Clop clop clop clop clack.

I find myself drawing on the reins reflexively when the ground underfoot changes from well traveled dirt, to solid stone. Our party slows, one of the men sighing, "Wow..."

The Rihall Greatbridge.

"Quite a sight," one of the men comments. Of course the commoners around us are drawing up short as well.

From atop my horse, I can see the entire span. The better part of a kilometer long, and wide enough for our entire band to walk abreast. The greatest bridge in all of Melphira. In all of Terna, perhaps. And, it's the only way to cross the Alese river, south of Riverpoint.

"Come on, stop gawking like a bunch of unwashed commoners," Gary suddenly scowls, pulling ahead of our group. A hail of reprimand follows him, but he simply remains astride his warhorse and continues as if he doesn't hear it. Even I could take issue with him for a comment like that, but...

"Haa..." I sigh, and drop the thought. Of the three paladins who fell in battle, Emmit was one of them. I have little care for family lines and minor nobility, but they both hailed from among the Nash barony, so they must be some manner of cousins.

Whether they were close or not, Gary has been in a truly foul mood since his cousin's death. I hate losing allies on the battlefield, I can only imagine how much deeper it would cut if they were family.

Resolving myself to remain lenient in the face of his loss, I give a small kick to urge my horse forward, as does the rest of the company in short order.

Even as we cross, I find myself gazing out over the bridge. I've never had the opportunity to walk it before my recent mission to the east. Before, I'd always been fighting with the armies in the northwest, where my own family holds its domain. Even during my regular visits to the capital, I'd never had reason to set out east before.

"What day is it, anyway?" one of the men from behind asks with a yawn. I glance back. It's Butch Menom. "I can't wait to finally get out of this saddle," he complains. I swear, they're capable in combat, but these men...

"Reeze twentieth. And it sounds like The Order should increase your training time," I comment sharply. Even if I don't really mean it, they don't know that. I keep one eye trained back, to watch him cringe. We've only been traveling for a week, and most of the trip was a comparatively easy float down river, from Mason town to Kokenno. Since the battle and some time for recuperation, it's been nothing but feasts and parties, which I'm glad finally ended when I told Duke Brennen we needed to return to the capital, so we would not end up stuck in his territory through the winter.

Of course, I'm surely destined for more of those accursed parties upon arrival. More uncomfortable dresses and socializing and noble manors. My skin crawls just thinking about it. Give me a sword and a beast to slay, not that suffocating political crap...

While I'm idly dreading our arrival back in a city, the paladins' bickering gives way to one man trotting up alongside me. I spare a sideways glance, and of course it's Fergus. "Commander," I greet him. He is one I do know. Baron Warren's uncle, and one of the oldest hands with The Order. Clearly the highest ranking member among the rabble they sent to aid me.

"So, what are your plans when we get back?" Fergus prompts, both of our gazes turning ahead once more, to the grand city perched atop the cliffs the bridge leads up to.

"Before I'm pulled into the parties and feasts and all that nonsense, I think I'll report back to my sect first. You'll be returning to The Order?"

"I suppose so, I should report on our assignment's success." There's a pause, momentarily pregnant with meaning. 'And the casualties,' remains unspoken.

"I'll head that way when I'm done," I sigh lightly. "I have to return this equipment."

"That equipment?" I can hear his grimace even without looking.

"Yeah, yeah, your armsmaster is going to lose his mind, isn't he?" I groan. It's not my fault that monstrosity we faced was powerful enough to shatter whole sections of the armor they lent me.

"Well, I wish you luck. I'll make sure I'm as far away from the armory as possible by then..." He gives a faint chuckle, to which I can only shake my head.

The closer we get to the city, the more my spirit begins to sink, dreading everything ahead of me. Not just my reporting in, and the inevitable parties, but the coming of winter as well. Locked inside again, for months at a time...

I immediately force those thoughts from mind, vowing to get out as much as possible, even if it means driving through the snow by force. I'll not sit idly in some suffocating box again. Even with the constant weight of the goddess' presence gone from me, there's no way I would be able to sit still for so long anymore.

Soon enough, the city rises high above us. Perched atop the high ground beside the river, it is nigh impenetrable from the east. With sharp cliffsides, easily ten meters above the wide, rushing river, huge walls stand atop. Even being wide enough to march an army across, the bridge provides no cover from above. Any sane commander would attempt to cross the river by boat first, to attack from the west instead.

