Both knights snap their heads at 11, like two puppets on strings. “What?” they say in unison.

“What?” 11 says as well, but to the captain in front of her.

Captain Stelias leans closer. “Princess Hastarine? What are you doing here?”

11 opens her mouth, then closes it again. Her mind is swimming, and a jumble of numbers and directives fly across her vision, making it hard to see anything.

Abnormality in B.Blockers successfully repaired.

B.Blockers fully re-integrated.

All systems returning to normal...

I am in dire need of a cup of coffee, 11 thinks, and chases that line of thought for a bit, because it is easier than trying to make sense of this situation.

Cappuccino? Or maybe a Flat white?

She is keenly aware that the captain is waiting for an answer, but does not trust herself to speak right now, lest the river-girl speaks again. So, for a long minute, she just stands there, letting the captain study her, with two very confused knights watching from the side.

Do I want the foamy top, or is this a milk-only kind of day?

“Princess?”

“Um. Yes?” 11 says in the smallest voice, unable to meet the captain’s stare, even as her own vision clears. She counts the rows of small steel plates running down the Captain Stelias's leather corset, pretending to be interested in them.

9…33…60…

They gleam in the bright sunlight, switching between red and white with the captain’s movements, like the shifting scales of a dragon. A silver sword hangs in a beautifully decorated scabbard at her waist, the hilt of which is bound in simple leather, like the ones on 11's mage-blades.

Then, the captain tenses, a wave of power rippling through her lean body. And before anyone can react, she lunges, sword drawn and aimed at 11.

But to 11, the captain may as well be in slow motion. In less than a second, she has already finished feeling surprised, and knows exactly where the sword is moving to. With the slightest adjustment to her head, 11 lets the blade graze past her ear, tossing up her hair in a gust of hot wind.

Target Identified.

Species: Human.

Age: 21.

Damage Output Level: 30.

Danger to humanity?: No.

Potential of hostility: 20%

They stand in impasse, two fighters testing each other’s resolve. 11 feels heat permeating from the steel hovering against her temple, but she does not move away. Her hand goes to her own blade; moving casually, boldly. She cannot hurt this woman, sure, but the captain doesn’t know this.

Captain Stelias’s eyes trace the movement, gleaming like steel needles as they register the challenge. One corner of her lips quirk up, and she relaxes. “Apologies, my lady,” she says, standing back and sheathing her sword, “but I had to make sure.” She smiles, though it does not reach her eyes. Then, surprising everyone, she drops to one knee, a white-gloved hand placed over her heart. “Captain Cathra Stelias, of the South Gate of Kesrock.”

11's mouth falls open. A glance at the other two knights reveals equal looks of slack-jawed disbelief.

The captain stands. “You may not remember me, Princess,” she says to 11, “but I served as one of the King’s Royal Swordsmen seven years ago, when I was thirteen years of age.”

11 does not know how to respond to what she is hearing, so she just nods, hoping the captain might reveal more.

“I saw you once, standing next to the Queen during one of her sermons.”

“That’s… nice,” says 11.

"You haven't changed at all."

"Neither... have you?"

“Cath- I mean Captain Stelias,” the knight in full armor, the one who was on the horse with the captain, leans in to whisper to her, “Is this an all-day kind of problem? Do you want me to get someone else? You shouldn’t make the Lord Commander wait too long.” Even above the noise, 11 can still hear him very clearly, though she does not want to. In fact, everything is too loud, and 11 is beginning to feel like coming to this city is a bad idea.

“You may return to your station, Kyros.” Captain Stelias dismisses the concerned knight with a wave. “I have the situation under control. Take the horse, too.”

11’s ears perk up at that name. Kyros… She looks hard at the young knight, her own discomfort forgotten, and tries to get a glimpse of his eyes from behind his full helm.

They are green, like Allastair’s.

11 stifles a gasp. Allastair! He mentioned he had a younger brother! She has to bite on her lip and clutch the fabric of her cloak, to stop herself from jumping up and yanking the knight’s helm off.

“But, Captain,” Kyros says, alternating between looking at his captain, and 11.

“Go,” says Captain Stelias, her voice leaving no room for compromises. “Now.”

