"Don't be ridiculous. The Empire went to great lengths to get everyone in Feroz out who wanted to be out. The Jotun let anyone leave who wants to leave, and the Lasambrians aren't even taking thralls, just an oath that they're not going to be stabbed in the back. I'd take either over being a Confederacy slave."

"Pick too many fights and there won't be an Empire left."

"Then I'll be a Lasambrian. We spent all that effort converting them for a reason. If they absorb a lot of Imperials, we could take over the Jotun from the inside."

It is at this stage in their argument that Camilo opens the tent flap again, with a tray of tea. There's a large glass teapot, several small beautifully-decorated cups, and a small ceramic pot of honey with a tiny spoon.

"You sound like you could do with some tea," he opines, "and please remember that tents are not soundproof."

This makes Melia and Alvero stop arguing and look guiltily at each other; they had rather been starting to raise their voices.

Selma is visibly surprised at hearing the Jotun and Lasambrians aren't taking thralls, and the Empire actually evacuated everyone from Feroz.

A bit after they fall silent, she asks, "Do I need to do anything to be a real citizen of the Empire?"

"Yes," replies Alvero, happy to be on a more solid and certain subject. "If you want to become a citizen, you will have to decide on a nation to join; obviously I think the Brass Coast is excellent, but many other options are available, I can take you through them if you like. Then you will have to seek out that nation's Egregore and swear the oath of citizenship to them.

You may want to remain a foreigner for some time - although in your particular case, that does come with dangers. The Imperial legal system is generally more lenient towards foreigners, especially in religious matters, but the leniency generally takes the form of ordering exile rather than the harsher penalties, and that might not be something you wish to risk..."

If Alvero's very perceptive, he can see Selma shivering a tiny amount at that last sentence.

"I'm not sure what my religion is at the moment."

(She isn't going to mention it in front of Liliana, but Liliana's vision is making her even more unsure.)

"What are those harsher penalties?  And, what is the Imperial law on religion?  I've heard something back home - in the Confederacy - but I don't think I trust them to be telling the truth."

"Look, so, we're Freeborn, I'm not going to lie to you," replies Alvero, in a tone that implies he would actually really like to right about now. "Imperial Law is pretty strict where it applies - which isn't actually a lot, assuming you're not planning to go around murdering people. Almost all criminal penalties are fines, but if you escalate past that, if you're lucky it's ritual branding at your own expense and if you're not lucky it's some variation of death.

Now, that's generally for people who actually kill people, which seems fair enough, but it's also for people who unrepentantly damage other people's chances of reincarnation - if you're not doing it on purpose you will generally be given the opportunity to say so and be assigned someone who will check on you and report in, but it's still on the books.

That includes heresy - promoting false paragons, false virtues, or discouraging people from following the true virtues; blasphemy - promoting false doctrine or discouraging people from believing true doctrine; and idolatory - worshipping or subsuming your will to anything that isn't human.

So, it's generally advised to have a good religious education before becoming a citizen - if you're a foreigner, it's much more likely that the magistrate will believe you made an honest mistake you don't intend to repeat, and give you a lot more benefit of the doubt, about religious crimes in particular."

"And desecration," Malia can't resist piping up.

"Yes, yes, and desecration, but they're hardly going to do that by accident - basically, if you can take down spiritual auras, be really sure it's not a spontaneous, miraculous aura before doing it."

"The Egregors aren't nonhuman?  Or... do you not really give over your will to them?"

"We absolutely do not give over our will to them!" exclaims Malia, hotly.

"Quite the reverse, actually," explains Alvero. "They are embodiments of our will - of the will of the entire nation. And they can do nothing without the consent of a willing human host."

Liliana finally looks up from her musings.  "How does that work?"

Alvero explains: "You'd want one of the hakima to talk about the details - or Yasmina, I suppose, when she gets back. It's a ritual, cast back at the founding of the Empire; the Freeborn demanded that something was done to ensure the nations retained their cultural distinctiveness - that the Highborn didn't just subtly work to make us all like them, in the end. And this is what was done."

"That sounds like I'd either love being a part of it, or hate it."  And she thinks she probably still wouldn't be sure even if she knew all about it.

"That's why it's important to choose your nation carefully! I think there's generally at least one that suits any person, but that's also why we let foreigners live and operate here without becoming citizens if they'd rather, as long as they don't cause any trouble."

"What is it like when the egregor's acting on you?  How much power does it have over you?"

"Very little," replies Alvero. "Most people don't notice it at all. If you keep doing something that's strongly against your culture - like, if I was going around lying to people, or had run off with the Navarr and started wearing drab brown clothes all the time - you'll feel a bit like something's wrong, a bit uncomfortable.

