Her father didn't even look at her while he greedily ate his supper. "So," he said, "how did your meeting with the invaders go?"

Juniper shifted in her seat and looked down onto her plate. The food did not look very appetising at the moment. "It went well, I think."

"So, no invasion yet?"

She gritted her teeth—she certainly hoped not. "I am to see him tomorrow as well, Father. Hopefully, we will begin to understand each other better."

This brought the attention of the Duke who stopped chewing to look at his daughter. "You did not agree today?"

"He asked about my faith, and I expressed my opinion."

Redness was spreading from his neck up to his ears. "Opinion?" The low, choking voice always came before the bellowing. "Opinion? I did not send you down to our enemies to express your silly opinions! You silly, silly woman! It's just typical, isn't it? Never send a woman to do a man's job, you make that very clear, my dear girl!"

Her heart raced and she had to catch her breath. "Father, I did not—"

"Now, what if they slit our throats in our sleep?" he continued. "What if they kill every child? Rape every woman? They can have you, for all I care!"

Juniper felt tears prickle behind her eyes. The viciousness of her father always peaked when he had had one too many drinks of wine. Garret, his always present advisor, leaned in to tell the Duke to calm down, but her father's face was already scarlet and he flung his chewed chicken bone across the table.

"I will not calm down! I knew we signed our own death warrants the minute we considered my incompetent daughter to do the work of a diplomat!"

Juniper could take it no longer. She lowered her napkin to the table and left the dining hall, as calmly as she possibly could. She held it together until she had locked herself in her room, and then she cried. She fell onto her bed, sobbing uncontrollably.

This day had been disastrous. Absolutely disastrous. She was used to being put down by her father—Builder knew how many times her father had yelled at her and called her incompetent—but what made matters worse was that she actually felt incompetent. She knew she shouldn't have said what she did to the general, she shouldn't have been bold and retorted sharply. She should have obliged and nodded, just like her mother had always told her to do, and perhaps she would be in his good graces, if there were any.

When she closed her eyes, she saw his gaze—those golden eyes that burned through her like vicious cinder. Even in her room, high up in Fairgarden, far away from the docks, she felt flustered by his eyes. Through her tears, she cursed at herself for having such a weak heart.

She tried to focus on something else, to rid her mind of any thoughts of the Vasaath and his wretched eyes, but all that kept rushing through her mind was the horrifying sounds of screaming townsfolk as the Kas army tore the city to shreds. She wondered if she had any chance at all of rectifying the mistake she had made that day, if the Vasaath was as forgiving as he was terrifying. She doubted it.

That night, she barely slept. The little sleep she had was riddled with nightmares, and when she was ushered up by her chambermaid, she felt as though she had been run over by a coach with four horses. She had her breakfast in the gardens and turned to some reading afterwards. There was an old, dusty book in the library about the Kas and their philosophy; it wasn't The Statue of the Grey Ones, but that book had been banned from the city libraries decades ago for smearing the Arlington name. How, Juniper did not know.

She was far more worried today than she was yesterday. The red silk robe did no longer feel appropriate, and neither did the gold jewellery. The general had been right—she had been blind. The rift between the rich and poor was enormous. Due to her father's aggressive taxes, the richer became richer, and the poorer only became poorer.

Sickness was spreading, crime was escalating, and the discontentment of the people was growing. Small uprisings were getting more and more common, and as a result, the Duke had granted the City Guard more violent authority. Her father only said that commotion like that came and went—it always had done so, and always would. It was nothing to worry about, so Juniper had tried not to worry.

But she was all too aware of the unfortunate people of the city, and yet, she didn't do all in her power to change anything. She tried, indeed, but she was only a woman in a city ruled by men and sovereigns.

When her brother received important diplomatic missions, she was given the more sensitive tasks, such as charity and representation, things that held no true power. She had always known that her work was worth nothing. Surely, she could bring some gold from the treasury to hand out after Week Mass, but that would never be enough.

