Syrenrei

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"What's wrong?" Julia asked as she emerged from the communication center's rear emergency exit a few minutes after Solae had. Damaris skipped behind and let the thick alloy door close behind them. It hissed as it electronically sealed shut per standard protocol. The only way into governmental buildings were the disarmingly strong translucent doors, but they were required to have multiple exits for safety reasons, and thus any means of departing such a structure had mechanisms to ensure it was not misused. While they could see where the door that closed behind them was, there was no handle on the exterior, it possessed no visible lock, and it was manufactured to be airtight unless propped open.

"You're in danger," the marquise declared as she paced. The ground had been composed of broken seashells ground into a gravel-like texture, but most of it had been washed away by the typhoon, leaving a thick dense mud and scraggly bits of grass that had evaded the attention of landscaping. Very few people wandered around the back of the building and those that did probably cared little about appearances.

"In danger?" Julia asked with obvious confusion. "Please, tell me what is wrong. I'm sure there is something we can do to help-"

"No, no, you don't understand," Solae said shaking her head emphatically. Damaris, who was still behind her mother, was starting to look scared. The noblewoman inhaled sharpy, fought internally to gain some semblance of composure, and exhaled slowly. Frightening a young girl who ought not to be tangled up in the tragedy of a coup in the first place was paramount. "Let's go back to your home. I'll explain on the way," she promised diplomatically.

"Did you get what you needed then?" Julia asked. She was still concerned but, seeing as they were not somewhere private to discuss whatever sensitive matter troubled Solae, she recognized the need to relocate. Taking Damaris by the elbow she began to lead the way around the side of the communications center.

"Yes, thank you." More than anything Solae was glad something had gone to plan. They had been besieged by frustrating complications since New Concordia and this was a tangible victory. She'd need Mia's assistance and no small amount of time to analyze the data and look for clues and discernible patterns, but it was something she felt she could accomplish, something that played to her strengths rather than in spite of them. "Have you ever heard of Duke Alexis Tan?"

"I might have heard the name in passing, but I'm not really familiar with any dukes," Julia shrugged. They were cutting a path between abandoned storefronts as they progressed into more residential areas of the city. Most peasants didn't familiarize themselves with the aristocracy; there wasn't much of a point when no titled imperial would stoop so low as to mingle with the lower class. The only exception was if a lord or lady had a direct influence over their profession, their town, or a a situation in which they'd make a personal impact.

"He's..." Solae started, trying to find the best way to sanitize the news for Damaris's ears. Sooner or later the rebellion would spread to Panopontus, and the imperial citizens would have tragedy strike for a second time as they watched the fleeting stability of governance torn apart, but so long as she was the messenger of poor news she wanted to soften the blow. "He's made a move to create his own empire."

"What does that mean?" Damaris asked curiously. They jumped over a small creek in someone's back yard that was overflowing on account of all the recent precipitation. Julia had paled and fallen silent as she let the gravity of the words sink in. Both fortunately and unfortunately Damaris was too innocent to understand they were talking for war- and what the implications of a war were.

"It means that on the planet Rene and I came here from, New Concordia, Duke Tan wants to be in charge rather than the empress," Solae replied delicately.

"But I like the empress!" Damaris proclaimed. The Stellar Empire had come a long way in gender equality, yet on rural planets the culture tended to do a backslide into more traditional, conservative, and archaic customs. She strongly suspected the support Damaris had for the empress was because of what a strong role model she was for youth on these more patriarchal outliers. It was hard not to idolize what appeared to be a beautiful, wealthy, shrewd, and confident leader that strove for justice.

"I do too," Solae said with a smile, "which is why I didn't want to help Duke Tan. We landed here on our way to go tell the empress what Duke Tan is trying to do. He knows he's in a lot of trouble if the empress finds out, so he's trying to stop Rene and I from finding a way to send her a message, and that's why I have to hide what I look like. Do you understand?"

"I think so," Damaris said with a sigh. "Do you think Duke Tan knows you are here?"

"Not yet, but he is trying to find us before we get to the empress," the marquise replied slowly. Damaris furrowed her brows in thought. It wasn't until they reached the small one-story home that was their destination that the silence was broken. Like any rambunctious adolescent, Damaris exclaimed with relief they were finally home dramatically, as if they had been gone the entire day, and scampered off to her room. Solae similarly retreated to the guest bedroom but with an entirely different purpose in mind. With mounting paranoia she grabbed her transponder and tried to call for Rene. There was no response. Five, six, seven calls went unanswered which meant either he had lost his device, he was intentionally ignoring her for reasons unknown, or there was interference blocking his reception.

"Are you okay?" Julia inquired softly from the doorway. Solae picked up Rene's duffel bag and hauled it up onto the bed. She had no idea how he carried it so casually without being bothered by its weight; it was another testament to his strength and endurance that had had not made any complaints while shouldering it from where they had landed on the beach to here.

"They attacked everywhere at once. Rene's entire base was wiped out. He only survived because they didn't see him among the corpses. Everyone at the embassy I worked at died in front of my eyes and I ran but... everyone I knew was gone. They dragged people from their homes or murdered them outright. They put a bounty on my head, Julia, and are offering a reward if I'm captured alive. When we were at the center there was broadcast where they had found out about Rene, that we escaped together, and were calling us dangerous rebels. I need to find him. I changed the pictures they were using but there is still a chance he was recognized before I was able to..." she drifted off and her turned, meeting Julia's gaze. "You're safer without me, Julia. I can promise you I haven't hurt or killed anyone, and Rene only has defending us from criminals and killers, but I don't want anything to happen to you because you were seen with me."

"Solae..." Julia was at a loss. She believed that her guests were as virtuous as they proclaimed if only because they had saved her daughter and risked themselves to deliver her back to them, but had expected nothing in return. "Tychon probably took Rene to Vitger's for fuel. I can give you directions, but are you sure you should go alone? I can go by myself and find him for you."

"No, you stay here with Damaris. I'll find Rene and Tychon. If they come here without me let them know where I've gone, all right?" Julia's lips parted to voice another objection as the noblewoman opened the bag and withdrew a pistol. Solae grimaced and tucked it under her arm where it was partially concealed by her blouse before slipping the sack's strap over her opposite shoulder. It might be overkill to bring their small armory with her in addition to the supplies she had prepared, but she'd rather be overly cautious rather than under-equipped, the latter of which would be catastrophic.

