There was nothing overtly different about the wide streets of Maerin that day, except for the addition of a mild chill that took the place of the summer’s omnipresent heat. The pale sun shone weakly from behind grey clouds that threatened rain but as Galier wound his way through the maze of streets, it felt to him like the most pleasant of spring days. He did not mind the chill at all.

Galier had no destination in mind though he did not mean to stray too far, he did not want to neglect his duties for long no matter how tiresome they had become. But it was easy to lose track of time as he retread familiar routes through the upper city. He passed old haunts and hideaways that he had nearly forgotten. It was only a matter of months since he had frequented places like the Serpent’s Call, but it felt like much longer. More than once he found himself at the steps to an inn or tavern, bathed in the warm light and welcoming sounds of laughter and music that drifted out into the street from inside. Each time he paused and turned to peer within, remembering times when he would have wanted nothing more than to join them in drink and merrimaking. But the inns that he passed, the Serpent’s Call included, did not tug him inside like they once might have. The light and laughter did not cut the cold in the streets and so when he inevitably turned to meander further down the avenue, the pain he felt was not so sharp as he thought it might be. It was a wound healed over with time that he was picking at now. He might not have been a changed man, or different in the slightest, but his priorities were elsewhere now. He had his own inn and a house to look after. He had surpassed such places, as strange as it was to think. He might not have looked it, standing out in the cold with only a simple shirt and trousers, no jewelry, no ornamented coat, not even a brush of makeup to hide his pale skin but it was true. He doubted if he would even be allowed in, looking as he did, or if anyone he knew would be even present to vouch for him.

Turning away from the last tavern he passed, Galier caught sight of the painted wooden sign, creaking with the wind. It depicted a woman waving with one hand and holding a large mug in the other. With the gentle rocking, it almost seemed that she waved to him as he walked away. He chuckled to himself as he continued on down the street.

Maerin changed slowly around him as he continued his walk outward. The hard district lines drawn on maps were hard to find in reality. Slowly, block by block, the few well dressed pedestrians gave way to larger groups of men and women of middling means who were in turn replaced by smaller crowds of people dressed in simple clothes who scurried down the sides of the streets quickly to be out of the cold. The Buildings changed too, though not so drastically. Nearly every one was constructed of the same drab stone, only broken by narrow doors and windows shuttered against the wind. It was fashionable to leave the facade of a building bare, ostentatious displays of wealth were reserved for the interior. An opened door in the central district would often reveal ornate carving and even gilt on the other side. Here, nearer to the shore, Galier doubted if it would be so grand, but even still, the tradition held.

The streets themselves were much the same as well. Paved with ancient ballast stones brought over from the empire’s homeland by merchants looking for wealth and nobles looking for land. Once their ships were filled, they left the stones behind. So the stories went anyway. There had to be too many stones though, Galier thought. Or else many more ships must have made the trip across the Phoenaxian sea in those days. He could not imagine a fleet large enough to carry so many stones.

His cobble-paved path presently led him to a junction that he knew well. He faced a wall where an avenue crossed the one he walked in. One side would take him towards the harbor, a road he had walked many times. The other he was not so sure of. It too led towards the sea but farther to the south along the coast. An area of the city that held little interest for Galier usually. All the best inns and taverns were behind him or else near the harbor and any noble holding worth visiting he had passed long since. Few people he knew paid any mind to the southern district of Maerin. There was little of interest, or so he had heard. After a moment of thought, he chose the left one. He knew the rest of the city too well, that was what he was trying to avoid.

It was a road like any other that he took, cobble-paved and slightly damp from proximity to the sea. The people were much the same as those in the harbor district as well, well worn and plainly dressed, still they seemed just as content as anyone else Galier had seen in the city that day. He passed buildings that looked like small copies of those deeper into the city, the same stone and the same blocky design. Even though he had never been there before, it was similar enough that it did not feel as if he had stepped out of the part of the city that he knew.

The broad avenues of the central district were winnowed down to narrow imitations of themselves, but slowly, as if they were trying to keep from being noticed. Galier was hardly aware until he realized to his surprise that the road in which he stood could hardly fit a single cart or wagon, much less multiple abreast like the main streets he was used to. Here it did not seem to matter. He had not seen a single handcart even for a while. Often no more than two people walked abreast here, they did not seem to even notice the tight quarters.

