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More thorns than rose-blossoms
Lila has failed at Villarosa
Permalink Mark Unread

Once upon a time there was a princess who had been turned out of her kingdom by an evil sorcerer...

 

But that was another story, now.

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The travelers have more to tell than usual about the constant jockeying between the nobles of the Iron Confederacy.  It's been rather eventful recently:  the young Duke Achard has married Lady Liliana - after some scandal involving Lady Rosalyn, the daughter of another Duke, who was actually reduced to slavery as punishment for her crimes.

But then, further tales tell of Duke Achard himself being indicted on charges of sorcery (a grave crime throughout the Iron Confederacy) and stripped of his throne and imprisoned.  It's whispered that Lady Rosalyn's parents may be behind this... but if so, there's no mention of Rosalyn herself being restored.

And the whispers don't say anything about Lady Liliana either, even though she would've been expected to either be indicted herself or to testify against Achard.

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Beyond the hills to the north of the Iron Confederacy, there's a scrub valley with a shallow rivulet.  A few campfires dot it in the evening.

"Refugees," murmurs a young woman in a dress that looks like it was once fancy.

She steps forward toward one of the campfires, and then frowns, turns back, and offers a hand to her companion.

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The refugees here are still timid, suspicious - ready to pick up and run at signs of danger. Trying to roast some tubers they've dug up to restore their depleted provisions.

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She pauses again somewhere around the edge of the firelight.  "Hello?" she says softly.  "Can I - can we join you for tonight?"

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A couple of the refugees look up warily.

A lady smiles and gestures them closer. "I'm afraid we don't have any food to spare, but the nights do get cold here," she says.

A couple of people who seem to be considering themselves guards look at them, checking for weapons or any sign of obvious threat.

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"Thank you."

They sit a little ways back from the fire.  She frowns momentarily at the lumpy ground, and brushes back some blonde hair that's escaped her hairscarf.

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There is a whispered altercation happening over the other side of the makeshift encampment.

Someone is pointing at her.

One of the people involved strides over. She looks a bit more well fed, and has a sword at her hip.

"Nice dress you have there," she says. "Where'd you get it?"

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"My - family."

(There's a hint of choked-back tears.)

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"Quite a... significant family, would you say?" continues the armed woman.

The whispered argument that she came from starts to rise in volume and urgency. "No, I'm sure, it's.." can vaguely be heard.

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She nods nervously.  "But - not anymore."

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"How sad," opines the armed woman, not sounding at all like she finds this sad in the slightest.

The girl who was pointing her out is now talking to some of the perimeter guards, who start moving not so subtly to cut off any route away from the campfire.

"I don't suppose you brought anything interesting with you?" the armed woman continues. "Perhaps something that might constitute... an apology?"

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"Just - I don't think gloves would do any good here.  We've got some bread -"

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"Good start, lots of people are hungry."

The girl is getting increasingly strident. "But she's _Lady Liliana_, we can't just let her _get away with it_..."

One of the guards is staring out into the darkness, like there might be movement out there he's not sure of, but most of them have turned inwards.

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The older woman reaches in her mostly-empty-looking bag and takes out half a loaf of bread - the coarse bread that's baked every day in peasant villages across the Iron Confederacy.

(She gives a start at the strident girl's insistence.)

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"We might take a look at those gloves, too. Nights get cold round here..."

An older man sidles up to Selma, takes the bread, and whispers, "if she's forcing you to be with her, just step away, we've got this."

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"Er - they wouldn't help by now."

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Selma gives a small smile but shakes her head.  "No, she wanted to head north, and I'm glad to come with her."

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"Fancy lace gloves, are they, for a fancy..."

The armed woman suddenly stops, looks out, takes a step back.

"Idiots! They've got us surrounded! Scatter!"

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"That won't be necessary," calls out a confident voice from the darkness. "We're Freeborn, coming round to check for bandits and trouble. We'd normally come for a chat in the morning, but you seemed to be having some trouble?"

There is a loose ring of corsairs - lightly armoured fighters, mostly with bhuj axe-polearms - around the encampment. Nobody seems extremely inclined to scatter at the moment, although tension is still rather high.

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Liliana jumps up.  "Hello!" she calls, waving her hand in the air.

She isn't sure what the corsairs will want to do with her, but she's pretty sure it'll be better than staying here.

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"No! Don't listen to her!" yells the girl. She has a knife - it looks more suited to the kitchen than the battlefield, but she has it out and is brandishing it threateningly, as if she is trying to get up the nerve to use it.

The previous guards have mostly put their assorted, mostly simple or poorly maintained weapons away and are trying to blend in, but two of them seem to be considering backing the girl up.

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"There doesn't need to be any trouble, I'm sure we can help you with this internal dispute and take it to a magistrate if necessary..."

The corsairs close in a bit, but attempting to not be too excessively threatening; one woman, not obviously armed, does bolt out of the campsite, and they let her go into the night. 

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Liliana winces at the mention of magistrates.

"We'd rather leave, if you'll let us stay with you tonight?"

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"No! I won't let you!" shrieks the girl, and comes at Liliana with the knife - not with much grace or style, but also without much heed of her own personal safety.

The nearest corsairs start closing quickly, but the two guards that were backing the girl get in their way - not really directly engaging them, these two are reasonably concerned with not getting injured, but enough to slow them down.

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"Please drop your weapons, we don't want to hurt any of you!" calls the confident voice again.

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Liliana freezes, but Selma tries to pull her out of the girl's way.

(Inside, Liliana is thinking of another time when she was on the other end of a metaphorical knife attack...)

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The girl's knife thrust does not find its intended target - it scores a thin graze across Selma's arm, the force behind it mostly gone, due to the awkward angle.

In the next moment, the corsairs knock the girl over - avoiding any use of blades - pin her down, and take the knife away. It would have been difficult if she still had any fight in her, or any allies, but the moment was lost.

The 'guards' who tried to get in the way awkwardly attempt to fade into the rest of the group before anyone asks them difficult questions.

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Once there are no obvious combatants active, Yasmina steps forwards. She is loosely holding a wooden rod, somewhat ornately carved and sturdy enough for last ditch personal defence, in case of any further sudden trouble.

"Don't let her get away with it," pleads the girl faintly, "that's the Lady Liliana!"

"I'm sorry we couldn't have had a better introduction." Yasmina raises her voice, mostly ignoring any particular individual and addressing the makeshift encampment as a whole. "We're here to deter banditry and offer contracts from the Ezmara family to those who are interested in a little investment in their future in the Brass Coast; but we'll cover that in the morning when the light is better."

She glances back at the corsairs, more as a rhetorical flourish than a practical gesture, and says, "Please take the alleged Lady Liliana into custody for the moment, and her companion if she wants to join her."

