Cleo woke up once more in the sewers, feeling less tired and starved this time. She patted her robe and sighed in relief, Chaffaud's scroll was still there. The Lady got up to her feet and wandered outside as her mind cleared up. The hunger for drugs was back, and she wondered how long she could ward it off before having to turn to the dreadful smoke again.

Some shouting attracted Cleo's attention, it was coming from further down the street. She could discern a group of armed men, shouldering their way through the docks' crowd. The Lady scrambled to her feet in a scare, going back towards the tunnel. There was no certainty the guards were looking for her, but one could never be too careful. They were heading in her direction though, she noted, perhaps searching for a murderer? Cleo wondered how much of a commotion her crime had brought on. She hid in a corner near the entrance and took a peek. Half a dozen beggars were blocking the path of a couple citywatch men, between the canal and the narrow lane.

"Out of the way, you old fart!" One of the intruders said, grabbing his spear in a threatening gesture.

"Oy, what is you soldier folks doing in these parts?" The elder protested, standing in front of his flock.

"Aye, seems to me here's not clean enough for your like." Another mendicant remarked.

"We're looking for a Lady, one with a burnt face." A watchman spoke.

"Oy its mi, good sir. The lady of flowers, in the flesh." Said the pox marked leader. A concert of laughs and snorts welcomed the jest.

The guards did not seem to appreciate the joke however, for one threw the butt of his spear into the old man's belly. A violent melee ensued but the Lady in question did not waste time watching it, she escaped further into the darkness. She bent down as she treaded the wet, dirty ground, trying to ignore the smell. Cleo had no idea where she was going, but she had to get away. The filthy corridors were a maze, she realized after a few turns, one could easily get lost in them. She paused to gather herself and listened nervously for incoming pursuers. The sounds of the battle were gone now, and Cleo waited anxiously for a long, dozen minutes.

"Little lady?" Came a shaky calling. She recognized the elder.

"It’s just miself, them bastards are gone. You can come out." Cleo kept silent, not sure she could trust the man.

"Oy, you're gonna catch somethin' nasty in there, get out now. I’m too old for this shit, crouchin' here hurt mi back." He complained. Cleo took a few tentative steps in the voice's direction.

"What guarantees do I have that the citywatch is gone?" She answered, weakly.

"Guarantees? Jus' mi word. Can't do nothin' better I'm afraid." He answered.

Cleo was still doubtful and scared, but she was tired. Any watchmen would have rushed inside the moment she spoke anyway. Her only other option being losing herself in a dark labyrinth, she gave up and walked out.

"See, jus' mi and the pals." He smiled when seeing her. His companions were further behind, caring for the bruises and scratches from the fight.

"You have my utmost gratitude." She bowed her thanks. "Though the reason for such a show of bravery eludes me." She asked, intrigued.

"You spent the night here in the stink with us. You begged on the cobbles with us. Makes you one of us, lady or not." He smiled and some of his companions nodded behind him.

Cleo did not know how to feel about being accepted in this new coterie. She gave them a curtsy though, it seemed appropriate.

"You really are a lady then, the way you talk and all." He seemed taken aback.

"I imagine changing my manner of speech could be a good idea." She mused out loud.

"Them guards said you killed a priest. That true?" The elder raised his eyebrow. She did not react to the accusation. "He the one that did those?" He pointed at her scars. Cleo reflexively put her hand over them. "Just saw a bit is all. I imagine what's under the hair is worse."

"I confess to the crime yes, but I assure you the beast only received a long due punishment. He deserved worse, if I may add." There was no guilt in her, only horror at the violence she had been capable of. But Cleo felt like justifying her deed to this strange man, he had stood up for her after all.

"All folks have a past, we don't care much for such things around here. Never liked the white bastards miself anyway." He shrugged.

She was glad for the ancient's indifference. Leaving her new shelter, however crass it was, would not help dealing with her troubles. The citywatch was after her and, according to Ben, so were Chaffaud's retainers. The Lady glanced at her only allies, feeling gratitude, but also shame at her inability to repay them. She steeled herself for another harsh day.

