Suraiya swallowed back her emotions when the cold blue eyes of her mother swept over the assembled, and over her. The lack of recognition or reaction hurt her in that moment more than she’d have ever expected, and her forward momentum — her feet moving without her even realising, by then — was abruptly halted by one of Selucia’s hands upon her abdomen.

“I have brought those that seek the justice of Sanctuary, the succour of Elysea, and to know the Mantle as we have been blessed to know it. I bring wayward children, once lost, and now returned from the clutches of Godsworn lies.”

“And who will stand for them?” Vasilia demanded in a voice that Suraiya almost thought was a little disinterested.

“I will.” Selucia said with confidence. “For they knew not the sins they committed.”

Suraiya watched with continued surreal fascination as the pair continued their exchange. Putting aside for a moment the system-shocking revelation of her mother, it was all… vaguely familiar. She’d heard similar, if differently spoken rituals all her life.

“Then let their speaker step forth,” Vasilia continued, “and let them proclaim their merits for judgement.”

Selucia turned at the armoured blonde’s words and faced Suraiya. A look of encouragement mixed with warning flitted across her face, and then she gestured to Suraiya indicatively. “I present Suraiya Karelian, Princess-Royal of Stormharrow and leader of this band. She will speak to their worthiness for the succour of Elysea.”

That set the watching crowd abuzz, and their interest seemed to sharpen perceptibly.

Suraiya felt her heart thundering in her chest when she stepped forward under dozens — if not hundreds — of eyes, and her attention never left Vasilia’s as she did. Her mother’s gaze settled on her with focus, and yet still there was nothing there. No warmth, no greeting, not even a flicker of maternal recognition.

She was cold, powerful, and — judging by her small frown — utterly unimpressed.

“I offer my greetings to the esteemed people of Sanctuary and Elysea, my respect to its exalted High Justicar,” Suraiya began with every ounce of her Strong Will ability flaring within her mind, “and my salutations to His Excellency Charlemagne, Regent of Sanctuary.”

The odd-looking fellow positively beamed at that, with a “proper respect! Finally!” that was largely ignored by those present, though some few in the watching chambers above did laugh.

“I come before you today a woman of unsure opinion,” Suraiya continued without breaking eye contact with her mother. “My people and I were given no choice in our coming to your Sanctuary, nor were we offered adequate explanation prior to our forced abduction and subsequent escort to your borders.” She felt her Persuasion and Inspiring Presence skills flaring and leaned into them while she continued.

“I say this not to cast aspersions upon Scion Tollarius, for she has been both gracious and generous in her observation of my peoples’ safety and general well-being, albeit with a firmer hand than some would perhaps have liked.” Her mind went back to the knights that had been quite literally spanked and disciplined, and she suppressed a grimace. She also wanted to mention Ser Gilbert, her dearly missed guardian, but swallowed it back.

There was likely a very good reason her mother, his mentor, had yet to mention him.

“Since coming to this place, and during my albeit expedited travel through your city, I have seen many things that stir within me questions of all I have ever known. My life, as you may understand—” she looked for a reason from her mother, but to her disappointment, saw still only cold evaluation “—has been all but curated for me. I was raised to love the gods, pay homage to the church, and be ready to bear healthy and faithful children for my storied bloodline.”

A chorus of murmurs, some scandalised, echoed from above while a subtle look of amusement from Selucia greeted those words, but she continued as if she hadn’t noticed. “I have been informed in no uncertain terms that everything I have been taught, everything I have known, and everything I swore to defend with the truth of justice, devotion, and faith in my heart are naught but lies. I have been told, in no uncertain terms, that I am little more than a pretty bauble to be used and cast aside upon the whims of fickle, and allegedly evil deities.”

Her heart thundered in her chest and she maintained steady breathing with Breath Control while she continued. The murmur of voices had grown louder, but she leaned more heavily into her skills and did her best to focus only on the unblinking gaze of her mother. “These things and more I have been told, and though I cannot say I fully understand or even agree with every such assertion—” a few scoffs and jeers of disapproval came from above “—cast against my life’s beliefs, I can say that it is not for a lack of willingness to learn more.”