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Liliana sighs with relief and steps forward toward Yasmina, hands held out obviously empty.  "Thank you - thank you."

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Selma comes forward too, holding her hand over the graze.  "I'll come with you."

(It isn't clear whether she's talking to Yasmina and her corsairs, or to Liliana.)

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"Save your thanks for the magistrates," Yasmina warns them, sternly.

A couple of corsairs come forwards to take custody; one makes a little bit of a show of grabbing a handful of clothing to lead Liliana off into the darkness; Selma is just closely escorted.

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Liliana lets herself be led away.

Once they're away from the campfire, she droops from sudden exhaustion.

"Where're you taking me - what're you doing?" she sighs.  "It's been such a long road..."

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Behind them, Yasmina continues, "We'll leave a little food and some blankets as a goodwill gift to let you pass the night more comfortably, and to make it more likely you're here to talk to in the morning, but you're not obliged - you're peaceful foreigners on Imperial soil, you have the protection of the law here."

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"Don't you worry, ma'am," says the corsair leading Liliana, relaxing his grip once they're out of direct sight of the other refugees and offering her his arm to lean on. "It's a little step to our encampment, I'm afraid, but we'll get you settled down with a bedroll and a bite to eat. Yasmina had to talk tough to stop them making any trouble, but, well, we're not in the business of enforcing old grudges if you're not in the business of bringing them with you."

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"Thank you.  I heard you use money for - I mean, I do still have a few coins if you need them..."

But she still doesn't seem happy.

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"Quartermaster won't refuse if you don't want to feel obliged, but really what we're asking is that you stick around and have a chat with the boss when she's not quite so busy," replies the corsair. He kind of expects Iron Confederacy refugees to not seem very happy, even if they were ex-nobles rather than ex-slaves, but generally tries to project friendliness and be as physically helpful as she needs for the walk.

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"Of course."

The physical help is going to be needed if the camp isn't really close; Liliana is getting more and more tired as the walk goes on.

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Despite her wound, Selma is keeping up with the walk a lot better.

She asks one of the closer corsairs, "Did you know Liliana was coming?  Or were you just trying to help the refugees?

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"No idea! Don't actually have the faintest clue who Liliana is, other than maybe some kind of nobility, maybe ex-nobility? Can't promise Yasmina didn't know, sometimes doesn't tell us everything, bad habit she picked up in Anvil that. But we've been out here for months sweeping the border, so it's not like we've just shown up."

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Selma nods.  "She's a noblelady... but things went wrong.  She's not welcome there anymore.  So she was wondering where to go, and I told her about here.

"She's trying to be a good person now... even though she wasn't before."

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"Yes, the Coast's the best place if you can get here. Can be hard to get yourself set up, but that's what we're out here for; otherwise the bandits tend to recruit and it gets messy.

Yasmina's probably going to try to figure out if there's any politics that need to be fixed up, but nobody's keen to hand anyone back to the Confederacy."

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"Good.  Liliana knows more than me, but - someone might want her back."

Selma covers a yawn; it's been a long day walking for her too.  If there aren't any more questions, she'll follow quietly to the camp.

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It's a good few minutes stumbling through the dark, but nowhere near an hour; outlying sentries are waved at, and the encampment is partly concealed under an overhang, which is quite smoky but limits the angles you can see the campfire from.

"How'd it go?" asks one of the people milling around the camp, heading out to greet them. "Anyone get hurt?"

"Oh, you should probably check out this one," replies one of the corsairs, gesturing at Selma. "I'm very sorry, ma'am, I didn't catch your name? Very minor knife wound, but might need cleaning."

"They were having some kind of internal argument, that's why we've been sent back with these two early," replies the one with Liliana. "No trouble now they're separated, though. Be nice, seems like they've been having a bad day. Do you know if Tiana's about?"

"Tiana's always about, same tent as always."

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Liliana and Selma both nod tiredly.

"They had a grudge against me," Liliana says.  "Don't know why, but... I can guess."

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Selma pats Liliana's shoulder.  "You can explain in the morning."

She turns to the corsairs.  "I'm Selma.  If you want Tiana or someone to take a look at this now, sure... and Liliana might be too tired, but I think I can do with a little food if you have it?"

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"I'll take a look at Selma here, you get the sleepy one to Tiana and get her settled," suggests the greeter.

She smiles at Selma and asks, "Can you get the sleeve out of the way and show me? I just want to make sure that it's not going to get infected." She fiddles with her belt pouch to retrieve a little pot of salve.

Meanwhile Liliana's escort steers her towards a square tent that has been awkwardly wedged along the side of the overhang. "Tiana's the quartermaster, she'll know where we can put you for the night and what I'm allowed to feed you."

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Selma pulls up her sleeve.  There're a few old burn scars there, in addition to the new cut.

She doesn't comment on the salve, aside from a brief nod and a "Thank you" afterwards.

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Liliana half-stumbles some more as they go.  "I'll just take a bed tonight... food in the morning.  If I'm safe here."

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"No worries, we haven't even seen a bandit for weeks." He pokes his head into the dimly candle-lit tent. "Tiana! Yasmina's left us with a couple of strays, where can I put them?"

Tiana emerges from the tent, gives Liliana a sympathetic smile, then wearily leads them over to a low to the ground supply tent. "All the bedding we've got left is in here, I think there are still some spaces towards the back, warn them not to stand up too quickly. Do they need feeding too?"

"Going to set them up to sleep and then worry about that, the other one's a bit more awake," he replies.

The supply tent contains an assortment of wool and sheepskin blankets and rugs, all jumbled up as if people have been rifling through them for the good ones.

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That wasn't quite what Liliana was talking about with "safe"... but she's not going to press it if they don't want to talk about it.

She shudders - these all look far too scratchy - but yawns.

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"Here, we've got some bracken down so you should just need a couple of these against the chill." The corsair picks out a couple of sheepskins and gently guides her over to the back of the overhang, which has been piled up with bracken to give some elevation over the dusty ground. "Mind your head," he warns her as he crouches and sets the sheepskins down in a gap between other piles of bedding, some with napping corsairs. "Here you go."

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Liliana ducks just in time.  "Ah, yes," she stammers, before sitting down to spread out her sheepskins.  She leaves one underneath her, just so she won't be feeling the itchy bracken - not that itchy sheepskin is so much better, but she had all too much of sleeping on grasses and ferns on the way here.  At least wool is something she can remember being in some of her mattresses and quilts at home.

(And also at her earlier home - but she's too tired to think about that.)

She glances around and decides to keep her hair scarf on.  Hopefully this'll only be for a few nights and then...

But she's too tired to make her dreams even slightly realistic.  She slips in-between the sheepskins.  It's muggy and cold, of course, and the bracken isn't anywhere near as soft as her bed at home.  But she's still tired enough that she's asleep before too long.

