"We were just explaining to Julia," Solae began with a calm, diplomatic gesture to the woman she could only assume was his wife, "your daughter washed up on the shore of an island where we had landed our ship. I can't say that we anticipated having a guest, but I am grateful to have met such a strong, brave young lady." The marquise's words were sincere. As one might assume with a noble who voluntarily pursued employment at an embassy, Solae was an incredibly social person by nature. Her interactions with Mia, the Park couple, the Syshin, and then the servants of the slaver's plantation had been proof of this aspect of her disposition. It was not that her soldier-turned-fiance was lacking, but rather she often believed in the more than the merrier. For obvious reasons the coup had made it challenging to fulfill this desire.

"They're off-worlders," Julia added, "Had to do an emergency landing because their ship is low on fuel. I told them they could stay the night in the guest bedroom. It's the least we can do," she added with an eagerness to repay the perceived heroism of the aristocratic couple. Both of them would object to such a lofty label but it was undeniable that Damaris would not be back in the safety of her home if not for their intervention. To the parents of the energetic girl they had saved they were veritable saints worthy of anything and everything they could give.

"Thank you, but that's not necessary," Solae reassured, "We have a couple errands to run around the city. In addition to getting fuel, I'd like to swing by the communication center. Rene has been out of contact with his family for a while and I'd like to track down the most current information on his father." It sounded as if she was divulging the entirety of her reason for visiting the center, but Rene knew that Solae was omitting and obfuscating the majority of her motivation. Despite his apprehensions about the dangers of a potential investigation, she wanted to download every bit of information she could surrounding the murder of his former lover, the changes in the political strata since then, and any news that could be tangentially related. Contacting his father was one of their smaller and less suspicious goals.

"You can't go wandering around after dark," Damaris's father insisted as they sipped at their beverages. "It isn't safe. None of the street lights are working, we've had desperate people taking advantage of the situation by looting buildings at night when no one is looking, and they're conserving power by turning off half the grids when everyone's supposed to be asleep." Solae just barely kept her lips from turning downward at this rather convincing argument for waiting until the morning to wander around. Though he had not stated so explicitly, she also strongly suspected the paternal figure would warn her no one would be bartering or selling fuel at this hour either. After a pause a small sigh escaped her lips. Rene was armed and able to keep her safe but there was a vast difference between shooting criminals, or would-be assailants, and gunning down starving thieves after a typhoon robbed them of all their worldly possessions.

"It kind of you to worry, but I am afraid I would bring unwanted attention to myself during daylight hours," she replied with practiced ease and grace. At this admission Damaris's father blinked in confusion, noticing the color of her hair for the first time. He was not typically an oblivious man but he had been so enthralled with the reappearance of a daughter he had been convinced was killed that he had paid little attention to the details of the pair seated at the kitchen table. Solae watched realization dawn on his features as he absorbed not only her physical features but the lilt of her voice that was exceedingly proper for a peasant.

"Tychon," Julia said as she turned towards the burly man still carrying Damaris in his arms. It was hard to tell who was more unwilling to let go- Damaris or her precious Papa. "What you took them tomorrow? Lady Solae can wear one of my shawls to help keep her hair hidden. You know the roads better than any map and if you tell people what they did for us they might sell the things they need to them," she suggested with enthusiasm.

Solae felt a knot forming in the pit of her stomach. There was already an overwhelming sense of guilt for having dragged her marine beau into the disastrous vortex that was her life at present. His health had been jeopardized repeatedly when he could have simply disappeared into the chaos of New Concordia and invented a new life for himself. Their continued association with one another, and his role as her savior, enlarged any target already on his existence. Before Panopontus everyone they came into contact with knew the implications of their assistance and accepted the peril readily. Tychon, Julia, and Damaris were innocents. They were stumbling into a bloody confrontation they did not know existed. Once word spread to this planet they had plausible (and understandable) deniability they were harboring fugitives. A sliver of risk, no matter how minuscule, on such a warm, loving family still made her heart heavy.

"Yes, that is a wonderful idea Julia!" Tychon announced as she laughed heartily and swung around Damaris joyously.

"I'll go clean the guest bedroom," Julia said as she hurriedly went to the adjoining room.

A week prior if someone had told the young marquise that she would have a decision made on her behalf by two well-meaning laborers she would have thought it a joke. Her mouth had opened as mentally she had begun to formulate a persuasive counter, yet nothing escaped past her lips. Lords and ladies laughed behind painted silken screens as the foolishness of the poor and yet she had been more expertly managed into an obligation to follow someone else's plan by this happily wedded, middle-aged, oblivious duo than any courtly manipulations. After a few seconds she turned and shrugged to Rene with a silent laugh in her tone. "I guess we're staying for a bit. It would be good for you to rest after the boat ride here," she advised softly without a thought to her own mounting exhaustion.