Galier had begun to think about turning around to find his way back when he came across a small square hidden behind a sharp turn in the street. It surprised him as he turned the corner to see the narrow road suddenly spring open into a plaza where people bustled around a few stalls and the storefronts that ringed it. Here there were many more people than before, though it was still not crowded. The people here were more vibrant, they wore clothes with a little more color, though none wore silk or any other fine cloth. There was a din of chatter over the square but unlike what little he heard in the streets, here it was cheerful and full of laughter. The stores that he could see were selling food, clothing, and all other manner of goods. He even caught sight of what looked to be a bundle of spears propped against a stall, but too many people blocked his sight for him to be sure.

The largest group of people in the square however, were not crowded by any stall or storefront at all. They stood near the center where an overturned wooden crate sat. Atop it stood a woman who spoke to the crowd and it was she that drew Galier’s eye. Immediately he stopped even midpace, entering the square. At that moment he wished that he had turned to leave before. The woman on top of that crate sent needles of ice down his spine at just a glance.

She did not look particularly noteworthy, a well built woman whose broad shoulders and muscled arms showed that she was no stranger to hard work, like much of her audience. But that was not what transfixed Galier. It was the thin band of diaphanous red cloth that was tied around her eyes, so transparent that Galier could almost see through. It reminded him of another woman stood atop another crate on a night that he would just as soon forget.

But this was not the Lady of Stars, it could not be. Her dark brown hair was worn in a long braid that rested on one shoulder and her simple linen dress was no finer than the clothes of those gathered around her. It looked nothing like the finery that Galier had seen down on the wharf that night.

His breath began to return to him, slowly. The longer he watched, the more obvious the differences became. This woman was considerably shorter for one, and what was more, he recognized her, though not well. A pariah of sorts from noble circles since denouncing any claims to rank, Stellaphrena was the target of ridicule amongst many, though always in whispers they were sure would not be overheard. A philosopher did not belong in high society, she made certain of that, but still, everyone knew her name and her face. What he had taken for a simple strip of cloth before, he now recognized for what it was. Stellaphrena had traveled the empire and beyond before her exit from the courts and the pride of her journey was that simple piece of cloth. She called it a veil though it did not really deserve the name and she had worn it as a prize even before her descent. She had earned it across the sea as the apprentice to a Saphiian seer, a woman who claimed to be able to see the future, among other impossibilities.

With his realization of who it was that he saw, Galier was less reluctant to enter the square, but only marginally. He did not worry about being seen with her, there was no one there of import to see, but he knew she did not think well of nobles, and even in his simpler clothes, he would not blend in well with the crowd. But his curiosity got the better of him. Even though he steeled himself to be ridiculed, he wanted badly to know what it was that she said. Partly from sheer curiosity, it had been a long time since he had seen her and had heard tell of her subversive lessons, and partially out of simple spite. He would not let a simple rabble-rouser scare him off. Besides, it had to be something interesting to draw so many watchers.

And so he took a place at the back of her crowd, behind two men dressed in light linens who were just short enough to not obstruct his view. She did not appear to notice him, though he knew she could see quite well through that veil of hers. She continued on with whatever it was that she was saying and did not seem to pause for a single moment. In fact, she began to speak with more and more fervor and passion, building to a crescendo that could be heard across the square.

“...that has failed us so woefully. But is it not our duty then, to restore it to what it once was, what it could still be? It is the duty of the citizen, no matter how lowly, to fulfill the potential of the city, to ensure its smooth operation beyond her short life. We ought not be content with a flawed reflection, not when we know that there is a better way. The form reflected in this broken mirror is as attainable now as it ever was.”

Then she stopped and took a deep breath. Her cheeks were flushed with the same passion from her speech and the crowd murmured its assent. There was no applause, no cheers, but it was evident that the people agreed, and Galier was not surprised that they did. He may have missed what preceded her dramatic finish, but he could guess and based on her reputation, he did not think he would have any trouble deducing. The minutiae of her points may have changed, but she had always railed against the Monarch and against the noble houses. She was hiding it behind a facade of improvement now, but it was the same substance, Galier had no doubt. Still even the small snatch he had heard was captivating. She was clearly a skilled orator no matter her beliefs.