It looks like Kyros is going to question his captain’s order, but at the last minute he seems to change his mind. He salutes with a hand to his chest and says, “Yes, captain,” and his eyes linger on 11 for a beat longer, before he takes the horse's reins and leads it away.

Captain Stelias turns to the remaining knight, who has been standing dumbfounded next to her all this time. “Explain yourself, Sir Jernal.”

“Ah, ah… ah,” Sir Jernal stammers, so confused 11 starts to feet empathetic for him. “Captain Stelias,” he manages finally, and points to 11 with the butt of his spear. “I found this beast-folk out here by our gate, looking suspicious. She’s heavily armed, without any sort of travel permit, or any adventurer li…cen…” the rest of his sentence dies in his throat as Captain Stelias’s glare grows sharper, and chillier, with each word.

“Have your eyes rolled back into your head from old age?” the captain demands, disgusted. “Do you not recognize who this is?”

The knight grips his weapon tighter. “I…”

“Did he do anything invasive to you, Princess?” Captain Stelias asks 11. “Name his punishment, and it shall be done.”

“Wait, this is insanity!” Sir Jernal exclaims before 11 can give an answer. “I was just performing my duties as a knight! She admitted to me that she was from Jinyu, Captain! And to having wings!” He sticks a condemning finger at 11. “She’s beast-folk!” he declares, “for sure-”

The crunch of steel rings out like a gunshot, turning everyone’s heads. 11 staggers back in shock as the man doubles over, clutching his stomach.

“Beast-folk?” Captain Stelias echoes, dusting off her white-gloved knuckles, now stained with a yellow sheen from the oil of Sir Jernal’s armor. “The Princess is humouring you, do you not see? And besides, the correct term you are looking for is yaojin, Sir Knight. We don’t have to like our neighbours, but we must at least not provoke them.”

The silence draws out. Sir Jernal has his forehead pressed to the ground, darkening the stone under his face with the bile that has been punched out of him.

Captain Stelias clears her throat, turns to 11. “Anyway. I hope you can forgive Sir Jernal’s crazed accusations, Princess Hastarine, for he does not have the sense of humour you do, and I fear he may have taken everything you said literally.” Her hand goes again to her sword. “If he has said or done anything to offend, you only need to name it, and I shall cut it off for you.”

11 can only guess at why this captain is so confidently mistaking her for some princess she’s never heard of, but she does not have the mental energy to dwell on it. She’s getting anxious to get into the city as quickly as possible, and if it means playing into the misunderstanding, then so be it. She thinks about the best way to brush this captain and her knights away without alerting any more people or hurting anyone, and decides to go down the aloof, but forgiving path.

“He does not need to be punished for such a little thing,” she tells the captain, trying her best to imitate a regal person. “I shall let my, uh, father know of his misdeeds, but I need to be on my way, captain, now, if you’ll excuse me.”

The captain stands aside, the scales on her armor changing from a deep red into a lighter orange. “As you wish, Princess,” she says, “I will have this fool sent to the Battlefront tomorrow, where he will await his due punishment.”

“NO!” Sir Jernal screams, lurching from the ground to stand in 11’s way. “You cannot do this!” He takes an unsteady step forwards, positioning his polearm at 11 like he’s going to run her through. “We’re being lied to, Captain! You cannot listen to this creature!”

“Stand down, knight!” Captain Stelias slams a palm against the man’s chest, holding him back with just one hand. “Know your place!”

“I do know!” Sir Jernal roars. “I am a knight, and it is my sworn duty to protect the city! It is you who does not know, Cathra! You’re being blinded by an illusion and your own selfish ambitions!”

The man’s frenzied desperation turns a few heads, and all around them, people pause to look, but no one dares stop to watch.

“Look at her, Cathra!” Sir Jernal is still shouting, his voice straining. “Look at what she’s wearing! Why would the Princess be dressed in adventuring clothing, and be here without any guards? Think about it!”

But the captain is not listening. She shoves Sir Jernal back while hissing, “You buffoon! Do you only recognize the Princess by her robes? She can show up here in beggar’s rags and you will not stop her from where she wishes to go!”

