As the sun sets in the north, the preparations for the Rites are finished. The tables have been set out, over a dozen of them. Normally, that amount would be borrowed from a shop but there are no shops in Victory. The scarcity of resources and the constant drain of the war means that nothing is wasted and excess is frowned on.

We needed to borrow furniture from the Moons. They aren’t pretty either, marked by scratches and broken corners. Tablecloths, that are actually clean sheets, make them look better and that’s as far as decorations go.

Half the tables are dedicated to food, which Geneva is in charge of. As expected of her, the challenge of feeding an army a feast rather than a warm bowl of stew is not daunting in the slightest. She is also confident in working with the brain of the goliath. Even with her handling it, I’m still reluctant to try that meal.

The other tables are dedicated to drinks. Enough to keep everyone lubricated as well as extra stock. The good knights are about to receive a fistful of gold. The noble thing to do is offer them a chance to spend their newfound wealth on a worthy product.

Inferno, Howie’s brew that beats back the chills of winter, is running low, having supplied it to over three hundred bodies every night for a few weeks, but there is plenty of Herbanacle and Sanity. Very glad we never ran into the monsters that made the guilds request a brew that can weaken mana intrusion.

That’s the extent of the preparations needed. Northerners aren’t ones for extravagance. Alana has also finished her preparations. The corpses have been cataloged and the gold paid out, minus a few of the giant murder birds Geneva plans to roast whole to feed our guests. Despite being handed a literal sack of gold, her mood is as dour as my elf’s, though Kierra still denies being upset. She wears a thin frown as she changes into more formal clothes.

For the north, that means fur. From what I’ve gathered, white is the most common and a staple in northern fashion. Darker colors are rarer and, as such, are one of the few status signs in Victory.

Draped over her shoulders is a silver fur, two legs and a head hanging down her chest while the rest hangs down her back. A gift from Yulia. She doesn’t hate her sister enough to refuse it. Which means she is either weak to nice fur or weak to gifts in general. Something to explore.

I don’t have anything suitable for the event. It never occurred to me to bring party wear when packing for a warzone. A folly my old tutors would have smacked me for. A noblewoman always packs a dress, or whatever equivalent they fancy. It’s the basics.

Usually, this is when Kierra grows some grass to weave a vest and stitches a fresh hide into a pair of pants, but she isn’t in the mood, quietly lounging on the bed while playing with a pliant Bell. She also isn’t making an effort to dress up for the evening.

I’m a little better off as Alana offered me her cloak. The blue one lined with white fur that is a symbol of the Moons and Stars. She actually blushed a little as she handed it over. In the cold wasteland that is the north, handing over one’s cloak to someone you’re interested in is seen as a romantic gesture. The equivalent of giving someone flowers or sending a poem.

It’s funny that she gets embarrassed over something so basic after all we’ve been through but I didn’t say anything. Her being cute is too rare. I can’t discourage her.

Someone knocks as we are about to leave. “Hello?” Yulia doesn’t wait for an answer before opening the door. What was it Alana said? This woman doesn’t understand boundaries at all. She is wearing a big smile as she stands in the doorway.

“Mm, it looks good,” she says while eyeing her sister. “Are you sure that’s all you want? I have a black coat that’d look amazing on you.”

Alana sighs. “I only accepted this because it’s tradition. If I wanted a coat, I would get one.” Her fingers stroke one of the legs of the fur. “It’d be a waste. We’re leaving soon. This is the only time I can wear something like this so you may as well keep your expensive stuff.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Nothing’s expensive between sisters.” The cunning bunny’s smile fades. “I have to admit, I was surprised to hear that you’re leaving. But, I want you to know I don’t disagree. Your sister supports you. Leave everything to me.”

“Shocking,” Alana mutters. Then louder, “I bet you’re thrilled I’ll be out of your way. With Khan marked as a traitor and Zach having embarrassed himself beyond redemption, that only leaves you and your maniac husband as the next duke and duchess. That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

Yulia smiles sadly. “Would you believe me if I told you it isn’t?”

