Nahla huffs beneath the shade of this tree, her face red from exertion, her clothing soaked through, sweat glistening her undefined muscles. Her eyes shift down as Lila spares a glance in their direction- she was being punished, after all, and she would not meet the gaze of her peers while she was being reprimanded for her behavior the evening before. She was far too exhausted, between the exercises, the blazing sun, and the considerable amount of sleep deprivation. Nahla sought to catch her breath as she assumed a humbled kowtow before her sultana to display the lengths of her rehabilitation to any that would spare a passing glance at the two of them.
“The fire wheels were troublesome, but we could enjoy some of the city before they interrupted, no? Living up to the sultana title means the wisdom of knowing which fights are better avoided and which must be faced.”
Of course, Nahla had no ground to stand on in this case, seeing how her own efforts butting into other people’s problems brought far too much unnecessary attention to her the previous night. Still, if Grace-of-Heaven started getting the idea that she could only seek happiness once all the fire wheels had left the capital, she would be dooming them both to undertaking a Sisyphean task. Of course, Nahla couldn’t just tell Grace-of-Heaven to accept that the fire wheels would be there for as long as Ruz wished. After giving her a taste of freedom, it occurred to Nahla that such a harsh reality would ruin any sense of newfound joy.

Which is why Nahla placed her empty polished scabbard, black as pitch accented with markings as blue as lapis, before her in front of the sultana. She couldn’t have her sword on her, of course. Not at the moment, not while running and while being punished for her insolence. But when they escaped again, and when she had learned her lesson in the palace, her sword would be returned to her from beside the sultana’s vanity. (She could only hope that none of the other members of Grace’s harem would try playing around with her sword in the meantime).

“A sultana must know which fights are to be avoided and which are to be fought- which is why I entrust my body and my blade to your command. So long as you will it, my sword shall protect you from any and all that should wish you ill, my Grace.”

In one moment Soot was on her stool, brush in hand absentmindedly painting. A young maid had been brought in. Soot had only just finished hoisting her up and securing the lines when she had stepped just outside the door to grab some spare line, now, she was watching her studio get further and further away as her heels dragged along the palace floors. She offered the distressed looking maid a noncommittal shrug and sighed. Her arms slack in Rosethal's grip as her damp brush trailed along the ground.

Soot closed her eyes trying to relax. Staying in Ruz’s good books required appeasing Rose and couldn’t really fight against Rosethal even if she wanted to. So it was better to not anger the Vizier’s... rambunctious spawn and just go along with it. Plus, she doubted Rosethal actually knew Soot was, well, Soot: The palace painter, and not just some random servant.

She would just wait until Rosethal dropped her for some other more interesting thing and then scamper off back to her studio. Most likely, the brute's level of object permanence would let the Painter get away without too much trouble. The next time they crossed paths Soot would once again be a complete stranger.

---

She let her mind wander, everything was a blur since last night. Bowlyn ended up back at Soot’s house, they had only gotten partially home when Soot had calmed down, and it seemed Bowlyn was content with the usual plan: riding the adrenaline high all the way under Soot’s Covers. Although there was a slightly different undertone, a slight tint of both being too afraid to leave the other alone.

It wasn’t until they were dealing with Soot’s destroyed tunic that Bowlyn noticed her thighs. The jars from Soot’s bag had cracked and splintered. Paired with a lot of falls and tumbling had left stinging wounds that stole the Thief-Queen's attention. Their plans fell away into tender care, Bowlyn carefully bandaging as Soot complained until they eventually submitted to sleep.

Bowlyn stayed that morning, later than usual, and for none of the normal reasons.

---

The Painter's eyes snapped open, the dull ache in her thigh pulling her back to reality. This was taking too long, where were they going. She looked up at her ‘captor’, her pupils narrow and cold. “Excuse me” She said with a light clearing of the throat. “Might I ask, dear Lady, where we are heading…”

Birsi

Letting go of her arms to stop the pain is not a thought that even crossed her mind, the Guardswoman holding herself together as solid as she could. Like a ship being battered by a storm, she weathered the strikes, the dancing, the humiliation… She had refused to break. Every muffled yelp from her ass being struck hard didn’t count, as the sound helped her to refocus herself and keep from cracking. Besides… This wasn’t as bad as Palace Guard Orientation.

Hell, the night before was less than this. Pinned to the wall, that stranger in strange armor prevented the idea that she was trying to make via a stolen kiss and a hard grasp on the backside, an indignant tactic that bought her captor enough time to bind her rapidly with rope, then… The night was a blur after that, so many scents and sounds assaulted her mind, almost like now. The difference? She had a full night to adapt to this, most of her discomfort being from the strain and exhaustion due to her position.

So when Birsi hears that doorway open up, her eyes don’t shake in fear or sluggishly roll over to the wide hipped figure, they lock onto her with a trained precision. Her breathing picked up a bit, for she’d need the air to help her get through this process. Hearing the question of if she would answer some questions, she would think it over. She could try to use this for leverage, a chance to get back to the Palace and give information back to Hai Lin. With a determined look that tried to salvage as much of her remaining dignity as possible, she nodded a ‘Yes.” to the wide hipped woman.