Even that monstrosity back in Brenton would make little progress here. It truly is the greatest fortress city in southern Terna.

I'm drawn from my rumination on the incredible sight above, when a familiar face approaches from ahead.

Once he arrives in front and we've all pulled our steeds to a halt, he greets me with a gratuitous show of respect. "Dame Catherine."

"Erin," I greet the messenger lightly. Thankfully, I'm not required to return the irritating formality while in the saddle.

"Rodrick sent me when he heard you're back."

"He's already heard?" They must have stationed runners to watch for our return. In that case, everyone knows we're back by now.

"Yes. He figured you would be busy, so he wanted me to carry your report back for you." Even as he speaks, he draws out paper, a wooden board to write on, and a pen. He carefully uncorks his traveler's ink, while I clear my throat.

I dictate, "I completed my mission successfully, though not without casualties. There was an unexpected complication at the end of my stay in Brenton. I will discuss the details further when we meet. That should do, Erin." He takes a few moments longer, his hand making remarkably quick work of the message, especially from the awkward position.

In those moments, my mind goes briefly back to my time in the east. Even with my wounds partially healed, a dull shock of dread remains, just thinking about it. A single slip up from Hurena, losing focus on my mark, and it almost killed me. She said that something important happened that drew her away from me, which I completely understand. She's a goddess. Of course she has important matters to deal with all the time. It was just bad luck it happened at such a crucial moment...

I guess it just shows, the gods aren't all powerful. All the more reason I revere her, helping us as she does, keeping all of nature in balance as best she can, with the great power she does have. Thinking about it now, this mission will probably go down in history. My greatest, most lasting achievement. All thanks to my goddess...

Once Erin has finished writing, he passes off the pen, drawing me from my thoughts so I can add my signature to the letter. It's a sloppy scrawl beside the messenger's own neat hand, but I pay that no mind. After all, Rodrick will know it to be genuine. I pass the paper back, so he can fold it neatly and stash it away with the rest of his supplies.

"Thank you, I'll head back to the sect now." After another grand gesture, he pauses. It makes me want to roll my eyes.

"Yes, you can go," I dismiss him, and he runs off. "Haven't even reached the gate, and I already want to kill something..." I hiss under my breath.

"What was that?" Fergus asks, leaning in my direction as he brings his horse up alongside mine again.

"Just thinking aloud. Since that covers my business with my sect, I guess I'll head to The Order first instead."

"A-ahh..." He goes a bit pale. "Could you talk to Atlas first then?" he requests. He clearly does not want to be anywhere near the armory when I turn in this equipment.

"Fine, fine," I sigh, a hand going to my hair in agitation, "let's just get go-" I stop short, blink, and look up.

Within the next few moments, every soul on the bridge does the same, sweeping us up in gentle silence. Bit by bit, white flecks have begun to drift down from above. I hold out a hand, and one alights atop my palm. With a pin-prick sting of cold, it melts into a tiny droplet of glistening water.

Winter has come.

We cover the remainder of the bridge at a quick trot. While the newly falling snow is in miniscule flecks for now, there is no telling if the weather will make a sudden turn.

At the gate, we have to slow again, since it is more crowded, guards checking the commoners for... whatever they check commoners for. I swallow hard and keep my eyes up, away from the pressing crowd as we wade through, crossing into the shade. The road passes straight through the cliff face, beneath the wall. The way is nearly a hundred meters long before it slopes up to reach the city's entrance plaza. Surrounded, of course, by a second walled-in kill zone. Just in case any would-be invaders actually made is across the bridge and through the main gate.

Once through the second checkpoint, my breath goes shallow, heart loud in my ears. The city is crowded, commoner merchants dispersing into the nearby shops. Big, built up buildings tower all around, plastered and painted in garish colors. The people head further west, toward the market district. The din of noise is relentless. The buildings tall and imposing. My teeth grit. My hands go rigid on the reins. It's a small blessing that we turn away. The Order's headquarters are far to the south, on the outskirts of the city, where the river meets Lake Refrain. Right now, even that place seems better than this torture.

The moment we're clear of the crowds and buildings crushing in on the main roads, modest stretches of grassy lawns stretch off to various commoner housing. It helps. At least Fulin isn't so closed in that I'm constantly on the verge of panic, like I would be back in Brenton. That city is the stuff of my nightmares.