The crowd dispersed quickly after Stellaphrena concluded her speech and clambered down off of her podium. She took a seat on the cobbles in front of it as they left and waited without a word until the majority of her audience was gone. Only a few people remained, a pair of young women who stood hesitantly a few paces away and an old man whose leathery face was more gnarled than the staff he leaned on, who was stroking a wispy beard under a brow furrowed in thought. Galier nearly left himself and had turned to go when his curiosity got the better of him. Rebelling against a familiar system from within was one thing, a thing that Galier himself had some familiarity with, but preaching about it to commoners with no connection to power at all was something entirely different. Did she mean to incite a rebellion? Her speech did not seem to advocate for that. What then was her motive? Perhaps she just meant to earn enough coin from her audience to afford a meal, but he did not remember seeing a single one leave a coin.

Galier turned on his heel again, back to face Stellaphrena and her crate, and composed himself. Those remaining did not notice that he had just turned a complete circle but he felt foolish anyway. It was a good thing the two women who had stayed now blocked Stellaphrena from view. The three of them were holding a quiet conversation now, loud enough that Galier could hear but not distinguish words over the everpresent din of voices in the square. Now that the speech was over, many of those who had been watching had moved on to peruse the stalls and shops around the square, leaving the center mostly clear. Galier felt eyes on him and an itch on his neck that said there were more than a few.

The only other person remaining nearby was the old man who still looked deep in thought. He had not moved an inch. On approach, Galier saw that he was perhaps not so old as he had previously thought. His sparse hair and beard were grey and his face was heavily lined but even though he leaned on a twisted branch for balance, his eyes were clear and held a youthful excitement that Galier had not expected to see. This man was dressed similarly to all the others in the square. A light linen shirt over darker, loose trousers, and sturdy boots not so different from those Galier wore.

Ignoring the stares that he still felt on his back, Galier deliberately stepped towards the old man, remaining a respectful pace away to his side.

“A good speech.” Galier said simply after a moment of silence, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

The old man gave a start and looked up at Galier with those watery but clear eyes. “What? Oh, yes. Of course. It always is…” His voice was strangely that of a younger man too, none of the tremors that Galier had expected and even stranger, he spoke with the accent of an aristocrat, if slightly slurred.

“Do you come here often then?” Galier asked politely. He did not want to pry, or rather did not want to be obvious about it.

“Here? No no.” The man replied with a soft chuckle. He then paused and peered up at Galier intently, narrowing those strange eyes and adding yet another layer of wrinkles to his sun-dark face. “It's never the same place, no no, always changes.” He nodded to himself deeply and turned to look back towards the crate where Stellaphrena was still hidden away behind the two other women. All he could see were their backs.

The old man did not try to strike up conversation after that and he left too soon after. Galier waited, alone. For a time he just stood there in the middle of the square, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with anyone around the edges. He could still feel eyes on him. It made him wish to be smaller, less noticeable. The simple shirt and trousers that he wore were beginning to feel like a signal fire, drawing attention that he did not want. Still he waited at a polite distance from Stellaphrena and the two others. He did not mean to give her any more ammunition against the courts by behaving boorishly.

Eventually he decided that he would have to change something. The women’s conversation showed no signs of abating and his feet itched to move. He was fed up with waiting, clearly those women had a lot to say and no end was in sight. There was no sense in standing alone in the square any longer.

He turned to leave with a sigh and a slow step. His curiosity was no less, only it had been overpowered by the feeling of being unwanted in that square. The people did not look hostile to him, but neither did they appear welcoming. He understood, to some degree. It was often the same near the harbor. He had spent a goodly amount of time ingratiating himself to the locals when he had first bought the warehouse that became the Captain’s Cat.

He was nearly to the mouth of the street he had come down before and feeling slightly relieved in truth, when he heard a voice call out behind him. “Leaving so soon my lord?” It said, mockingly. He looked over his shoulder to see Stellaphrena and the two other women standing and facing him. Stellaphrena wore a smug smile under that crimson veil of hers and stood proudly despite her lowly attire.

Galier stiffened at the barb, but he had an image to maintain. He would certainly not be the one to justify whatever it was she said about Maerin’s nobility. So he plastered a pleasant smile over his face and walked back once again to the center of the square. He did his best to appear casual and relaxed but now the people watching from the crowd were not even trying to avoid notice. More people than before, along with the two women who had been speaking with Stellaphrena had their eyes trained on him. He felt like a cat in a strange alley, hair standing on end.

