Skotos does not share in the glory of Redana. Every sunbeam casts its shadow, after all, and here they are, off and to the left. If they were ambitious, they might be pained by how perfect, how effortless a princess Nero’s heir has become. They might compare themselves unfavorably to her; after all, surely the difference between her and them is that Skotos does not have the virtue and character to be like Redana. The universe is arrayed in hierarchy; the high ascend to their rightful places, and the low settle in their appropriate spheres.

This, then, is where Skotos belongs: lacking in charisma, dignity, presence, and honors. They are all but anonymous, a saffron robe and an all-shrouding hood. Beneath Redana, beneath Dolce, and most definitely beneath Bella, lost in the cosmos, drowned under shining waves.

The most that they are willing or required to influence proceedings is when they offer Alexa a glass of wine while Dolce speaks, mutely. Not because Skotos knows about Alexa’s new tongue, but simply because they have a tray of wine for the toast to the captain. Really, the wine is the notable thing here; Skotos is interchangeable with any other member of the cult, even with furniture if you’re not really paying attention.