Heading south, there are still commoners about, with the rare noble carriage moving in the distance, but I urge my horse on a bit faster anyway. "They'll make room," I hiss to myself and push on, the clatter of hooves behind speeding up to match my pace.

"Hurena, give me the strength to endure," I mutter. It was all so much easier with her, always there to silence the scream of civilization in my head. Holding her close to my heart, I go on. We continue a while, stone road turning to plain cobble as the buildings fall away, larger and larger stretches of land rolling out. The manors here are more likely nobles' rather than simple wealthy commoners.

Far more importantly, the large buildings perch in the distance, upon huge tracts of land. Sparse greenery pokes up, short and scrubby with the cold arrival of winter blowing in, flecks of white snow already perching among the grass. Trees and bushes grow too, though their leaves are long gone as well. Still, it's far better than city.

My heart slows, and I unclench my fists upon the reins of my horse, letting it slow back to a walk for a while. I send a half-glance back, just to check that the paladins are still with me, not that it particularly matters now that our mission together is over. Though they would probably get chewed out by their superiors if I arrived before them.

I lean forward in the saddle, rubbing the side of my horse's neck. It's more to comfort myself than anything. It's helping me stay grounded...

Two bells pass. Based on the sun's position, they should be the sixth and seventh bells. It's interesting in retrospect, how Brenton only had the single time-keeping bell, while there are bell towers scattered all about the capital. We even have a few out in Weston.

With the city center giving way to sporadically placed noble estates, my breath comes far easier. There are even whole sections of light forestation scattered throughout. Tiny hills abound, an easy trek for our steeds with the cobbled road weaving a lazy path through the shallow valleys between. Until at last, we sight the city's outer wall in the distance.

Butted directly against its side is what can only be described as a castle. A fortress within the fortress city. The main headquarters of The Knights of Order. Towering stone walls form outer battlements, the inner keep rising even higher above those. They are unusually smooth, the quality of construction on full display under the mid-day sun. A painstaking process to be sure, even compared to the fortress city's own great walls.

Towers in the outer walls are manned by numerous guardians even now. Their eyes must be on our approaching party, since we are the only people this far on the outskirts of the city apart from the rare patrol of border guards.

When we reach the main gate, a contingent of paladins approach, a half dozen strong. The back of my neck prickles. A glance up spots the multitude of archers positioned above. All watching me. No, us. They wouldn't be watching me specifically. They are not on any sort of alert, but the implied danger of their presence alone has me sizing up their forces. Not a fight I could win. I'm not even dressed for combat right now.

When the Order paladins approach from the front, I prepare myself and dismount. A terrible throb in my side pushes a grunt from my throat, which I cover with a few painful shoulder stretches, like I'm simply sore from the ride. I can't show any weakness now.

Even with holy water and a couple weeks' convalescence, some of my wounds have yet to fully mend. Mostly the hit that ripped away an entire section of my breastplate. If I had to guess, I may have a broken rib or two, and beneath my clothes, my entire right side under my armpit is a mass of discolored bruising. But I can't let anyone know that, just in case. Besides the party at my back, the ones who have proven themselves on the battlefield, I'd never know who is an enemy, waiting patiently for the perfect opportunity...

I dip into a stiff, formal curtsy. They all move similarly. "Catherine Lundrum, representing The Sect of Hurena. I understand I have not sent word ahead, but I request an audience with The Knights of Order." Ridiculous formalities...

"Yes, we have been expecting you," the man at their head responds in kind. "Open the gate!" he calls. It takes some time for the men in the gatehouse to work their huge gate open. Once they do, we all enter the courtyard. Servants pass through to lead everyone's steeds off to the stables, while the paladins split off to the right. I've only been here the one time before, but I believe that path leads to the armory. As for me, I unhook the saddle bag from my horse before it is brought away, then move forward. Now I have to report to Atlas.

I stand before the main entrance to the central building of the large keep. Even with the open grounds and the size of the space, this place is making me sweat. Directly ahead, steps of immaculate stone ascend to the large wooden doors, servants standing ready to open each one. The surrounding building is painted in vibrant reds and blues. As are the doors. And the stairs. There are carvings, and sculptures, and effigies scrolled all across every available surface. It trails up the walls overhead until I can't make out the details anymore. The place drips wealth, second only to the royal family.

