Butterflies seemed to twirl within Lyse. He knew what it was coming from, but that did not comfort him. The euphoric feeling of discovery that he had visiting Torlak, or even visiting Pumavut in Koraki, vanished as soon as he stepped foot on the shaky wooden docks of the capital city of Hath. It didn't come from the people. Sure, everyone he saw looked a little rough. Everyone walked with hastened steps as if afraid of attracting attention. Everyone's down casted eyes made Lyse feel as though being watched in some awkward way. But he didn't sense any malice, and no one took notice of the four as they traversed the market area. The only people that seemed approachable were the merchants themselves, waving over to any passerby with practiced half-smiles and approachable appearances.

It didn't come from the buildings themselves. For the most part, the streets and accompaniments all looked rather splendid. Each building had a cluttered yet decorative look to them, adorned with all manner of detail that seemed excessive; even balcony windows would sometimes be adorned with iron embellishment that served no apparent function. He guessed at first that it was the atmosphere here, the way this place felt like any others. Unlike when he had traveled to Torlak, this place seemed uncomfortably disconnected from nature. The empire was meant to be a place where humans and nature have a bond. Much of the land was still untamed, and men respected nature as one would a mother. All material you could gain from the earth and its riches are to be respected. And the role of a Farmer was to be treated with respect, enough so that other men in the village looked to his father with a hint of reverence for how well his crops grew. In Hath, however, that connection wasn't explicitly shown. It took him a good ten minutes of searching before finding the first tree in a nice little park surrounded by statues of what appeared to be kings, queens, explorers, and mythically shrewd merchants. None of the others seemed particularly bothered. But then, he realized that this too was not the reason for his unease.

He concludes that this unease is the familiarity this place tried to force upon him. His mother had explained before that any memory he may have had as a child here was wiped and replaced with those from BrokenArrow. This went back till he was at least 5 years old, which meant that he would still have something to go off today if he still remembered. But, because he had no recollection, nothing but a gap in his mind, it felt as if something was being forced on him, something that should be there but isn't.

"You look like you about to roll over, Lyse," Edlund smiled at first but then noticed Lyse's grave expression. "What's wrong? Got memories of this place yet?"

"No," Lyse told him. "My mind tried to remind itself but cannot seem to grasp it. Come on, we're nearly approaching the road."

"There's no way you can remember all that just by seeing that once," Gray said.

"The man can make plants sprout just by thinking about it. Are you really surprised of anything at this point, Gray?" Elena asked him.

"That's an overstatement," Lyse consoled. "I'm not nearly as well-practiced as my mother. Besides, I didn't memorize the thing; I just . . . tried to get the best route as possible."

"The point still stands," she said. "Besides, memorizing a map isn't that hard if you practice, Gray."

"Lots of practice, I can assure you that," Edlund said. "Our mother would break our fingers if we failed on some literacy test, so we studied our arse off until we could remember. However, I think what Lyse can do is something you have to be born with."

"Right here," Lyse instructed them and pointed towards the road that splintered off the main road. It wasn't empty, but the traffic was lighter, and it was a bit too narrow for large carriages to come past. "Anyway, what was that about being born with something?"

Edlund snorted. "Anyway, sir map reader, how long till we make it to that fortress thing?"

"Before sundown, hopefully," Lyse said. "If I could take that map, I could. But Moxie doesn't want to hand over her only map of the city. said it's hard to find a good cartographer these days. We may need to ask for faster directions."

"Are you sure you want to ask these people," Gray looked around? "These people look half dead shambling about. And the air here is quite poor must I add, they must be airsick or something?"

"It won't hurt to try," Lyse moved aside as a bunch of children came running by. They were beginning to enter the housing section of the city now. This place had the least amount of vegetation like any other sector so far. The houses seemed to cramp together and squeezed upwards. The second floor on most buildings was more significant than the first, letting them hang over some of the streets and providing ample shades for men in dusty trousers to sit while the workday ended itself. The rosy colors of the setting sun spilled through cracks in the clustered roofing. Rows of fabrics hung out to dry all scattered this light in an interesting fashion that Caught Lyse's eyes for a moment. This place seemed familiar, seemed too familiar. His mother did tell him that he did live his earliest time here. But he wonders what he would be like if they did indeed start in Tiras, was raised in court life. He smiled at the thought. He wishes he could spend a little more time here, absorb the atmosphere of this strange yet familiar world. But for now, he has other plans.

(X)

"He's here already then?"

Lizbeth sat up from her working desk. The attendant who spoke this nearly leaped out their skin when she said this, setting the letter, then they held onto her desk before taking a few steps back. Lizbeth ignored his anxious behavior; it had become natural of the people of this nation to be especially cautious around their monarch. It had been far worst over a decade ago when she took rule. People were so afraid of her and what she might do they often rather say nothing at all than advice to tell her news that could be unpleasant. It was like trying to have a conversation with an unsettled cow of all things. She wishes she had her sister's easy-going nature, but it just didn't pan out that way. She couldn't help but feel content with the nobility of this kingdom. This kingdom they played with one another, only aided by the tyrannical nature of her cousin, has caused such suffering among the people it seemed that the citizens were always on the edge of revolt. Even after so much time admonishing, sometimes banishing these people from their places, the progress was just too slow. They still tried to plot behind her back, figure out a way to remove her, or deceive her into being unfavorable to the regular working men and women who saw her as their savior. It's just another tyrant. This messenger was new, so it was hard for her to tell.