She knew she lived in luxury while most people lived in poverty, and she would be lying if she said that she would trade it all for equality. She lived a very comfortable life, and seeing the misery of the poor made her feel sad, yes, but also very lucky. Now, she just felt ashamed.

She dressed in a plain frock, put her dark hair in a simple braided bun, and refrained from any glittery accessories. She allowed herself to adorn her neck with a simple golden necklace of the Hammer of Edred, the only thing she had left of her mother. She put on her woollen cloak and headed down to the outer courtyard where four guards were waiting and they were all looking rather nervous—almost as nervous as she felt.

When they arrived at the encampment, in a convoy of four riders and a carriage, they were met by Kasethen and two massive warriors, one of which had manners enough to help the lady down.

"Vahanan, Lady Juniper," said Kasethen and bowed. "I am delighted to see you again. Please." He motioned her to enter the fort but as she had passed him, he stopped the guards. "I am afraid you have to stay out here."

Juniper quickly hurried back to the nervous men and turned to Kasethen. "They are my personal guards, Kasethen. They are with me everywhere I go."

The advisor smiled. "I respect that, my lady, but you are perfectly safe inside our domain. You are under the protection of the Vasaath and his Saathenaan. No harm will come to you, as according to our customs."

She wrung her hands together and swallowed, looked at her guards and then back to Kasethen. "Very well. But please, make sure they are comfortable out here."

Kasethen nodded. "Parthanan, it is done. Now." He motioned her again to enter the fort, and she gave her guards an apologising look. She was terrified of leaving them behind, but she did trust Kasethen. If he said that she would be safe, she trusted that she would be.

The Kas warriors seemed to try to ignore her presence, but few succeeded. Even humans ignored her with intent. She heard them whisper, but it was all in their own tongue and she didnʼt understand any of it.

She was led to the great crimson tent and at once, she felt her pulse rise. She kept wringing her hands together, faster and faster, and she had to take a deep breath before she could enter. She felt so small, so insignificant, as she once again stood inside the immense billowing structure.

The Vasaath was standing by his desk, his black armour making him look even wider, and turned as Kasethen announced Juniper's arrival.

"Shokaan, kasethen venaas." The Vasaath nodded at Kasethen and then he turned his golden gaze to the human girl who thought she would crumble under his stare. Then, he nodded at her, courteously. "Lady Juniper."

The way her name rolled off his tongue caused an odd tremble in her legs. She looked down and curtsied deeply. "Vasaath."

He moved with surprising ease despite his mountainous build. He stopped a few feet from her and gestured her to the table. "Sit."

She quickly obliged—she wouldn't dare to defy him. Surely, she thought, he would reprimand her for what she said the day before. Carefully, she lowered herself by the same place as yesterday. The Vasaath sat down next to her, and being this close to him, she could feel his scent—leather and spices. She hadn't noticed it before.

"I realise that I might have been too harsh last we spoke," he said. "It was unfair of me to judge you so harshly. It is not your fault your city is starving, I recognise that."

Juniper looked down on her hands, not wanting to reveal her surprise. "Thank you, my lord."

There was silence for a moment before the Vasaath spoke again. "You are dressed much more moderately today, I see. It becomes someone willing to learn the Kasenon."

She blushed deeply but was relieved her appearance was approved. At least, it was one thing less for him to find disagreeable.

"Kasethen," he then exclaimed. "Tea."

The advisor nodded served them each the copper liquid.

"Shokaan. Parthanan," said the Vasaath, and Kasethen bowed and left the tent.

She was once again alone with the giant, sitting frightfully close to him, with a smoking cup of foreign tea in front of her.

"Now." His voice rumbled like distant thunder. "I want to hear more about your faith. I have some understanding of the ground principles, but there is much I do not understand."

"But I have seen humans in your midst," said Juniper, confused. "Some of them must be Edredians. I am sure they have great knowledge."