---

---

Silisla Om

Silsila slowly sits up, one hand going to her forehead. Ugh. Is someone trying to contact her? At this hour? Well, maybe it was reasonable, but not for Silsila. Not after a fire wheel rampage.

Hei Lin's name in her head, Silsila mentally quashed the noise like a meaty fist slamming an alarm. She had topped too many Fire Warriors last night to even think about the palace guards.

...oh, wait, wasn't she doing something with the palace guards last night...?

Nahla!

Grace-of-Heaven’s delight shone. That look of admiration, of acceptance, of joy: that will linger with you, Nahla, child of the north. But then she was pulled away to attend to Taima (a flimsy excuse for Taima to get to work seducing the Sultan), and now…

Now you have, once again, time to yourself. Time to get ready for Ruz’s inspection of you, and then time to… just exist.

Is it difficult, Nahla? Can you handle being alone in the lap of luxury, or do you seek out other members of the harem so that someone has need of you? And if you can be alone, what do you do? Who are you without someone to please, Nahla?

---

Soot!

Rosethal pulls you into one of the side chambers of the palace, and shoves you up to the couches set up around a table in the middle of the room. As your eyes adjust to the gloom, you realize that you’re not alone in here: there’s at least half a dozen Fire Wheels, playing with knives and bottles of wine as they wait for their game of cards to resume.

Their… game of cards.

“Here’s my stake,” Rosethal says, grabbing you from behind. “How’s that?”

“Yeah,” one of the Fire Wheels says, pushing her hair out of her face as she leers at you. “That’ll do to keep you in the game.”

Navigate this very carefully, Soot.

---

Silsila Om!

So when someone mentioned Hai Lin, what they meant is that Hai Lin is here. And so it is, poor hungover Silsila, you find yourself facing down a dozen Palace Guardsmen, led by their impeccably dressed leader.

“Hello, Silsila,” she says. She hasn’t drawn her sword. She doesn’t have to. Make a wrong move and you’ll start a whole fight, one that’s been close to boiling over for a long time. “I’d like to invite you to lunch.”

---

Birsi!

The gag comes out, a wet and suspicious mass, and is slopped down unceremoniously on your feet. An extra bit of incentive to behave.

“What are you doing here, sweetie?” Bes takes a seat in front of you, crosses her legs, accepts a glass from one of her sons. “And how did you get in?”

“And why didn’t you fight back?” Jekkan adds, watching your reaction carefully. Lie at your own peril— but think carefully before revealing any secrets, either.

Birsi

That… All of that was in her mouth…? Good lord it was literally unidentifiable with how long she’d accidentally been gnawing at it over the course of her punishments, eyes idly darting over the large mass that somehow fit past her lips as she tried to figure out anything about it… It was cloth, and it was soaked. That was all she could glean from it before her attention snapped up to the women speaking to her.

Before she could even speak, she had to move her jaw around, regaining feeling in it, as well as the ability to speak again… Though it did cost her a good few seconds to do that, hopefully not angering those who had her effectively dangling by her arms. This wasn’t just to get feeling though, it was buying time for her to focus herself and create a cover story. Improvise Birsi, use what you know. Deep breaths, Birsi, don’t reveal the mission.

“I was carousing with some other wheels before we were approached by the Khan’s Special Prize, the Host called… I think Home? Memory is a bit foggy on names. She wanted to know if we wanted further fun, and seeing as my current group was starting to pass out, I accepted. I don’t remember how I got in besides just walking inside, and then I couldn’t find that Host anywhere, like she’d just gone and left me there. Started running around looking for her because the Khan would have my head if I lost her, and then… Here we are.” She stopped to dig something out of her teeth with her tongue, before spitting some sand colored fabric onto the mass. She’d woven her lie, now to reinforce it with steel hard truth.

“Why didn’t I fight? Why would I want to cause more trouble for myself? Fire Wheels might be known for blind acts of passion, but I’m not stupid. It wouldn’t be any better for me if I blindly fought everyone there, because it wouldn’t matter how many of you I beat. I was one Fire Wheel staring down the entire 78 Heavens, and no one besides the Khan or his Lapdog could make that seem favorable.” She was quiet for a bit, catching her breath before making a final point. “That and everything smelled of hundreds of different perfumes, very hard to think very straight besides the bare basics.”

---

---

Silsila Om

Ah. Mhm. Hm. Huh.

This was bad.

Silsila briefly weighed her options. Unfortunately, most of them led to her picking a fight with a dozen people who were ostensibly on her side, and getting exiled from Sjakal--or worse. As such, there was only one which made any sense.

Silsila stood up, wobbly after the night, and performed a bow. "As you command, your guardliness."