I swallow my trepidation with clenched fists, and advance, the servants silently opening the double doors to allow me across the threshold. I can feel them staring...

Once inside, yet another servant greets me. More formality I jerkily return, the best I can do with the building's high walls feeling like they're about to cave in around me. I march after the help, through a series of halls. Opulence abounds inside too, but I pay no mind to that now.

High archways pass on either side from time to time as we advance through the center of The Order's stronghold. Through them, side rooms reveal a number of other paladins, in the middle of working or training.

As the name implies, the Knights of Order are composed entirely of Knights. I vividly remember how they invited me to join their ranks the first time I was knighted. An impossible ask, of course. Just look at this awful place...

By the time we reach the doors to the main audience chamber, my nerves are beginning to fray and I'm wishing with all of my being that I still had Hurena with me, to drive away all of these feelings. Ugh, I've gotten soft in the months I haven't had to deal with them. That must be why it's harder than before.

It can't be helped of course, so I simply focus harder, nails biting into the stiff leather strap of my pack, clutched to hang over my shoulder. I push on through the doorway. My feet clack off the smooth polished floor of the audience chamber; they sound boomingly loud all of a sudden. Even with the constant echoes ringing back from the huge room, it doesn't help my anxiety one bit. I bite down and march on, heart hammering as if I'm charging into battle. Atlas sits ahead, perched easily, with a handful of advisers moving to and fro.

To either side of the room are paladins, fully armored for combat. Five on either side, spread evenly up the entire room's length, standing like statues. Staring. Right beside Atlas, his Staff leans against his seat, imposing all on its own.

I stop to stand, at a line chiseled into the floor, five meters away from The Order's commander. I gently set my bag down a short distance behind me. "Catherine Lundrum, from the Sect of Hurena," I'm announced as I bend the knee to bow down low. My side throbs. This is a bad position... Even with my head down, I keep my eyes up. Never take your eyes off your opponent...

"Mm." The man nods atop what I can only describe as a throne. The only real difference from His Majesty's throne is how it is not raised on a dais, and lacks paint in the royal reds and golds, instead sporting an ever-present scrawl of etched lettering, the letters too small to make out at this distance, besides the numerous marks of Acanas upon the arms and the large one at the top, above his head.

I inhale deeply. "I graciously offer my greetings... your highness." He doesn't correct me.

"No no, just call me Atlas," he said the last time. When I was here as The Angel of Hurena. "I can't accept such an honorary title from one such as yourself, certainly not in my position." He was so gracious lending me paladins and equipment to complete my great quest. All in recognition of Hurena's authority, of course. And even then - while the equipment was wonderful, just look at the lower ranked paladins he sent with me...

In the present of course, Atlas is looking down on me from atop his throne. "So, what news do you bring?" he asks, even his tone lacking the previous level of respect. After all, even as the daughter of a reigning archduke and an archknight myself, what real courtly power do I have to challenge him? I'm not even married. Just some woman from a different religious sect.

As much as I hate politics, I will not be trampled over so easily. So let's fix that.

I rise. I offer a military salute, fist clashing loudly against my breast. I don't let the pain show. I have to be the very image of an immovable stone. "I have completed my great quest." He winces, eyes suddenly showing his badly veiled worry. Am I still Hurena's angel? Wasn't I relieved of my duty - and more importantly, Her Authority? I can see the questions playing over his features, but give him no time to recover. "With The Order's aid, I have driven back the beasts in the northeast. Thank you for your gracious support, Atlas Melphira."

"Y-yes... Good work." He finally moves through a halting gesture of respect.

I offer a silent thanks to Hurena, and the tiny sliver of her authority she left with me. Either a reward for my work, or an apology for her own rare mistake - she never said. Never even mentioned it. But it remains within me, like an intangible muscle I can flex to tap into that power. A wondrous, divine power I must always treat with the utmost care, for Her...

I offer a short summary of my mission. How we traveled to Brenton and slew the forest creatures encroaching on the city. I make sure to offer praise for the good work of his paladins, and remark on their prowess in battle. That returns some of the commander's imperious posture, but I let it go. Regardless of their behavior off the battlefield, his men did wonderful work, and I will not deny them their deserved honor.