The Vasaath's eyes hardened a little. "Most of the ohkasenon turned to us for salvation—they were poor and ill-treated, often uneducated or simply non-believers. Some even pray to different pantheons. They have no obligation to teach me about a faith that never did them any good." He exhaled deeply and looked down his nose at her. "You, on the other hand, have thrived, haven't you? You are educated enough to teach me. So teach."

Juniper shifted in her seat, trying to find a more comfortable position before replying. "Well, the faith constitutes of the Vault and the Pillars, the construction of the Builder. The Pillars are the principles the people need to follow, and the Vault is what brings them all together and completes the construction. It symbolises home and family, equality and community." She bit her lip and dipped her head. "I know it might seem contradictory to how we live, but that is the foundation of our belief."

The Vasaath nodded. "And what about Edred? I believe he's your prophet?"

Juniper had to think for a moment. She had been taught the story of Edred as a child, as all children were taught the story, but she had to think to remember it. "Long ago, before the Void, mortals and deities lived together in chaos. The deities ruled over the mortals, but they were cruel."

The general leaned in, his brows tightly furrowed, as he listened carefully.

"One of them, whose real name is now long forgotten, recognised the pain the mortals suffered in the hands of the deities and decided to separate them. He built the Netherworld to imprison the cruel deities and the White Void for himself and the benevolent ones, thus becoming known as the Builder."

His face sunk into deep thought as he contemplated her words. "Go on."

Juniper swallowed. "It is said that many tried to find the Builder again, to follow him as their one true ruler, but mortals could not enter the Void. Hundreds of years of wars followed—without the deities as their common enemy, the mortals turned on each other, realising that power was for those who would take it."

"Naturally."

"The Builder saw the destruction he left behind but could do nothing to interfere. He had built his prison too well. Then, one day, a boy heard his calls, a boy who could see and hear beyond the Void. That was Edred."

The grey man leaned back again, disbelief written in his stoic face.

Juniper tried to ignore his scepticism and continued. "The Builder made him the first Architect, whose role was to teach the mortals the way of the Builder and bring peace to the world. He was taught the art of divine construction and built the first temple in what is now the Illyrian Empire."

Sighing deeply, the Vasaath pondered this. "And you believe in this story?"

Juniper bit her lip. "I'm not certain. To every story, there is a grain of truth, I suppose."

"So, without the principles of your Builder, mortals would fall into chaos once again?"

She suddenly felt as though this might be a trick question. She considered her words carefully before saying, "There are in total six pillars that hold the vault, and those six pillars are called the Structure. They are piety, duty, family—love, compassion and perseverance." She felt relieved having remembered them in the correct order.

"That was not my question."

She brought her hands together in her lap. "If the structure crumbles, then so does the vault, leaving us divided. If we are divided, chaos ensues, yes."

"But you are already divided," said he. "Such a belief builds on the notion that all mortal beings follow the same principles, which they don't. That is a fact, an undisputed fact."

"Well, the Architects argue that we're all children of the Builder. Some people just don't know it yet."

"And what is your argument?" the Vasaath asked.

Juniper looked down at her hands. "I should not dispute the Architects. I'm not that knowledgeable."

"I do not ask for knowledge," said the Vasaath seriously. "I ask for your opinion."

Her father's voice echoed in mind, telling her that no one wanted to hear her opinions. The mighty Vasaath asked for them, but she felt a harsh pang of disbelief in the pit of her stomach and she finally shook her head, very shyly. "I have no opinions on the matter, my lord."

The general furrowed his brows, grunted, and nodded. "Of course you have."

She looked at him, begged of him not to press any further—if her father found out that she had been telling the Kas what she really thought about the Architects and their interpretation of the Structure, she would be sold like cattle to the highest bidder. But the Vasaath's gaze was stern and demanding, and finally, she said, "I've put my faith in the Architects. They carry the words of Edred and the Builder now."

His eyes narrowed. "Daan. Lies. Do not lie to me."

Her cheeks flushed and she swallowed hard. Was it that obvious? She sighed with a shaking breath and said, "Do you truly expect me to speak my mind when I am here to teach you about my culture?"