"Please be careful, Solae," Julia worried. Solae gave the aging mother a hug, patted her on the arm reassuringly, and left for Vitger's before her courage dissolved.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

The trio proceeded through front doors composed of heavy translucent synthetic composite that was more durable than the building materials for either the framing or the exterior walls. When Solae had fled the embassy she briefly caught sight of one such door still intact despite the multiple missiles that had left the rest of the structure in ruins. A superior once had told her it was one of the empire's psychological tricks; people assumed a clear surface was more fragile than one that was opaque, especially if the latter had the appearance of stone or alloy. When the general public tested and realized the strength of one silly door that was so unremarkable visually, they would (mistakenly) assume that the rest of the building was indestructible. The marquise had never cared for mind games of the bureaucracy but she had to concede it was very pragmatic. Under normal circumstances official outposts could have a welcoming entry way that signified the 'openness' of the Stellar Empire without compromising security, while at the same time bypassing a need to fortify every wall ten times over and driving up costs.

The communications center was unlocked and unguarded, but it took little time to understand why. The austere three-story building had become an unofficial meeting place for the myriad of San Roayo residents whose homes were destroyed by the typhoon. In the wake of their personal losses they sought not only shelter but information as to the known deceased and missing. A front reception desk was unmanned though it was unclear if it was because the employees who ordinarily sat there were casualties of the hurricane themselves, deployed to other areas of the island, or if they had simply decided that their job's protocol was no longer necessary. One small group, perhaps a family or the remnants of one, had pulled together the abandoned chairs and were quietly dozing in the empty space. The cluster was positioned directly next to a console that Solae knew to connect with other offices on the upper floors.

"This way," Julia whispered. The diplomat had failed to divulge that she had been in a very similar center, as the layout was identical on most planets, and let the middle-aged woman lead the way. With Damaris trailing behind as she looked about with wide-eyed wonder, they passed under an archway on the left, through a hallway with elevators decorated with abstract art meant to be as inoffensive as possible, and into a large room that compromised at minimum half of the first floor.

"It's huge!" the young girl gasped in delight.

Strewn all around were the survivors of the storm. Blankets, sheets, and other linens had been laid upon the floor in makeshift beds for adults and children alike. Long tables with integrated built in consoles, bolted to the ground for stability and to prevent theft, were arranged in rows perpendicular to the entrances to the room. Each console functioned as an access point for members of the populace who might utilize this room for its library or the transmission of mundane messages unable to be sent from their domiciles. These communal stations were at present largely ignored in favor of the screens on the north, east, and western walls that were vividly displaying the only broadcast anyone cared to watch: updates from rescue efforts across the continent. Those not starting at the names presented in high definition were murmuring to one another in sombre conversation, busying themselves with a quiet game or task, or napping if trauma had not made them insomniacs.

"This will take a while," Solae warned Julia, "I understand if you'd like to -"

"We're not leaving you here by yourself," was the quick retort. The tone of Julia's voice made it clear her decision was not subject to further discussion. "There are many people that could use a sympathetic ear or a shoulder to cry on here, and I've told you we know nearly everyone. You get the information you need and take as long as you like. Damaris and will make ourselves sociable. It's better than holing ourselves up in our home by ourselves."

"If you're certain," Solae agreed reluctantly.

"Come on, Damaris, I think I see Mr. and Mrs. Vasho over there," Julia declared with a warm parting smile. She proceeded further into the room and, even at a distance, the marquise could both hear and see one of the groups near the western wall exchange greetings before they embraced one another. Damaris bounced on her feet and loudly declared she bet that school would be cancelled for weeks as a result of the devastation. An elderly gentleman nearby started to guffaw that the first thing that came to mind for the raven-haired adolescent was freedom from lessons and homework.

With a sigh Solae tugged on the scarf concealing her hair and made her way to the nearest table as casually as possible. Fortunately no consoles were presently occupied with the exception of a pair near the opposite side of the room. She sat herself at a station directly opposite the main entryway so that the privacy partition would obscure her face from new arrivals. While a few people glanced her way, none were visibly suspicious about her identity. A stranger might have attracted more attention in other circumstances, but grief mitigated idle curiosity, and those who wished to be left alone were being granted the space to mourn. Solae's strategic placement limited who might be able to wander by without her notice; there were no citizens in proximity as gravitated towards the outskirts where there was unobstructed space and the wall screens. Solae prayed this buffer would be sufficient to keep her machinations secret.

The backlit console was almost as old as the marquise. Even though it was outdated, the interface was more user friendly than the units at the embassy, which had been produced for communications professionals with the luxury of an entire department dedicated to assisting them in navigating connected networks. Solae had the expertise necessary for a more complicated system but she was relieved that it was not required. After all their poor luck it was nice to have anything small working in their favor and making a task easier rather than more challenging. She activated the touch pad and her fingers glided across the screen as she keyed in her credentials. The console was too rudimentary for multiple tiers of security authorization. Fortunately this meant she would not have to announce her full name and status for vocal validation as was the case with the slaver's estate. After providing an identification number and three passwords she was given clearance to every archive available at this center.

Solae quickly lost track of time. Undoubtedly Julia realized it would not take over an hour to locate information for Rene's father, yet she did not interrupt, wander over, or question what the 'princess' was really doing that was so consuming. The external storage stick that Solae had brought with her and plugged into the console was not large enough for everything she wanted. Arguably this was because she was casting such a wide net: she was seeking every record, every transaction, every memo, every news article, every statistic, every negligible digital bit of evidence even tangentially related to three noble families. She was forced to compress files before copying them to her portable device, which meant not only was she taking the time to locate all the information she believed merited further review, she had to wait for it to be shrunk in size and then transferred. More than once the diplomat begrudgingly admitted to herself this investigation was overly ambitious.

