He sat on the gray chair, looking at the man in front of him as he let the silence grow heavy in the air. He had a tapered beard that was braided simply and fell just above his chest, coarse hair darkest of black and one of the only two things about him that seemed to be tame. The hair on his head framed his face shiny and coarse, falling in slight waves over his shoulders and ending just beneath his chest. His skin slightly sunned, his eyes an intense, piercing dark brown. A sharp nose, and his left arm laying over the rest of his grey chair so that his hand hung above his lap, his right on the rest and hand lightly gripping its end. He wore a short-sleeved gray shirt, woolen and thick. Black pants with the purple Karan symbol on the left thigh, the only other thing about him that seemed tame. He looked as his aura felt- a man on the edge of control, held by a thin line of constraint. Head tilted to his left, he looked quietly down at the man before him.

"Took us bout a week but we finally found some traces of the Soul Eater." The String Knight had plain brown hair cut just below the ears, a strong build, and worn brown trousers. Good boots and a well-woven shirt of blue so dark in dimmer light it would have been black distinguished him from the lower classes that make the majority of any population. On his hip was a long dagger, the only weapon he was allowed to bring into the room. His plain appearance was a reason why he was able to build prominence as a String Knight. "Bard saw him and a lady in a Tavern on the more eastern part of the city. Stayed for a day or two then left, seems like a guard saw the same pair leave the city the day of your search."

Cacaran looked steadily at Henrall from his gray chair, thinking while ignoring the subconscious urge to grab the crystal sword leaning on the left of his chair. The crystal blade shimmered faintly in the dim light, its edge and point so sharp that it sunk into the stone of the tower just resting upon it. The thin slit made into the hard stone was the same one Cacaran placed his blade into every time he sat in his chair. "I'm assuming that they left heading East?"

Henrall to his glance away from the crystal blade and looked back at the laconic Knight. "From what we could get, yes."

"This is all that you know?"

The String Knight knew that his lack of information would be an irritant, but he had worked with the Watch before. He shrugged, "Was almost all they did. The lady sold some things, but nothing else came up. We got some general descriptions of the woman, had a man draw up what we've got of her image." He knew that a Soul Eater left alive for this long would have a face drawn up already, known by every Grim in Kara. They didn't need a poor substitute.

Cacaran remained silent. It had been near three weeks since the Vynya had been in his Watch, more than almost his third month living since Kara found of his existence. String Knights had good pul in a city, with lots of people breeding poverty, which bred desperation, which bred opportunity. But on the edges of Kara, their influence could only be expected to wane. Henrall could not be relied on past the Third Watch. Knowing of his traveling companion's appearance was good, made him easier to track down. He couldn't be expected to live long. "You're trying to revive an old house." It wasn't a question- Cacaran knew those he worked with.

The plain man nodded, and some sort of pride entered his demeanor and strengthened his voice. "Yes, the Lionred House. We were foully murdered in the Red Skirmishes."

The Red skirmishes were over seventy years ago, and if whether or not foul play was really used in the decimation of his house wasn't certain. Of course, a more powerful Karan House could use the cover of a petty Blood Rival Invasion as a cover for illicit work, but Henralls interest in rebuilding the house was less likely to be a matter of honor and more so a matter of land and gold. It was dangerous for Karan figures to be seen with underground forces like Henralls group or other String Knights. It could also be equally dangerous for them to support one house and spurn another, as it has been since the Dawn of Nations. But no individual house would cede their control in any affair but war, and when the time comes that control is given, the antebellum has often passed. So the Karan Cycle was built: Houses holding back secrets and power while serving the Crystal throne: begging the throne to take action against String Knights, who hold and threaten some of their power: the throne then using String Knights to find secrets and accomplish goals they don't want to be seen. Some factions are dealt with to uphold a facade, are shielded from houses, and given houses to satisfy power. These houses then contested and destroyed other houses, and resentment spawned more string knights.

