While they fussed over clothing, Stathis had other business to see to. Hakara had been grabbed by both Dorothia and Janaxia, Stathis ignoring her pleading look as she was pulled into the wardrobe, eldritch magic washing out, chill and ominous.

She let herself out, heading into the rest of the royal chambers (despite the lack of royals, the name had stuck). Carissia’s chamber was warded behind heavy seals, glowing rune circles extending into the hallway, thrumming with power. She carefully stepped past, just in case she was keeping a demon or something in there, then carried on. Two servants ducked back into a room as she approached, keen to stay out of sight.

It felt strange to be back here again, all the places she remembered, but not as a kid. She sighed, wondering how long it would be before she got dragged into something. Dorothia wasn’t immediately dragging her off for a briefing session, so it couldn’t be that bad. As long as Janaxia didn’t get dragged into cell, then hopefully they could be gone from here soon. She headed through the training room, wooden weapons still racked up on the walls, remembering the clack of blade on blade, Mother trouncing her repeatedly until she had learned to defend herself, then passing her off to a succession of tutors. There was still a stack of wooden shields, all battered and scarred through impacts, sized from the smallest, when she had been just a girl, all the way up to something full-size, although equally battered. Mother never had held back, insisting it was the best way to learn. And it was the choice between learn fast or take another strike, so Stathis had learned.

She picked up one of the wooden swords, the weight all-too-familiar, flicking the blade with a sharp “thwip”, moving through a brief practice routine. Absolutely nothing like real battlefield movement, but good for loosening up the muscles. And the sword was lighter, but good for learning steps and distance. She sighed, realising she was putting off the inevitable, putting the sword back onto the rack.

Through another hallway, set into an otherwise empty chamber, lit by the afternoon sun, there was ice. When Stathis had last seen it, it had been a column little bigger than a person, but it had grown, and now completely filled the width of the room, tinting the sunlight into a chill and fractured pattern. In the centre was a dark shape, just about visible as a young woman. Stathis put her hand against the ice, feeling it cling to her palm, sucking out all the heat, bitingly cold. She left it there for a moment, then pulled it away, leaving a bloody handprint behind as the ice tore away her skin.

‘Sorry, Pajaran. Still trying to figure out a way to get you out. Kinnivar might know, maybe? Although I don’t think he can leave his basement. He might be able to teach Janaxia something though. Or Hakara’s really smart, if anyone can figure something out, she can.’ She went to a corner, sliding a brick from a wall, revealing several bottles of drink, opening one up. She poured part of it onto the ice, where it immediately froze in place. ‘You’d probably like Hakara, she’s from some tiny farming village, but managed to graduate from the Barinian Academy. You could bitch about nobility together.’ She started describing their most recent adventures, defending the castle, and then jumping around, what had happened at Redcastle.

Pajaran probably couldn’t hear her, sealed and frozen in the everfrost, but it was the least Stathis could do. She sat down, settling herself against the wall, continuing to retell their adventures as she sipped at the drink. ‘…and then Janaxia browbeat the merchant into holding over a golden choker. It looks good on her, and it’s nice to see her in something a bit less evil looking, but having to put it on every morning is distracting. Oh, and then, in Sainted Hirata, Semari got put on trial for, uh, blasphemy, I think? Turns out she’s sort of part god or something? So I suppose that makes her part-aristocrat or noble or something? Sorry, I should have tried to recruit more than one person that’s not noble, divine or whatever Janaxia is.’

There was a knock at the door, Janaxia giving a discreet cough as she followed, pulling Hakara along. Hakara had been fully re-worked, her robes now showing something of her figure, and of far finer material. Her hair had been brushed and tidied, now a shiny lustrous brown, with some golden twists keeping it in a ponytail. Although she must have put up some resistance, as she still had her sturdy leather belt and all her pouches, decidedly more utilitarian.

‘Ah, the servants told me that “the heir” was being decidedly maudlin.’ Janaxia looked at the bottle in Stathis’ hand. ‘I believe I may be able to resolve this. Hakara, the everfrost is a physical condition, rather than a spiritual one, is it not?’