She had nearly finished and was combing through business contracts of Rene's distant cousins when there was the soft ping of a new transmission. For the past couple hours she had been planted at the console updates for the deceased and missing list had been operating in the background silently. This notification meant that there was an incoming broadcast. Her digits momentarily froze where they hovered half an inch above the smooth surface of the screen. Her worst fears were realized when she selected the alert and maximized it on her screen. It took all of her considerable composure and training not to devolve into a hysterical mess. She had no weapon, no means to defend herself, and she was surrounded by people who not only had no loyalty to her, but were desperate beyond measure for any monetary relief that might help them reclaim their lives.

It was too late to keep the bounty from being seen.

Her mind was racing so quickly she fumbled over executing the various commands she was rapidly inputting. While Solae could not undo what had already been done, she had the unique chance to lessen the impact. The first course of action was keeping the alert from been displayed on the walls that everyone else in the room were attentively watching. Once she had pulled it from circulation, she decided to throw a proverbial 'Hail Mary.' The linguist hurriedly added a clause that both Rene and herself had to be turned in together for any reward to be paid. This was not true, of course, but it would help protect either of them from being independently captured and traded to the coup's armies with expectation of compensation. Secondly, she changed both of the photos for anyone who had not already burned their faces into memory. For Rene she chose a photo of a marine of his approximate likeness but who had died two years ago. For herself she substituted in a picture of the Duke's niece when she had been going through a phase that culminated in dying her hair a soft silver.

Solae was banking on the fact no one was monitoring the bounty notices after they were distributed. There was no expectation that anyone would alter them, and even if they did anticipate her intervention, they would need to send someone to Panopontus before they could determine the extent of her creative editing. Her hands were shaking as she pressed a few buttons in succession, sending the revised notice back through the planetary network. Rene. She had to find Rene. She had to leave the communications center as soon as possible and find a way to flee to another world. They had tarried too long here and now it was just another deathtrap regardless of her efforts.

Yanking the storage stick out of the console she stood and, with a wave to Julia, started towards the exit.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Sunlight was beginning to peek through the sheets of fabric draped over the guest bedroom's singular window in makeshift curtains. As errant streams pierced through the gaps and dappled her eyelids Solae stirred restlessly. The night had been kind to her once she had been able to drift off to sleep. Though she could not remember any of her dreams, she had the faint recollection that they had been pleasant, and she was grateful that she awoke much more refreshed than if she had been plagued by nightmares of New Concordia. Rubbing the crust forming at the edges of her eyes she rolled over to feel if Rene had joined her. Unsurprisingly the other side of the bed was immaculate and untouched. Solae was mildly disappointed even if this had been expected; as a woman in love she wanted her fiance to crave her proximity and touch as much as she craved his. Perhaps he had been afraid to wake her or anxious about the tasks ahead of them.

Sitting up and throwing aside the covers she began to pull her discarded clothing closer to her. Julia had encouraged her to undress before climbing into bed so that everything would be dry by daybreak. Her blouse had obviously seen better days but had neither shrunk nor stretched as a result of the dip in the ocean. By contrast her pants felt a bit slimmer than she remembered but she had unintentionally been on a diet by failing to eat the lavish meals the aristocracy typically enjoyed. She was uncertain if her mother would be proud or disappointed with this knowledge. The marquise slid into both, idly brushed them free of salt and sand, and started to make her way out the door before she spotted a note on the nightstand.

Solae let out an exasperated sigh. For as much as Rene protested being labeled a hero he was, without question, a more stalwart defender of virtuous principals than most men alive. She could almost hear his objections to being compared to the paragons of humanity and fealty to the Stellar Empire that had given his lineage title. Somehow she doubted all of them would have leapt at the chance to selflessly help rescue impoverished citizens from their rubble homes without any chance of recognition or sizeable reward. The diplomat both admired his courage, conviction, and morality, and resented that it meant he neglected himself often. When he returned she would give him a kiss and then chastise him for pushing himself so relentlessly; after all, a Rene that was injured from overexertion couldn't render aid to anyone.

"Good morning!" Julia called out as Solae entered the kitchen. Damaris was seated at the table, swinging her long legs, and humming an unfamiliar children's tune. The faint aroma of stir-fried vegetables and fish filled the room. At first blush this was an odd choice for a morning meal but upon reflection other staples of breakfast would be scarce. What livestock San Royao had were almost certainly killed, fruit trees were toppled, and most grains drowned by the fury of the typhoon. She predicted many months filled with more seafood in the resident's diet than even they were used to.

"Good morning Julia, Damaris," Solae greeted politely. "Julia, by any chance do you have a scarf I could borrow?"

This question caught the other woman off-guard. Glancing behind her at the noblewoman she quickly moved the skillet off the stove, pushed around the julienned vegetables and chunks of fish fillet with a flat spoon made of bamboo, and wrung her hands in a dish rag. Damaris sensed the concern in her mother's face and stopped her ditty to glance back and forth. Solae tried to give a reassuring smile but Julia was no fool- she had already deduced this request meant she had an intention to go outside even after she had declared it would be dangerous if she was spotted.

"I do, but... Miss Solae, could you please tell me why you need it?" she asked. Trying to appear casual she motioned for Damaris to come to the stove and fetched her a small, worn clay plate from the cupboard. The dinnerware was not a mass-produced design from a distant factory, but rather had the hallmarks of something made locally. Trade routes on Panopontus were not exclusively for off-world imports and exports.

"Rene went with Tychon to help look for survivors. I know the risks, but I can't bring myself to sit here and wait the hour, two hours, or more that it will take for them to return. What they are doing is important, but I think it would the best use of my time to go to the communications center and get the information we need," she explained smoothly and in an even tone that she knew to be persuasive.

"Are you sure that's wise? I wouldn't want you to..." Julia started as she fretted. Solae was not related to her in any way but she still considered the aristocratic lady part of her family. Years from now she, Damaris, and Tychon would remember the two strangers that had saved a life and patched them back together when the circumstances were the most grim. It was only natural she'd worry over this risky proposition to which there were vague allusions to negative consequences if not executed perfectly.

"Please, Julia. I won't ask you to go with me, but this is something I feel I must do. To be honest with you, I'd be of no real help to Rene right now doing what he is doing because I lack his strength, and he would not be able to truly help me research at the communications center. I have spent far more time in front of a console looking for data and documents than he has. Does it not make sense for us to each utilize our independent skills when we are apart? All I need is a scarf and some directions," she promised.