“I didn’t want to intrude, figured I’d come back some other time.” He said, careful to avoid sounding too formal. The common folk did not usually like it if they thought he was lording his breeding over them. With the amount of eyes on him, it felt like the sensible thing to do.

It seemed that was the right thing to do too, upon hearing him speak, an expression of mild surprise passed over Stellaphrena’s face. Then she beckoned him over and when she spoke, the mocking tone was gone, to Galier’s surprise.

“My apologies,” She said graciously and seemed genuine. “It isn’t every day that the seat of a noble house comes down here.” He was shocked at first that she knew of his new station, but by now the greater part of Maerin probably knew. Still it was odd that she should recognize him. Her courtly exile had begun before Galier even thought of taking up residence in Maerin.

“I’m not surprised,” Galier responded as he approached the group of three women. He was feeling much more at ease now even though many people were still watching from the crowd. “I cannot say I’ve been this far south of the Monarch’s square before.” He managed an apologetic grin and hoped that nobody present would take offence. Luckily they took it in stride.

“Few of your station ever do, but we won’t hold that against you.” Stellaphrena smiled as he came to a stop just a few paces away. Up close she was much taller than he had expected, perhaps only a few inches shorter than he, and the heels of his boots gave him the advantage. That was not the only surprise either. Her face bore more than its fair share of fine wrinkles although she could not have been more than a decade his senior, in her mid thirties at the most. But those wrinkles, as well as some minor weathering that Galier associated with dock workers and others who he saw at the harbor, suited her just fine. She was surprisingly beautiful despite them, or perhaps because of. It was strange, certainly not the cohesive look that nobility strove for.

Her companions looked a little more similar to what Galier was familiar with, though only just a little. They had to be around his own age, somewhere in their early twenties, and they wore marginally finer dresses than the one Stellaphrena wore. Both were of the old blood with black hair and tan features, although clearly not from important houses judging by their dress. Their faces were smooth and touched slightly with makeup, but where Stellaphrena was smiling openly, those two looked at him with poorly hidden suspicion, one considerably more than the other. He could not really blame them, it was their conversation he was interrupting and he was a stranger in that part of the city.

“My name is Stellaphrena, although I assume you already know of me. I hear my name comes up often among your people.” She laughed a soft laugh, appearing to be genuinely amused that she was an interesting topic of conversation. “This is Tyche,” She motioned to the woman on her right, the one with more suspicion in her eyes. She was considerably shorter, with black hair held back in a braid. She nodded to Galier as she was introduced. “And this is Anastasi.” The woman to Stellaphrena’s left nodded as well. She wore her hair in a similar but slightly more intricate braid to Tyche and her rosy cheeks had clearly seen more makeup as well. Her judging eyes began to soften quickly upon seeing Stellaphrena’s ease and she even flashed him a friendly smile.

“Call me Ana,” She said in a surprisingly refined accent. That voice could have fit in at any Maerin court, even if her dress could not.

Galier offered a polite nod to both women in return before introducing himself. “My name is Galier.” He said simply. Best to avoid houses and titles, it would only complicate things. “It is good to meet you all.”

“He is the seat of house Derran here.” Stellaphrena said to her companions when they did not recognize the name. “A northern house of some import.” She smiled a knowing smile at him that made him feel a little uncomfortable. “I once knew his father.” He did not know whether she was referring to Martim or to his actual father, but either way that look said that she knew much more than she said.

Both of the other women nodded in understanding and Tyche gave him a second look over with that judgemental eye as if the new information would change how he looked, but he did not let it bother him. Now was the chance to scratch that itch of curiosity and he did not want to let it get away behind pleasantries.

“I only caught the tail end of your speech, but I must say that I was intrigued.” Galier said, hoping none of the three would take offence at his abrupt conversational pivot.

“I’m glad to hear it, although I’m afraid I do not have the time to begin it again. Perhaps you will come to my lecture tomorrow, down by the shore.”

Galier agreed and made sure to memorise the directions she gave him well. Then they made their goodbyes, as polite as before and Galier turned for one last time to walk back towards Derran manor. The sun, still hidden behind clouds, had begun to set and it would be near dark before he made it back, but he did not care. His night would be full of letters to read and respond to but right now his mind was full of different questions and the confusing urge that he felt to return to hear Stellaphrena speak again.