Upon the sultan’s departure, Nahla took a good few minutes to consider her next actions. It wasn’t often that she wasn’t at Grace’s side, and she couldn’t think straight as her mind swirled with what was to come next, what she would have to deal with regarding Ruz, and whatever her feelings to that urchin are…

By the time she shakes the thought out of her head, she finds herself in a familiar room- the sultan’s bath. Her fingers wrap around a smooth glass vial, and she doesn’t need to even look down to realize what she had grabbed in her fugue state.

“And what are you doing here?” Came an accusatory voice behind her.

Nahla spun around, quickly dropping the vial into her pocket as she finds Yasmine leaning in the doorway, her narrowed eyes piercing daggers through the northerner.

“Ah, I-I was just, uh-“

“Just rifling through her Imperial Majesty’s belongings? Perhaps to simply wait here, undressed for her, to tempt her with your form to distract from your poor behavior? To utter upon her arrival ‘would you rather have dinner, a bath… or me?’ “

“I don’t know where you got that ide-“

“No? You don’t think word travels? You don’t think that Lady Ruz is already aware of your history?”

Those words chilled Nahla into silence. She could barely move as Yasmine sauntered forward, crouching down until she was face to face with her fellow concubine before continuing.

“I would think long and hard about your past mistakes, before you go messing around with another girl’s mind.”

“I understand. I promise, I was just here to clean the room for Grace-of-Heaven, on her command. Then, I shall attend to a meeting with the Vizier to discuss my… outburst yesterday.”

“Good. Just remember, we’re here to please and serve her Majesty, not to satisfy ourselves. You’d best remember that before your next outburst earns you washwoman duties, before you next have any thought of blaspheming or of using her majesty for your own desires.”

Yasmine exits the bath, leaving Nahla to her free time. With her heart practically in her throat, Nahla begins to scrub away at the room, ensuring that the floor and bath itself are utterly spotless. Then, she draws herself a pail of water, scrubbing away at the sweat that leaked from every pore, adorning herself in a fresh set of clothing and once again cleaning the bath before making her way to Ruz’s private chambers. She was still early to this conversation, but she decided she’d rather do this now or wait here than to risk any more confrontations with Yasmine or Lila while Taima was busy trying to court the sultan’s affection. Gathering her wits about her, considering how Ruz fancied herself, and how this meeting was under the guise of demonstrating her learned lesson, Nahla courteously raps her knuckle against the door thrice before stepping back and bowing her head.

Soot sits for a few moments. A blank expression and a dumb shocked smile plastered on her face as her eyes glanced around the room. It hadn’t quite hit her… but slowly the situation dawned on her.

Her mouth quivered. Panic setting it: No, This could not be it, Soot wasn’t about to be tossed to a horde of Firewheels as a bartering chip. Briefly she thought to run, but pain shot through her leg as she tried to stand, and a firm hand pushing on her shoulder reminded her that leaving wasn't exactly an option.

This was the end… At the whims of the Firewheels… Because of Rosethal. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her breaths came out ragged.

“W-wait” The painter managed to stammer out “I may be Rosethal's Ante, b-but I want to play too.” She pulled out her sword, cringing slightly as she slid it onto the table. “A sword owned by the Thief-Queen of Sjakal herself! Deal me in” The painter demanded. Looking to Rosethal with a cocky but unsure grin.

Birsi!

“And what do you make of Sjakal?” The warrior-woman— Jekkan— steps forward and runs her fingers through your hair. Powerful, commanding, but not unkindly. “You all are very far from home. Is this truly a better place than the plains for you, Fire Wheel?”

A lot hinges on your answer to this question, guardswoman. The more you add to whatever answer you give, the easier it might be for you to make a mistake, but the tall, intense woman really, really wants to know your answer. One finger runs along your jawline as you consider her question.

She’s got so much power. Why is she down here in the gutter?

---

Silsila!

“And where is Birsi, Silsila?”

Hai Lin is not exploding. She is intensely, furiously not exploding. Steamed, salted fish sizzles on her plate, but her eyes don’t leave you. You are still surrounded by her guards.

“It was such a simple thing I required of you, but it seems that only one of you came back. Why might that be? I am all ears.”

If you don’t give a good answer, you are going to be extremely arrested. And if you try anything funny, you might extremely end up in a duel.

---

Nahla!

Ruz’s private chamber is like the lair of a dragon. She is a collector of the strange, the unusual, and the gaudy. Her hoarded wealth is reflected in every golden tablet, every jade ornament, and the massive chandelier that casts dizzying shadows over the place. It’s… disorienting. And she moves almost silently on the plush carpets.

“Ah, the northerner girl,” her voice hisses, from deeper within the candle-speckled gloom. “Do come in. There’s a good girl.”

You are in danger if you do so. You are in terrible risk if you do not have a plan and a performance to match it. Not everything here is as it seems.

---

Soot!

“What?? You can’t be serious,” Rosethal sputters, furious. Her finger jabs you: here, here, here! “You are supposed to—“

Then she stops, runs one hand possessively over the sword. “Well,” she says. “Well, well, well. I mean, if you can provide the ante, I see no reason that you shouldn’t join in.”