Julia still looked wary but she could also spot the stubborn streak in the linguist that was a figurative mile wide. Sighing in resignation (which sounded quite like the sigh of exasperation Solae had for Rene earlier) she instructed Damaris to eat before the food got cold and wandered down the hallway that joined the bedrooms to the rest of the residence. Several minutes passed with the dark-haired youth staring at Solae in wide-eyed wonder and admiration. To the adolescent it was terrifying and amazing she had won an 'argument' with her mother and was going to waltz into the city alone. Suddenly the marquise was wondering if this was a poor life lesson she was teaching the impressionable youth still convinced she was a princess.

"I know that face. Maybe I won't be able to change your mind, but I won't let you go alone either. Damaris, finish quickly and put on your shoes when you're done," Julia announced as she strode back into the kitchen with a linen scarf that was green, grey, and tinged with accents of a deep coral. Before a retort could form in Solae's mind both peasants were preparing themselves for the jaunt downtown. Damaris was shoveling food into her mouth more quickly than she could have possibly imagined and the matriarch of the household was cleaning the cooling pan so that nothing would spoil while they were away. Just as Solae had been ready to defy instructions to hide in the tiny dwelling's protection so too were they ready to defy her resistance to being joined by their company. In political circles the title of marquise would have empowered her to order without a chance of defiance yet she was impotent when among the commonfolk.

To complete her disguise Solae stepped outside and splashed some of the muddy storm water onto her face and hands. It would not completely conceal her unnatural beauty under intense scrutiny but it would help her blend into the populace as a whole. Her pallid and smooth complexion was darker, dirty, and at a distance appeared to have minor blemishes. Satisfied with the effects provided by nature's bounty she then wrapped the scarf around her head, tucking in every stray golden hair visible, and used the loose end to cover her nose and mouth. For Panopontus this was strange garb unless the individual in question was ill and trying to avoid spreading a contagious virus. This was precisely the ploy that the noblewoman hoped to achieve; people would not want to engage her if they thought there was a possibility they would be infected. Once Solae had met a duke and duchess who had bragged endlessly about the enhancements to their immune system only to later reveal their paranoia about the prevalence of the common cold. By the the time the couple was excited from the diginitary's dinner they were attending they were hysterical about a 'plague' that was relatively benign and they were exceedingly unlikely to fall victim to given their genetic history.

"Now, you stay beside me, you understand? I'll do all the talking," Julia commanded.

The trio used alleys, side roads, and walked through yards to avoid as many people as possible, not that it was necessary; San Royao was a barren wasteland. The farther they progressed downtown the more buildings that were standing, but it was clear that nearly everyone was devoted to efforts to aid their neighbors on the coastline. Of the eleven that she spotted in the half-hour of ducking behind stone walls and jumping over overflowing drainage pipes, seven were elderly, one was a nursing mother, two were pregnant, and one was a man with a pronounced limp that was trying to help his wife hang laundry on the remnants of a fence.

While there were town and city ordinances giving guidelines to builders and homeowners as to how they ought to construct their homes, the Stellar Empire was much more strict regarding official imperial outposts. After terraforming was completed, if necessary, only the most durable materials were imported to each planet and utilized to erect buildings such as the communication center they now sought. To use inferior stone or alloys would have been a sign of weakness and that was not an image the empress, or the emperor before her, could afford to portray. This identical design was seen as excessive in almost every situation but proved invaluable after a natural disaster of the hurricane's magnitude. The exterior had been worn down and exposed in some places but the typhoon had been more more ineffective against the core official imperial buildings than any other. There was absolutely no evidence that their integrity had been compromised, though this made Solae anticipate a challenge: security protocol would still be intact and invoking her authorization code in front of Julia and Damaris was a gamble.

"Julia, I have only deep gratitude for your help, but it's not necessary to proceed any further," she whispered as they rounded a corner that was directly adjacent to the street on which the communication center resided. Damaris inched forward to look for guards or law enforcement that might be posted at the entrance.

"All clear! I bet everyone is helping Papa," she beamed with a toothy grin of pride.

"Nonsense. We've come this far and we don't know if there is anyone inside yet," Julia chided Solae lightly. Clucking her tongue she adjusted the scarf, tucking lockets that had come loose back behind the fabric, and looked her 'guest' in the eyes with a warm expression. "It might have been used as a shelter during the storm. Lucky for you I know everyone in San Royao, and there's no one that will be shooing out the princess that saved my daughter. Come on, staying here won't get us what you need!"

Straightening up Julia stepped forward, Damaris trailing behind her on her heels, and Solae chewed on the inside of her cheek. Summoning some of the courage that had kept her alive thus far she tugged on her head covering and shuffled after them, praying to deities of every mythos that this little quest didn't end as poorly as the one launched on the slaver's plantation. She recalled all too well how she had narrowly escaped death several times over during that escapade and she had no desire for a repeat performance with two innocent, wonderful, caring bystanders that could be caught in the crossfire.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

No sooner had she coaxed Rene to submit to sleep than Solae silently stepped back and surveyed her surroundings with a soft sigh. It would be preferable to maneuver him to the bed but there was no practical way to do so. Even if he did not weigh substantially more (mentally she could only make rough calculations), she had no real physical strength to speak of, and lifting any amount of dead weight was no easy task. The chair was an adequate resting place but she doubted he would obtain the same quality of sleep while sitting relatively upright as opposed to laying flat on his side, back, or stomach. Staring at him a few moments longer, her gaze fixating on the curve of his neck, she worried whether or not this would cause a sore muscle come down. It was a silly thing to fret over given their recent dire circumstances and yet she could not halt the thoughts. Her beloved should not only be healthy but he ought to be as comfortable as possible.

There was nothing to be done. Resigning herself to leave her soldier just as he was she withdrew from the room. Had he been any less fatigued she might have lingered with apprehension he'd stir when her presence departed. Fortunately he was lost in such a deep slumber there was no risk that it would be hindered nor interrupted by her restlessness. The marquise turned the knob as quietly as possible so that she would also not disturb her hosts. Tychon's low rumbling baritone drifted from a room down the hall as he valianty tried to persuade Damaris into bed. In response the girl giggled, squealed, and padded around in jubilant defiance.