That silenced the dissenters for a moment, and Suraiya used the momentum she could feel building to press ahead, all while being vaguely aware of a small approving smile on Selucia’s features while the redhead watched her.

“The simple truth High Justicar, your Excellency, and good people of Elysea is that I am an outsider. We are outsiders. Imagine if you would for a moment the experiences we have endured; an ambush by unknown forces, a violent and sudden abduction to a hitherto unknown city, and rhetoric absent clear or conclusive evidence that seeks to gainsay and deny everything we know — or perhaps think we know — to be true. Imagine, if you would, the proverbial slipper on the other foot; and how you might feel in our position, except reversed.”

Suraiya’s voice remained steady and calm, and this time there were no jeers.

Only rapt and attentive silence.

“Our lives have not been blessed by the multitudinous bounty even your humblest of citizens seem to enjoy, and so we look around and we already question. I myself was forced to wonder, to think, ‘what if the gods truly are the enemy?’ and bear within me the weight of such a staggering consideration. Consider if you will that you were informed your way of life, your beliefs, your Mantle were but lies and deception created to enslave and control you. Would you, too, not be shocked? Would you, too, not need time to consider?”

Silence greeted her words initially, though it was quickly broken by murmurs.

Thoughtful murmurs. Considering murmurs. Agreeing murmurs.

“I do not stand here to declare my allegiance or unfettered loyalty to Sanctuary nor Elysea.” She lifted her chin and continued before she could be interrupted by those above. “Not because I reject your words, but because I have not been given sufficient time to choose! I have been told that Elyseans, contrary to all that we are taught in the Grand Ascendancy, are people of reason and good faith. People of morality, of ethics, of a kind and sheltering nature…”

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Her mother narrowed her eyes a fraction, and Suraiya noticed the frown was gone.

An unreadable expression had replaced it.

“I have seen nothing so far to countermand this admittedly self-given assessment, from the lips of Scion Tollarius. I ask you then, High Justicar, my lord Regent, and people of Sanctuary; how can we truly be given fair trial or chance to prove our reticence, or a proper means by which to embrace your truths if we are not given time to test them? Time to learn them and see their vaunted nobility and merits for ourselves?”

Suraiya finally broke her gaze from her mother and looked up at the watching crowd. She met their eyes, their stares, their condescension. She met their pity, their empathy, their judgement… and she gave back nothing but the regal princess she had been forged to become. The battle-hardened maiden she had turned into, by right of blood, and steel, and sweat within the Desolation itself.

“I am a Princess in name, but I am a Knight at heart. A Knight does not serve an individual, though we might swear oaths to that effect. First and foremost, a Knight serves honour. Integrity.” She turned back to Vasilia. “Truth and Justice.” Her arms spread, and she bowed without breaking eye contact. “So I submit myself, High Justicar, Regent, people of Elysea, to your justice. I put myself, and the lives of my people, at the mercy of this most indomitable city of unwavering souls.”

She heard the rustle and shift of bodies, and turned in surprise.

Her eyes widened upon seeing her entire convoy bowing with her, albeit awkwardly or warily in some cases.

She suppressed a smile and turned back to her mother.

“All I ask is that we be extended the chance to see for ourselves the merits and values of your most deeply beloved beliefs, and in so doing, be won over their nobility. After all, if yours truly is the just and enlightened path, how could we do any less than give ourselves wholly to Elysea’s beliefs?”

Suraiya returned to a straight-backed position, assumed her best parade rest, and waited.

“Well! I’m certainly impressed. She looks like a Princess from my own court!” Charlemagne said cheerfully. “What say you, Vasilia? Eh?”

All eyes moved from the now-staring Regent to the armoured blonde at his side, and silence dominated while the collective waited for her verdict.

It stretched.