Hakara was feeling her face, pursing her lips, clearly unused to the cosmetics that had been applied. ‘Hmm? I wouldn’t phrase it like that, but yes – an entity caught within is not fundamentally changed, as blackrot would do, but is simply trapped. But it extends into the border ethereal, meaning they cannot be simply pulled out by someone using abilities similar to Miss Parth’s. And teleportation spells transport an area, meaning that you would end up with the entity within a slightly smaller block.’

‘I thought as much. I believe this should be simple, then. And then perhaps you can perhaps be somewhat more regal, rather than moping on the floor? Scarcely a becoming position, you appear closer to the town drunk than a powerful warrior.’ Stathis pushed herself upwards, finishing the beer, Janaxia nodding. ‘Better.’

Then she cast a spell, un-words spilling forth, her fingers warping and phasing, Stathis wincing and holding her head. When the spell was done, Janaxia nodded in approval. ‘I believe that should suffice. Although…’ She held her head. ‘Ouch, that is a rather unpleasant sensation. Much like eating ice too fast.’ She staggered backwards, Hakara supporting her. Stathis looked over at the ice – the dark shadow was gone, ice already starting to creep into the gap.

A blue tint came into Janaxia’s lash, before suddenly vanishing, as chill air bloomed through the room. A figure appeared in midair, Stathis diving to catch them. They were cold to the touch, the clothing wet, body starting to shiver as Stathis supported them. Pajaran’s eyes fluttered, chest heaving in a deep breath as she started to twist and writhe, arms flailing. Stathis gripped her tightly, trying to heat her body up.

Her eyes opened fully, now stained a deep, chill blue. ‘Pajaran! It’s me. You’re safe. Safe!’

A hand, bitterly cold, reached out and touched her cheek. ‘Sta…this? What the… fuck happened? Everything is so… cold…’ She sagged back down. Hakara and Janaxia were both casting spells, trying to wick away the cold water that had seeped into Pajaran’s clothing. Stathis shook Pajaran, trying to keep her awake, as she pulled herself against Stathis. ‘You always are… so warm…’ Her head fell against Stathis’ chest, as she fell unconscious.

Still carrying her, Stathis strode into the hallway, seeing a servant duck into another room, as she yelled. ‘Get help! Call for the healers! NOW!’ They re-emerged from the room, running, hopefully to get help as Stathis strode down the hallway, barely aware of Hakara and Janaxia trailing along behind her.

Fortunately, the staff were well-used to dealing with sudden accidents and emergencies, several clerics and healers rapidly appearing, transferring Pajaran to a stretcher, wrapping her in hot blankets, transferring her to the infirmary. As Stathis moved to follow, she felt a pressure on her elbow, Janaxia holding her.

‘While I appreciate your concern, then I suspect there is little you can do – this is not a subject of battlecraft, is it? I’m sure that you will be called the moment she awakens, but you bustling around distracting the healers is scarcely conducive to good care.’ She kept her grip, patting Stathis on the shoulder with her other hand. ‘Now, I believe that you need to be made rather more presentable as well? Your, ah, friend, would doubtless wish to see you at your best, would she not?’

She started to pull Stathis away. Stathis tried resisting, casting a look into the healing chamber, where a priest was currently intoning a spell, heat washing out from Pajaran’s cubicle. ‘…But…’

‘”There are times when even the greatest general must admit they face something beyond their skillset”, as I believe your mother once said. Although with more panache, in her case, and shortly before decapitating a demon god in personal combat. Nevertheless, loitering here will do little of use, and you have other things you must be about, do you not?’

Stathis let herself be pulled away, dragged back to her own rooms, letting Janaxia pick out clothing for her, hoping that Pajaran would be treated soon.

In the end, the “ensemble” (as Janaxia insisted on calling it) wasn’t too bad – a smart suit, well-tailored, easy to move, the material fine, but cleaning it would be someone else’s problem. The waistcoat, with shiny buttons, was a little excessive, but at least it didn’t restrain her movement at all. Semari’s makeover was more extensive, her battered tunic and trousers getting put aside in favour of loose black trousers, and a sleek black shirt, golden dragons picked out in golden thread. She moved through a series of attacks, checking it didn’t restrict her movement at all, leaping up in the air into a kick, then punching the air.