"Don't back away from me, idiot, just hand me that letter," she told him, holding out her hand to him. He nodded and bowed, paled faced when handing the item to her. She opened it, recognizing the handwriting as that of James Colton and his official wax stamp. She narrowed her eyes as she comprehended its message, a necessary acceptance letter for any ambassador. This Colt Mire is undoubtedly her nephew. He had come a bit quicker than she anticipated. It had only been a week since James had called upon them for their meeting. She thought she had a little more time. She sighed, setting the paper down and sliding it to the side with other documents.

"I see," she said sharply. She turned back to the messenger. "Tell them to wait for my arrival in the throne room; we shall have our discussion there. I wish not to be accompanied by guards except for my guard. Go now."

He bowed twice more before turning on his heels and nearly stumbling out of the room. She guesses she deserves the reputation she had garnered. Despite bringing the tyrannical ruler down, freeing many people, she was an abrasive person by nature and didn't shy away from using more aggressive means to get what she wants. What else is the monarch supposed to do, though? She can't trust her lawmakers or even some of her law enforcers to do what needs to be done unless there was a boot to their neck. Softness would get her nowhere, she thought. And she wasn't going to start now.

She rubbed her eyes, feeling tired and impatient all at once. She had already decided that she will indeed give away her pendant. Lyse will have to be the one to find and give the pendants to the newer generations. Just a few days ago, a message came from Remmus to make sure she would comply as well, making her send some choice words back as a response. She wasn't so daft to think that she could keep a safety over the pendant with all that is going on in her country. She fears that Talin already has a holding here and had been festering in her city's underbelly all this time. Time. Yes, time will tell her if this is so. And so will Lyse. She wondered what type of a man his sister had crafted for them. She may not have wanted her son to come into this life, the choice wasn't hers. From the occasional letter they send back and forth over secure connections, Lyse had been well trained as a knight, and Celia feared he would leave for the capital to make it official, even voice concerns he will go out to the outlands to fight the Frostlanders.

Stop acting like he is still feeding on your breasts," she had said. "He is not a babe but a man, and from what you describe, a man with a strong sense of right and wrong. He can make his own decisions."

Was it right for her to say such things? She didn't know, and she still doesn't. She hasn't been her dear sister in such a long time, and the last time she had laid eyes on Lyse, he was a mere child struggling how to walk in a straight line. It made it all the more curious for her to see Lyse if he was the man, she thought Wilbur and Celia could make.

She walked out towards the throne room, expecting guards to follow, though none did. Good, then the messenger indeed goes the word out. She strode. Her dress was most certainly queenly, which was a rare occasion. She mostly likes simple dresses whenever she wears them, if not looser pants and sleeveless blouses. But she wanted to get the impression of her across as clear as day to these knights of who she was. She wore a white dress that fell nearly to the ground, a blue lining and decorative fabrics and embroidered golden threads accompanying it. Her coat was made from a fine silk array lined with fur for the colder weather coming around this winter. She wore little jewelry, the only two items being a solid silver ring on her right pinky and the crown. The crown itself was an interesting piece of art. It appeared to be made from several interlocking pieces of gold and bronze that allowed it to shift and move if she wished it. It was meant to represent the technological progress that Hath has made. But it also harbored another secret. The gem that adjourned its middle was, in fact, the pendant hiding in plain sight. Along with the other treasures that surrounded it, the grape-sized rock didn't appear out of place. But she felt the power it held, almost like she was wearing the might of an entire army above her. It was a comforting aura, although she now feels the connection between her and it to be somewhat altered. She remembers what had happened to James when he attempted to use the pendants while he was no longer worthy, and the aura of her sister who is undergoing the same conditions. She did not wish to share that fate.

But it was still a comfort, a memento to what she could accomplish and what she had accomplished. She was a godslayers, a savior in her home, this country, and savior of this world from the powers that would see it subjugated instead. And she was the savior of her people, the one who bested the tyrannical queen in combat and took this crown as her proof of her rule.

She approached the entrance of her throne room, guards waiting patiently for her arrival. Lyse turned on a dime as he sensed something quite intimidating approach. He didn't have to use aura to see it. He had only been waiting about a few minutes, conversations between them all suddenly scarce while in this large chamber. The domed roof above transformed the warm rays of the sun into dozens of technicolor bars of light that showered them. The only other light was candles and lanterns hanging from the colonnades to either side. The floor was an intricate work of tiles and granite slabs, depicting men in armor and horses, people bearing fruits and cattle, and honored treasures to a person on a similar throne to the one they sat before. The throne itself was a wooden masterpiece of craftsmanship covered with gold and silver embellishment that caught their eyes as soon as they walked in.