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"You're welcome," replies the greeter to Selma.

"I'm afraid you missed dinner time but I'm sure we can sort something out," says her escort, heading to Tiana's tent. "Tiana!"

"Oh, you've got the other one? You saw where the bedding is, right? There are some flatbreads over from the meal that were going to be part of tomorrow's breakfast, the potted meat is where it always is if they need something more substantial."

Theee is indeed a small pile of flatbreads on a plate with a cloth over by the fire.

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Selma smiles a tired "thank you" and takes a piece of flatbread.  "Will the meat still be there tomorrow?  And..." She looks up with a mix of fear and awe.  "Do you have magic?"

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"Yes, there's plenty, everyone hates it," replies her escort, "and not personally, but you'll find the Empire is full of it, I'm afraid." She thinks for a moment. "Oh, we recently made membership in the Hand of Dumon illegal, something something idolatry. So we do try not to do, like, the bad kind of magic."

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So they don't do magic themselves.  She's a little disappointed, but reassured.

"Good," she says aloud.  She pauses, her head nodding for a bit, before she stands up.  "I suppose I can peer more at my new life in the morning, if you don't have anything more to ask?"

If not - she seems quite used to the bracken and sheepskin bedding; unlike Liliana, she makes a point of taking off her wimple before settling down.

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"Let's just get you settled," she says.

The night is uneventful - there's some noise as Yasmina brings the squad she was with back to camp, but everyone settles down quickly.

As the sun rises, people start getting up, and shortly thereafter the smell of cured meat cooking wafts gently through the camp, which appears to be a gentle wake up call that gets most people out of bed.

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Liliana starts suddenly out of her sheepskins at the sound of people getting up around her, and then settles, rubbing her eyes, as she remembers what'd happened the previous day.  She's in the Empire, where she wanted to be.  Well, where she'd chosen to be, when everyone else had rejected her.

Either way - she'd started in a new world once; hopefully she'd be able to make a better life for herself here.

With a few glances at the people around her and a longer look at Selma where she's still asleep, Liliana runs her hands over her wimple (without taking it off her hair), tries to smooth out the worse wrinkles in her dress, and frowns at the stains.

After a couple minutes, she finally asks, "Where's breakfast?"

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As she gets up, she hears a couple of people tell each other, "The lady's awake!", and one corsair in particular shows up and starts hovering nervously.

"Over by the fire, grab a flatbread then go round to the bacon, or there's mushrooms in the other pan if you don't eat bacon," he replies, glad to have something obvious to do. "Come with and I'll show you?" 

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Lila smiles at the thought of bacon - she's got lots of good memories of bacon, from both her lives - and follows.

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Breakfast is being served with, well, some approximation of military precision. Most people have wooden plates, but some are just using the flatbread as a plate substitute, which seems to be what is expected of her.

The bacon has a hint of exotic spices to it, possibly some cinnamon and cardamom.

Her - guard? minder? - picks up breakfast as well and keeps a general eye on her, but doesn't interrupt her eating.

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Liliana sniffs curiously at the spices, but she doesn't let that hold her back more than a moment.  She devours the bacon and flatbread hungrily.

After a bit, she asks the... guard?... "What should I be doing today?  I'd like to thank that lady who was leading the people who rescued me?"

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"Once she's done with breakfast, we'll head to the command tent, yes. Ideally along with the other woman you brought with you - but it can wait until she's had enough sleep."

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"Thank you."

Liliana doesn't try to talk to anyone for the rest of breakfast.  She's lost in thought, thinking of her home, her lost husband... and what she did to Rosalyn.  Hopefully she's happy now, at least, even if everything else's fallen apart.  The story said she wouldn't be, but the story also said Liliana would be happy... so it has to be broken by now.

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Before too long, Selma comes out to breakfast, looking better-rested than Liliana.  She looks totally unsurprised at seeing Liliana's blank stare into the sky, and takes her bread and bacon over by her to murmur something about the beautiful clouds.

"But Achard..." Liliana begins.

They murmur to each other for a little while (Selma eating in the meantime) before Selma stands up and says aloud, "If you're going to keep talking like that, Liliana, you might as well tell it to someone.  I think someone's interested in hearing from you?"

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"Happy to listen and pass things on, or I can check if the boss is free yet."

Their escort catches another corsair's attention and looks meaningfully at the command tent; the other corsair heads over that way and ducks his head into the tent to check. 

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"- Check if he - she - is free?"

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The other corsair nods.

"Looks like she'll see you now, follow me," says their escort, heading towards the command tent and holding up the canvas of the entrance for them to head inside.

It's a pretty well-appointed tent, white canvas and square so you can stand up throughout, and with what looks like an actual bed over near the back; in front of it is a desk covered in various notebooks and folders with papers spilling out of them (and currently a plate with a flatbread and some mushrooms), and there are a couple of folding wooden chairs for guests. The white canvas lets through a decent amount of light, but the desk is also supplied with several glowing crystals.

Behind the desk is Yasmina, who looks up to greet them as they enter.

"Thank you, Camilo, if you can keep an eye out in case they need anything else?"

The corsair escort, presumably Camilo, nods and leaves the two guests in the tent.

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There's a minute's silence, before Selma nudges Liliana.

Finally, Liliana bursts out, "You know who I am? - what I did - well, some of that - I really did want to get away.  It wasn't another plot.  So... what're you planning to do with me?"

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"Actually," says Yasmina, "I only have the faintest idea who you are - some kind of nobility, house is on the outs or possibly just yourself, I imagine you've done all kinds of terrible things because that's just how Confederacy Lords and Ladies are.

As for what I'm doing with you, that's pretty much down to you. We're due to pull back and resupply soon. I could let you go fend for yourself in the hills again, but it didn't look like that was going very well for you.

Or I could bring you back to Anduz - that's the nearby city, at ox pace it's a couple of days from here - and I imagine a number of people would like to talk to you about internal Confederacy politics, and so on. They might even suggest you head all the way to Anvil, if you've got any kind of Ambition you want to pursue.

Or you could suggest some other way you'd like this to go - I am open to suggestions, I wasn't exactly planning to rescue a noblewoman from the refugees we're trying to protect. The ones that sign on with us will also be heading back to Anduz, but we'll keep you apart, there's no need to invite trouble."

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Liliana sinks down.  This isn't her story anymore.  Not that it ever was, wholly.  She needs to keep reminding herself of that.

"I'm not sure I should have ambition anymore.  It didn't go well last time.  I thought I could overcome - er - myself and do some good, but I got so wrapped up in the plotting and all, and by the time I realized what I'd done, it'd all gone wrong."

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"That does sound like politics, yes. Why I tend to keep out of it, these days. Not that I should be encouraging you to give up on a Virtue because of it, I guess.