Cacaran sighed internally, without letting nothing show on his grim visage but his stoic face a brimming aura. His empty and gravelly voice- coincidentally akin to the hall of the tower they stood in now- and said, "Over time, you have proven yourself useful to Kara. Your assistance has been noted." Cacaran knew he was not much one for positive words or compliments; people that worked with Cacaran knew he was not much one for compliments. Cacaran knew this too. When Henrall showed nothing on his face at these words, Cacaran knew that Henrall was keeping his hopes lows and a small measure of respect was built for him. "Keep doing well, and soon you will have your land."

Henrall nodded, humbly, saying, "I would be grateful."

Cacaran remembered wondering how the Lords and Ladies of Kara never found out for six centuries about the string knights if the String Knights became lords and ladies. Then he remembered Grims and Casters, and sense was made. With only one or two String Knight representatives from each group that consulted with, and thereby knew about the Karan Connection, if they made it to power a visit from a Grim could shut them up for a lifetime. And this was not a secret passed onto the family- once you were a noble, what importance did String Knights hold?

Besides, it wouldn't take much for a Crystal Caster or a Grim to wipe your noble family from existence.

When Henrall left, Cacaran mused in silence, allowing his hand to rest lightly on his Crystal Blade. Henrall had told him perhaps more than he knew he had. Leaving East means that they were indeed trying to leave Kara instead of going to a rat hole within its borders; this being the first time a Soul Eater has been helped, the possibility had to be considered. That they only had vague and general descriptions of the Soul Eaters companion meant that she was experienced- she knew this place well, knew she might be watched, and knew where to go. Cacaran grunted almost too softly to hear; she had been here before. That ruled out that this entire thing was planned, seeing as these relations would have taken years to establish and no Soul Eater can go unnoticed for years, or stay in Kara if they knew who they were. Why they were helping him was a mystery, but it had long before been long mulled over, and if found it wouldn't matter. They would both be killed.

So the real question became where were they going, and the options were simple. Teap was a nation to the South East, but made little sense- they are just as tyrannical and would sell them out for coin. Being the most aggressive of the West Nations and closer to Kara's power, it made no sense for them to head in that direction. Redweed, a City-state with a few minor towns under its control, was far from Kara's influence and influence in general. Far Eastern and Northen, it was most likely to be where they were headed, and had little love for Grims, though still held respect. If they didn't try to hide in a small farm in our town- a fool move- then this is like to be where they would head next.

Standing, Cacaran picked up his blade, the weapon pulling smoothly from the stone and making the air keen softly. His quiet steps traveled gently in the hall, leather boots molding to his movements.

Grims were already headed east. He would tell them what he knew, and let this be done with. How long were they going to chase him? It mattered little enough; he would die, ( or, he thought laughably with a dark edge, he wouldn't), and Cacaran would have other things to do.

---

When they were young, the boys and she were told that adults stopped fearing the dark because they knew nothing was there. It was as if understanding cleared feared, and this understanding passed to their children so when they grew, they would never be afraid. As the three brothers and sister walked under the earth now, they were deathly afraid. Breaths cold, dark more real than the earth around them, the smell of dirt and cold stone stronger than their unwashed bodies. Everyone held the hands of the person behind them, the tunnel too thin to walk abreast, and if not their hands touched the shoulders or grabbed the arm. It was a good idea once, to walk down here and see the ancient ruins. Out together, celebrating the twenty and second name day of the eldest, drinking mead, eating fowl. The ruins at the start of the tomb looked ethereal, from a time so long gone, and imagine the things the tomb could hold within- gold, masks, interesting babbles!

The empty halls and caverns told differently, and when the tomb turned to be a large cave system they wanted to leave. But the way out eluded them, gone, and the way forward never seemed to be the same as the way back. Empty graves with leftover belongings instead of bodies concerned them, long hallways turned to dark tunnels, and now blackness was the air and night the walls.