But what draws Lyse's attention the most was who waited for them here. He assumed her to be a guard, but she seemed just a bit too stern, as strange as the thought was. She watched them with unconventional diligence that was almost unsettling. She wore armor, unlike most of the guards who had regular military uniforms with sabers at their sides and a rifle in hand. Lyse has never seen so many guns in one place. She carried neither weapon, however. Her hair was a pale blond, almost like Makyra's platinum hair. Her eyes were another strange attribute, a very pale green much unlike the more formidable blues and green common in Hath. She also wore a circlet, a silver chain around her temple with a pure glass-like diamond. He knew her to be a guardian, but she was unlike almost all the others. More stoic than Makyra and more guarded than John. She seemed like a stature more than an actual person.

The doors opened behind them, and they all turned on a dime. Lyse had prepared himself, but he was still stunned at the resemblance Lizbeth, and his mother shared. He instead had to rely on whatever small detail separated the two. Lizbeth was darker skinned due to her exposure to the hotter climate of Hath, her eyes just a little sharper. Her long blond hair fell to her sides, obscuring one vision somewhat, but was just as straight as his mother as well. If they were not paired side by side, he could have trouble telling them apart. She carried herself with a charisma that made his back straighten. He can only liken this sensation to sir Gabbes when he instructed them, but she did not have to say a word. She walked past them, past the guardian, and took her seat on the throne, looking down at them all with a petrifying gaze. The doors closed with a thud. Without even looking at one another, they each knelt. All besides Lyse, who simply looked up to the Queen in Hath, hands plastered to his sides.

"You are standing in the presence of the sovereign of Hath," the guardian finally spoke, her tone dangerous and insisting. "It would do you wise to follow your friend's example."

"No, there is no need for that," Lizbeth gestured to Lyse. "Step forward, child. She won't bite you; I can promise."

Her tone was soft but Lyse had to will his legs not to shake while he approached her. He walked past the guardian, who stepped aside to keep an eye on both him and his band. Now that he was standing before her, he could feel the aura like a soft summer breeze radiating from her. He almost bowed out of some instinct, but before he could plan, his aunt suddenly stood and tightly hugged him. His aunt, not the queen of Hath. He had not expected such affection from someone he knows virtually nothing of. But obviously, she did not think so. The hug was comforting, though. He hugged her back. She was only a few inches taller than her, just like his mother. He felt almost child-like, though, in her embrace, as if he had just come home after a long day of tending the farm, and his mother would comfort him and his strained hands.

"It is nice to see you, son," she backed away, smiling at him gingerly, almost longingly. "If it is your mother, however, I'd thwack her on her head. Why is she not with you?"

Lyse somehow felt nervous to tell her any bad news, but he forced himself. "We were attacked on our way to Torlak. We managed to make it out alive, but she injured herself fighting one of the Makhai. She's agreed to stay on the ship for now."

She gave him a side look. "I see. So, you've managed to tame her just a bit then? Or perhaps her life at that farm really has softened her. The sister I had known would be carried here in a wagon if she had the choice."

"Everyone must listen to reason, I suppose," Lyse decided to step down next to his friends, who uneasily rose. It felt strange to him, he feels he should be on his knees with them. But the warmness which she regarded him with kept him onto his feet. "My mother does send her regards, however. I would do her disservice if not to come and speak to you in her place, your highness."

"You can simply call me an aunt," she told him. "It seems you have acquired your father's way of words to some degree. I am sad to hear of his death. You and your mother are still citizens under my kingdom. If you ever need someplace for refuge, you are welcomed."

She sat down on her throne; hands folded on her lap. "Now. you came here to acquire the pendant of strength, am I right."

She gestured to her crown. Lyse didn't feel anything very peculiar from it, but he noticed the diamond that she pointed to. The gem sat in an interesting plate of interlocking portions of the crown. He guessed that it could somehow be detached using some secret method. She took the crown off her set, setting it in her lap to start working on something in the back of it. They watched as the plates of the height shifted, twisted on hinges, and unlocked from their positions till the object didn't resemble a crown at all but a condensed five-faced box with the diamond on the very top. Then, she simply shifted the item out of place. The gem fell out with a small pop, followed by a thin silver chain that was somehow hidden within the thing. She was careful in handling it, almost as if it was fragile. It seemed to react to her touch, pulsing like a heartbeat. She reassembled the crown to fit on her head, the space for the diamond gem now empty.

"A neat little thing, isn't it?" she said. "It was one of the last things Vincent Smithe created before he was put into prison."

Her tone wasn't affectionate or considerate, Lyse noticed. He may have admired the man's work, but it seemed that those feelings were somewhat like admiring a statue carved by some ancient artisan. Lyse admitted that the creation was impressive, but he was apprehensive thinking about this Vlad Smithe. All he heard of him had been terrible things.