I promised to be back with the refugee camp at some time this morning, so you'll have some time to think about it before we move out. What do you need to know? Or would you rather I pick entirely - in which case, I call Camilo back in, you stay put until we start packing up, and you'll come to Anduz with us, and probably eventually on to Sarvos to the Ambassador.

Who will probably not try to forcibly repatriate you if you don't want that to happen, but I can't make any promises on his account."

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"The Ambassador from the Confederacy?"  She tries to remember who he is.  "Either way - I'll come with you to Anduz, at least. It's better than staying in the hills with everyone who recognizes me angry at me."

 

She sighs.  "But is it a virtue anymore?  I don't know anyone who was involved who came out better.  Not me, not Achard, not Rosalyn, not my parents, not even Selma -"

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"Ambition remains a Virtue whether any individual ambition worked out or not, or so the sutannirs keep trying to convince me.

You'll need to get acquainted with the Virtues if you are going to stick around in the Empire, but I'm sure any of the corsairs will talk your ear off about them, or we can get to it on the road.

The Ambassador to the Confederacy - at least I think it's still a Leaguer, I am generally out of touch and it might have changed hands since then."

(The Imperial Ambassador was some kind of venal merchant type that was willing to overlook anything as long as it made a little profit, but was recently been replaced by someone a little more dignified and noble about the time that relations with the Empire worsened - due to the awful fuss the Empire decided to make about slavery.

It's not like the Confederacy used slavery that much, just some captured orcs that would rather fight for their captors than die, but apparently that was bad or something.) 

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"Oh - er - let's not talk to the Ambassador.  At least not now.  I should probably apologize to him at some point.  I was the one who made up that scandal about him and Rosalyn - I wasn't even thinking about what it'd do to him."

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"It's likely that if I just waltz into Anduz and dump you on whoever doesn't move fast enough, you'll end up with the Ambassador, so you might want to think about what you'd like to do instead. My family has been rehoming quite a few of the refugees, so much as it pains me to admit it, that might not be your best stop in Anduz. I could, for instance, pack you off to a business venture in Kahraman where it's unlikely you'll run into anyone from the Confederacy.

If nothing immediately comes to mind, I'll head out to sort out contracts with the other refugees, Camilo will make sure you don't end up in the same place as them, and we'll talk about what skills or information you might have to offer when I get back?"

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Liliana sighs.  "I don't know.  I don't know about your country, I don't know what I can do with myself - except sing and play music - and I don't want to hurt more people."

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Selma squeezes Liliana's shoulder.  "First, you need someone you can talk to.  Even about that doom you say you were under."

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"Singing and playing music are always welcome talents, I am sure you can find something to do with those.

I'll see if I can find you a sutannir to talk to, we have a couple travelling with us, and I'll be back by lunch time to see how things are going.

A doom does sound a little concerning - I don't have anyone here who can analyse a curse, but I can certainly hire you a coven in Anduz."

 

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Liliana shudders visibly at the mention of the coven.

"Oh - it isn't a curse.  Well, at least not the sort of curse you're thinking of.  She called it a 'drawback'...  And it didn't happen in this world.

"I'm sorry - maybe I should just tell the whole story or not at all.  If this's the right time, and if you want to hear.  Or maybe that coven really are the appropriate people."  She shudders again.

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"This sounds like a long story and I really should sort out that refugee camp. Once I'm back, it'll take everyone a while to get ready to move, we can talk this through over lunch?

Or if you're really itching to go for it I can get the sutannir to go talk to the camp, but that normally isn't as successful as when I do it, especially as they already know I'm the one in charge."

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Liliana smiles a slight smile.  "I can wait.  Don't worry.  I've waited this long."

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Selma puts her hand on Liliana's shoulder.  "Don't wait too long.  You've been feeling so guilty about this; you really do need to tell someone."

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"I told my Achard once... well, part of it.  I told it to him as if it was as a story, taken from a dream."

Selma gives her a questioning look.

"He said he wasn't sure whether I was acting stupidly or shrewdly.  Didn't even think to ask whether I'd done right."

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"Okay, I am now insatiably curious, so you have," she checks a pocket watch, with the trace of a wry smile, "a quarter of an hour to tell me what in the world is going on here, then I'll have to either go fetch you a priest or send them off while I deal with whatever this is."

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"So... I'm not from this world, at first.  Or, well, part of me is" (she runs her hand down her chest) "but I remember growing up in another world.  An evil sorcerer had conquered my country when I was a girl, and we were trying to fight back."

(She doesn't mention how it was "her country" in that she was the queen, spirited away into hiding just after her parents the old king and queen had been killed.  That's not part of this story anymore.)

"It was hard since we barely had any magic, and the sorcerer was casting spells on everyone, and the magic we did have - well - it didn't work how we'd hoped.

"So I think I died there."

(Because the magic gem they'd optimistically used had just shown the sorcerer where they were... but she still doesn't like thinking about that too closely.  And maybe the magic had just opened a portal out of the world, but narratively speaking it was the same thing as death.)

Liliana pauses, wiping the tears from her eyes with a ragged handkerchief.

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"Oookay. Uh. Do you want a clean handkerchief? I'm afraid I am not the best person ever with crying people, but round here we generally take remembering a past life as a good sign?"

Yasmina seems somewhat off balance and not sure if she should keep sitting at her desk or come and pat Liliana on the shoulder or something, but decides Selma seems to have the emotional support role here and goes for attempting an understanding smile, which comes off much more nervous than intended. 

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Liliana leans forward, trying to blink back her tears.  "There're other people who remember past lives?  I don't remember choosing that point!  Who?  And what sort of past lives?"

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"Usually it doesn't happen wholesale - some people get dreams and visions. Or there's - a religious ceremony - that can retrieve some memories from anyone. But the ingredients are rare and expensive, so not many people get that.

If you have recall of an entire past life, I'm pretty sure I can deluge you with interested scholars, and the ambassador won't have a hope of getting a word in edgeways. Especially one from outside the Empire!"

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"Oh, good!"

She hasn't been thinking about her first life too much... but maybe she should be thinking about it more.  Maybe it'd help fight her... curse.

"- But maybe I should first be telling you about what happened next."

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"The next thing I knew, I woke up in a whitewashed room cleaner than anything I'd seen.  A winged angel greeted me and said I was being given the privilege to choose some aspects of my own reincarnation, because they thought I would make an interesting story.  She - the angel - said they were sending me inside a story that was already written, except they were sending me as the villainess - but I could choose to fight fate, fight how the story would naturally go.

"Of course I accepted, because I love stories."

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"I definitely think there will be a lot of people who are very excited to talk about both 'creatures you met in the Labyrinth' and 'what exactly is an angel, we haven't got anyone to give us a straight answer and we kind of think they're Heralds but maybe not?'.