"Can't sleep?" Julia asked kindly as Solae entered the kitchen.

Luminators tacked to the wall still basked the kitchen in a gentle glow of pale gold, not unlike the aristocrat's genetically modified hair color. The home's floors were a composite manufactured from ground seashells and coral dust mixed with cement, the latter of which was more expensive on the oceanic planet, then smoothed and finished with a polycarbonate. The late Marquess and Marquise Falia preferred exotic woods, plush woven rugs, and expensive stone native to worlds two jumps away from their estate. Panopontus's residents did not have the luxury of importing building supplies more than absolutely necessary. Those that did were wealthy merchants that profited from unfair trade agreements to their advantage.

"I can't either," the middle-aged mother admitted when she did not get an immediate response from the stunned noblewoman. "I feel like I was in a fog but seeing Damaris again has electrified me. I thought I'd give Tychon a chance to wrangle Damaris while I try to calm myself. Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Oh no, no thank you," Solae replied quickly, not wanting to inconvenience the family any further when she still felt an imposition at best. Every compassionate gesture from these innocents made her heart ache for their future. Were the duke's forces to fail to recognize the aid given to the fugitives, Tychon and Julia would still continue to live in poverty despite their hard work, and that felt insufferably unjust. Blasphemous as it might be, Solae did not know why she deserved finery based on birth alone and these virtuous souls could never earn a fraction of her financial security. Perhaps when this was all over she would investigate a means to reward them for their hospitality and generosity.

"Is Sir Rene asleep?" Julia inquired with a tilt of her head towards the nearby guest bedroom.

"Yes," she answered with a small smile. "After trying to salvage a boat to ferry us over here, outfitting it with an improvised engine, navigating us from our island across the sea, and then walking a bit of a distance to get here... he deserves a long, peaceful rest. Julia, we sincerely appreciate everything you are doing for us. Not many would be so charitable to strangers."

"Nonsense! What you did for us- you are family to us now. This is the least we could do. I hope you do not take offense, Lady Solae- "

"Please, just call me Solae," the linguist interrupted with her request.

"Solae, you look very tired," Julia finished. It was undoubtedly true. Since the discovery of Damaris on the beach of the caldera there had been no pause for even a quick nap. Though she had not exerted herself with manual labor she had been companionship, entertainment, counselor, mechanic, and coordinator during much of that span of time, and it had taken a toll she could not entirely ignore. There were corpses with less pallid complexions. "Are you missing your home?" the matron finally ventured. "You spoke of going to see Rene's family but not yours."

"Oh my... my parents are deceased," she struggled to confess. Surprisingly her voice was stable if not pitched higher from the tension in her statement.

"I'm... I'm so sorry... I didn't mean..." Julia tried to frantically apologize.

"It's quite all right," Solae assured as she cleared her throat. "There was no way you could know. I do miss them but I have Rene in my life and for that I am thankful. I am also glad to see that I was able to mend a family torn asunder by a natural disaster. These little things help ease the pain of my loss, silly as it might be."

Julia considered and, in an uncharacteristically bold move, crossed the gap between the two and embraced the other woman in an endearing hug. The marquise's eyes brimmed with tears at the affection, not just because she needed affirmation that there were victories in their circumstances, but because Julia seemed to be a mother she did not have in that moment of need. "Come on, let me tuck you into bed," she suggested as she felt the golden-haired 'princess' start to relax under her grasp. The intuition of the lower-class citizen was more finely attuned than many of the Empress's trusted advisors. "I'm sure you'll feel better by morning. We all will."

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"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.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Despite having brought Damaris back to her home, thus making her both welcome and wanted in the residence, Solae couldn't help but feel that she was an intruder in a precious and intimate mother daughter moment. There was something about the manner in which parent and child clung to each other so desperately that made her heart ache. The loss of her own mother was still fresh in her mind though she had avoided speaking of it except in passing commentary. Selene Falia had been neither especially warm nor outwardly emotional, and there was no physical resemblance to speak of between her and Damaris's mother, yet something in he latter's gaze evoked a familiar lingering sentimentality. For the briefest moment the golden-haired diplomat yearned to walk into her sprawling estate and say something purposefully controversial that would instigate an argument with her parents. She wished against reason to be scolded in the haughty tone that was reserved for when her mother wanted to verbally bludgeon the strong-willed heir. Death had made the most heated of arguments precious memories. In retrospect it was possible such vocal sparring that had been the female Falia expression of love just as a simple hug was here.

"We thought..." the middle-aged woman sobbed as squeezed the adolescent with unadulterated joy.

It was clear what she thought given the broadcast she had been both listening to and watching. One could scarcely imagine how exceedingly unexpected this reunion was. The names of the missing that scrolled across the screen were presumed dead given the intensity of the storm and the time that had passed since its initial assault. Officially the authorities were not giving up hope there were survivors. Chances were a few lucky individuals would be dug out of the rubble of their demolished homes in the next twenty-four hours. In their heart of hearts, though, San Roayo knew they would discover more corpses than living citizens.

"She washed up on the shore of an island," Solae tried to explain. Damaris's mother was intently focused on the miraculous sensation of holding her daughter in her arms again rather than fretting over how it came to be. From her experience the marquise knew that curiosity and a need to understand would follow as this initial exuberance gradually faded. She also felt increasingly awkward standing there watching in silence. Giving a vague recounting of how their circumstances developed was preferable to quietly standing just inside the doorway and waiting for their existence to be acknowledged.

"It's true Mama! I was carried to an island and I almost hit Mister Rene with a stick because I didn't know he was a knight," Damaris proudly recounted. "Then Miss Solae stopped me, and they took me back to their ship to sleep, and gave me things to eat." Normally the girl was much more eloquent but she was so excited and overly eager to recite the tale that she simplified it to the extreme.

"You almost hit... a knight?" Damaris's mother asked in mixture of confusion and horror. For the first time she looked at the two strangers that had entered her home. Eyes drifted from Rene to Solae and then back again as she began to comprehend that she was in the presence of nobility. Wisps and errant ringlets of aureate had spilled past the edges of Solae's hood and onto her shoulders. This unnatural coloration called attention to their high cheekbones, enviable physiques, and other features indicative of elite breeding. Beleaguered and weary as they were they still stood out under the scrutiny of the common man. The matriarch let out a strangled gasp.