The second eldest walked in front and suddenly noticed red was in the black shade, a sinister tint that had imperceptibly come into the air. Light! They said. It must be light! They walked faster, occasionally murmured- voices the only thing giving the hall substance. The second eldest squeezed his sister's cold hand behind him, searching for something to reassure him on this dark, blind, path. The lukewarm air accented the empty feeling as they dragged along, steps too soft to hear in the small, black world.

The crimson red light grew stronger, black replacing the tinge of red, still too dark to see even an inch in front of their eyes. Squeezing his sister's hand again, weakly, the second eldest lead them all forward in the ever redder tunnel. Hot air burned his skin and throat with every breath, worsened his dry hands and lips. Fatigue set in, his eyes squinted against the dark and rare sweat droplets that fell into them. Feet were dragging more, loud enough now to hear, the murmurs of the siblings now gone. His feebly squeezed empty air, assurance fleeting and...

Her hand was gone. He turned as fast as his weak body would, the crimson light now suffusing enough to see a few feet in any direction, glimmering off the veins in the tunnel walls. She was gone. Everyone was gone. Her hand was in his, as if flesh turned to air they simply were gone. He opened his mouth to call out-

A sound behind him. He turned around, his body numb. Nothing but red. He blinked. The red was brighter, crimson taking up all of his vision. His eyes opened and closed rapidly, trying to adjust, yet with each blink, the red multiplied, intensified. Nothing but red...

He shut his eyes, but the red was there too behind his lids, in his mind. The crimson strengthens, the heat grew stronger, searing until only fire was running rapid. He opened his mouth, but couldn't tell why- ashes, he could taste them, smell them, feel them- he could only see red, could only feel red. It hurt, but only for as long as the red let it hurt. Red, red, just red, red, only red, red, red, red, RED, RED, RED, RED, RED, RED, RED, RED-

---

Red wave after red wave crashed onto the bare man's waist, his skin colored by the thick sheet of red that ran over, so thick the red spray couldn't clean it. His wounds still bled, slow-closing eyes filmed over the only sign he was still alive. The water was up to his knees, his hands tied on a post above him, leaving him hanging like meat in the ocean breeze. Seven of the nine copper rods creaked in a depressing tandem, their own bodies hanging in various stages of death, their blood falling in sheets into the large red pool.

Segincè walked away down the long shoal, stuffing the extra rag into his still bloodied breeches, trying not to look back. Not for the first time, he was happy Ruim was there- he liked to bring rags so he didn't have to hear them cry or scream as they died. The first time he heard it, Sigincé thought him a coward; now, it was just practical.

"Why are we doing this again?"

"By the reeds, would you shut up?" Ruim- which couldn't be his real name- fits well the visage of a grumpy old man. He looked a few shy of his mid-years and remained rough every day of his life. Laughed never, drank often, rarely social. Ruim looked like he was native here- tan, sea weathered skin, flat, dark hair, the height. But Ruim was a foreign name, no person would name their child Ruim here. Which was why Sigincé was sure it was a name he gave to himself when he was sent here.

"We stopped for a while, didn't even see each other. I know we have to serve but we didn't have to a while ago. Shouldn't we be done? Finding people's hard now,-"

"Your lips flap more than reeds in the wind," Ruim grumbled hoarsely.

"and I don't want to be caught, do you?" The shoal sunk, so his wet, squelching footsteps accompanied his words. "They'll kill us if we get caught-"

Ruim whirled, anger pinching his face. "Shut up or I'll make you the next offering to the Deforleye!" His words were harsh, biting.

Sigincé fell silent, starteld. Ruim turned and kept walking. "It's not if we'll get caught, we'll get caught. Dead people don't stay missing people for long. If we're lucky, they'll be mad enough or as twisted as us 'n put or bodies up there." He growled. "Not a chance of that happening." Sigincé looked back at the tall rocks that jutted up around the pool, blocking it off like a black crown. "We're doing it because the seer woman said that the storms had returned to the star world, worst she's seen so far. It means they are active again, which means we are active again. You know why we're doing this."