"Unfortunately, our mission was not without trouble." I finally get to it. "Near the end of our stay, a swarm of beasts were driven out of the forest by a monster. It was unlike anything I've ever seen before; it was an abomination against nature." Perhaps that is the true reason Hurena had me go there... "We saw it slain, but three paladins fell in battle."

He blinks at me. I can see him trying to come to terms. That the mission to kill some troublesome forest animals actually ended in the death of his men.

"Jall Lind, Emmit Nash, and Anthony Lennon were the three who fell to the monster. My humblest apologies, but the monster ate them. We could not even recover their bodies." I lower my head in apology, a sting digging into my own heart. I'm unfortunately accustomed to losing men in battle, but it will never not hurt...

"I... see." Atlas rumbles. "Jill, make sure to notify the men's families."

"Yes, sire," the rare woman off to the side responds, though she does not move to do so immediately.

With a sigh, he addresses me again, some of the earlier bluster gone. At least he appears to care about his men... "Do you have anything further to report?"

"No, that is all," I call back stiffly. With the end of this verbal spar coming, the anxiety is beginning to press in again. Have to push through it to the end, can't show any weakness now.

"Then that will be all. You are dismissed." He does offer a minor gesture of respect this time.

I move through another formal bow. "Thank you, I will be going." With that, I turn on my heel, scoop up my bag, and march straight back out of the audience chamber.

By the time I reach the hallway outside, the high strung clarity is shredding and the walls are closing in. My tread quickens. With hardened resolve, my boots thump over the heavily carpeted hall, Order servants staring as they clear a path. One has to run to catch up, as if I don't know my way out of this horrifying place.

I clear the front door into the courtyard, breath hissing through my teeth. With eyes landing on me from every direction, it takes all of my self control not to clutch at my sword.

I pivot left, eyes moving up. The sky is right there, and there's grass underfoot again. But my shoulders feel like boulders, settled heavily on me, every muscle strained. I close my eyes, breathe in the air. It's mostly clear, clean. It helps. The pungent whiff of burning wood, sweat, and human habitation, certainly do not.

There are some paladins training in a cleared courtyard out in front of the armory. Tiny flakes of snow still drift down from above, but it has not yet begun to pile up, so they have been ignoring it and continuing with their practice swings and sparring. I stop beside a small tree briefly. My fingers touch the smooth bark, gripping lightly, and my heart slows. "I'm almost done," I promise myself. "Just one more."

Ignoring the high walls to the best of my ability, I focus on the paladins practicing. They're very good, their basics solid, movements smooth and swift. It reminds me of my time watching over soldiers, helping with their combat training. Teaching them how to move, defend themselves, how to strike. I take some time to just stand and watch.

"...Hah..." A shuddering breath flows out, shoulders slowly unlocking. "Ok. I can do this." I move on. The practice field passes by. Ahead, a few more buildings stand. They're less ornate, yet still imposing enough to set my teeth on edge. At least the practicality makes their presentation of the large banners depicting the mark of Arcanas feel far more reasonable, compared to the ostentatiously hand-carved everything of their central keep. If I recall correctly, the one behind the stables contains their armory.

I head that way, threading the path between the connected buildings until I find the stables. I go to my horse so I can unstrap the huge sword from its side. It was the largest weapon they had when I asked, for slaying giant magical creatures. It certainly served its purpose, didn't it?

I move on, leaving the stables behind. It's a short walk further, to find the door into the armory. With my resolve readied, I open it and walk through. A thump pounds in my chest, squinting into the interior. Not exactly dim, but nothing like the brightly lit afternoon sun outside. I swallow and advance, one step at a time.

I feel like attackers are waiting in the shadows. Behind the small columns on either side of the carpet leading through where the room opens up. At the corner of the bookcase on my right. Someone or something, ready to jump out the instant my attention wavers. I shift my bag, and I grip tightly around the massive sword's handle, even as I tell myself to calm down. Nothing in The Order's armory is going to suddenly attack me. That's stupid and paranoid.

I cautiously work my way through the room, over to where I do hear someone moving around. After a few moments for my eyes to grow accustomed to the lighting, it's extra clear there's nothing hiding in here, and I spot the man, sifting through a pile of assorted armor, inspecting it for damage.

He turns at my approaching footsteps. "Ah, Catherine," he greets me with a nod.

"Armin," I respond in kind. The Order's armsmaster is rather old, a war veteran. It shows in his physique, stony demeanor, and of course, his missing left arm.

