By midday, Mai and Broken had reached civilization again. Civilization, in the form of a walled city, on the horizon. Knowing that they had been heading south, Mai made an educated guess as to the city’s identity. “That’s Gansu, right?” she asked, stifling the urge to point.

“I believe so,” said Broken dryly.

Gansu, to the best of Mai’s knowledge, was a Tachen city, loyal directly to her House. Given that her House had fallen, Mai had no idea what the state of things inside the walls would be like.

As the carriage rode closer, however, things seemed at least mildly functional. A guard greeted them at the gate, and waved them in. The streets were filled with people, including dozens of soldiers, who, while lacking Tachen markings, still looked to be the Gansu native guard, out in force. From government buildings, Gansu’s shrub banners waved, and Tachen banners were nowhere to be found.

“This city is unaligned,” Mai observed.

As Aruith pulled their carriage through the city, Mai became more and more aware of those on the street giving her odd looks. She realized, suddenly, that the carriage was painted with Imperial colors. In a city that was unaligned, the carriage was odd, indeed.

Broken rode up to the town square, and drove their carriage off to the side. “Wait here,” he told her, dismounted, and passed out of sight into one of the buildings.

Mai looked around, nervously. She had never been around so many commoners before, without bodyguards. More than that, she had barely been anywhere before, without bodyguards. Two silent men had guarded her, day in and day out, until the day where the Occluded City was invaded, when they had mysteriously disappeared.

Thankfully, none of the lowborn going about their daily business had a desire to talk to her. They knew she was of the noble caste, and so they left her alone. That has to be the reason, doesn’t it?

Broken came back and bit later, with a rather plump and smiling man. The man had two servants, one of whom was pulling a horse.

As Mai got down from the carriage, the fat man asked, “Is this it?”

“Yes,” said Broken, as he unhitched Aruith from the carriage.

“I’ll pay you a thousand enu for the wagon,” said the fat man, and he took out a money bag.

“It’s worth ten times that,” said Broken.

“Glad to see you know what it’s worth,” said the merchant. “However, I don’t see anyone else giving you an offer, and seeing as you won’t tell me where the merchandise came from, that’s the best I can do.”

“You know as well as I where the carriage came from,” said Broken. “I took it during the riots in the capital. Otherwise, it would have burned. I did not steal it.”

“True, true,” said the merchant. “But you don’t want to be seen with a Tachen carriage here, where people don’t yet know where their loyalties lie. Two thousand enu.”

“I can get the wagon repainted quite easily,” said Broken.

“But then the painter will be suspicious of you,” said the merchant. “Still, you have a point. Three thousand enu, final offer.”

Broken said nothing, then slowly smiled. “You want this deal more than I do,” he said. “Much more than I do, Sendi.”

“Four thousand,” said Sendi.

“Make it five, or I walk away.”

“Deal.”

Coins exchanged hands, the merchant’s horse was hitched to the carriage, and then suddenly, Mai, Broken, and Aruith, were left standing there as the merchant and his people walked away.

“What happened to the food we had?” said Mai, remembering. “You left what we had remaining in one of the compartments!”

“There was none left,” said Broken, fingering the heavy money purse Sendi had presented him with. “And as I had no coins before this, if Sendi had not taken the deal, we would have been left rather lacking.”

“How could you risk everything like that?” Mai asked.

“I risked nothing,” said Broken. “I would have found another way to the coin we needed.” Something about his careless statement unnerved Mai.

“So what do we do now?” she asked.

“We find lodging. It’s getting late.”

Leading Aruith, Broken pushed through the crowds. Mai followed him, trying her best to avoid brushing against any of the commoners, a task at which she was only barely successful.

Near the edge of the city’s main square, there stood a building in typical Tachen style, thin, with slanted roofs, and three stories high. However, it was not like the buildings Mai was used to. Compared to the Occluded City, the building looked squalid and run-down.

Broken opened the door, and asked for an innkeeper, who quickly came outside. Coin was paid, and Aruith was handed off, to be sent to the building’s stables, as Broken and Mai were shown inside.

The innkeeper, Fetch, walked them through the entrance room, then up a set of wooden stairs. Once they reached the second floor, Mai began up the stairs to the third, but was called away by the innkeeper.

“Here, here, lady,” he said, pointing to a door. He opened it, and showed them in. “I hope one bed is fine?” he asked, as Mai looked around.

“Of course it is,” said Broken.

Fetch nodded. “When you are wanting for dinner, come downstairs,” he said. “Even in this newly troubled time, the Emerald Singer is always open to travelers.” He bowed out, accenting his hunch. Mai found the hunch in itself odd, as Fetch only looked middle-aged. But then the man shut the door behind him, and Mai turned to Broken.

“I am worried,” she said, “that this establishment does not know how to treat a princess.”

Broken nodded.

“First of all,” said Mai, “we did not get a room on the top floor. And beyond that…” She surveyed the room. “There are no drapes on the window, only one nightstand, a single chest, and a single bed.” She put added emphasis on the last word.