That sure does sound like a Labyrinth spirit though, from what I've heard they are nasty pieces of work."

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Liliana hasn't heard of the Labyrinth aside from a couple tales about Imperial religion that were probably exaggerated.  But she isn't thinking about that now.

"I didn't think she was nasty at the time.  She gave me a number of choices about where I wanted to be reborn, and what boons or curses - "advantages" or "drawbacks," she called them - I wanted.  I chose my beauty, I chose my noble birth, I chose to be born somewhere that didn't hold with magic.. and several other things, but...  You see, she said I'd wake up in my new self one morning right after the plot had started.  I still don't know how that worked.  Maybe it merged our spirits somehow?  Or maybe she was me, just without my memories?  But - she - the old Liliana, I mean - was a proud and nasty person.  I knew that.  She was the villain of the already-written story, after all.

"And I took the curse of a strong urge to stay in-character with how she'd act.  It was a story, after all, and I didn't want it to take too abrupt a turn.

"But then I woke up, and I gave in to the curse.  I kept giving into it.  I won Achard, I won the story, but I humiliated Rosalyn and framed her and had her reduced to slavery and - and -"

She turns to Selma.  "And I keep forgetting about you and Maud and Edith and all the other servants around me!  I'm surprised you even stay with me after everything I did!"

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Selma squeezes Liliana's shoulder.  "I hadn't heard your story, but... I saw you were still better than you'd been.  Than she was, if it wasn't you -" She waves her other hand in the air.  "I knew I couldn't keep up with magic."

(That isn't all her reason, but it's part of it, and she does want to help Liliana so she won't be saying the other parts just yet.  For example, she felt safer not being by herself on the roads north.  And, she thought that Liliana disappearing north rather than being arrested would make a bigger scandal.)

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"I'm... still immensely curious, but totally out of my depth here," replies Yasmina, looking increasingly bemused. "If I was theorising, that makes you sound more like a tulpa or something than an - extra soul?

I think I should fetch Camilo and get him to find the sutannir who can perform Insight. Don't worry - I have no intention of harming you and any sutannir travelling with me is not going to get all exorcism-happy any time soon, nor is anyone going to turn you in for religious crimes unless, I don't know, you suddenly dedicate everyone in the camp to a false virtue or something.

I think it would... be a better outcome... if I could surround you in Anduz with people fascinated by your glimpses into metaphysics, rather than your potential for gossip about politics, from what I've heard so far?"

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Liliana shrinks down amid Selma's hug and Yasmina's speculation.

"But tulpas don't have souls... do they?  I think I do... I know I did...

"And... is Insight magic?  I haven't had a spell cast on me since my old life."

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"Tulpas indeed don't have souls as far as we can tell, that's why I'm not very attached to that theory, they don't tend to act much like complete people either.

Insight's not magic; it's a spiritual rite, the sutannir takes liao and they can then see souls and anything attached to those souls. I'd be tempted to detect magic on you as well, tulpas are often more visible to that, but I know Suranni are jumpy about magic and Insight should give us enough to be getting on with."

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She nods.

"Let's do that.  I wish we had Gwenn here to look at too - she was reincarnated from my old world too, though she didn't get her memories - but she got fingered in another scandal and I don't even know what happened to her."

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"Please don't steal my corsairs for daring rescue missions... normally I'd recommend picking up some corsairs in Anduz for it, but we really, really don't want to go to war with the Iron Confederacy right now, regardless of, well, everything."

Yasmina gets up and pokes her head outside the tent. "Camilo, I'm sure you've been listening because I'm fully aware tents aren't actually soundproof, could you go fetch Alvaro for me?"

She returns to her seat. "Shouldn't be a minute. Handkerchief's still on offer and I still have to head out in, about five minutes. I'll stay for the result and you can discuss it with Alvaro until I get back."

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She laughs ruefully.

"Rescue missions?  So many people I'd want that for, if we could.

"... but why don't you go to war?  Are you afraid of us, like they say?"

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"Not in isolation, no, but the Empire has - " she counts on her fingers, "Druj, Grendel, Jotun, the Vallorn... Thule if we're not careful, to deal with already. Fighting more than two of them at once is catastrophic and adding the Confederacy would be similar to any one of those; we've had to give Feroz and Spiral to the Grendel, just to buy two years of ceasefire so we have a hope of turning back the Jotun and Druj."

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Liliana sighs.

She'll worry about that later.  If ever... but she probably should; before she was Liliana, she probably would've been concerned about her new homeland having so many potentially-catastrophic enemies.

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Camilo is back shortly with another Freeborn in tow; Alvero is short, decked out in elaborate robes all the colours of flame, and has a neat pointed beard.

"Hi there! I'm Alvero i Tania i Erigo and I'll be your all singing, all dancing Insight monkey this morning," he announces, sweeping past the two seated visitors to take up a position to the right of Yasmina's table and grinning broadly. At which point he notices that the emotional tone in the tent is not exactly suited to flamboyant delight. "Oh. Um. I am capable of being serious too, I promise you."

He starts opening a buckled pouch on his belt, which handily lets him not look directly at anyone for a moment. Camilo hangs around by the tent entrance, but inside this time.

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"Is this magic dangerous?"

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"Not to you!" Alvero reassures her, possibly not all that reassuringly.

He gets a vial of purple liquid out of the pouch.

"How much do you know about Insight, if anything?"

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"It's magic.  And magic is..."  She waves her hand vaguely.  "Bad.  They say."

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"It's not really what we'd call magic, although I can see why the Suranni would say that," replies Alvero, now dropping into a more school-teacher-y mode rather than mildly subdued flamboyance. "We take a substance called liao," he indicates the purple liquid, "and it puts us in the right state of mind to interact with the souls of people around us, or other spiritual forces. It's said that the paragons can just do this, without needing the liao - it's just a state of mind.

With Insight, I'm not actually doing anything to you; I'm essentially just taking a good look and seeing what's there.

If something especially powerful and dangerous is there, it might affect me, but it won't change anything about how it's affecting you."

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Selma nods but scoots a little closer to the door. 

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Liliana nods once.  "Do it."

She holds still, except a little - probably reflexive - shivering.

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Alvero decides that getting it over quickly is better than taking more time to positively identify which one is the target, it's probably the one that just have verbal consent.

He drips the quite viscous purple liquid on a finger and dabs his eyes with it, then drinks the rest.

"As I move beyond sight, I see what lies behind the surface, the cloth of the soul, the dyes of virtue," he says, mostly to himself, and then looks Liliana directly in the eyes; she can feel the searching gaze within, a powerful sense of being observed. 

 

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Liliana gasps and reflexively pulls back.  There's a lot she doesn't want seen.  And even more, the last person who was looking into her with magic was that evil sorcerer, at the end of her first life.