‘I like the black. Doesn’t show the stains as much. Could do with some bigger sleeves, hide more stuff in though!’

Parth had vanished, wanting to talk to her kin, looking slightly… happy, maybe? Or satisfied? It was hard to tell.

Hakara had been strenuously fighting off Janaxia’s attempts to open up her dress and show some cleavage, magical forces sparring and clashing on the front of her dress, before Janaxia admitted defeat. As they contested, Stathis prepared herself. With Janaxia here, she would have to make a decent attempt, otherwise Janaxia would do it for her. It had been years since she had properly braided her hair, it being too much work to bother with in the field. Her hands still remembered how to do it, at least broadly, winding her hair into strips, then twisting those together, making a crown around her forehead. A cut might be nice as well, but she wasn’t doing that with her knife! Her thoughts drifted back to Pajaran – she would be alright, wouldn’t she? She had to be OK. Messengers occasionally appeared, Janaxia always intercepting them first, passing along the news that Pajaran was still alive, but not yet conscious.

A cold and malignant force suddenly brushed against her head, startling her. Some of her hair started to rearrange itself, the strands getting pulled more tightly into the braid, as Janaxia used her powers to adjust Stathis’ hair.

‘A valiant attempt, but perhaps a little lacking in the execution?’ Before Stathis could move away, Janaxia had closed the distance between them, hands reaching out and starting to tweak and adjust her hair as well. Stathis sighed and let it happen, hoping it would be over soon. ‘While a more rugged approach may play well with the soldiery, I would hope that a little more style would be required here. Lady Dorothia appeared quite elegant, even in her disguise. Perhaps you should emulate her? Your childhood friend, I believe? I hope not another of your lovers?’

‘No! She just likes teasing – she’s married! She’s the daughter of one of Mother’s allies. There was a baby wyvern sent after me, that attacked her as well. I managed to kill it.’

‘Well, it seemed to have made quite the impression on her, she seems to admire you greatly. As does, apparently, her daughter.’ Janaxia tweaked Stathis’ hair again, harsher than seemed to be needed, before stepping back and nodding in satisfaction. ‘Excellent, yes. Somewhat more suited for a state occasion, I think. Although I should change as well.’

Stathis looked at her outfit – a shimmering weave of lace mesh, hinting at, but never quite being, transparent, along with sparkling crimson gems, and, of course, the golden choker. Her clothing started to shimmer, tantalising flesh appearing and disappearing, as her clothing reformed itself, into a more regal version of her usual red dress, now with blue gems nestled amongst the silk, wide ornamental bracelets to match the choker.

‘Does this meet with your approval? And do you think your mother will approve?’

Stathis reached out and tapped a horn. ‘You might want to decorate these a little more. If people realise they’re not ornamental, things are going to get awkward.’

‘Hmm, I suppose. Such a shame that people cannot acknowledge the beauty of those that are a little… unusual. If you would care to help?’

She had appropriated some golden necklaces that Stathis had been given at some point and handed them over to Stathis.

‘Most people with horns tend to lean towards the whole “murderous demon” side of things, not really the sort of people you want around.’ She started to wind a necklace underneath an existing loop of metal, settling it tightly around the horn. ‘I hope you’re wearing some actual clothing as well, just in case something kicks off and your magic gets dispelled.’

‘Yes, I did realise that might happen, so I have taken care to wear something suitable beneath. Although I would imagine that your mother’s security would be able to take care of most intruders?’

‘They can generally deal with them, but it’s more bloody common than I’d like for demons or monsters or wizards or some other crazy shit to pop up suddenly. Be ready for a fight, just in case.’ She sniffed the air, something strangely sweet registered. ‘Have you changed your scent? Seems a bit more mellow than your usual.’

‘I’m glad you noticed! Yes, this is Amberflower essence. Dorothia was good enough to lend me a few drops for the occasion. And contributed some jewellery – she appears to be desirous that I make a good impression.’