“You do have to remember why this inn was built,” said Broken, taking off his sword-belt, and carefully setting it down in a corner of the room.

“And why was that?” asked Mai.

“Because Gansu is a stop for travelers,” said Broken. “Simple, everyday travelers. And we do not have the coin for a place more elaborate.”

“But…” stuttered Mai. “You are my servant, because you said you would never break an oath. And as your charge, I demand you find a place more suitable!”

“Do you want us to attract even more attention?” asked Broken. “As your protector, I must keep you from doing things that will endanger your life. We stay here.”

And so they did. Mai was righteously furious throughout dinner, though she was pleased to note that she could eat, as she was served no meat. Commoners sat all around her, and while Broken was sitting right next to Mai, he could not protect her from their glances. She stared back at them, coldly.

When the meal was done, Mai and Broken went back up to their room. Mai immediately went back on the attack. “If you care so much about my safety,” she asked, “why did you let me be seen by those people? It is obvious they know who I am!”

“You kid yourself, Princess,” said Broken, quietly. He took out a small pocket mirror from a pouch, and handed it to her.

Mai took the mirror, and gazed into it. The face she saw was not hers. Her hair, once brown and wavy, was black from dirt, and tangled. More than that, her dress, once brilliantly blue, had faded, and her jewels were gone. Only her eyes, just as brown as they always had been, reminded Mai that the person she saw in the mirror really was her. “How…how can this be?” she asked. The mirror slipped from her hands, but Broken caught it before it hit the floor. “I am royal.”

“Did you really think nobles looked better than commoners because of their superior traits?” Broken asked.

“Of course,” Mai said, sitting on the bed as Broken stood over her.

“Then why do you look like a commoner now?” asked Broken.

Mai wanted to ask him how he could find the nerve to be so insulting, but she stayed quiet. I do look like a commoner. “It’s because I’m a bastard,” said Mai. “The immortals did not smile on my birth.”

“Then why, when I first met you, did you look like a proper princess?”

“I don’t know,” said Mai. “I’m no sage, to be asked such things. Find one, and ask him yourself.”

“So you feel there are some things that others are meant to know, but not you?” asked Broken.

“Of course,” said Mai, confused that Broken would be bringing up such a basic fact of life. There was an awkward silence.

“Take the bed,” said Broken. “I’ll sleep on the floor. You are still a princess to me.”

Mai did not argue. As Broken blew out the room’s lantern, plunging everything into darkness and starlight, she got under the covers.

The next morning, Mai woke up, feeling sticky and disgusting. To her surprise, Broken was already awake, and was standing by the open window, without moving, gazing down onto the early morning traffic of the street, below. Even though Mai was sure Broken knew she was awake, he did not turn around.

Broken’s hands were folded neatly behind his back, and he had drawn back his black hair into a lock. If he had taken his leather armor off to go to sleep, Mai did not know, for he was wearing it again. The armor looked almost pristine. It seemed to Mai that as time went by, as she became more and more unkempt, Broken’s appearance was less and less shabby. When Mai had first met him, she had mistaken Broken for a wild man. No one could mistake him for that now.

At last, Broken turned. His eyes, light brown, almost silver, were filled with confidence. “We are in Gansu because you knew of no safe refuge you could turn to, Princess,” said Broken. “And it is here that we must plan our next moves. Do you have any idea now, where safety might lie?”

Mai was about to say she had no idea yet again, when trumpets sounded. Broken returned to the window, and Mai came over to it as well. Down in the city square, below, people were pressing to the buildings, and more came out, gathering in crowds around the edges, leaving the middle a wide open space. Mai was wondering what the reason was, when horsemen began to gallop into the square.

Trumpeters among the horsemen’s number got off their horses, and continued to sound, and one of them seemed to be preparing to make a speech, even as more and more of the horsemen rode into the square. Mai estimated there were already perhaps a hundred of the horsemen visible, and more continued to pour in. They waved banners that appeared to be those of House Minsu.

“Let’s go outside,” said Broken. “I believe it will be important to hear what this is all about.”

Broken rushed into the hall and down the stairs, and Mai was right behind him, curious to find out what was going on. The halls, the staircase, and even the entrance chamber of the inn were all empty when the pair reached them; it seemed as if everyone else in the Emerald Singer had already gone outside.

In the open air, Broken didn’t bother to push through the crowd. He spotted a crate left discarded on the ground, and stood on it, raising his line of sight above the rest. Without the elevation, however, all Mai could see were banners of wolves on yellow fluttering above, the signs of the Minsu.

A great voice cleared its throat, though Mai could not see the speaker. “People of Gansu!” the voice thundered. “We who come here are soldiers of the Minsu!” There was little chatter, as all the people in the square knew as much, by now. “We come from the south to reestablish order,” said the speaker, “in the name of our late Emperor, may he rest forever, in heaven.” This statement brought up a roar from the crowd. It was not a roar of approval, but a roar of questions and comments to those around them.