But then she makes herself stay still and keep her eyes open.

She's done with hiding.

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Inside Liliana is one human soul.  Just one.

There's some mess with that soul - some scarring that isn't quite like anything Alvero's seen before.  If he's seen victims of possession, though, maybe it's least unlike that?  It looks like it's been there for quite some time, and a lot of it hasn't been healing.

(There's also some messy weirdness even apart from the scars; she's unusual.  Probably at least part of that is because she's from another world... though Alvero hasn't actually heard that part yet)

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Alvero looks genuinely confused for a moment. "Okay," he says, "nothing immediately dangerous, but I can see why I got called over!

Something's definitely out of place there - it looks like whatever did it has gone, but it could do with some gentle picking over in... whatever your favourite consecration is? I don't think it matters which one.

Doesn't look like it's going to get any worse, which is just as well, because we don't have a consecrator in camp...

If you're noticing any effects from it, I can patch you up with a Courage anointing for now, or Juan can do Loyalty, but, not needed unless you want to."

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"No!  No magic loyalty!"

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(A moment later, she remembers he probably isn't talking about the same sort of curse the evil sorcerer used to suppress rebellions.)

"... Er, I don't want either of those now.  But what sort of things would I be noticing from that?  There have been a lot of things out of place in my life recently."

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"No worries, we're not going to give you magic loyalty against your will - anointings just don't stick if you don't want them!

Normal kinds of symptoms I'd expect are things like, uh," Alvero thinks for a moment and seems to be counting things off on his fingers, "failing to dream or having very specific dreams interfering with restful sleep, feelings of unreality, being unmoored in time - not really understanding that events follow other events, impulses to do specific unusual things generally in response to something like a name, feeling like you're dead... okay, there aren't really normal symptoms here, soul scars basically all have extremely weird symptoms. Most of these are from past life visions, so might be nothing like whatever has happened to you?"

Alvero makes an eloquent shrugging gesture and attempts to look charmingly helpless.

"It doesn't sound like we're going to make any stunning discoveries in the next couple of minutes, so I'm going to head out," says Yasmina, collecting a stack of papers off the desk. "Assuming nothing else interesting happens, I should be back for lunch. Camilo, keep them in this tent or well away from camp until someone gives the all clear, I don't want them wandering around camp if I have to bring anyone back; fetch them anything they need."

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"You've been feeling unreal sometimes, haven't you?  Talking about this as a story..."

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"I was doing that in my old life too.  But yes, I suppose this has been feeling not quite real.  Sometimes.  Do you think that's from the scars?  And what other 'consecrations' could help?"

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"It's a pretty common thing for 'something is wrong with your soul' to do! Actually, that's the one we understand best, because it's possible to do it deliberately - it's one of the side effects of what we use to jostle the soul back in position if it looks like that might work - that one does not look like a good idea here, though!

It's also a pretty common symptom of your life being extra confusing and difficult, though, so it's not necessarily just the soul thing. Fortunately the treatment is quite similar!

Consecrations are a kind of aura - a place that makes you feel specific things, although nowhere near as strongly as an anointing or a curse or something, and it stops when you leave. Usually things like believing you can change the world, or that things you do for other people are worthwhile, or you can protect the things that matter to you. It especially helps people who are feeling a bit useless or upset about things that they don't think they can fix, but it also has a direct effect on your soul, making it more open to change - so, talking about things that have caused a soul-related problem under one of these can help fix it."

Alvero is clearly both enthusiastic about this subject and trying very hard to find some way of explaining this that doesn't further upset his audience.

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"There's one of those in Anduz or Anvil, right?  Maybe when I get there."

After a few moments, she adds, "Thank you.  I'm glad my soul isn't any worse."

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"It's really quite hard to damage a soul! Even yours isn't really damaged.

There's probably some consecrations already up in Anduz, or I'm sure Yasmina can find you a priest of whatever virtue you prefer to put one up for you, it's not that expensive. I hear in Anvil they put them up on tents! Uh, that's normally a bit of a waste of liao as the aura goes down when you take the tent down, otherwise they last a whole season before you have to put them back up."

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"It isn't damaged?  Then what would you call it?"

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"It's more like - scar tissue? Something was wrong, it's mostly better, but it's left some - debris behind. I think there might be something else under that, but I can't tell with the obvious stuff in the way... so it's probably worth another look once that's cleared out."

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"Yes.  Damage.  Was that angel expecting that when she sent me into this, or what?"

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Selma squeezes her hand.  "I don't know, but she should have warned you."

She turns to Alvero.  "What are these Virtues?  And what do you do with them?"

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"I don't know a whole lot about Angels, but I'd be fascinated to hear anything you know about them," replies Alvero.

He is immensely happy she's asked about the Virtues.

"Our Virtues are Loyalty, Courage, Pride, Prosperity, Wisdom, Vigilance and Ambition. These are the best ways to be for a human being - for all sentient beings. Following a Virtue - striving to embody it, encouraging others in it - is how a human spirit can overcome the Labyrinth, and an orc soul can cross the Abyss.

Also, they just make the world a better place to live - a secondary principle we hold is benevolence, that true Virtue makes the world a better place for everyone.

As a sutannir it's literally my job to explain, spread and encourage people in their Virtues - although I'm not a stuffy Highborn priest, mostly I do practical advice, songs and stories, and generally ensure that people can enjoy their lives.

Are there any that you're particularly interested in, or should I start with explaining my own favourite - which it does sound like you have a considerable amount of, to have come out here in the first place!"

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Half of those Virtues sound uncomfortably familiar to Liliana.  "I think I heard something like that in my first life.  Virtue helps you through the story of your life and makes it better for everyone.  I... I forgot that."

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"Your favorite's Courage?"

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From Alvero's reaction it's quite clear that he hasn't actually been briefed on the whole 'multiple remembered lives' thing. "You - have memories of a previous life?" he asks.

"And yes, Courage," he picks up quickly, "which is of course a virtue often found amongst Freeborn; from the name you might think more amongst corsairs, but actually the virtue has more to do with facing unwelcome truths and holding to what you know is right. For instance, if someone gives you a stupid order, it is much more Courageous to tell them that it is stupid than to charge into danger on their command."

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"I wish I had more of that.  And what about Pride?  I think I've got too much of that.  Maybe I even had too much beforehand and that's why I chose this life like I did."

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"Now, around here we call that the Excessionist Heresy!" Alvero is smiling and clearly signalling this is to some extent a joke. "But it may be that Pride is, again, not quite what the common word means? Pride is committing fully to everything you do, small or large; and embracing what you are, and what you have been, not hiding it away - even if it is not what you would do now."

He is clearly itching to ask more about the past life thing, but too much of a professional to let it distract him from preaching.