"So, you've got the gear?" he asks, thumping his good hand down on a table between us and sweeping a few things aside to make space.

"I do." I pass him the sword. He falters under the weight, using the table to catch the blade with a thud that rings through the quiet room. "I'd still have preferred a hammer," I quip, trying to ease my burning anxiety. He just shrugs, his eyes traveling the blade's length. They stop briefly on a few nicks, before he hefts it off onto another table, spilling some of the contents in the process. Apparently he's content to leave it at that for now.

"The armor's in pretty rough condition..." As I offer the warning, I swing the bag over my shoulder, open the top, and empty it across the table. 'Rough' is putting it lightly. Just about every piece of the whitish, bone-constructed armor it is covered with cracks. Chips are taken out all over. Some parts are especially bad; a huge furrow bisects the entire length of a gauntlet, and a spiderweb of cracks cover one pauldron. And of course, the large hole in the breastplate, where the armor was torn away entirely, saving me from injuries even worse than they are. It leaves the entire right side open, exposing the rib cage.

"..." Armin's silence is deafening. His face grave. He hesitates, then picks up the breastplate to inspect it more closely. Another thump of anxiety, and I reflexively glance to either side. Still just us. "How on Loqa did you destroy borlak armor?" he asks. "Do you have any idea how expensive this is? How long it took to make?"

Wait, they gave me armor made from borlak? "-...Uhh." Whatever I was about to say, that's all that comes out. I swallow, then clear my throat loudly. "How much to repair it?"

Armin's hand goes to his face in consternation. "There is no repairing gear like this. The best you could do is pay for it, but there's no way we can sell something like this either." He's right, selling equipment of this grade to an individual is extremely illegal.

"Perhaps it could go to my sect?" I suggest. No, they can't afford it. "Or, what about the archduke's estate? You can send the bill there." Sorry, Father, I apologize silently. There's no way I could afford to cover the cost of this on my own, but being indebted to my own family would be preferable to owing The Order. Perhaps if I report my success to the king, he would cover the cost as a reward for my achievement?

Ugh, I completed a mission from the gods, safeguarded the kingdom, and I'm about to be ruined for the cost of my armor? Ridiculous... With those thoughts and a cold sweat forming on the back of my neck, I await Armin's response. But the longer he thinks, the smaller the room gets around me. Just say something already....

He finally grunts. "I'll talk to Atlas, probably contact the king and ask for him to work out the compensation." Good, he must have thought along the same lines I did.

"Right, sounds good." I manage to get the words out clearly, despite my whole body having locked up with tension at this point. "I'll leave that to you then, alright?"

"Yeah, I'll get on it."

"Farewell then," I quickly dismiss myself. The best I can do is wait for him to respond before turning away and marching myself rapidly out of the building again. By the time I reach the scrubby winter grass, I'm breathing through my clenched teeth. Any longer and that room would have crushed me...

I rush off toward the stables. I've done everything in here I needed to do; I have to get out of this place now. With a few words to the stablehands, I retrieve my steed and return to the front gate. I can barely hear the guards announcing my leave over my heart pounding in my ears. There are so many, their weapons and armor glinting dangerously in the sun. Staring at me. I have to get out of here...

The wait for them to open the gate is an eternity. I climb up into the saddle. The position offers an advantage over the paladins on the ground, but wouldn't help with the archers above at all. My knuckles just keep going whiter on the reins. Jaw clenched shut. I can barely keep myself breathing through my nose.

When they finally wave me out, it takes all of my self-control not to escape as fast as possible. I walk my horse forward, crossing the threshold, and remain unmoving atop, as we leave the castle behind, slowly shrinking into the distance behind us. My vision tunnels forward, dark at the edges.

At some point along the road, my heart finally slows. I pull my horse to a stop, dismount, and walk a few paces off of the cobbled road, onto the edge of some estate's lawn, the manor poking up far off in the distance. I lie down in the grass.

I spend some time sucking in deep breaths of the clear winter air, the prickle of falling snow on my face helping immensely to reconnect. This is where I belong...

...

It's cold out here.

I do eventually get back up. It wouldn't be good to be seen lying out on the ground like this. While I really don't care for all the politics, it would still be a hassle. Once in the saddle, we get going, faster this time. It's a long ride to my sect, toward the northwest section of the city. Not to mention, I fully intend to circumvent the main city center, lengthening the journey even further.