Sir Jernal stumbles a few steps before catching his balance. And when he does, he charges, brandishing his spear in a wail of rage. “I’ll rip that disguise off your face, beast! I’ll purify this bridge with my own hands!”

11 goes for her mage-blade, ready to hack the polearm to pieces. But Captain Stelias gets there first.

A trail of blazing silver, a flash of fire, and Sir Jernal is on the ground, howling guttural, animal sounds. The stone around him is speckled with blood and tiny bright stars which, when 11 looks, are dying embers.

Something clatters against 11’s boots. She looks down to see Sir Jernal’s hand, severed from the forearm, still clutching onto his polearm.

“Oh, my god,” she gasps, glancing between the dismembered hand and the man before her, unable to connect the two, even though she has done something very similar herself in the not-so distant past. She turns on the captain, who is standing to the side, wiping her sword clean. “You didn’t have to do that!”

Captain Stelias sheathes her sword, and looks at 11 with genuine concern, and a bit of confusion. “I am deeply sorry for what you have experienced today, Princess,” she says. “I shall have this man hanged for his crimes.”

“What are you talking about?” 11 falls to her knees next the wounded man. “Let me see,” she says, pulling at him. She almost wishes she hadn’t. Sir Jernal’s face is deathly pale, his eyes rolled back and his mouth hanging open in shock. He is clutching what’s left of his arm against his chest; a stump ending in flat, singed flesh.

A sourness claws around 11’s core like poisonous vines, and she feels like she might vomit, if only she can. She wants to hit herself, for not stepping in sooner. “Help him!” she commands the captain, who is still just standing there, watching her. "Help him, now!"

Captain Stelias frowns, clearly troubled by 11’s behaviour than anything else, but she signals to the knights at the gate all the same. “If you wish it, Princess,” she says. “We will bring him to a healer to properly mend his wounds, though I assure you, I made sure he will not die from it.” She pauses, as if contemplating her next words carefully. “I'm sure Sir Jernal has caused you great inconvenience and discomfort, Princess,” she says, looking down at 11’s legs, then her feet, anywhere but her face. “But, if I may be so bold as ask of you, please, let your wrath fall on the Blood Devils, and not on Kesrock. I promise you, this old knight will be stripped off his rank and publicly punished for his wrongdoings, so that it will never happen again.”

She’s afraid of me. More than anyone here. The realisation hits 11 hard, and she almost lets it get to her. “That won’t be necessary,” she says quickly. “There’s no need to do all that. He’s been through enough already.”

“As my princess commands,” Captain Stelias says, bowing. “We’ll have him work the stables. He can keep being a knight, of horses and pigs.”

11 shakes her head. “No, that’s no good either.” If the captain is so adamant about treating 11 as a person of high status, and one to be feared nonetheless, she might as well use that for some good. “Can’t you just give him a desk job, or something?”

The three knights from the gate have arrived, including Kyros, with the same horse. Captain Stelias issues a few curt orders to them, and together they carry the unconscious Sir Jernal away, fastening him on top the animal.

When they are gone, the captain turns back to 11, reluctance in her grey eyes.

“Is… that what my princess wishes? To spare this man who not only claimed you to be a yaojin, but took up arms against you? And not only that, you also wish to give him work?”

”Y-yes.” 11 takes a deep breath to calm herself, praying that the voice inside her does not interfere again. “That is what my- your princess wishes. Now see to it that it is done, Captain.”

Captain Stelias stares at 11 for a beat, and 11 is suddenly struck with the fear that maybe her luck has run out, and the charade is up. But the woman says simply, “As you wish, my Princess,” and salutes her.

11 gives a stiff nod. "Very good. Now, if you'll excuse me." She steps around the captain, and marches briskly down the rest of the bridge, passing by the other armored knights carrying Sir Jernal without looking at any of them.

It is only after she has passed through the stone archways, and steps into the sprawling, noisy city of Kesrock, that 11 finally lets out the breath she has been holding in all this time. The terrible events on the bridge are left far behind her, yet their repercussions still echo within her like waves, and it is only when 11 is certain she has lost herself in the crowds, that she dares to look back.