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"Embrace it?  Embrace what I've been?"  She spreads her hands, shaking her head.

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"Then maybe you do have some Pride to work on," smiles Alvero, in what he hopes is a comforting fashion. "We are everything that has happened to us, including our worst mistakes; maybe a Pride priest would say it better, but it is alas often an unwelcome truth?"

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She nods.

"So... what?  I need to change myself?  Or keep remembering so I don't act like that again?"

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"Only you can decide that for yourself," Alvero tells her. "If your heart lies with Ambition, for instance, or Prosperity or maybe Loyalty, then it's entirely customary to reinvent yourself and not let the past drag you down; if you wish to follow Pride, or similarly Wisdom, Courage or Vigilance, you'll most likely need to find a way to accept what you did and understand how it has - or can - make you stronger."

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"So... how would you suggest I pick?"

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"That's a big question!" beams Alvero. "Normally you would hear a lot about them when you are growing up, and naturally pick one that suits you - or some people try to follow them all at once, but that often doesn't work very well! I am very happy to tell you all about any that you are interested in, to see if it is something that fits how you are - or how you want to be."

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Liliana looks interested for a moment, and then sighs.  "But I don't know yet what I want to be.  I wish I could leave all this behind me, but - but I can't.  The people last night recognized me.  Achard - my husband - he's probably still alive.  And I still feel those habits I chose."

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"Deciding on the spur of the moment isn't necessary," Alvero reassures her. "It sounds like you have a lot to think through! I recommend picking one to try out, seeing where it works and where it doesn't, and then trying out a few more if that isn't obviously the match for you."

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"Maybe.  Not now.  Not today.

"I think I should go talk with someone soon about the Confederacy just in case we do need to act quickly... and then find a Consecration."

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Alvero looks awkwardly at Camilo for further direction.

"We could attempt to travel to Anduz independently," offers Camilo. "That's in keeping with my orders and probably not too dangerous, between us and the Grendel offering easier pickings it's been quiet for weeks. Or I could try to take notes, I'm sure Yasmina won't begrudge me a notebook for this. I'm not sure we have anyone who can ask good questions..."

"I could fetch Melia, I think she follows politics," offers Alvero. "I know she said keep them out of sight, but I think that was just in case she comes back with more people in a hurry?"

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Can she start a new story now?  Leave her second life behind, like she left the first?  She'd like that so much.  And she's almost been handed the choice.

Or can she?  Will there be more people pointing at her like the refugees?

(She's trying to suppress the nagging feeling that it wouldn't be that easy even if there weren't...)

"Let me talk with Melia."

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Camilo and Alvero exchange glances, and Alvero ducks out of the tent, presumably to fetch Melia.

"Melia's normally got a notebook, so we shouldn't have to forage," Camilo explains. "Uh, is there anything else you'd like, a drink or something?"

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There's a lot she'd like, starting with an actual roof not a tent, and continuing through warm tea and a soft couch and a bath.  She spares a memory for her first life, when she'd gone from a palace to a peasant's cottage and enjoyed it.

Well, at least she can have one of her new luxurious habits.

"Do you have some tea?  And maybe a few drops of honey in it, if it's not too much trouble?"

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"Absolutely," replies Camilo, "I'll head out for that when the others get back. Do you have a favourite kind of tea? I know we've got at least a light and a heavy black and a red tea in, I'm assuming you don't want chai or you'd have asked for more things in it but we've got a great spiced blend too. Or I can just do you a cup of whatever's on at the moment if you'd like it quicker. If I can't find honey, will sugar do instead?"

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"Heavy black.  And yes, sugar would be wonderful."

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"And a lighter black for me, please?  Honey or sugar; either way."

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Camilo nods; it's only a few moments before Alvero comes back with a young lady who is presumably Melia, and he ducks out of the tent as they open the flap to come in.

"Melia, this is... well, I'll let them introduce themselves," says Alvero, having suddenly realised that he hasn't actually been formally introduced at all and doesn't know what either of them want to call themselves.

Melia reflexively takes out a notebook and pencil, perches on the corner of Yasmina's desk, and smiles at them.

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Liliana dips her head to Melia.  "Hello - I'm Lady Liliana of Coutance; as much as I can be pleased at anything now, I'm pleased to meet you."

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"Of Coutance, hmm?" replies Melia, taking note of that. "And what brings you to our doorstep, such as it is, Lady Liliana of Coutance?" Her tone is mostly just inquisitive, with a slight note of confusion.

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"You didn't hear the story?"  She sighs.  She doesn't really want to go through telling it all again.

"My schemes blew up in all our faces, and... my rival's parents got my husband Duke Achard got imprisoned for sorcery.  They would've probably grabbed me too, but I realized it - I'd done so much badness - and I left."  She squeezes Selma's hand.  "Selma pointed me here, and helped me get here.  And now I want to rescue him, and make things better somehow, even for the people I overlooked as beneath me."

(Liliana would never have called people beneath her in her first life when she'd been Lila.  She feels her only way to Virtue now has to involve turning back her perspective all the way there.)

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"Those are some good Ambitions, alright," replies Melia, smiling and looking genuinely impressed. "Duke Achard on the outs too, huh?

Okay, so things we're generally interested in as an Empire - what's going on between the Confederacy and the Lasambrians, and the rest of the Jotun for that matter?

Whilst we're not best pleased with Kahraman being invaded, actually they might not be a bad thing for the north of the Confederacy - they tend to treat people who are happy to keep their heads down and farm and craft for them pretty well, as forces on the continent go.

Oh, and the Faraden, we can't imagine the Justice priests of Faraden are too happy with what passes for justice in the Confederacy, but they might be too busy licking their wounds from their last bout with the Jotun."

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"The Faraden aren't happy with us, no.  Not with our justice, but much less so with our border raids and how we've been bribing some of their lords and ladies - fewer of them than they think, but even the rumors have led to so many duels.  I was working with Hoelun and Taichuud a few months ago -"

Her smile quivers, but stays.  She can still be proud of that, after all; she was being honest herself, and the Faraden were slavers.  "Anyway, we weren't trying for war; we were just trying to keep them unsettled and divided, but not so much that they couldn't fight the Jotun if need be.  Or that was what my allies and I were trying for; there's always the chance that someone else was working at cross-purposes, but I don't think so."

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"Oh good!" exclaims Melia happily, scribbling away. "It's refreshing to hear that at least one of our 'let's you and them fight' gambits is actually happening. What about the Lasambrians, we know Kalino - sorry, Arbonne - is safe enough to send caravans through, have they literally all run off to join the Jotun?"

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Her face goes stiffer.

"Most of them got enslaved or killed.  I know some of the rebels that used to be there ran off to the Jotun - I stopped some of them, but I didn't care to keep looking for all of them.  You could say there're still rebels there, but we care to think of it as unruly slaves."