"The snow is picking up," I intone, looking up at the darkening sky. I automatically rock with the cantor of my horse, moving fast to get there before it gets too late. It's already after ninth bell and I still need to talk to Rodrick, if only to explain the outcome of my mission, like I did with Atlas earlier. And that will leave me with precious little time to spend at the sect before I need to depart for my estate.

Having gone off the beaten path, I find the road that leads up to the sect's grounds, and take it the remainder of the way, until the fenced in area comes into view. I approach the front gate, my horse dropping down to a slower trot, snorting hot, white puffs of breath into the cold air. "Mm?" I mumble when I see the carriage parked by the gate, its driver rubbing his hands together for warmth. We have a visitor? This late?

Passing by that, I wave at the servant manning the gate. He salutes, and opens it for me. Dismounting, I take the reins in hand and lead the way through.

I feel something, and glance back. The servant's eyes were following me, weren't they? I'm immediately reminded of the watching stares of the paladins, but that was different. I wouldn't expect stares like that from our own people.

With a little shiver, I try not to think about it and cross the short stretch of ground up to the building. Our sect operates on a spacious piece of land, with a massive-looking building covering most of the grounds within. It's three stories, primarily a wooden structure. Painted in a deep, forest green, there are regularly spaced banners depicting Hurena's tree mark in bold black linework.

There is a stone archway built into the front, high overhead, which serves as the building's main entrance. But unlike all the awful normal buildings within cities, beyond the archway is a courtyard. In fact, the courtyard occupies the vast majority of the building. Everything besides the small rooms contained in within the thin outer structure. Just beyond the arch, I reach the post for tying up my horse, hay and water troughs already filled and ready for it. "I'll be back in a bit," I say, giving it a few pats, before smiling to myself and moving on.

Within the courtyard lies the greatest place in all of Loqaterna. A mixture of shrubs, flower gardens, and a wide variety of trees. Small stonework paths stretch throughout, but every other bit of ground is meticulously cared for plantlife. Much of it is dead or hibernating through winter, but a number of evergreen trees help to fill in the gaps, needles already dotted with specks of pure white newly fallen snow. Within moments walking the garden paths, the entrance, and even surrounding structure, is largely lost. Glimpses of it peek through the branches of trees, its deep green blending well with the plantlife. All the day's worries fall off of me as I suck in the chill, fresh air.

The path winds, curving and swaying with the life growing all around. A few new paths split off now and then. I take turns, the layout memorized such that I could walk it in my sleep. This late in the day, it is totally deserted. That leaves me in the perfect, serene silence of nature for the duration of my walk.

I move slowly, savoring every step. Yet soon enough, I arrive at the garden's center, where the stonework expands somewhat, to fit a few tables and seats. This is always the first place to check for Rodrick, it's where he spends any time he isn't in his office-

I stop. Not only is Rodrick not present, the person who is here is no one I'd ever expect.

"Catherine, it's good to see you! I've been waiting all day, you know," she adds with a joking chuckle, one hand brushing aside a strand of white hair which escaped from its braid.

"...Mother?" I stare, trying to understand, until the obvious answer comes to me. Of course she'd be back in the capital again, she always returns to spend winter here. She normally leaves a bit later though, around the turn of the season. Coming all the way from Weston, I wouldn't expect to see her for almost a week more. She must have left a bit early this year if she's here already...

I blink, belatedly realizing she just said something, but I completely missed it. "Sorry, what?"

She sighs at me, standing from her seat. "I said - I thought I would freeze to death, waiting out here for so long. Can't your sect have somewhere warmer for visitors to stay?" She says that, but she doesn't even look cold. Not under her many layers of thick, richly colored clothing.

But actually... "Why did you come here then?" I ask. "You could have visited me at my estate."

"I'm here because this should have been the first place you came when you got back in town," she grumps. She's not wrong, if not for Erin taking word back for me, that's exactly what I would have done.

No, that's besides the point. "Why did you want to meet me so soon? Is it something urgent?" A prickle of familiar worry tickles at the back of my neck.

"Yes, it is." She makes an uncharacteristic pause, turns back to the servant she has standing on hand, and commands them to go wait with the carriage. Once we're alone, she clears her throat. "We need to talk about your daughter."

"..."

It takes me a moment.

"My what?"