"May we sit down?" Solae asked politely as she gestured to the small table tucked against the wall. There were four chairs, two tucked under each side, that were clean but neither matched each other nor the table. Mentally the linguist considered that someone ought to force her peers to descend from their villas, castles, and vacation homes to the planets of poor colonists. The empress had been making strides in surrounding herself with trustworthy people as she seized power, but making certain the politicians granted title also had empathy for the rest of the Stellar Empire was paramount in Solae's mind. If they were forced to face the conditions of their lessers it could teach humility and give them insight to the challenges that lay ahead.

"Oh yes, of course, of course," Damaris's mother said as she bobbed her head and furtively tried to wipe her hands on her smock. Before anyone could try to pull back one of the chairs for her Solae had already done so herself once permission had been granted to take a seat. From her posture Rene could tell she was tired but obstinately fighting her fatigue. Her shoulders sagged slightly, there was a subtle curve to her spine that was not present when she was more alert, and she failed to cross her legs over one another or at the ankles as she typically did. The anxiety borne of undertaking the endeavor to cross the ocean with their young charge had taken a toll. She would not be relieved until they were back in the Bonaventure and enjoying the protection its shielded hull offered.

"I apologize, it was a bit of a walk to get here," Solae admitted as an attempt to excuse any minor breaches in etiquette that existed or might follow. "What Damaris said is true, she did swing a stick at Rene, but it was understandable she was startled to find us on the island. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Solae and this is my fiance, Rene."

Damaris's mother moved forward and took both of the marquise's hands in her own as tears brimmed in her eyes. "Thank you, miss. If you hadn't brought Damaris back to me I... I..." she struggled for words. Not one to judge another's feelings, much less after something so traumatic, Solae only smiled reassuringly.

"She saved herself, we just helped her return a little more quickly than she might of if we hadn't been there," was the reply. It felt wrong to accept gratitude as if it was their effort alone that had guaranteed Damaris's livelihood. Arguably the scrawny brunette would have dehydrated or starved before she was found, but Solae didn't want to discount the fortitude it took to endure the historic waves that had tossed the girl about, the determination it took to crawl up the beach, or the stubborn will to live that had kept her from giving up when she thought she was on a deserted caldera. "We needed to come to San Roayo regardless," she added so that it didn't seem like the child had inconvenienced the couple in a major way.

"Where are my manners? I am Julia," Damaris's mother introduced herself. "Let me... let me get you some water to drink. Are you hungry? I do not have much but I am happy to cook for you. Please, let me do something to thank you," she pleaded earnestly. Solae bit the inside of her cheek pensively. It was apparent that Julia felt obligated to repay their kindness despite every attempt to convey that such gestures were not anticipated nor necessary. Uncertain how to proceed she turned towards Rene and raised her eyebrows as if to ask if he wanted to have a late night meal or politely decline.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Like any noblewoman, Solae was quite adept at concealing her emotions from the most discerning eyes. Rene was still able to recognize the tell-tale creases at the edge of her mouth and a darkening of her gaze that reflected frustration. Whether this was because he was an aristocrat that had been trained at an early age to read the hidden emotions of his peers or because his fiancee was simply not putting forth much effort to disguise her feelings it was impossible to tell. What was clear, however, was that Damaris was blissfully oblivious that there was anything amiss in her temporary maternal figure. Without any prompting she skipped ahead to lead them towards her home located on the northern side of the large island. Any trauma the youth might have suffered from the sea had been forgotten in the glee of growing closer to her parents and the safety of their presence.

When Rene had presented the plan of sailing the repaired barge to San Roayo his marquise paramour had expressed concern. While it was true they had been successful in escaping and eluding the duke's rebellion thus far, for longer many might dream them capable, it had not been without struggle and injury. Solae had had survived the assault on the embassy but had to watch her closest friend and colleagues die in front of her eyes. She had stumbled upon Rene, the one person on the entire planet that might understand and help her, but she had lost her parents and her home. They had found refuge in Lord Armor's mansion but discovered an atrocious bounty put on her head, had to perform an emergency surgical procedure, and fled with little with the estate was ransacked. The assistance of the Parks had been invaluable, and the Syshin had seen past their apprehension to trust and help, but Solae had very nearly been kidnapped by slavers. The attack on the smuggler's plantation had netted them healing for Rene, a ship on which to integrate Mia, and supplies, but they had both been seriously wounded and the heiress to the Falia fortune had nearly died. Now that the Bonaventure was stranded on the caldera with little fuel she did not have confidence in their luck.

"We might be on Panopontus longer than is safe," she whispered. Without method or materials with which to make the barge salvageable they had only the inflatable raft on which to depend. Returning to their vessel sans Damaris would be less weight on the raft but she had serious doubts it was sturdy enough to endure the ocean's waves. The thick rubbery material it was constructed out of was durable but chosen with the expectation it would only be utilized for emergencies. No one in manufacturing had anticipated two imperial citizens fleeing from a coup and trying to use it as a prolonged method of transport. Given the option Solae would take the risk. As terrible as it would be to found by their enemies it was still preferable to drowning.

"I know we had to bring Damaris home," the diplomat sighed, "but I can't help but feel this might be our undoing." Before the adolescent had jumped out from behind brush and swung a plank at Rene's head going to San Roayo was not a moral obligation. They had the freedom to either seize the opportunity, and the dangers accompanying it, or to decline and see how long they could stretch out their food rations. With how well Solae had packed it would have been weeks at minimum before they would need to worry. True, the Empress would have remained ignorant of the violence in the sector, and they could be labeled deserters, but few would have truly blamed them sincerely.

They had landed on one of the western shores. City proper was to their right as they trudged north, their clothing soaked and the ground below them soft and muddy, with beach to their left. Large chunks of coral, vegetation ripped from the ground, and pieces of debris from nearby structures littered the sand. Jagged rock jutted out intermittently and proved the coastline was a mixture of approachable and hostile to ships. They had been fortunate to find a section that didn't rip their boat in half.

