The Unseen Rain had followed silently behind the carriage the whole way from the capital, waiting for their chance to strike.

Nothing about this assignment seemed as though it was going to be particularly challenging. You would think that a figure as important as the Saintess would travel with more guards, but she traveled with almost none.

Only the elf prince even carried a weapon, although Rain could tell that the biggest potential threat was actually the red-headed cleric. They could sense that she possessed a staggering amount of true magic.

And yet, even that small amount of protection hadn’t stayed around for long. When the group reached Longren, the elf prince had left to go somewhere else, and when they reached the church the red-headed cleric had simply said goodnight and left the Saintess alone.

Unguarded. Vulnerable.

And still Rain stayed hidden. They hadn’t become the best assassin in the Empire by being overly hasty.

Finally, the Saintess had fallen asleep.

Rain dropped down from the ceiling and approached silently, dagger in hand.

Several things had been bothering Rain about the Saintess ever since they had begun to follow her, and up close it was becoming more and more confusing.

The Saintess was wrong in all sorts of ways. She didn’t… fit correctly. She was an elf, but she was an important citizen of the Wyernwolf Empire. She was supposed to be a cleric, but she didn’t dress or act like a cleric. She was supposed to be a woman, and yet she…

Really, Rain knew they should just finish the job and head back to the capital as quickly as possible. But they couldn’t help pausing, staring in fascination at the strange figure before them.

And there was one more thing that seemed to be in the wrong place...

Suddenly, the Saintess awoke with a start.

The Saintess and the assassin made eye contact, holding it for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, Rain’s curiosity won out.

“What are you?” they asked.

“I—what—?” asked Anne, blinking. “What am I? What do you mean?”

“Are you a man or a woman?” they demanded.

“Oh,” said the Saintess.

“They say you’re the Saintess, but you have short hair and wear men’s clothes,” they said.

“Yeah, but I’m still a woman,” said Anne.

“Why?”

“Why?” Anne was taken aback. “Just because I am. My gender doesn’t have anything to do with the way I dress. I just… how do I explain it?”

This was a vaguely medieval fantasy world. Anne wasn’t entirely sure if they had an established philosophy of gender identity here. Like, certainly trans people existed here, but they probably didn’t have a modern identity politics framework to understand gender through. Maybe there was some sort of culturally specific understanding of genders outside the norm in some culture or other in this world, but if there was, Anne didn’t know about it...

Fuck it, Anne wasn’t creative enough or awake enough to come up with a particularly careful or thorough explanation.

“I’m not a woman because of the way I look or how I dress, I’m just a woman because I know I’m a woman,” said Anne. “What about you, don’t you have some intuitive sense of what your gender is?”

“No,” they said.

“Oh,” said Anne. “Well, I mean, you don’t have to be any gender at all if you don’t want to be. Or you could be both a man and a woman. Or you could be some other gender entirely. It’s up to you.”

The figure nodded as if just learning an interesting new piece of trivia.

Am I still dreaming? thought Anne. This is too surreal to be reality. Wait, are they holding a knife?

“That still doesn’t explain it, though,” said the figure.

Anne sighed, exasperated. “I just like wearing pants, okay?”

“No.” The figure shook its head. “That doesn’t explain why your soul doesn’t match your body.”

Before Anne could respond to this shocking statement, she heard the twang of a bow and saw an arrow flying through the air, right towards the figure.

The figure quickly and easily jumped out of the way.

And now the arrow was heading straight towards Anne.

I wonder where I’ll end up this time, Anne thought to herself. I haven’t even read that many books since I got here…

Then the arrow seemed to curve mid-air.

It was over in an instant. The mysterious figure leapt out the window, the arrow buried itself, quivering, into the mantle, and Agis and Eva stood in the doorway.

“Anne, I’m so sorry!” Agis ran up to her. “I didn’t mean to almost hit you. I didn’t think the assassin would dodge.”

“You’re wasting time!” said Eva. “Go after him!”

“Right, sorry,” said Agis, leaping out the window after the assassin.

Eva ran up to Anne and threw her arms around her. “Oh, Anne, I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“What just happened?” asked Anne.

“I believe that may have been the Unseen Rain,” said Eva. “A famous assassin. Until now I honestly thought he was just a myth. But he matched the description.”

“Oh,” said Anne.

“Duke Marshal must have hired him,” said Eva.

“I’m not sure they were a man, actually,” said Anne.

“Well then, Duke Marshal must have hired her,” said Eva. “Why do you care what gender the assassin was, you could’ve been killed!”