And she sits down opposite you, her green eyes startling and hungry over her veil, ready to win the sword.

Prepare to Fight, Soot, or Entice, as pleases you— but this is a battle, even if it is done with cards and bluffing. You will win the first hand and scrape together enough of the pot to hold you in for a few more hands, and it’s up to you how you play them.

Do your best, and keep in mind that Rosethal can be goaded into some very reckless bets.

Nahla's eyes flickered about the room just as the flames of candles did upon the opening of the chamber doors. She found herself of two minds in this moment, something she could not afford to remain in once she set foot within this gaudy lair of greed.

If she played the role of a woman truly changed after thorough discipline by Grace-of-Heaven, of an obedient and wide-eyed subordinate, it would perhaps serve to impact Ruz's view of the Sultan as a woman capable of commanding respect amongst those who may otherwise not show it to her. However, to challenge the vizier's perception would make her more likely to be hostile towards Nahla, an outspoken and "ridiculous" girl who would be so brazen as to caress the Sultan's figure only to be whipped (or rather, tickled) into shape in a single night. Nahla could be branded pathetic and easy to bend, and this meeting would earn the vizier's ire.

On the other hand, if she remained brash and brazen, still offering the minimal necessary respect to the royal court but making it clear she would not be molded into shape by Grace-of-Heaven, it could lead Ruz to seeing her as a potential ally. It would do nothing to improve her opinion of Grace, but it would show the vizier the woman closest to the sultan wouldn't be broken so quickly. Of course, Ruz might want someone who would easily break into subservience, especially if it meant possibly submitting to herself, but if Nahla could play this role properly, maybe, just maybe, she could convince Ruz that what she was doing was for the benefit of the Vizier's selfish machinations.

Mentally hoping that her Majesty would not find out the finer details of this meeting, or could forgive her for her methods, Nahla leaned into the latter as she stepped into Ruz's chambers, closing the door behind her and focusing her gaze forward towards where the vizier's voice emanated from, to not be distracted by her collection.

"You've called for me, Grand Vizier. Want to see just how the Sultan sanded down my rough edges?" Her words were said with a hint of bemused annoyance, to show the lady before her that her tongue still carried a fine edge. A lopsided grin, some grit molars, a few fingers clenching into a semi-held fist. Ruz brought the fire wheels to Sjackal, and she brought Nahla to Grace's bedchambers. If she wanted a brute, she would have one.

Birsi

Sjakal, her home… She so desperately wanted to say that and not be tied to those plains she knew nothing about besides that the rough and tumble Fire Wheels came from there, but it is her mission, her current duty, to say something else. So answer her question she shall, taking a deep breath to cool her thoughts and speak.

“Sjakal… I didn’t learn much about it. Khan put me in the Palace for the most part and told me to stay around there, and with such expensive wine around there, who was I to complain? Only got moved to Sjakal itself because one of the Palace Guards threw a hissy fit, so I spent my time out drinking. You see where that got me.”

“In short, I know little of Sjakal besides tonight, but…” Oh this next part was a terrible idea, thinking it made her sick to her stomach, but Fire Wheels are like this as far as Birsi knew, so out she said it. “... If everyone here is like you two? I might prefer it here.”

---

---

Silsila Om
"It was, all things considered, a pretty poor fight."

Silsila put a hand behind her head, looking away from Hai Lin, her dark, inhuman not willing to meet hers. A light, sandy blush was on her dark red cheeks.

"I wanted to go in through a side entrance into the Heavens and get the drop on the thief queen, but we must have gotten her attention on the way there, because she was waiting for us with a challenge. Her and two other girls. Nothing special, I thought. I got ready to fight her, when a third crony threw paint on me from above."

"I got... a little mad, and peeled up to take her on. The thief queen followed me up. I lost track of Birsi there, because we were fighting on the roof. I figured she'd beat them down, or escape. It's news to me that she hasn't come back yet."

"...As far as the fight, she threw a smoke bomb and somehow broke the floor under me, then ran off into the Heavens while I was picking myself off the floor. I couldn't catch her, and I didn't see Birsi by the place where we fought, so..."

Soot tried, and failed, to hold back a small smile; Her cold confidence was quickly returning after a hand’s worth of chips made their way in front of her. All she had to do was demolish Rosethal and then buy out with her sword in hand, er, and herself.

She was a little concerned about Rosethal’s interest in her sword. Admittedly, the Painter would need to figure out a way to talk her way out of owning ‘the thief-queen's sword’ but if the brute Rosethal was interested… There was no doubt in Soot’s mind that the Vizier’s daughter had some foul sorcery in mind. But that would have to be a future Soot problem.

The Painter leaned back in her seat, if she could bait Rose into a few stupid hands it would be over in no time. Cards were a game about luck and reading people and Soot considered herself at least reasonably competent at the latter.