He did. His demeanor and attitude often lead people to believe he is innocent and slow, which keeps him perfect for what he does. People used to call him inkling, said that is what the incé in his name means. Whether it be because he's somewhat small or that they think he hasn't got a clue what's going about ever, he never knew. He remembered the smile his mother gave him when she said it. The only one who did so. He was sad, sacrificing her first to the pool when called. The look in her eyes, the screams.

Sigincé cleared his throat, asking, "And the vessel? What do we do when we find him?"

"You know what we do when we find him." Responded Ruim with gruff irritation.

"But do we have to do it?"

Ruim grew angry, feet stopping into the sand of the shoal. "The stars did we kill all those people for?" He became more curt. "Stop asking questions."

"Tell me wh-"

"Shut up!"

"What if I forgot?"

A slow silence. Their little rowboat could be seen, not far now, at the end of the long thin shoal. From there they would row back to land. Ruim grunted heavier and replied: "You know what we do. We find the mark, grab them, carve the rune into their back and chest." He flicked his hand as if the knife was in it, carving the air. "Then we hang him by his arms. Get twenty people, do like usual. Slit their stomach, their legs, their arms. Hang them, let the blood fall into the pool. The vessel will slowly lower and drown in the blood, ready for the Deforleye to come." he spoke almost in monotone as if it irritated him to speak of and he wanted to move from the simplicity as quickly as possible.

"What if the mark never shows?" Sigincé tried to keep his voice neutral.

Ruim glared over his shoulder in suspicion and irritation. "Of course it'll show. You know some reason why it wouldn't?"

"No." Ruim turned back in front of him, throwing his bloody rags and small curved knife into the boat. He picked up an oar gruffly and clipped into the small boat. Sigincé followed, trying to keep his collar bone low so his short-sleeve could cover the mark on his shoulder.

---

Three weeks. The month it took to get here was tiring, unsure of the journey, the guards unsure of Teriria's position. Sendar's loyalty and Gendrel's certainty kept the cohort in cohesion. Terira doubts that they would do something- they were too nice, too virtuous- but fear was equal or perhaps less than her desire to know who she was. The children were handfuls, energy fueled by the open world bubbling over closed caravans and limited range around them. The cabin had soft cushions and was spacious, the family spread between them, the hardwood beneath the fabric, and down made days of riding uncomfortable. Gendrel assured them that they were pushing a fast pace but every day dragged on; while the sprawling endless green enamored her, Terira was anxious. Sariya reminded her not to be in a hurry to be somewhere she didn't know she was going. She still rushed, more so when she started, finally, to see the farms that sprawled out from the city, running from their start to the horizon beyond until the city appeared in the distance. It was large from a distance, growing evermore larger as the came evermore closer.

And Kara City was beautiful.

The walls were large and imposing, the bottom of it a barren mound of earth, hardened and cracked with age, at least five times again her height. Then it formed into a thick brick wall, brownish-red in color, twice as tall as any tree she had seen in the forest around her house. The towers have blocky shapes on the tops that end in cones, pointed sharply up at the sky. The tiles were a sharp, faded, red. Windows black shadows on each tower, the Kara flag waving at the point of each, large enough that before she came to the walls, Terira could make out the symbol; a red serpentine with golden horns, tail split in two with each end wrapped around a gray tower, stark against a field of purple. More people milled into the city that morning than all the traffic she had ever seen inside Captin City in her lifetime. Though the road was wide enough for eight carts to ride abreast- or so Gendrel told her- but the late morning that they arrived had the road crowded enough that staying on a straight line was the only option. Terira still remembered looking out of the wagon to see people traveling from so many different places that it was almost hard to believe they were all going to the same city. Farmers, some more well dressed than others, with full carriages and laden oxen; merchants that had the plain brown carriages of Kara, and some with canvas tops of different colors that marked them clearly foreign; far to their right and further ahead of the line, a procession of decorated horses and three carriages, guards surrounding. Terira was sure that they had to be a lord of some sort but Galin paid no more mind to them than he did the merchants of other traders, the few lone travelers, the farmers, or the patrol that was coming back into the city. The gates were as large as the road, and there were four guards on an elevated woodwork above, four on ground level watching the people go through.