It was probably enchanted, to let Dorothia spy on her. Well, if she had one of her turns, it would probably be helpful, and it was unlikely Janaxia would say anything other than catty remarks about other people’s fashion. Janaxia twisted, presenting a wrist to Stathis. ‘If you would care to smell?’

Stathis politely lent forward and took the wrist. Yes, it was a sweet and pungent smell, a lot gentler than the usual warm and spicy scents Janaxia favoured. Although it was somewhat at odds with her dress, all overly-clinging silks and almost-revealing tightness. ‘Nice. Bit of a change.’ Janaxia gave her a distinctly guarded look.

‘As I seem to be occasionally… unappreciated, shall we say, then I thought it best to try and mix things up a little, and see if that was any better received.’

‘Just try not to be, uh, demonic or anything. And if anyone gives you shit about your family, tell me and I’ll sort them out. Although maybe try not to get your brother tortured?’

‘He was unduly harsh to me when we were growing up, I scarcely see why it is such an issue to suggest that receive some punishment for such ill behaviour. A little flogging, or the loss of a few fingers, would likely teach him a valuable lesson.’

‘He’s not here because he was a shitty brother, he’s here for raising an army of the dead and attacking a castle! He’s not going to be getting the royal treatment, but he’s also not getting any bits chopped off unless that’s the only way to keep him contained.’

Janaxia looked disappointed. ‘Well, I hope he will attempt a breakout or similar. It would serve him right to suffer a little.’

‘Just try and rein it in a little? Dismemberment isn’t really the best thing to discuss while eating. I would say be polite, but you’ll be fine on that score. Keep an eye on Semari, just in case she acts up. It’s less formal here than at other courts, but if she looks like she’s about to get into a fist fight or climb out a window, then get her to stop. Ideally without blasting her into a wall, if possible?’

‘I will endeavour to set a good example. And to Hakara as well.’

‘She should be fine. Thanks for doing her clothing as well, she gets nervous at events like this. She’ll probably be sat with the other mages, so they can talk about whatever incomprehensible stuff they talk about.’

‘Oh? And where will I be sat?’ Janaxia fluttered her eyelashes.

‘Probably with me. Just in case anyone starts anything.’

She nodded. ‘Of course. Yes, I do hope you won’t have to defend my honour, o “shining knight”. Although at least tonight you do appear somewhat more regal than usual.’ She plucked a loose strand of hair away from Stathis’ shirt.

Stathis groaned. ‘Please don’t call me that. Titles are going to be a nightmare, aren’t they?’

‘I think it is rather flattering to be properly known. Although I imagine my own honours may be somewhat curtailed, so as not to invite awkwardness?’

‘Seems likely, yeah. So don’t get huffy if you’re just introduced as “Janaxia” without all your other titles.’

‘It does seem a little unfair, but I shall strive to endure the manifest injustice.’ She pressed herself close, hands and magical energy fiddling further with Stathis’ shirt buttons, undoing one and pushing a sword-shaped pin through. ‘Much better, I think. A slightly martial touch, as seems to be your preference.’ She was close enough that it was hard for Stathis to see, Janaxia’s own body in the way.

‘Huh, thought that had vanished years ago. Most of the stuff in here is gifts from ambassadors and stuff, I try to sell it or give it away, but more just keeps appearing. If there’s anything you want, help yourself, do it good to actually be used.’

‘Thank you, that is a tempting offer. Especially if we are to attend a number of these events.’ She stayed far too close, her hair brushing against Stathis, the scent of her hair overpowering the Amberflower, still fiddling with Stathis’ clothing, eyes bright as she looked up. She must be in low heels, from her height.

The long, awkward moment was mercifully broken, a knock at the door, a gong sounding from empty air, signalling that their, or, more accurately, her, presence was required. Stathis coughed and stepped back from Janaxia, who looked mildly disappointed, until Stathis extended an arm towards her. She grabbed hold eagerly, clamping herself on.

The door was opened by a member of the Winged Guard, full dress uniform (which was mostly the regular uniform, but clean and with some extra shiny bits, it being a core requirement that the Winged Guard be able to fight regardless of the situation, formality be damned).