“So Rosethal.” She said, face still holding that small smile “Maybe when you run out of cash and have to ante yourself. I can win you as a decoration for my studio. Promise I’d take good care of you.” Her smile widened, as the painter's hand pushed some chips forward: raising the stakes a little higher than needed.

Nahla!

Ruz reclines on a couch, surrounded on three sides by dark velvet curtains. On a footrest beside her lie the Sultan’s proclamations (made on her behalf by Ruz herself) and the Vizier’s stamp. So much power in such a small thing. With it, she can direct the shape of the city and its fortunes. With it, she could make you a master yourself, or send you to the tumultuous dock markets for resale. One red nail lies almost idly upon it.

A strapping young man, bare to the waist, fans her to keep her cool, his ankle chained to one leg of the couch. He does not look up at you, but feel free to drink him in. It helps with the image of you as rough. Yes, that’s a good reason to look at the soft swell of his arms, the gentle definition of his chest.

Ruz herself is watching you through half-lidded eyes. It would not do to give you the impression you have too much of her attention, after all. “Come closer,” she says, softly. “And present yourself for inspection.” Kneeling, knees spread, wrists resting on them— but do you? No, perhaps you’d instead show her how a serving-girl of the Dragons presents herself: chin up, hands folded neatly, seemingly demure.

---

Birsi!

Jekkan cuts the rope holding you up, and you collapse to your knees. When she helps you up, it is with a surprising gentleness, though her hands are still bold; she runs one hand along your sore rump, promisingly. “Momma,” she says, clapping one hand over your mouth casually, her grip firm but not unkind, “I’m convinced. I can use this girl.”

“You’ll stake yourself on it?” Bes is not quite convinced, and you immediately get the dynamic. You’re familiar, after all. Jekkan is placing her status on the line in order to follow her intuition that you will be a useful lead, even a subverted asset— but likely not for an investigation. There’s something else in play here.

“I will,” Jekkan purrs, and presses your head against the side of her chest. She’s so strong. It’s not the inherent strength of one of the Host, but something she’s earned, along with the scars on her arms.

Her thumb strokes your cheek, and how small do you feel, Birsi? Small and protected? Jekkan is obviously fond of you, and you could use that…

That is, if you’re not thinking about that strong, sure hand spanking you.

[Take a String on Jekkan; she gives you what she thinks you want, freedom and affection.]

---

Silsila!

Hai Lin nods, serenely. “I see. I suppose this is what I should have expected. You are, after all, just a Host. And not a particularly capable one, given your current status and ownership.” An insult to Merov Ekh, disguised under an insult to you.

When she moves, it is sudden and precise; her fork lifts your chin, the tines gently digging into your skin. “Tell me why I should not have you sealed and dropped into the sea, then.” Her tone is even and conversational, but her threat is dire. Imagine being trapped inside of a vase or a lamp, squeezed down so tight, and then dropped and forgotten in the sea, the end of Silsila Om’s story unless some lucky fisherman should release you…

---

Soot!

Rosethal’s smile is almost serpentine as she lays out a Fool’s Array and slides your chips over to her side of the table. She continues talking as a new hand is dealt. “The Almighty places everyone where they deserve to be in life. It is the duty of the nobility to take care and make decisions for those who serve us, because, little painter girl? You were not made to be a master. You were made to do what we think is necessary— and what I think is necessary is that you are going to fold, and then you are going to do what I say. Otherwise… maybe I will decide that you no longer require that studio.”

Rosethal is your patron’s daughter. If she decided to go complain to Ruz, it is almost certain that she could convince her to remove some, if not all of your support. And she’s going to, if you don’t intentionally and humiliatingly lose here. Unless you can come up with some clever plan, that is.

But it would be easier to lose and obey her. She’ll make you suffer for it, but it will be a familiar sort of suffering, and not the risk of losing everything here at the palace.

What do you do, Soot? Remember that you are not the only ones in play; the Fire Wheels would enjoy seeing Rosethal humiliated as much as they would enjoy seeing you put in your place.

Nahla’s eyes stray towards the enchained man. He wasn’t half bad as far as appearances go. She could very well see herself grabbing a fistful of his hair, guiding him down and… was this really what she wanted? Did she think it’s what he wanted? No, no, it must be what Ruz would want her to want. Her knuckles turn white as she tells herself that it was purely an act, that she wouldn’t dare consider doing such a thing to someone in a situation not far off from her own, right? This was just her trying to play the role of a cheeky, lustful serving girl, Nahla wouldn’t ever be like…

“Of course. As you command, Grand Vizier,” Her eyes linger on the man for a few moments, a slight bite at her lower lip remaining as she redirects her attention towards Ruz. She understood what she was asking for, but if she was to get in her favor, Nahla wouldn’t just play the perfectly innocent servant. Slowly lowering herself down to her knees, the concubine did not rest her weight back, instead keeping her thighs perpendicular to the floor as her hands clasped together behind her back. Chin tilted up, her eyes gazing back and forth at the two other people in the room, daring a gaze upon the chest left on full display, a clear view to her exposed flesh as it rises and falls with each breath. A small grin peaking at the corner of her mouth, Nahla’s eyes narrow as she whispers, “Well? Inspect away~”

Silsila Om!