The first thing Terira noticed upon entering the city was the large bricks that made up the main street, slowly curving as it ran deeper into the city. The stark, brown bricks were at least as long as Terira was tall, cracked, and worn. Yet with each puff a horse's hooves sent into the air, it seemed no more unstable. Reed-like, maroon bushes grew between the bricks on the edge of the street, the curving and windy streets that branched off from the first being the thing Terira noticed next. They bent in such a way that looking down one was to look at the side of some previously unseen building, shop, or Inn. And finally, the last thing she noticed were the mansions. Built from the same light brown brick as the road, they loomed as large as any building she had ever seen in Captain City. Flat roofed, the three she could see stood high above the other buildings they rode by even from a distance- one off-center just to her right, one distant and to the far right, and one more forward yet just as distant to her left. The small houses, inns, bars, and ware-shops around them were simply dwarfed.

"Welcome to Kara's outer city, Princess Terira." Galin had grown close to the family over the travel, often talking to Terira and helping her with the children. Today, he was driving her Wagon- Gendrel was on a horse with Sendar at the front, preceding the group to arrange their stay and set up whatever matters the Geaon guards came for. His words took Terira out of her reprive, and she looked to the front of the cart where he had opened the slide, which had escaped her notice.

"This is just an outer city? Why do they need an outer city?"

Galin's eyes never left the road as he twitched the reins idly. "This is for the poor or middle class of the people of the city. They can't have beggars or such rabble in the place of nobility. The deeper into the city you go as well, the more coin things cost. Most cannot afford to live in the Center City."

Terira looked around them again; nothing seemed extremely poor about the place they rode through. The simple and stout wood houses that she saw were well built, and though the wood of inns and taverns were clearly aged and paint peeled off some signs, and they had just passed the few thatch roof building there were. Still, most of the buildings looked just as good as any place she had seen Captain City, and the few beggars she saw had been near the gates. Her eyes found their way back to the large houses of brownstone. "Why are those large houses here then, if this is where the poor part of the city live? "

Galin's face was turned from her so that his expression wasn't seen, but confusion still sounded as he asked, "The buildings?" His head turned to look at the nearest one- Terira was almost shocked that he didn't immediately know what she was talking about- the Manors loomed over what felt like half the city. He chuckled heartily. "Oh, you mean the Karan Manors."

Terira blinked and looked at them again as if her eyes would paint a different picture than they had the first ten times. A manor! She hadn't seen one before but knew it for the house of lords and ladies. It was in truth ridiculous! You could fit a village of people in there! "That is Manor! Every lord must house an Army!"

Galin laughed loudly, shoulders shaking. A few people looked at them strangely as they passed by, but most ultimately kept walking without more than a glance. Laughter stayed in his voice as he responded, "These are just the Karan Manors Terira- Princess. Not every lord has a Manor that big- this is only a Karan thing." Galin's laughter left his voice but the jovial tone remained. "The Karan Manors are actually on the edge of the outer city and are for lords with enough importance to belong in Karan City. The manors are big, yes, but the families of these lords are centuries old. I have heard the oldest family of the Karan house has near six hundred members in the household." Galin shook his head in near disbelief and confusion. "How the families could stay together with so big a number is far beyond me. From what I know, the Karan Hierarchy is very rigid in Karan City. And in all of Kara, for the most."

Terira watched them grow nearer to them, staying still on the main street. Deera held their sleeping sister on her lap, watching quietly the interaction between her sister and this guard. She had seen the towers just as Terira had, and when Terira turned around, she smiled. Both girls were tired, Deera seemingly taking worse to the road than the rest of the family. Her tone was more subdued, her energy lessened. Terira was just as happy to have this trip end, or at least at a reprieve; for Deera if not for herself. Still, her curiosity got the better of her. "How were they able to build them? I've never heard of Kara known for its builders."