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"Ah, right," replies Melia, with a bit of a wry smile as she takes that down. "And direct relations with the Jotun? There were rumours of some kind of treaty over Kalino?"

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"Now?  I don't know.  We did have a treaty with them - Achard helped negotiate it - but the dukes who overthrew us are the same people who've been speaking against the treaty and reminding everyone how the Jotun shouldn't be trusted and they cheated us of the most important parts of Arbonne.  Which they didn't; we got the most prosperous parts.  Or they were the most prosperous before all the rebellions and slave revolts... but that's another issue."

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"Ooh," replies Melia happily. "I mean, I'm sure it was terrible for you, sorry, but that sounds like an opportunity. Maybe we could even get the Imperial Orcs to do a Jotun false flag attack, make them look properly untrustworthy." She doesn't sound very sorry, more like she feels like that's what she ought to say but is enjoying herself too much to really consider anyone else's feelings.

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"Oh yes!  And there should be some way to motivate a slave revolt too...  I'll need to think about that a bit.  And it would help if we knew who got my old estates; when I left that was still up in the air."

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"We've tried to do a slave revolt before, but it was too easy to put down - Janon keeps offering us boons in that area, but also nobody wants the Empire's hand in it to be too obvious, we even had to let slave hunters into Feroz." Malia's nose wrinkles in disgust, it's clear she doesn't think much of that. "I know what they're saying, Kahraman's a mess and we probably have the least bad front in the Empire, but still. It feels like we should be able to do better than that. If you can identify good ringleaders I think there's a couple of Eternals who would be overjoyed to bring them messages and a bit of aid, although the whole Hand of Dumon thing kind of complicates everything because the Eternals that are mixed up in that don't really get on with the ones who like slave revolts.

If you have some potential candidates, I guess the Ambassador could feel them out by sending ambiguous messages that might be congratulations or condolences, and see if they bite?"

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"I'm afraid I don't know anyone who might lead a slave revolt - not anymore, at least.  I made sure of that.

"And I don't want to work with the Hand of Dumon yet.  Or at least, make sure no one gets the idea I'm working with them.  At least not for now."  Until Achard is free... or until she's tried to free him.  At least she wants to try.

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(Selma looks thoughtful for a moment when Liliana mentions a slave revolt.)

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"That's just as well, as it's technically illegal," replies Malia, although the stress on 'technically' suggests she doesn't exactly agree with this. "The Senate really has been quite keen to keep the Confederacy sweet, so whatever you plan, probably best make it subtle and deniable."

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"I don't have plans, yet.  Just... well, I'm not even sure about most of my goals anymore.  Should I be trying for revenge, or -"  She throws up her hands.  "Or just trying to help the people I was forgetting?  What are your plans, or your goals?"

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"I mean, personally, gathering information is just a sideline," replies Melia. "I'm mostly here for the courageous chasing off of bandits and rescue of refugees, ideally before anyone from the Confederacy notices and demands to be allowed to round them up again. If we can at least get them away from the border, it's less likely they get accused of border raiding.

I'm also keeping half an eye on Kahraman, the Jotun might be the better masters compared to the Confederacy but they're still a bit too into the 'thralls' thing for comfort, if things are going badly there I might try to encourage Yasmina to pack up here and go lend the army a hand for a while.

So I guess, in more general terms, go wherever my sword-arm is useful and keep people free?"

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"Freedom.  All right.  And who'll you be telling this information to?"

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"Do you know why the army's actually... fighting? the Jotuns, but there's just you here?"

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"I'll send edited highlights in a letter to some people I know are politically active," she explains, "and, uh, 'freedom' without qualifiers is generally considered a worrying thing to say because the false virtue of Anarchy tends to masquerade as it. Not that I actually give a shit, but I like to avoid synod priests getting up in my business about it.

If there's anything you don't want me to pass on to anyone in particular, let me know now and I can annotate it?"

She turns to smile at Selma directly. "Yasmina hates fighting with armies - she used to be a general, so she's constantly itching to tell their generals that they're doing it wrong. We get to do it sometimes anyway, if it's important enough, but usually she prefers to take us on independent operations. Of course, if I dislike what she's doing enough, I can just leave - but she does a very good job keeping us in supplies and finding actually good causes, and nobody else in the family is running a military unit right now. And the kohan take themselves much too seriously for my liking."

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So Melia's not just working for the Empire; she's playing her own game somehow.  She seems to be working on the right side, but Lilliana herself had better (she thinks) get a better handle on the politics before aligning herself too strongly...

... if she's going to play politics.  If she's going to risk her new cursed bad habits resurfacing.  But she doesn't really see another course now, if she isn't going to seal herself away and forget Achard and not try to clean up her mess.

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"I mean, why is the Imperial army fighting the Jotuns but not the Iron Confederacy?"

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"Oh!" replied Melia delightedly. "That's because they're cowards."

"Melia," says Alvero, in a warning tone. "That's not totally fair, now, is it?"

"I don't see why I should have to be fair," she replies cheerfully. "I know, I know, we can't open another war front and if we did it'd probably be the Grendel, who are going to buy the whole Coast at this rate. But really, she's got a point."

Alvero doesn't appear to entirely agree, but isn't going to push the argument.

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"Send whatever you want," Liliana says.  She's not going to try to stop her now.  "And... who's stopping a second war front?"

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"The military council," replies Melia, derisively. "Something about how we can win two wars, survive three wars, but a fourth is too much. Not that it's stopping the Navarr."

"The military council don't control the Navarr efforts against the Vallorn," Alvero points out. "They barely control the armies. And the Vallorn is..."

Melia rolls her eyes. "The greatest spiritual threat to the Empire, yes, I know, you only told us that almost every day already. If you love it so much, why don't you run off to Broceliande and start wearing brown and green?"

"Anyway, there are several other stopping points of the oncoming war against the Vallorn, I expect they'll be at least stalled. Or did you want to be a thrall to the Jotun or a slave to the Grendel?" Alvero challenges her. They appear to have forgotten any intention not to fight in front of the guests.

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She listens with one ear, while wrestling with whether she should even pay attention to these politics.  She should figure that out first.  Really, she needs to figure out herself even before rescuing Achard, or else she'll get sucked back into all those bad habits...

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"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.

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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?"

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"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..."

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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."

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"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."

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

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"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."

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

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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."

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"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.

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"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."

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

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"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."

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Liliana looks disappointed for a moment.

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"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."

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"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."

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"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.

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"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."

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"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.

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

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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.

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

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

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"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?"

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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..."

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"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."

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"Do people move between nations a lot?"

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"Not so that it's very common, but enough that most people know it's possible. The kind of people who go to Anvil and get involved in international politics are much more likely to."