****

"Oy lass, how many times I have to tell you? A proper cough is the secret to good begging. You sound like a kitten sneezin’." The elder scolded her.

Cleo had decided to spend the rest of the morning practicing her new trade. She needed to eat, and there were more names on the list left to cross. The list she had switched for the Emperor's scroll, she recalled. The Lady knew it by heart now, so giving it up did not hinder her investigation. She had done the exchange on an impulse, without thinking about a dreadful consequence. The Parkhat would read it, and together with the church incident, he might deduce her name from the information. In any case, Ben was already working for the man, and there was no certainty the thief would keep her identity a secret.

The Lady and the beggar had been sitting down on a cobbled street for an hour, in view of a noble house. Seeking charity and waiting to see if the owner was connected to her. It had proved rather fruitless attempts on both counts, and she was beginning to lose faith. Cleo was not suited for this kind of work. Thinking back on her life, she had not been good at much but getting into trouble. Her only recent successes were a murder and breaking out of imprisonment. Perhaps the life of a criminal would be a better fit for the Lady, she let out a sad laugh at the irony.

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"Oy, laughin’ won't help either. Try the puppy eyes, it works well for you women types, mi tell you." For a lack of a better option, Cleo tried the suggestion. "I think you need to use both eyes for it to work." The beggar said, after considering the result.

She sighed, it was not helping with her mood. Deceiving Ben had weighed on her conscience more than she would have thought, but betraying Brother would be worse. She also had forsaken the thief due to his dangerous relations, and she missed his support. The young man might be dull-witted, but his presence had been reassuring. Not to mention the food he brought, her growling stomach reminded her.

Another worrying matter was the fate of Gravelroy and its citizens, their safety might depend on the information she possessed. Though her hypothesis could be erroneous, she told herself. Perhaps her desire to be reunited with her sibling had made her mistake a coincidence for a scheme. He could just be sailing home, returning to the homeland from war and meeting with their family. The young woman did not know if she had made the right choice. Handing the letter over to the Parkhat would have meant abandoning the only item of value she had. The thought made her feel even more helpless, and Cleo recalled how she had dealt with that particular emotion back in her cell. It gave her an idea.

"Oy, that's what I talked about! Good lass, you have talent, mi tell you." The elder said after a while, when a passerby threw a coin at her feet. "Where did you learn to drool like this? Impressive, it is." He nodded approvingly.

"I learned this peculiar skill in a place you would definitively not want to visit." Despite her words, she could not ward off a smug grin.

Some disturbance happening at the domain's entrance got her attention. Members of the household were trying to clear the street of peddlers, shouting harsh words at them. The merchants did not cower in front of the threats though, and the whole affair was getting rough. Standing up to nobles would mean hanging in most parts of the world, Cleo reflected. But here in the free city, their titles were only remnants of a long forgotten past. They had no rights of life and death over Gravelroy’s commoners. Of course the highborn exploited the poor here like everywhere else, but they had to use a different kind of power to do so: money. The general populace could live and do as they pleased, as long as they could afford it. They could even run the city, she recalled the Parkhat. It was far from a perfect system, but at least everyone had a chance, however small it was.

Cleo suddenly snapped out of her musings, recognizing a face in the commotion. A man of the cloth, a bishop she had already met...

****

Young Cleo was furious. The surrounding tents went by in a blur as she raced between them. She passed bewildered soldiers in a blink, splashing them as well as her blue dress with mud as she did. The Lady did not stop when a bored-looking guard scrambled to his feet and tried to stop her, only too late. The drape door behind him flew open, revealing an austere interior. Brother was sitting behind a makeshift desk, staring at various parchments. Reports, missives, and maps, concentration lines showing on his forehead. He startled at her sudden entry, before signaling the sorry looking guard to take his leave. There was a second man, but he was only another of those white-clad half-wits who now infested the land, so Cleo ignored him.

"Dear sister, I must admit some surprise at your visit. This place is too close from danger, surely a war camp is not a proper..." He stood up in his chair.

"Brother!" She cut him short, shouting. " You cannot do this!" The young woman banged her fist against the wood.