Silsila grit her golden teeth together, her face hardening in a moment. An insult towards Merov Ekh? Hardly. That was an insult towards Silsila Om, and to hosts everywhere. Hai Lin was prejudiced! Prejudiced and flaunting her authority in front of Silsila! Making threats!

Hai Lin could absolutely not fathom how bad the last few days have been for Om. They've been really rough! Is it too much to ask that someone give her a break?

Silsila glares down at Hai Lin as her fork presses into her skin. This is a threat, obviously, but not one Om can take seriously. A fork cannot pierce her skin. It was just a gesture, so Om would repay it with a gesture in kind.

The air is filled with a noisy snapping as Om's thick, broad hands break the table they were eating at neatly in two, a shower of woodchips and dust spattering the ground as it caves out from under them, even as she glowers almost cross-eyed at the commander. "Strategist Hai Lin of the Vulenid House Guard, you may hide behind your pretty words, but I can see you bearing your fangs at me. I will not be bullied any longer. I challenge you to a duel! If I win, this matter is settled and you will not mention it again." Says she, her golden eyes locked onto Hai Lin's.

---

---

Birsi!

Immediately dropping to her knees was a rather uncomfortable experience, but at least now her arms got to go properly behind her so she wasn’t exerting her shoulders anymore. The best part? She managed to avoid kneeling in the various damp fabrics she had been gagged with earlier, so her pants were dry at the very least. Still, she was a bit surprised by this course of action… And the hand on her ass was not helping that surprise.

“Can be us-...?” She didn’t protest as Jekkan’s hand went over her mouth, knowing when best to shut up at this current moment and just let things play out. Apparently this woman thought she could use Birsi? Odd, but something she could work with, yet the motives still felt off to her…

But it was also hard to think about someone’s deeper motives and what all is at possible stake when she currently had a hand feeling up her oh so sore and probably bruised red backside, especially when most of the thoughts going through a certain disguised guard’s head were about how strong this woman was, how firm her grip was, how dense and sturdy her muscles felt, and what it would feel like to get smacked by that hand… Goodness her face had a pale red flush to it now, what were they talking about again?

Soot’s mouth drew out into a flat line, her eyes narrowing as she bristled. “Shut.. up.” The painter slammed her hands down on the table, rising to her feet and pointing across the table at Rosethal, waggling her finger at the brutish sorcerer.

“The almighty places everyone where they deserve to be… Is that why you think you’re better than a Sultan? And Since when does this constitute ‘taking care’ of those who serve you! Looks like you’re bungling that duty. You didn’t take any care! You just scooped me up because you’re so bad at cards you had to find more things you didn’t earn to ante with. At the end of this game, when you end up trounced by firewheels, none of their spoils are going to be anything you owned in the first place!”

The painter learned in, her cheeks going red as she ranted “Remove the studio of the painter who WORKS FOR YOU, that is SO smart! Grade A ‘Mistressing’ Rosethal! So what! You want to threaten me with the idea of you whining to your mother? I wonder how Ruz would feel right now if she found out you were trying to sell me off instead of letting me do my work!” Soot inhaled deep before continuing

“Because, you know, Ruz likes me. I impress her! I’m not a burden who gets in my mother’s way, because I feel the need to prove my superiority. So I THINK Rosethal ‘what’s necessary’, is that you shut up, and play cards, and when I win, or the firewheels clean us both out, I continue working normally. What's ‘necessary’ is that you stop getting in the way of my work and what ISN'T necessary is me listening to you just because you think you can just use servants as coins for a game. Let alone the fact you don't seem to understand that some people aren't just your playthings, they are talented experts, who hold mastery over fields of study you couldn't even partially understand!” Soot stopped, panting, her finger shaking in front of Rose’s face between shaky breaths.

Nahla!

The Grand Vizier is meticulous. Exacting. Precise. And you, as you have presented yourself, are none of these things. You are careless, clumsy, broad.

And it is this that makes you an irresistible delicacy to her, here in her lair, where she has ordered the world to be just so.

What will pass between you, as Ruz succumbs to her desire to have something of her Sultan’s prize for herself… the Almighty alone will know.

Will you tell Grace-of-Heaven? Or will you hide Ruz’s desire from her?

---

Silsila Om!

Hai Lin duels naked to the waist. Practical, given the risk of infection from cuts with the tip of a blade. She is pert, trim, lean, like the sword she expertly handles; she wears a long glove on one hand, a dueling affectation you haven’t seen before.

“To surrender,” she says. She has not offered you her own terms; she seems confident that she will be able to force any terms she pleases when she is victorious. She will not hold back; if fortune turns against you, she will press her advantage without remorse.

---

Birsi!