“I know what you are thinking!” said the voice. “I know many of you wonder: How can the Minsu still support House Tachen, after all the signs? I will answer your questions! What happened to the late Emperor was a great tragedy, and I agree with you, it had broken the Tachens, and ended the Arathou Dynasty. But, after eleven hundred years of working properly, I do not think our system needs to be broken. The leader of House Minsu, the beloved Xanthis is Roseped, has been a great supporter of order his entire life. Lord Roseped brought those sworn to the Minsu ever closer to those sworn to the Tachen. He has brought our House, and yours, closer and closer together. Lord Roseped has been a willing vassal of our late Emperor. Now that the Emperor is dead, Lord Roseped does not want the Empire to slide into chaos. He has been anointed by the monks, and chosen by the High Council. Lord Roseped is now Emperor Ehajdon I, may his reign be eternal!”

A roar of support swept through the crowd, encouraged, Mai noted, by the shrub guards of Gansu, themselves. People shouted their enthusiasm for the soldiers of the reestablished Empire, and Mai almost joined them, before reminding herself that princesses did not cheer. Still, she was happy. She now knew the answer to Broken’s question. She now knew who she could trust.

Broken jumped down off the crate, and Mai was about to tell him the good news, but he shook his head. “Let’s walk,” he said.

Mai followed Broken’s lead, as he slowly walked out of the square. “Why are we leaving?” she asked. “The Minsu will keep me safe. They just said…”

“Their leader said a variety of things,” said Broken. “Not all of which were pleasant.”

“Such as?” asked Mai, as the walked past a gaggle of drunks. “The Minsu can get me away from these foul commoners, and back to the life I deserve!”

Broken looked at her pointedly.

“No, you’re not a foul commoner,” said Mai immediately. “I mean, you’re not exactly one of them.” She was glad when Broken moved past the topic.

“During the speech, the commander of the Minsu troops said that the Arathou Dynasty was dead,” said Broken. “That does not bode well for you.”

“What are you talking about?” said Mai. “The Arathou Dynasty is dead. My father had no siblings, nor did his father, and I, a bastard daughter, could hardly be considered a possible Empress!”

“So think you,” said Broken.

Mai flashed back to Varsis, and what he had said, about why he had to kill her, but she quickly put those thoughts away. If Broken learned about what Varsis had said, his argument would redouble. And Varsis was different, Mai told herself. The Makini had always been at odds with the Tachens, even though Varsis, one of theirs, had been supreme commander of the armies. The Minsu had a bond with House Tachen that stretched back hundreds of years.

“The Minsu are noble,” said Mai. “Once they learn that I will support Emperor Ehajdon, they will sustain me.”

Finally, they exited the square. The streets around were crowded with onlookers, as well as Minsu horsemen and foot soldiers, but not quite as much as the square.

“In any case,” said Broken, “you cannot simply go up to the Minsu leader here and explain who you are; it is very unlikely he will believe you. Remember what you look like.”

Mai’s cheeks stung with humiliation. “He’ll just think me a lying commoner,” she said.

“So now, you can understand why this is nothing more than a plot twist, and potentially dangerous at that.” Broken stopped, and looked at her. “Do you?”

“Yes,” said Mai.

An old man with a cane slowly walked up to them. “Have you seen Ormin, good sirs?” he asked. His eyes were almost white, and he looked blind. Indeed, he stared off into the distance, and not at either Broken, or Mai’s face. “Ormin’s a sage,” said the blind man. His face slowly turned to look in a more appropriate direction.

“No, old one,” said Mai politely, as she had been taught that the venerable were due great respect. “Are you lost? Do you need help going somewhere?”

“I’m not blind!” snapped the man, irritably. He blinked his eyes, and suddenly, they were black and intense. He suddenly even looked a little younger, though not by much.

“I’m sorry,” said Mai.

“You should be, girl,” said the old man. He straightened his gray robe importantly. He turned to Broken, and for a moment, it seemed as if his eyes widened in shock. “And who might you be?”

“Broken,” said Broken, inclining his head.

“That’s an interesting name to go by,” said the old man, in such a way that it seemed he knew Broken. “My name is Moonsinger Fen,” he said, thus making it clear Mai’s thought was false. “Call me Fen, though. This old man has few enough friends. You can come back to my home,” he said. “We can have much to talk about.”

Even though it would be somewhat rude, Mai assumed that Broken would decline the invitation. Instead, Broken said, “Of course, honorable Fen.”

“Then come along.” Fen turned, and started slowly walking along the cobbled streets. Despite his advanced age, he barely hunched, though he walked with a limp.

Broken and Mai followed, Mai bewildered. “Why would you waste our time like this?” Mai whispered. “I don’t think he’s completely sane.”

“This is but another twist of life,” Broken responded.

Without turning around, Fen said, “He’s quite right, you know, girl. I don’t like you very much.”