"The process is well on its way, I am afraid." Brother gave an indifferent shrug.

"Do you realize the kind of disaster this would bring to the Empire no, to the world? Please tell me that you don't, or else..." She spoke frantically.

"I must ask you to calm yourself down, this is not how someone of your station should act..." Brother held out his hand trying to soothe her temper.

"YOU SOLD OUR HOMELAND TO FANATICS!" She screamed atop her lungs. Her sibling shrank back into his seat at the outburst. He threw an anxious glance at his guest.

"You are exaggerating. The holy church preaches honor, duty, and loyalty. Values you have long forgotten, or rather never possessed. Do I have to call in my men and have them escort you out, sister?" He said, regaining his composure.

"I am afraid I must report such conduct to my superiors, a lone incident could be forgiven, but this is not the first time..." The Bishop addressed the general, using the opportunity to interrupt.

"I know you think you can use them to your advantage, but you will end up serving as their puppet! They will send you to their senseless bloodbaths called crusades! Then they will creep their insidious morals into the minds of the people, OUR people! How can you be so blind…" Cleo went on, ignoring the religious man.

"Senseless bloodbaths? The heretics and the faithless roam free on the other side of the sea, while..." The holy man protested, outraged.

"There are plenty of heretics to the far West in the wastelands, why have you not sent a single expedition there? Perhaps the lack of gold, silk, or spices put a damper on your fervor?" Cleo shot back acidly, glaring at the man.

She stopped short in her speech as a strong set of hands grabbed her shoulders from behind. Cleo tried resisting with all her might.

"Mind your tongue, these types of words have no place in the Holy Empire now, were you not my sister I..." Brother warned her.

"Please Brother, stop this! Have I not done all which you required from me? I even married that imbecile..." Cleo pleaded, letting herself fall down on her knees.

"And you have yet to produce an heir. You should go back to your husband and do your duty. Make our family and the Emperor proud, instead of throwing a fit like a little child.” Brother scolded her. “You always have done that, speaking your mind without care for consequences. What a foolish, selfish girl your are, duty is a foreign concept to you." He shook his head in disbelief and signaled the guard to bring her out.

"You have started a war that will engulf the whole continent, is it not enough already? Do you have to bring the lands overseas into it as well?" She shouted in her despair.

"You talk as if I was the only one deciding such matters. There are a lot of forces at play, and the Empire must find a way to survive them. And may I remind you that you did not refuse the wedding proposal." He pointed

"I accepted it for you!” She cried out. “You may not be the only one yes, but you could stop this madness! You have sway over...” But her words died out as she was dragged away.

****

Cleo was shaking as it all came back to her. How she had stood up vehemently to the church’s growing influence in her homeland. The countless arguments with Brother and her parents. Some harsh words had been exchanged with her husband too, though she had more difficulty recalling those. YOU BROUGHT THIS ON YOURSELF. The writings on her cell’s walls had told her. And those were right, she concluded, she had been exiled for causing trouble. The Lady had been an embarrassment to her household, a hindrance to her brother’s plans, and a torn in the Holy Empire’s side.

It was that day she had remembered regretting, the day when the Lady had ruined her relationship with Brother. Her younger self had felt mortified afterward, but she was a different girl now. Cleo had found her enemy, one whose identity was clear: the Holy Church. She had fought them and lost, before being imprisoned by its followers. And now they were coming to invade this city. The young woman wondered if it was worth standing up for, even against her own kin and impossible odds.

Freedom of faith was one of the city’s qualities she approved of. Gravelroy's citizens could revere the one god, its variant from overseas, the twelve old gods, or anything else. It did not stop idiots from believing in nonsense, but at least they could choose which nonsense. And they were allowed to do so without fearing the pyre or the stonings, at least until the Holy Empire would arrive. She liked the idea of a city standing in the center of the world, spitting in the face of the bishops’ and kings’ wars, very much like the beggars did. Gathering her resolve, the young woman stood up. She was done staying in Brother’s shadow, it had gotten her nowhere good in the past.

“Oy, what are you doing?” The elder frowned.

“I found my enemy.”