Something in the mood changed slightly. Galin seemed to tense, his tone more sober. Even Deera sat attentively now, more focused on the words that came from him. He spoke softer than he had before as if this was taboo. "They didn't, in a sense. The first of these built were so long ago- over a millennium. These are from the start of the Karan nation, maybe even before Kara started to become what it is today." He paused. "I know little in this matter, but from what I do understand they made them with some sort of magic. The Karan slave Casters did much of the work you see now as well."

Terira nodded and slowly backed from the window. Deera and her looked at one another but remained silent, both similarly affected. Speaking of magic in Kara could be enough to get you imprisoned, if not tortured, and speaking ill of slave Casters was to pour oil on the fire. Though Galin hasn't spoken ill, perhaps here it would have been best not to speak at all - the fear and paranoia of magic had been well ingrained into the Kara people. Even a mutter of magic whisperings were often met with hostility, and in her time living in Captin more than a few had gone missing after supposedly fooling about in casting- one had even run with bandits not long before her coming, escaping the Grims by a hair. Kara took magic it could not control seriously- often with a life penalty- and the people had learned this lesson well.

Suddenly, being inside the carriage felt much more comforting than walking among the people outside.

They took of the rest of the main street in silence, slowly curving their way through the outer city of Kara. Terira and Deera enjoyed the sights, occasionally pointing at things or giving one-word descriptions of things they hadn't seen. Eventually, Deera stopped her sparse talking completely, leaning her head against the carriage wall and looking out the window, looking as sleepy as Sansisa was on her lap, fatigue the only expression showing on her face. Terira put her hand on her knee and smiled at her, and Deera met her eyes and returned the smile weakly. The sooner we get to end this, the better, she thought with concern.

They passed the outer city in relatively short order, Terira marveling at the plants that had seemed to spring up for little reason- and entire tree off to their right, a park full of red bushes and shrubs down one tiny street, an open-ware shop on the left side of the main. Large restaurant on her right, food wafting down the street before she saw it. The people enjoying themselves and food making her remember how hungry she was - and making her wish that the end of the journey had come already.

When they passed the nearest Karan Manor, it looked no less imposing as it did from the gates of the city. looming above them so high that the shadow extended past the large grounds of their gardens and grasses to darken the road. She marveled at it- rectangular and simple, it stood massively high above the rest of the city. Now she could see the small windows, plain doors. It was much more ominous in person than she had anticipated.

"This must be the size of the castle..." muttered Terira as they passed.

Galin glanced dispassionately at the looming behemoth to their right. "No. Princess." He leaned off the chair, on hand on the reins, to point high above the tops of the fanciful buildings of the inner city. "Do you see that? The dark point over there?" Terira followed his finger, looking for a few seconds before she said she did. Just beyond the inner city was a dark spike, barely visible and somehow shadowed. "That is the top of the East Tower of the Karan Castle. The castle is much larger than anything else in the city, and hold only those of direct descent from the Royal blood- or something like that."

Larger than the mansions? Terira thought. Those Manors could fit ten of her Orphan houses inside with room to spare. Ten and five, even. It was almost too hard for her to imagine anything larger. I'm too tired to be thinking anyway. And with the realization of fatigue, she watched the rest of the Center City of Kara pass in a blur.

---

She awoke groggily in a dark room, Deeras soft breaths soothing her foggy mind. While Sariya and the two children had stayed to eat downstairs, Deera and Terira found the room given to them and slept instantly upon arrival. Rolling onto her shoulder, she saw Sariya's sleeping form with one arm around each child- Fey's eyes opened slowly, meeting Terira's as they lightly glinted in the moonlight of the window behind her, and then closed just as slowly as they opened.