‘High Colonel Stathis.’ They saluted, then bowed, as Stathis saw that there were several more of them in the hallway. Not quite a full honour guard, but still enough that she would draw attention. Although here, everyone would recognise her anyway.

‘Semari, Hakara, let’s go!’ Semari was eying up the window again, before Hakara bustled her towards the door. Janaxia was still firmly attached to Stathis, who was glad she had long sleeves, feeling the pressure of Janaxia’s nails even through the fabric. At least they were short at the moment, although when had she cut them? Or was she able to change her body now, as well as her clothing? Her tattoo moved into sight, peeking onto the top of her cleavage, spinning once before settling into position, apparently satisfied with simply watching. Stathis resisted the urge to poke it.

They started to walk through the hallways, the guards stiff-necked and formal, refusing to talk or even make eye contact. Semari trailed along behind, completely casually, Hakara occasionally pulling her away from poking at statues or other items displayed on the walls, moving in stuttering stops and starts to keep up.

In the main hallways of the palace, business was still going on, the workers now more casually dressed now that most of their management had finished for the day. As Stathis passed, they bent their heads to their tasks, at least trying to look busy. Given that the place wasn’t rammed with nobles and ambassadors in fancy clothing, it didn’t seem like it would be a full formal reception, with hundreds of guests she was expected to know, and every conversation thrumming with subtext.

Janaxia suddenly squealed in delight and hauled Stathis to one side, towards a massive painting. It depicted a woman in glorious, shining armour, atop a pure white horse, an army behind her. Sunlight was streaming down on her, glory bright upon her. Ahead of her, taking up fully half the painting, was a twisted maelstrom of darkness. But it wasn’t simple, empty black – the artist had somehow managed to paint reflections and suggestions onto the canvas. Different angles revealed different shapes – screaming, tortured faces, spiked demons, wrathful devils poised to fight, broken and shattered bodies reaching out towards the light.

‘This thing gave me nightmares as a kid.’ And the painter had definitely been overly flattering towards Mother, unctuous and oily. ‘Well, up until Mother showed me how to make firebombs to drive the darkness back.’ She smiled at the memory.

‘When I said I didn’t like the darkness, my mother would lock me into the basement until I stopped crying.’ Janaxia’s voice was strange and distant, as Stathis patted her on the head.

‘Well, if they try that again, shoot them with your creepy energy bolt things. Most wizards tend to dislike being thrown violently backwards. Or get Kinnevar to have a word with them, he approves of you.’

Janaxia drew herself up, lash reigniting, from barely-visible red to a more stable crimson tinge. ‘Yes. Yes, perhaps I shall. A certain amount of vengeance is only just, after all. This is an original Croznubon, is it not? Fascinating, what he achieved with the darkness.’ She was moving around, tilting her head to see it from different angles. ‘Although I can see why a child would perhaps find it a little disconcerting. A dramatization of Butcher’s Pass, I believe?’

‘Yup. Mother and the last two troops of the Irisati, standing against the Mancleaver.’ Stathis pointed at a figure on the edge of the darkness, stood partially within, a suggestion of a humanoid shape surrounded by spikes and blood, a savage slab of blood-stained steel in hand. ‘Her first great victory. Defeating the Mancleaver made it possible to get to these plains without having to go over the mountains, so she staked her claim here, fought off anyone else that tried to take it from her, made it a trading centre.’

‘Most admirable. Of course, the stories of prior Iristari hegemony are rather dramatic exaggerations, but it was an impressive achievement, nonetheless. You really should pay your mother the respect she’s due, Stathis.’

‘I respect her plenty! It’s just intimidating trying to live up to it all, and being in charge of all of this would be terrifying. It’s hard enough keeping you lot in line. Semari, leave that alone before it sets you on fire!’ Semari looked up from the shield she was prodding, a flaming barrier starting to form around it as defensive spells activated. ‘How the hell anyone actually manages anything this size, I’ve no idea.’

One of the guards coughed. ‘Apologies, High Colonel Stathis, but you are expected.’

‘Sorry. Come on, let’s get going.’ She managed to pull Janaxia away from the painting, and past various other commemorative paintings and sculptures she wanted to study, towards the next security checkpoint.