The Vasaath leaned on one elbow and eyed her, much like he had done the day before. "I do not see you as an ambassador of your faith," said he with a soft rumble, "but as an intelligible woman with a mind of her own. If I want to speak with a devotee, I'd speak with one of your Architects. Yesterday, you spoke much more freely. Now, if I frightened you by my harsh manners yesterday, I beg you to reconsider. You are in no danger from me or anyone else here. As my guest, you're under my protection."

She shifted again. "Thank you, my lord, but perhaps there is one thing you should learn about my culture—a woman ought not to speak of things she does not know."

The Vasaath stared intensely at her, his golden eyes gleaming and glittering. "In my culture," he then said, "men and women are equal in all matters of the mind. In here, your opinion matters just as much as mine. In that, we are equal."

There was honesty in his words that she had never heard before. His words were touching and frightening, all at the same time. Never before had she heard that her thoughts mattered, that her voice held weight. She could scarcely believe it did, herself. She wrung her hands together and said, "I do like the pillars. I think it's amiable to strive for virtue. I only wish some of the principles were interpreted differently."

"Differently how?"

"Well, for one, the pillars of family and duty are often interpreted together as one. Do your duty to your family. As a woman, that means obeying your husband and birthing him sons. A woman should follow. It is known." She swallowed hard. "The Architects and the family patriarchs often use that to justify arranged marriages." She was surprised at herself for speaking so frankly, but the general's ardent gaze felt genuine and curious. No one had ever listened to her before.

He was silent, urging her to go on, as he had a sip of his tea.

"I want to interpret duty as what you owe your peers, and about doing what you ought to, considering your situation. Doing your duty should be doing what you can to make things better, for as many as possible. And family should be interpreted as honouring your mother and father, but also as recognising your role as a part of something bigger. We're all here together, from all cultures and races, as a family."

Something changed in the Kas's eyes. "You speak with great wisdom despite your tender age, ohkas. It seems as though you might not find the Kasenon so foreign, after all."

"Then tell me about your philosophy."

He narrowed his eyes. "Have you not read the works of Alvaros Tyrio?"

"No," said she and shook her head. "I haven't had the opportunity. My father claims he is a liar."

The Vasaath glared at her for a moment before he straightened. "The Kasenon teaches us eight tenets: order, duty, honour, respect, strength, justice, knowledge, and equality. We live each day to stand by our tenets and a true Kas would rather die than abandon the philosophy."

Juniper tilted her head. "What do the tenets mean? I assume you don't leave it open for interpretation?"

The Vasaath smiled, only slightly—a sentiment Juniper guess was rarely bestowed upon anyone, least of all an outsider.

"Indeed, we don't," he then said. "The Kasenon require order through submission, that you live your role and do your duty to the Kas, that you strive for honour in all your endeavours, that you respect yourself as well as others, and that you covet physical and mental strength."

He took a gracious sip of his tea, and Juniper allowed her gaze to slowly trail his handsome features.

"Rightness will be rewarded and wrongness will be punished, you shall seek the truth and share that knowledge with the Kas, and you shall know that you do not stand above the Kas."

Juniper thought about his words for a moment. They weren't that different from the words of the Architects, and yet, they were strange. "What about compassion?" she asked. "What about love and family?"

"The children are raised within the community," said the Vasaath. "The Vasmenaan is our Great Mother, and the nemethans are our teachers. Once one has reached a ripe age, one is placed within a role. It could be anything from a kasaath, a warrior, to a maasa, a healer. You have already met a kasethen, an advisor."

She furrowed her brows. "So, Kasethen isn't his real name?"

"We do not keep names under the Kasenon," said the Vasaath. "We are what we do."

Juniper fell into deep wonder. She reached for the cup of tea that had been cooling at the table. It smelled of spices she did not recognise and as she tasted it, she was surprised to find it smooth as velvet against her tongue. Thinking about the rigorousness of the Kasenon, she gripped the cup with both her hands and stared into the glittering liquid.

The Vasaath noticed her silence and asked, "What has led your thoughts astray?"