorative lighting above each piece remained as the rebels had sensibly looted the treasures. "My mother and father were fond of his family," she told him, trying to make conversation before they emerged in a large dining room. In the center, in front of a wall of windows programmed to let in light and yet conceal the occupants for the sake of privacy, was a statue nearly eight feet tall. The subject of the carving, clearly meant to mimic 'classical' pieces from renaissance ages, was a chiseled figure that was naked except for a draped that was not meant to completely obscure its endowment.

"I'll let you imagine why it didn't last," Solae remarked dryly as she looked at the statute and then drifted into the adjoining kitchen. Cabinets had been thrown open looking for delicacies but the majority of the food stock had not been confiscated. There would not be fine china to dine upon but the cutlery and dinnerware meant for the servants had been left untouched. She lightly touched a panel on the wall and it sprang to life as a synthesized female voice emerged from speakers seamlessly integrated across the domicile.

"Greetings, Lady Solae," it purred. Most programming did not have a sultry undertone to its artificial intelligence systems, but the yet-unnamed lord of this manor had proclivities that did not cease to amaze. He had customized his luxurious bachelor pad to emulate a woman that was absent in his life. "How may I assist you today?"

Solae groaned under her breath but turned to Rene. "Food or shower first?" she asked.