Buildings on Panopontus were vastly different than those on New Concordia. There were far more residences farther inland, but the ones they passed all had been raised above the ground on supports of concrete, metal alloy, or a dark grey synthetic composite. The tallest in their line of vision was four stories tall; most were only three including the functional bottom floor with the support beams. Not every home had survived the monstrous storm. Smaller houses without multiple layers of reinforcement had been flattened into piles of rubble. A rough visual approximation was that a third of what had been upright a week ago was still remaining. If Solae remembered correctly the hurricane had breached the island from the southeast before passing over, perhaps devastating smaller islands before San Roayo, and that was why so many were spared in this location. If she was a betting woman she would have wagered that most of the disaster relief services were focused on the corner that taken the brunt of the assault.

"Damaris, please watch where you step!" Solae called ahead. The girl turned around and giggled, nodding her head enthusiastically, before she started to prance again. The more that the diplomat looked around the more she realized that there were only a handful of trees in sight. Older giants had been toppled, most onto barren roadways and walking paths, but a few into yards, and at least laid precariously on a roof. Smaller trees had been so thoroughly obliterated there was only a fresh stump, splinters, and branches as any evidence they had existed at all. She wasn't certain if she should be more impressed at the savagery of Mother Nature or the efficacy of architecture that this much of an San Roayo was still standing.

"Her mother and father are going to take one look at me and know I'm not a commoner," she thought aloud. "Do you want to tell them about what is going on? And don't tell me it's my decision alone. Even if I'm easier to spot as a noble you have equal say in what we do or do not divulge. They could be grateful and sympathetic, or they might try to play this to their advantage. I think the former is more likely but... I didn't believe the duke was capable of this level of bloodshed last week and today we're refugees. I don't want to rely on my judgment alone."

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

As the barge cut through the waves breaking onto the shore of the caldera, the engine fervently pushing them towards the greater ocean, Solae was infinitely grateful for one of her many genetic modifications made in generations past. Neither she nor Rene were prone to motion sickness. When the aristocracy was sailing the stars many, many years ago they quickly discovered the inconvenience that was any of nobility falling ill due to motion sickness. Most spaceships were more like their aircraft predecessors than their sea relatives, but there was a certain amount of turbulence, especially with interstellar jumps, that could make anyone predisposed empty their stomach and have profound vertigo. Scientists had been tasked with eliminating this weakness that marred their image. It was a minor enough alteration that it had not been subject to the same sort of controversy that surrounded gender selection, aesthetic meddling, and fitness enhancements. The marquise could only surmise that Damaris's tolerance (or immunity) was due to the necessity of her environment. Everyone on Panopontus needed to traverse by boat; only the wealthy could afford better and this planet was not populated by the upper class. Once could rightly assume that the affluent quickly left this world for one of more luxuries as soon as they were able.

"Not the best chanty for right now," Solae murmured in Rene's ear. She was not trying to be critical but she recognized that the reference to 'peril' might unnerve their young passenger. Fortunately Damaris was not paying attention to either one of them. The girl's lips were pressed together tightly as she clutched her seat until her knuckles turned white. Their adolescent friend's eyes were fixated on the horizon in a vacant stare that spoke to either being consumed in fear or actively disassociating from the horror.

Tempted as Solae was to fish out the medical kit for a sedative, just so that her companion would not have to relive her trauma, she knew that would hurt more than help. Sleeping through the journey would grant Damaris an escape from facing her fears, but doing so would almost certainly exacerbate the issue later. Confronting the ocean now could help keep it from festering and anchoring itself so deeply in her psyche there was irreparable damage. One could only imagine how paralyzing it would to dwell on a planet that was classified as "largely aquatic" and be terrified of the coastline. The linguist reasoned there was a great deal of difference, however, between ignoring Damaris completely and enabling through an offer to travel unconscious. What was needed was comforting and reassurance.

"Do you like to read, Damaris?" she asked, tapping gently on the girl's fingers so as not to startle her.

"Read?" Damaris repeated with surprise. Solae had used this tactic on her before and for good reason; an unanticipated change of topic to one seemingly unconnected to the present tended to grab attention. It made a person unconsciously start trying to deduce what had caused the change of subject. Regardless of whether or not such a discovery could be made the brain naturally tried to forge the connections on its own.

"I know how to speak and read a lot of languages," the noblewoman confessed. "When I was in school my teachers were fond of making us read a story in one language, then try to read or translate it into a language we were learning. Do you know what happened? It helped me learn more quickly but it also meant there were a few stories that I had spent so much time reading, and trying re-write in another language, that I remember them very well." Of course Rene knew there was more to it than what she was divulging. Members of the Empress's court and their families typically had incredible memories from the scientific intervention that guaranteed their beauty. Solae's memorization was equal parts repetition and an ability she had been born with. "What if I told you a story while Rene gets us home?"

"What kind of story?" Damaris inquired with a touch of hesitation.

There was a bit of negotiation to be had on which precise tale would be recited. For someone so young Damaris was surprisingly discerning on what she did and did not want, which created a challenge for Solae's limited mental library, but they settled on a relatively modern fable that was penned approximately two centuries ago. Coincidentally the moral that was the theme was tolerance of cultural differences and the importance of cooperation to thrive. There were no Syshin characters or allusions, for bringing in a subjugated race would not have allowed it any amount of success, but they could have been interchanged with the human foreigners.

It took the entirety of the fable, a hearty discussion on metaphors, and a second shorter story that was ancient and centered around a poisonous maiden before San Roayo was close enough that the engine had to be throttled to keep them from crashing into the rocky outcroppings. Damaris had drifted over next to Solae during the ride and they had huddled together for warmth. The air had chilled as the day drew on, the sun dipping below the horizon, and the sky darkened. The dip in temperature had proved to be their biggest discomfort. As if tired from the record-breaking waves created by the typhoon, there were relatively small tides between the land masses, and Rene encountered little difficulty in steering towards their target. All of these factors had bolstered Damaris's confidence significantly. Instead of shrinking back she leaned forward and squinted at the lights and shadows emerging from the craggy rock and grassy hills that dominated the island she called home.