People who probably ought to change nations might get a visit from an egregore host, who will just talk to them normally about it and offer to help.

If you actually consent to hosting an egregore - and this seems pretty unlikely to come up, usually they pick people who grew up in the nation and are already, like, super keen - I think they still don't have actual control over you, it's just that they can speak to you directly, and if you don't do what they need done they'll leave and find someone who will.

Oh, and you can break the bond any time you like, although that makes you not a citizen any more until you get another one."

Liliana looks disappointed for a moment.

"Sorry," says Malia, with a considerable quantity of flippant sarcasm, "it turns out mind control is one of the fundamental limits of magic; the best anyone can do is load you up with auras and maybe curse you to feel bad if you do, like, very specific bad things."

"I suppose Yasmina and Alvero didn't tell you, but... I was already cursed.  Alvero didn't see it on my soul, but he thought he saw the aftereffects."

"Right. Well, being bound to an egregore isn't much like being cursed. It makes you happy about good stuff too, although, like, not in an overwhelming way." Malia is slightly embarrassed about leaping to the wrong conclusion and is covering it up with extra bravado.

"But I still feel I have to do something, to achieve something good.  Pride and Courage, he called it.  That's why I'm talking to you now, but... I want to rescue my husband, and do something for the people I'd forgotten in my old duchy."

"Those are good ambitions!" replies Malia brightly. "You might want to become a citizen first so that the Ambassador doesn't decide it's a great idea to just trade you back instead; if you're a citizen that would be much more awkward and the courts would look very unkindly on him doing it without your consent."

"Did anyone want any tea, before it gets cold?" asks Camilo, somewhat plaintively.

"Then I suppose I'll need to find an acceptable egregore.  But first, yes, I'll have some tea... er, please."

Camilo serves her some tea in possibly an exaggeratedly solicitous fashion; Melia seems to be somewhat disapproving about it, mutters something like, "I'm sure she can pour her own tea".

"Offer's still open to talk through the nations," says Alvero, before any of that can escalate.

Liliana looks indecisive and doesn't answer for a moment.

Before she can, Selma nods.  "Yes - please."

"There are ten nations, but we can rule out the Imperial Orcs as you're not Orcs," begins Alvero.

"The basic stereotypes go like this: The Freeborn of the Brass Coast, that's us, are unfailingly honest and highly adventurous, our motto is 'Life is short, let it never be dull';

north of us are the Marchers, who aren't all farmers but it sometimes seems like that, deeply invested in their land and what can be wrested from it, stubborn and grudge-keeping but ultimately united against all those who would do them or the Empire harm;

north of them are the Winterfolk of Wintermark, heroic and steadfast, cunning and attuned to the cycle of souls - three people as one, the clever Suaq, the steadfast Steinr, the wise Kallavesi;

spread everywhere, but especially just over from Wintermark, are the Navarr - nomadic for the most part, or supporting their nomads; fearsome, uncompromising, a nation with a mission - to destroy the Vallorn and rebuild Terunael, the great nation that was here before the Empire;

over from them, to the north is Varushka, a land full of secrets and bargains, a rich land but a haunted land, whose people live by the rules that let them thrive there, rules of hospitality and never straying from the road;

to the south of them, Dawn, a land of love and glory - banners and castles and nobles - and, of course, the yeofolk who keep all of the pagentry supplied and functioning;

to the south of that, Highguard, enamoured of stone and history - I'm not sure I can be fair to them, the Freeborn left their stifling presence to form our own nation, but they're the religious heart of the Empire even so, and they do have explorers and archaeologists and all that;

scattered around again, laying claim to the Empire's largest cities, the League, a series of city-states which pride themselves on their ruthless competitive nature, highly political and always keeping a tally of favours;

then right at the other end of the Empire, Urizen, a mountainous land of what appear to be contemplative scholars - until push comes to shove, at which point their finely honed magical prowess and self control become some of the Empire's sharpest weapons.

I can't say any of this is scrupulously fair, it's just my impressions as a Freeborn sutannir - but does any of that catch your attention?"

Selma isn't sure what she wants to be, except she'd like to try not being adventurous or competitive for a while.  Maybe she'd like being competitive for herself, but she's been caught up in too many other people's schemes.

She doesn't want to say that just yet, with Lady Liliana still here, though she's rather relieved there're so many different nations.  "And how many of them would welcome someone like me?  Say, the Marchers - I wouldn't have any land..."

"Oh, most folks will welcome someone who's willing to pitch in. Most Marchers are part of a household rather than owning the land themselves, itinerant workers can join one if they get on, or there's mummers and landskeepers who don't settle down, and anyone can get some land of their own if they'll serve in the armies for it."