[hider=A Prophet's More Lengthy Introduction] Rhodanthe was not yet used to the fort, though she supposed she'd never get the time to anyhow. Queen Sorcha had been very kind, letting them all in. They had all been well-fed, perhaps better fed than they ever had been. The captain wasn't happy, but the captain wasn't the one was in control here. Most weren't content with staying as guests, and most already had plans to leave the fort and make their luck elsewhere once they were given leave. Some wanted to head off and try their luck as farmers or look for jobs in the city. Others were still planning on fighting for the Southern Alliance, and planned on enlisting to fight. Some of the most important and zealous followers had stayed with her. Barristan had surprisingly decided to stay, and she also had her trusty scout Alan, as well as all the priests and a few others. Yet she was no longer leader of a great host of refugees, and now just a simple retinue of about fifty still followed her. She was still nervous, though. The Queen had insisted that she stay around for the time being. She had not forgotten how her guest claimed to be a great prophet. For the time being Rhodanthe sat in a spacious yet simple room. She had a good-sized dining table, a roaring fireplace, a closet filled with fresh warm clothes and furs, and a warm bed that was too big for her and covered with huge fur blankets. It was more comfort than she had ever known in her life. Still, she missed the sun of Uzgob, and hated how cold it was here. There came a knock at her door so suddenly that she gave a start. She quickly got herself up and opened it, and saw that it was one of the officers from the garrison. "Queen Sorcha sends her regards. Her Majesty invites you to meet her in the gardens." "Could I bring along Barristan? Queen wants my counsel, I'll be needin' his." "No need. This is all off the record. No businesses of the state. Her Grace wishes to know you a bit better is all." "Know me better?" "You hardly met in the most favorable terms last time. Or did you forget?" "No sir, I'll be up at the gardens in a minute." "Remember to observe every courtesy." "Right. Courtesy. I'll make meself a mountain o' it." It was true that she had not met the queen in the best of circumstances. She had come to her begging, with thousands of men, women, and children behind her. She wasn't sure if this meeting would go better. Rhodanthe didn't know how she was supposed to observe every courtesy. She was raised in a desert, not in some noble court. She grabbed a nice-looking coat before she went on her way to the gardens. They were filled with beautiful plants and blue and white flowers nothing like the wild things of the north. The whole time though, Rhodanthe had her eyes on the queen, who wore a beautiful dress of whitish-blue tinged with fur trimmings. Rhodanthe had never seen anyone ever look more royal. "Y'grace," Rhodanthe said with a clumsy bow. "Rhodanthe, I'm glad you accepted my invitation," Sorcha said. She didn't know she could have refused. She almost said so out loud, but good sense finally prevailed. "Course, y'grace. It's an honor that ya wanna meet someone like meself," Rhodanthe said. "Believe it or not, you have made quite the name for yourself," Sorcha said. "Beg ya pardons fer it, y'Grace," Rhodanthe said, though felt stupid after she said so. She realized that was not what the queen meant after she said it. "It's a good thing, Rhodanthe. You have done well. You led your people out from their peril, and never shirked from your duty, no matter how grim things looked. Your duty was heavy for one so young, but you carried it as well as any could," Sorcha said. "Thanks, y'Grace," Rhodanthe said. "Well, enough of that," Sorcha said. "Walk with me. And tell me again the story of yourself, in more detail this time." Rhodanthe did as she was asked. They walked around the garden, and talked. She told the queen everything that she wanted to know. Not just about the riot. She also asked Rhodanthe about where and how she grew up. Rhodanthe told her about Fenick, and the Uzgob desert she was raised in. She especially told her about her divine possessions. By the time they were done they were sitting, and nearly two hours had passed. "You are an unusual prophet, in more than one way, Rhodanthe," the Queen said. "There were prophets in the time before the Remonnets and before Klebrithy, when Formaroth was split between many rival kingdoms. Yet they were always lucid, and they never had these spells of possession and memory loss." "Must be I'm a different kinda prophet, y'Grace," Rhodanthe said. "That much is certain," Sorcha said. "Do you truly believe yourself to be a prophet, and not a mad girl?" Even after all she had been through Rhodanthe still could not say without doubt that she was, in fact, a real prophet. But Rhodanthe could not say so. "A prophet's gotta believe in herself," Rhodanthe said. "So she must," the Queen said with a mischievous smile that revealed she knew exactly what Rhodanthe meant. "I think I'll have you stay a bit longer, if you'd like. I would very much like to see one of these possessions of yours, if that's possible. Are you alright, Rhodanthe? Rhodanthe?" It was happening so suddenly. She could feel it coming on, as her eyesight blurred and her senses dull before darkness overtook her. Sorcha would have her wish. She would get to see one of her divine possessions. [/hider] [hider=The Second Crossing of the Sypian Strait] Herona felt extremely queasy, but she had resolved to keep the food lying in her stomach right where it was, and her resolve was not easily broken. She had been taught that food should not be wasted. This was her second journey to across the sea from Sypius, but the second was not turning out better than the first. She was not much of a sailor, and would feel much better once she was on land once again. She was standing out on the deck, with her peer Darron by her side, half looking at the ocean and the rest of the small fleet and half looking around the small ship she was standing on. None of the ships belonged to the Church or the Order. All their captains had been paid with bishops' gold to take them across. Blessed Lycaon had apparently taken care of it before they'd set off. Her commanding officer right now was the strawberry-haired nobleman she had saved