“No, I don’t think they’re a woman either,” said Anne, who still hadn’t really processed her near death experience.

“Anne, what are you talking about?” asked Eva.

Anne contemplated the prospect of trying to explain the concept of ‘nonbinary’ to Eva right now and decided against the attempt.

“Never mind,” said Anne.

“You should try to get some sleep,” said Eva, running a gentle hand over Anne’s cheek. “I’ll stay with you, just in case. No one will be able to hurt you while I’m here.”

Agis climbed back in through the window. “I lost him!” he said. “I’m sorry. I can stay the night and patrol the area, just in case.”

Suddenly, Anne remembered something.

Anne stood up. “Wait, where’s Sebastian? He should be the assassin’s real target. We have to make sure he’s okay!”

“He’s at the rebel camp,” said Agis. “He’s surrounded by soldiers. There’s no safer place in the world for him. Well…. I mean, it’s pretty safe. I was helping him get settled in and explaining to all the rebels why they shouldn't just kill the Crown Prince immediately when Eva came to get me. She said she saw someone sneaking towards your room.”

“How did you get to the rebel camp and back so fast?” Anne asked Eva.

“I have my ways,” said Eva, smiling. “But Agis is right, you don’t need to worry about Sebastian right now. Right now you should only be worried about getting some rest.”

This whole situation felt so off, but Anne really was far too tired to spend any more time thinking about it.

So she took Eva’s advice and went to bed.

Over at the rebel camp, Sebastian was sitting by a dwindling fire, hugging his knees to his chest.

These past few days had been a lot for him to process.

“Here, your highness,” said Ylyndar, handing Sebastian a mug. “Some tea. It should help you to sleep, even in this unfamiliar environment.”

“Is it a special kind of elf tea?” asked Sebastian.

Ylyndar smiled, amused. “It’s chamomile,” he said.

“Oh,” said Sebastian.

They sat in silence for a moment. Only a short time ago, Agis had been showing him around. And then Eva had shown up out of nowhere, super frantic, and the two of them had left together somewhere.

Now Sebastian was alone in a camp full of enemy soldiers who hated him and his family, and he didn’t even really know anyone here.

Ylyndar was being pretty nice to him, though. And the other soldiers seemed to be scared of Ylyndar, so they were all more or less leaving him alone.

“We should be receiving our regular correspondence from the other branches of the elven army at some point tomorrow,” said Ylyndar. “I suspect that will contain Elyon’s response to the kidnapping plan.”

“Elyon… that’s the second elf prince, right?” said Sebastian, taking a sip of his tea. “And the first elf prince is… Zaos? What are they like? Are they anything like Agis? Agis can be annoying, but… he’s basically nice. Are the other two nice?”

“Hmm…” said Ylyndar, poking at the fire. “First of all, you must understand, Agis is a skilled fighter and a good man, but he’s still very young, in elven terms.”

“Wait, how old is he?” asked Sebastian.

“He’s not yet 39 years-old,” said Ylyndar, a pitying look on his face. “Practically a child.”

“Agis is 38 years-old?!” said Sebastian.

“The other two elf princes have had much longer to establish themselves,” continued Ylyndar. “To the elves of the Sacred Forest, they’re legendary figures. In some ways, they loom larger even than the king himself.”

“How old is the king?” asked Sebastian.

“Nearly 1000. The longest living elf in history. Now pay attention, this is important for you to know” said Ylyndar. “Prince Zaos, the first prince, is a force to be reckoned with. He’s our finest warrior. He has long hair that flows in the winds of battle, and he’s rumored to have lost an eye in a battle with the False Dweller himself, although no one knows for sure what the true story is. It’s said that the sound of his laughter haunts those that manage to survive clashing swords with him, driving many to suicide.”

“Goddess…” said Sebastian.

“Prince Elyon, the second prince, is less flashy, but no less impressive,” continued Ylyndar. “He’s stalwart and steadfast, capable of learning any skill necessary to do his work, and he never gives up, and he never gives away his plans until it’s too late. If Prince Zaos is like a forest fire, then Prince Elyon is like a sinkhole. Working in secret, eating away at the ground underneath you, until one day, before you even realize what’s happened, the ground has fallen out beneath you. Prince Elyon is a revolution.”

There was a moment of silence while Sebastian and Ylyndar both stared into the fire.

Sebastian took another sip of his tea. “Well, great,” he said. “They don’t sound terrifying at all.”