“No. What do you want?”

“I wanted to wish you good luck. Another tradition.” She chuckles. “I had a whole speech prepared to give you advice on handling the cremations but you’ve completed your first campaign without any deaths. Something that isn’t being talked about in the wake of this estrazi situation. Congratulations, Alana. You’ve made history.”

My future saint balks at the words. Then she hangs her head. “Is that supposed to make me happy coming from you?” she grumbles, softer than a whisper.

It clearly does, whether she wants it to or not. “Congratulations.”

She raises her head. I have the distinct feeling she is resisting rolling her eyes at me. “Congratulations to yourself. It’s as much your accomplishment as mine. More, really.”

“I see you still haven’t learned to take a compliment,” Yulia says, turning to me. “It’s endearing, isn’t it?”

“Yes and no. I’d rather she be a bit less humble.”

The bunny blinks. “Ah. Mm, that makes sense.”

“Are you done? We need to get to the Witness Circle before the first knights show up.”

“Yes, yes. I’m done. Well, there was one little thing. I wanted to invite all of you to lunch tomorrow. The two of you are leaving soon. Don’t you want to see your nephew before you go? I’d also like to talk for a while.” Her eyes are earnest as she looks at her younger sister. “Isn’t it about time we did that?”

I sigh, preparing myself for the harsh refusal that will crush the beautiful bunny’s hopes for the nth time.

“Fine.”

A refusal that doesn’t come. I gape at Alana in shock. Yulia is a little more restrained but her surprise is easy to see as well, her facial control collapsing.

My future saint scoffs at both of us. “I do want to see my nephew. You’re going to be in the middle of Khan’s mess and…and it looks like you’re the heir apparent, as long as you can control Zach. We should talk.”

“…I was kind of hoping we could talk about us. Don’t you think it’s past time we put aside childhood grievances? Please. Let’s talk this out now. Before…other issues cloud matters.”

What does she mean? Khan’s impending death? Victory’s impending war? Either one could make a hear-to-heart uncomfortable.

Alana is unmoved. “We’ll have lunch. We’ll talk. Don’t expect anything more.”

“…I see.” The older sister looks quite disappointed. She may be a schemer but it’s hard not to feel sorry for her. Maybe just for me, as I’m weak to a pretty face. Alana certainly has no problem turning off her sympathy. “Then, if it’s going to be all about business, I was thinking about inviting your mother.”

“What does she have to say?”

“More than you think.”

“Fine. I needed to speak with her anyway. Arrange it.”

“Mm. Are you fine coming to our house? Young ones shouldn’t be outside too often, they’re still weak to the cold.”

“I see you don’t follow all the traditions.”

“That’s more of a myth than a tradition.” Yulia turns to me. “You wouldn’t know this one. They say some mothers of the old generation used to leave their children outside for a night after their birth. If they weren’t strong enough to make it to morning, they were considered too weak to be a knight of the north.”

She shakes her head. “It sounds unbelievable but it happened. Some might justify it by saying only the most extreme families participated in such an atrocity but I think losing even one life to such nonsense is unconscionable. That thinking is what I want to change. Being duchess is secondary.”

“Is this where I applaud?” Alana asks sarcastically. “I’m sure you will be remembered as the most selfless duchess to ever lead the north.”

The bunny deflates. “I’ll let you get on with your night. Again, I wish you the best. Lou.”

“Yulia.” I shake my head once the door closes behind her. “You’re ruthless with her. Is there really no chance of reconciliation? Even on the surface? It might make her easier to deal with.”

“Yulia will never be easier to deal it. Right now, she’s pestering me to be nice to her. The moment she thinks the relationship is repaired, she’ll be pestering me for favors. Because anyone who cares for her will of course pamper her.” Alana sighs. “Forget it. She made my life difficult for nearly a decade. She can wait at least that long for me to stop holding grudges. Let’s just focus on tonight.”