Ever the light sleeper. Terira kept her thoughts silents as she stood slowly out of the grudgingly comfortable down mattress, pushing her covers onto Deera, then bending over to check her forehead. Her brown, hair, thick and wild, fell over her face as she shifted from her touch, and Terira stood up, concerns momentarily abated. All she needs is rest. Rest, and some food, she'll be back to normal. She walked across the room- a room big enough to fit hers three times over to the stand, where a mirror hung above it on the wall and five robes were laid out, one clearly for her. Two were child-sized, the smallest for Fey, and Sariya's had an ornamental design of white sage flowers- a sign of seniority in Kara, and the rest of West World from what she knew. The one for Deera was a simple one lined with gray thread, and hears was lined with a dark purple and green. Pulling the robe about herself, she grabbed a cloth and gently pulled her hair back from her face, tying the cloth around it near the base of her neck. Quietly, she stepped from the room and closed the door.

The sounds of a joyous tavern drifted softly up the stairs, the smell of food just beneath it. She stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, feeling the well-spun textile under her fingers- this Inn was a better stay than her home. Ïn that moment, despite not knowing the people she traveled with and being so far from home, she could only feel immensely grateful. The clothes, Sendar had told her, were provided by them, bought from the Inn. Though Gendrel had gone ahead, leaving accommodations to Sendar, he had promised her that he would return on the morrow to take her out o by more "befitting and unworn clothes.". She had come to like Gendrel more over the course of their travel- the man had been a source of comfort among his men. He seemed convinced he was this princess, and his conviction spread. Though his soldiers may not truly believe it- Terira wasn't sure she did, even now, committed as she was- they respected the title. Or tried to, for most. It was he who told her to let the men who would call her Princess do so, not because they had to believe it but it solidified a trust, a bond. Gendrel took time out of every day they had stopped to talk with her, to see to her and her family's welfare, and to tell her what he would of the journey ahead. In some way she did not quite understand, it kept her grounded. And some part of her, despite the long journey and taxing efforts, told her that this was right, that it felt right.

Terira walked down the steps to the tavern floor to see half of the tables crowded and most of the men merry and drunk. The five closest tables to the stairway were occupied, the other eight or so clear of people. She saw Galin and a few other men of the Geao guard drinking and laughing together; he saw her as she walked apprehensively toward and lifted his mug to her, cheeks red, and cheered. Two of his companions joined him, laughing- the others gave a simple respectful nod. She nodded back. They sat with men she did not know but had the same look about them- mercenaries or guards for wealthy merchants who also choose this inn to stay for the night. A clean chicken, and two halfway there, were shared between them, and they continued on singing their song.

Her love endless Her smile wide Her eyes ovals But never as round as her thighs Her laughter, her voice, As soft as her skin Oh, to the day I see her again When the battles done, the wars won, Oh, to the day I see her again

She saw Sendar sitting to the side at an empty table, watching them sing with a smile as the song continued. She walked past the other inhabitants of the bar to sit next to him, Sendar turning to look at her as she sat down. He had his own mug and crumbs in front of him showing he had eaten something, though the plate was gone. "You're not drinking with them."

His soft brown eyes looked back at her. "I and a few other men are going to be your escorts, along with Gendrel, for the morrow." Terira realized that she hadn't used that phrase until she starts to talk with the men of the Geao guards. "They are sleeping to be ready in the morning- not everyone in the Cohort can afford to be drunk." A smile flickered upon his lips. "As you should be, Princess. It is still late night, I was sure you would sleep till morning. Did the men's laughter awake you?"

Terira's eyes narrowed -what is he smirking at?- which only seemed to make him more amused. "I think it was hunger. I haven't eaten since breakfast early this morning." She sighed. "Feels like a day ago now."

Sendar nodded. "I'll get you bread, a bowl of sea stew, and a few slices of cheese. Do you like tea?"

Terira contemplated the question until he opened his mouth as if to ask it again. "I don't know. We never really had it much, but from what I remember it tasted fine. I think I liked it with sugar."