The 78 Heavens are sleeping fitfully. The world is nocturnal here; at night, everything comes to life. So it is that Jekkan is able to find you a very private booth in a nearly-empty diner. The sizzling sound of eggs comes from the kitchen on the ground floor as Jekkan presses herself close, your seats overlooking an empty (and oddly stained) stage.

“What do you think of that palace?” Jekkan’s hand is exploratory, drifting lightly over your skin. “Do you think they will be able to control the city for long, your sisters?”

Ostensibly, the Fire Wheels are occupying the palace so that they can suppress unrest. If she’s hinting at what you think she’s hinting at, Jekkan might be a revolutionary, an anti-Vulenid, someone who wants to see the Sultan toppled from her throne.

Does that sober you up, Birsi? Or does the heat of her, the scent of her, in the dark, do these things turn your head like wine?

---

Soot!

”jheb At! jhen Ask! jhev Sha!”

The Host springs to life, unfolding from her gaudy necklace, wrapping itself around Rosethal as a second skin. She shoves the low table into your shins, hard, and then vaults over it, knocking you down from your seat, sending you sprawling.

She’s not supposed to have done that. The shins, that is. That’s not necessary correction, that’s needless cruelty. But it might be difficult to tell her that, because she’s picking you up by the throat.

“Where do you even get off speaking like that, you miserable little worm? You wriggling snake? You want to know why I’m better than you?” She lifts her other hand, and her Host-gauntlet splits apart, spins her around her fingers with a murmured command, and then locks around her once more. “Because I was born to command. I am never going to be a servant like you, because I command the Host themselves. abh Vekh!”

Metal writhes across your body, seeking to encase you, to clamp over your limbs, to leave you helpless, and you can feel a dull heat, an intelligence, inside, but she doesn’t let her Host come out to play like that towering Silsila Om, does she?

And then one of the Fire Wheels speaks up. “She’s playing, right?” The other players are glaring at her; she’s broken the unwritten rules of the game by attacking another player. She’s about to be in a lot of trouble, especially if you were to, say, kick her, or otherwise distract her. This whole room would explode into chaos.

And if Rosethal still wins, you will be in so, so much trouble. You’re going to be in trouble either way— Ruz dotes on her daughter— but if Rosethal wins a fight here, you’re going to be disappearing to her chambers for punishment…

We cut to black...

Some time later...

Nahla is sitting in a chair opposite from Ruz's couch. Her clothes are wrinkled and disheveled, and she tries to hide the shame that lingers behind her eyes. She tries not to make eye contact with the chained fanning man. She can’t bear his judgement, nor the possibility of seeing herself in his expression.

"So, about our Sultan," Nahla inquires, cutting through the awkward silence, "I think Grace-of-Heaven could use a more fitting distraction. She's a... nice girl and all, but she isn't cut out to lead in her current state. Of course, that's not going to stop her from trying, but perhaps it's best we keep her occupied elsewhere."

More control, she told herself. Nahla leans back in her seat, one leg kicked over the other, arms spread. She was clumsy and careless, but she demanded the space and attention. If her little plan were to go off right, she needed to prove her worth.

"See, in my home kingdom, we have a saying. 'A miner shall stay in the mines for but a river and a ruby.' My Sultan thinks she wants to lead because she is malcontent with being kept here. If you should so permit it, Lady Ruz, I might be the answer she seeks. Give me the chance to sneak out, to bring her small gifts of the beauty of Sjakal. Let me become her hope, and we can get rid of those thoughts of changing things when her eyes are dazzled with twinkling lights and the deep, refreshing waters of the sea."

Soot coughed and sputtered, she’d left herself open in all the ranting and raving. But of course she would. She wasn't a fighter! She was a painter! She shouldn't be here, fighting for breath against the steel grip of her bosses daughter. She should be in her studio, quietly capturing the beauty of the evening Sjakal Sky!

She grunted, glaring down at Rosethal as black crept up the sides of her vision. 'Of course' the painter thought 'Can't figure out how words work so she has to resort to violence. At least she'll embarrass herself in front of those thugs she wants to impress.' Soot wanted to be snarky, to add more insult to the brutish Sorcerers tantrum, but the hand against her throat turned any snide remarks into weak coughs and croaks.

'.. fuck this' She though, as the anger from her rant rose within her 'not here, not now!' With the last of her strength Soot heaved up her legs, planting her feet against Rosenthal's chest. With one final grunt she pushed hard, springing back from Rose and crashing into the couch below.

Silsila Om

Silsila removes her own shirt, leaving the buff babe bare, although the Host is less worried about infection and more worried about copying her opponent. Ill-Omened Star is drawn and pointed at the strategist, Om's golden eyes narrowed. "To surrender, agreed." Intones the hulking warrior, before waiting for the start of the duel--and striking first!