during the battle in Telmarion. She had remembered him being very proud and arrogant before, but now he seemed solemn and quiet whenever he was with her. He could still be arrogant with others, but there was a sullenness to it. They weren't too far from the coast now. They could see it in the distance, but it was still quite far away. It would be some time before they reached it. Darron was engaging with her in some small talk about the blueness of the ocean. Herona was more curious how he could still care about that now. Herona had already become silent when she heard someone approaching from behind. She looked, and it was the strawberry-haired nobleman, looking as solemn as could be. "Sir," Herona said respectfully with a salute. Darron did the same thing with less form. "At ease," the strawberry-haired nobleman said tiredly. "I's just tellin' Herona here how beautiful this sea is. Blue's can be," Darron said. "When I's a boy they used to tell us mermaids swam below, where it's this blue." "I know a story about a mermaid," the strawberry-haired man said. "She fell in love with a landsman, but he refused her. Her heart was broken, and she died of grief." "Excuse me, sir," Darron said with a cough. "I heard their havin' more drinks down below, and I wanna check to make sure." And he really did leave them, just like that. "Well, I'll be," Herona exclaimed. "Can't take much to scare 'em if a story 'bout a dead mermaid'll do the trick." "I heard he's craven," the strawberry-haired noble said. "He ain't a bird, sir, far as I know," Herona said. "Though everyone says he ran when the fightin' got tough." "Some men would hang him for that," the strawberry-haired nobleman said. "But the commander wants every man he can, even the cowards." Did he want hang Darron? He should have just said so, if that was the case. It didn't matter to her. "Did anyone ever bother to give you my name?" the strawberry-haired nobleman said. "No," Herona said. "It's Raymond du Dros. Remember it, Herona," he said. "Aye, sir," Herona said. "Well, looks like it'll be some time until we get to the damned coastline," Raymond said. "We're going to drink until then. That's an order." "Aye, sir," Herona said. When they were down below deck Herona drank as much as she was commanded to, and then drank some more. Darron talked to her some, but was afraid of Raymond. The troops were pleased their highborn commander was willing to drink with them, and distressed that he had actually done so. "That damned battle," Raymond said. "I can't get it out of my mind." "No one can, sir," Herona said. "I should never've come here," Raymond said. "Damn my father. Damn him! He told I'd get my taste of glory here. Well, I've had my taste of it, and it tastes like shit. How'd you ever get here, Herona?" "Here or the choppin' block, sir," Herona said. "M'Lord wanted my sister, she didn't want him. Both dead now. I saw it all meself, too bad for me. Lucked out when Ser Daeleth picked me up, though. I'd be dead otherwise." "What a surprise, more shit!" Raymond said. "I've had too much to drink. The commander wants me sober when we land. Do what you will until we land, Herona." "Aye, sir," Herona said. [/hider] [hider=The Emissary in Nyhem Begins to Move] It would have been foolish for Ser Glynda to assume she had been left to rot simply because she had been left in the capital. She had no assumptions of this sort herself. Glynda knew that there were forces moving here in Nyhem, and she would need to move swiftly and gracefully if she didn't want to fall behind. Lycaon had left clear instructions, and she would follow them. She stood in the Grand Masters office but was not so foolish as to sit in Lycaon's chair. She schemed in the capital in his place, but she was not his regent. She had summoned a few of her most trusted message-bearers and diplomats into the room, so that they might hear her command. When three came in, a little later than she was hoping, she began at once. Turning towards the one on the left, she said, "For you I have a letter of the greatest importance, to be delivered to the Emperor himself. See to it that it finds its way to his Imperial hands without any hindrance." "At once, Lieutenant-Master!" the messenger said. She turned to the one on the right, and said, "Send this letter to our good High Priest, and give him my regards." "With haste, Lieutenant-Master!" the messenger said. Then she finally turned to the one in the middle, and said, "I would have you deliver this letter to Lady Dionisa. The Grandmaster considers her a valuable ally, and I would quite like her as a friend. If possible, I would like you to deliver my desires of friendship in person as well as through the letter. You know the courtesies of this sort of thing well, I know." "I shall see this done, Lieutenant-Master," the messenger said. [/hider] [hider=Glynda's Letter to the Emperor] To the magnanimous and unsurpassable sovereign Alasdair I, Emperor of Formaroth, ruler of the continent and overlord to its many kingdoms, It pleases myself in such a degree that words alone cannot express that I may write to such an esteemed individual such as you, my most holy and just Imperial Sovereign, though it may be unbecoming that one as lowly as myself should address one as rightfully exalted as Your Imperial Majesty. Yet brevity is the most excellent of things in letter-writing, and so I shan't waste ink on compliments of your unparalleled self, however worthy you are to receive them. Firstly, I congratulate you on your timely announcement of the creation of the Empire of Formaroth, and offer a thousand praises for your tireless defense of the faith and its guardian on earth, the Church. I wish to inform My Imperial Sire that Lycaon has departed from your heavenly city, and has left my own self as his emissary. On his behalf I implore Your Imperial Majesty to appoint a court chaplain who may advise you in all matters of faith and religion. I advise you appoint Tydeus of Acrana, who has served faithfully and loyally. Though I may ask of my munificent Imperial Majesty too many favors, I humbly request entry to your imperial court to join as one of its members. I do not desire to over step His Imperial Grace's favor, and I ask of Your Imperial Majesty no quarters or rooms to house my lowly self. Your eternal servant, Ser Glynda of Glarmion [/hider]