Sendar nodded again and stood. He was back a few moments later with a cup of tea, she assumed, and a serving maid followed behind with a steaming bowl of "sea stew" and to large pieces of bread. When she set them down, Terira found the slices of cheese placed inside them. The moment she got her spoon, she attacked the stew. The fish fell apart in her mouth, other meats that she couldn't identify but were equally foreign to her adding to the thick, savory, and smooth flavor. As the spices settled in, she realized two things- she had no idea how hungry she had been, and seafood was amazing. It was her first time eating fish in years, so long that she had forgotten what it had tasted like. She continued to eat the stew with zeal, barely pacing herself and having to pause when her mouth became full. Sendar was respectfully averting his gaze but the corners of his mouth were still struggling to not smile.

When Terira finished her stew, she took her bread and cheese and started to mop up the remainder of the liquid, calmly asking Sendar, "How old are you? Did I ever ask?"

He turned to face her, thick brown hair bobbing. "I'm in my nineteenth year. My name day was a month or so past."

Terira just nodded. "Only nineteen? You seem much older."

He nodded in turn. "I trained for the guards at thirteen years. This is my second year being in the Royal Gaurd, and first being second in command." He looked back to where Galin and the other men were sitting. "I can only be happy they have accepted me so well."

"Oh".

"You seem older than your seventeen years as well." At her shocked face, he placated her. "The first day we met- I asked your age, and you told me. Your birthday is fast approaching, Princess."

Terira sobered. "Yes. It is." Throughout all this, she had forgotten. It would be her first year in a long time celebrating her birthday somewhere not at home, without her two brothers with her. Maybe one can still come yet. And Fey is still with me. "I'm surprised you remembered."

Sendar gave the third nod of the night and suddenly stood. "Gendrel is here. I'll be going to get sleep now, and he'll want to talk to you." With a small bow, he left. "Goodnight, Princess."

Gendrel clasped wrists with Sendar, and after a brief exchange, came over to where Terira sat. Sendar went and waked behind the stairs, presumably to sleep. Gendrel pulled out the chair across from Terira and sat down, unclasping his cloak and laying it gently across his lap. "I trust that you have been well taken care of." Terira nodded. He sighed softly as if relieved. "Good. The Cloven Foot is a well-known inn in Center City. Never have we had a problem with them before." He sighed again. "I intend to let you sleep Princess Terira, but I have something to ask of you."

"What is it Gendrel?"

"We have come to the center of Kara for a very much so... political matter. It involves support for house Irengel, the house of which you are the sole surviving Hier. We, of course, have planned a way to get this support, but I think it would be best if you could come with us." He watched to gauge her reaction, but when he saw none, continued. "The audience with the Karan Diplomocay Council is set for late afternoon. We can go after we have bought you and your... family better clothes. I have also sent a letter to your au-" He stopped himself. "To Regent-Duchchess Agalra, that we have found you. Do not worry," He said as anxiety started to form. "I have advised her to keep word of this to none, and I am sure she would've done so regardless. She is a smart woman. It would be beneficially, I believe, for you to come with us and see the workings of the Kingdom. Help you to learn. What do you say?"

Terira thought it over. She could find nothing wrong with it- if she was going to go to Geao anyway- which she had decided to do regardless; finding out who she was, where she had come from, was simply too important; then she supposed she might as well learn. His logic, she admitted to herself, did make sense. "Yes, I think it's a good idea. I would like to go." She could not help but feel apprehensive.

Gendrel's stern demeanor cracked with a smile. "Good, good. I am happy to hear it, Princess."

Terira hesitated before asking her next question. She still wasn't accustomed to "Princess". Skies and stars, I plead that my family never uses the title. "Why would they send only guards to talk about support? Are there not people for this?"

Gendrels face managed to look both sad and irritated at the same time. "Because we are the only ones left." The answer only seemed partway for her, the other half a statement to himself. Before she could ask her next question, wanting to know more, he cut her short as he stood. "For now, this is all Princess. We need sleep, the both of us." He bowed formally. "Sleep well Princess, and I'll see you when you wake on the morrow."