Silsila hasn't had a proper fight in some time. Sure, she has drawn her sword and pointed it at people, but those are often more a pretext for flirting or showing off for Merov Ekh Khan--and Merov did so like her games and gimmicks. Silsila's style--Falling Mountain--was not a particularly beautiful style to watch, but it did give the viewer a sense of the warrior's power and control, pivoting and rocking on the feet to send the sword spinning and swinging, stepping forward aggressively and making use of the reach and length of her weapon to bully her opponent and press them hard, forcing them back step by step. It didn't help that she wasn't wearing a vest, and she was very beautiful, her body bouncing and shifting distractingly, muscles flexing and face dangerously beautiful.

Hai Lin's style--what was she using? Brilliant Feather? Tranquil Pond Sword? Maybe a little bit of Plum-Blossom Fist, although that was a primarily unarmed style, but it seemed to fit well into her Hai Lin's style--well, whatever it was, it was obviously very elegant and precise, that sword seemingly in just the right spot to worry Silsila, her footwork impeccable, her judgment sound. She was quite clearly a masterful swordswoman. (One of the few things which Silsila was allowed to do--and enjoy--was voraciously study martial arts style, which she had eagerly memorized and discussed with anyone who would listen.)

However, being a masterful swordswoman only took you so far against someone with size, weight, power, a big sword, and something to prove. After a vigorous two laps around the room, Silsila saw an opportunity--their blades locked, and the Host stepped forward--locked blades rising in the air, crossguards caught in a lovely, difficult to disentangle snarl--her heavy chest colliding with her foes and pinning Hai Lin to the wall, grunting down at her, all sweat and exertion as she locked eyes with the esteemed strategist. She straightened her back and thrust more firmly, seeking to bury the woman in her bulk and crush to her to the wall.

"I had really hoped... hnfh! You'd be better than Merov Ekh." Silsila grunted out, her inhuman eyes glowering down at Hai Lin. "I guess I'm still too naive."

---

---

Birsi
Her senses were painfully dulled by the lack of any prior sensation other than stuffiness, sweat, and discomfort, so the smell of sizzling eggs was the first step to getting herself back into working shape. The second was eyeing up that strange stage… She’d never been in a diner that had a stage built into it, much less one in such questionable condition. It was stained with something that couldn’t be food, it was… She had no idea what it was, just that it wasn’t from the kitchens.

Of course, something does snap her to attention, that being the words Jekkan just uttered. Was… Was this an indirect threat against the Sultan? The very symbol of the law and order in this land? The very thing she was trained to protect?! She kept her breathing regular as she leveled her gaze with the potential Anti-Vulenid, formatting an appropriate response to this in her mind.

“They can handle any threats to the Sultan, but your question brings one from me, a fair trade of conversation… Why do you ask this question, do you feel threatened by the Sultan’s rule?” Her question wasn’t meant to sound as flavored as it did, only coming out that way because she had inadvertently shifted her gaze from the woman’s eyes and down her body, instinctively drawing her closer to that heat and smell… She had to be careful, clearly this woman was more capable than she had thought.

Nahla!

“And will you return?” The Vizier is studying you carefully. She thinks little of you; thinks you a barbarian toy. She thinks that you would run off, foolishly, from the lap of luxury. Because you, little delight, do not understand your place in the grand order of existence.

But beneath that, she is very interested in what you are offering her: a way to control the Sultan elegantly, passively. A dream come true. All you have to do is assure her that you really can make it happen.

---

Soot!

You have a choice to make, Soot. Do you run? You can. It’s probably a good choice. Safer than trying to rally a group of barbarians.

But if you wanted to try? Rosethal has been a bad sport. And you just made her look like a fool. What will it be, Soot? Push your luck further? Or run while the getting is good?

---

Silsila Om!

Hai Lin is, for a moment, speechless. Perhaps because you have forced the air right out of her lungs; perhaps because your presence, o Host, is intoxicating.

Around the two of you, guards tense, but they know better than to interfere in a duel like this. It would be a disgrace for their commander, one her reputation might never recover from.

“Where was this,” she finally manages to force out, looking you defiantly in the face. “When I told you to accompany Birsi?”

Her words are searing, for all that they’re whispered. You failed her, Silsila. For all of your strength, for all of your hotness, you cannot fight your way to her heart unless you make things right.

Or, rather, you cannot do so without shaming her. Hai Lin is no stranger to having her heart betray her. You can feel it, fluttering under your skins. Push harder.

[Mark a Condition under the shame of Hai Lin.]

---

Birsi!

“It is wrong.”

The words slam into place. She is watching you carefully, her eyes like embers beneath her lids. If you make a wrong move, she will be on you, for all that she seems to be at rest.

“She has brought you here, rather than to see justice be done. She hides in her palace while her people starve. I am not threatened, little Fire Wheel. I know that I will live to see that palace on that hill opened up and then, if your priestesses are right, the Almighty will install someone who is better for this city. Let us all hope they do, no?”

Honor demands her punishment. It will blow your cover, you are almost certainly going to lose, and you cannot carry back word of revolutionaries here, but… do you follow your oath, Birsi? Even if it means your doom?