"I think we need to go north- to the left," she told them with the assumption their first destination was her house. Solae glanced to Rene for confirmation he wanted to drop off Damaris before proceeding further. It was her belief this was the best course of action but she didn't want to be a dictator giving out orders. They were equals in their adventure and endeavors. He had just as much weight in their decisions as she did... even if she suspected sometimes he didn't find himself deserving or wanting of such.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

As Solae started to try to take a few more steps closer to where the barge was bobbing in the water, floating but tethered in place, she realized that Damaris was firmly anchored in the sand by fear. The pressure of the young girl's grip was not sufficient to bruise but was painfully tight. Though it might be easier to simply drag their young charge to their makeshift vessel to save time, and wait until they were sailing to reassure her, it would also be cruel. Inwardly the diplomat sighed.

Truthfully she couldn't blame the adolescent for her apprehension. Not only had she been traumatized when she was ripped from her home town, violently carried by the water to the island, and deposited on an abandoned caldera half-alive, despite Rene's best efforts their transport was not inspiring confidence. She had no doubt it would survive their journey to San Roayo and that her paramour had done the best he could with the resources available. What she recognized, however, was that for someone as terrified as Damaris nothing short of a huge ship that appeared unsinkable would assuage her. This was no luxury yacht where the owners and occupants could hide below deck and try to avoid the ocean. It was not a military carrier that was so massive one could explore the levels for days without confronting the sight of the sea. All three of them would be exposed to the elements no matter how short the trip and they could not trick themselves into believing they were still on land.

"Damaris," Solae started as she knelt down. "Do you know why I have hair this color?" she asked gently with a soft smile. Her question was so unexpected that the youth blinked several times, distracted momentarily by the query, and almost forgot the dark mass of water that was so close by.

"Your hair?" Damaris replied with her eyebrows knitted in confusion. For a second the girl glanced to Rene who just shrugged affably rather than offer a clue as to either the answer or Solae's aim in asking something so bizarre.

"My parents, and some of my parents' parents, and my parents' parent's parents, used science to make changes to babies before they were born," she explained. It was a gross oversimplification but it was easy to appreciate that details weren't needed to make the point she was about to make. Trying to delve into the technology that was used in genetic modification would be tedious, lengthy, and challenging even for adults. "One of those changes was to make my hair this color. That's why some princesses look a little different. What about our knight, Sir Rene? What do you think they changed about him?"

Damaris was so absorbed in this new line of thought that she turned and stared at Rene for a moment, oblivious to the ocean she had planted herself to avoid proximity to. Solae gave her a few seconds to scrutinize Rene, who seemed somewhat uneasy under the intense stare, before she gave her fiance a subtle wink. "They made him tall?" Damaris suggested. Common men and women were not necessarily short, but nobility had generations ago began assuring their male progeny were typically taller than their counterparts. The average aristocrat towered above their lesser peers given the gap in nutrition and selective DNA editing, though some planets had more comparable heights among their populace.

"Well, I think they did," she whispered as she leaned in, "but they also made him strong. I know it's hard to trust someone you don't know, but because Sir Rene is so strong I know that if anything happens to me on our way to San Roayo he will be able to rescue me better than anyone else. And I know he'll be able to rescue you better than anyone else too. We wouldn't be taking you home like this unless it was the only way. We have to believe in Sir Rene, though, even if it's difficult." Solae paused a minute to let her words sink in and then stood, tugging on the little hand clasped in hers. "You ready to try to get on? If we go now we'll have a chance to sit there for a moment before we have to leave."

Damaris eyed the barge warily as she struggled mentally with pushing past her fears. Sensing her trepidation, but also the smallest hint of courage blossoming beneath the surface, the marquise turned to her soldier and made a motion. "Do you think you could carry her the last few steps?" she asked quietly. The pair might not be the best of friends given their rocky start, but she couldn't imagine that it would hurt to have some physical assistance, especially since she knew from experience that this sort of situation could make someone who was scared feel like their legs were jelly.

For the Lady! (Syrenrei x Foolish Errant)

Leanja sighed once it became clear what ailed his psyche. His chant was odd, one she was not familiar with and did not fully understand, but his explanation of his troubles were sadly much less foreign. This errant knight truly did wish to be a beacon of virtue but had fallen into a quagmire of ethics and morality. No one but perhaps the insane was truly free of self-doubt as to whether they were right or wrong, good or evil, respectable or corrupt. More than once her mother had warned her that things were almost always in shade of grey. Some day in the future she would have to navigate those waters as the leader of a kingdom; it was one of the things she looked forward to the least as an err in judgment could be catastrophic.

"When a baby is born they are innocent. No one would ever suggest you ought to kill a baby, would they? That baby could one day grow up and be a wonderful person, someone who does great things for the world, or they could become a heinous villain. We don't know when they are a baby, do we? All we know is that when they are an infant, at that time, they are innocent. You did all anyone can do, sir knight," she proclaimed with empathy as her hand remained gently laying on his armor. She had noticed the translucent shimmer at the edge of his eyes and sensed something almost arcane in his person but it did not make her determination waver. Leanja recognized herself as the last person who ought to judge another for inexplicable magical abilities.

"Everyone has a choice. That baby will chose its path when it gets older. We can all try to help, but no one can predict, or force, someone onto the path we want for them. I know I wasn't there but... you gave those people a gift. You shielded them and, while they should be thankful and follow your example, it's not for you to control what they do with their lives. Where they have failed you perhaps others will not. Has every soul you saved turned to darkness?"

Withdrawing her hand she reached into a pocket and pulled out a small rag that was covered in soot. The princess used this strip of cloth to clean her hands and face on the occasion she got dirty exploring the wilds and could not afford to cast a spell for cleanliness. Gingerly she leaned forward and tried to scrub away some of the dried blood that clung to the plate. Leanja could not erase the past but she could try to reinvigorate faith into a downtrodden man. Surely being covered in the spilled bodily fluid of the slain was not beneficial to his mental well-being.

"Maybe this is a test. It's easy to thwart evils that are unknown to us, isn't it? It's much harder when you have to strike down someone you know would hurt others. For what it is worth, sir knight, I don't think what you've done is a heinous crime at all. When you were needed you were there, and when people turned to villainy you had the courage to confront them. Not everyone could do that. I would think many knights would falter in their devotion and be able to strike that blow no matter how righteous."