Suraiya refused to look away or back down, and her blue eyes met the same ones in her mother’s gaze without hesitation. Vasilia watched her with quiet consideration, her features utterly impassive, and still Suraiya refused to so much as blink. It took a considerable amount of her Strong Will to maintain the stare, but maintain it she did.

Finally, the woman spoke.

“You have grown bold, it seems.” Vasilia said in a voice that carried well through the chamber’s acoustics. “Courageous, even. Though some might call that foolish, as well.”

“I am often told it is an inheritance from my mother,” Suraiya replied as levelly as she could.

“She must have been a troublesome woman,” Vasilia said with a bare hint of amusement.

“I am told she was as brave as she was hotheaded and impulsive.” Suraiya responded with a flicker of a smile, her heart thundering within her breast.

“Traits you seem to have inherited.” Vasilia observed.

“Proudly.” Suraiya confirmed.

The tension in the crowd was ratcheting up by degrees with every second of the exchange, and Suraiya could feel the understanding dawning rapidly through them with her Empathic Link, link a tidal wave of emotional force. It was distracting.

“It seems we have much to discuss… Suraiya.” Vasilia said with finality.

“I think so too,” Suraiya said in a carrying voice, “mother.”

The emotional tidal wave hit a crescendo, and shouts exploded from above in a maelstrom of chaos and thundering opinions. Shock, amusement, relish, glee, hatred, disbelief, and outright disdain mixed together in a tumult of noise and fury seemed ready to boil over… until suddenly it was smothered. Choked. Crushed.

Vasilia stood unchanged, and yet somehow dominated the entire room.

All voices fell silent under the weight of her Soulforce, and only once the watchers had finally quieted did she speak.

“I will now deliver my judgement,” she said as if nothing had happened. “The company of Princess Karelian will remain here in Sanctuary for exactly thirty days. At the end of that time, they will be granted the right to stay or depart.” Her eyes lifted to the watchers with a scowl. “That is my judgement. Does anyone wish to gainsay it?”

No one spoke up.

“Wonderful!” Charlemagne said every several moments. “Just delightful. Heavens, but I do love a bit of family drama, eh? Your daughter, Vasilia? Why didn’t you tell me!”

“It was nobody’s business.” Suraiya’s mother said sourly.

“What of your husband and son, do they know?”

Suraiya’s eyes snapped to Charlemagne, and she felt her world tremble around her. Selucia’s sudden grip on her wrist oriented her, and she turned her blue eyes to meet the redhead’s green, and found reassurance lurking within them.

“My family will deal with the matter ourselves,” Suraiya responded to Charlemagne with a glower. “You worry about governing, you blowhard.”

“That is hardly the way to talk to your lawful Regent, young lady!”

Vasilia snorted and, without another word, walked down to face Suraiya while Selucia steadied her.

“That was not the way I wanted you to find out.” She admitted. “Though it does give me an avenue to an awkward topic. I… have a lot to tell you, Suraiya.” Her mother’s eyes searched her own, and Suraiya found her mouth dry at the woman’s presence. She smelled just like she remembered, with the faintest hint of jasmine and lilac to her fragrance.

“I thought you were dead.” Suraiya managed to choke out.

Vasilia’s features softened, and she reached out to touch Suraiya’s cheek.

Suraiya brushed away the tears that threatened the corners of her eyes.

“We’ll talk about everything soon.” Vasilia said in a voice more gentle than anything Suraiya had thought the armoured woman capable of up until that moment. “I promise.”

Suraiya nodded.

“Come on,” Selucia said brightly, “I’ll take you to the Tollarius wing of the palace.”

“Okay.” Suraiya said without taking her eyes off of Vasilia. “What about my peop—?”

“Leave them to me,” Vasilia said gently. “I already spotted some familiar faces.”

At Suraiya’s consenting nod, Selucia looped her arm around her shoulders and turned her away.

“What you did there was incredibly brave,” Selucia murmured while they walked toward the entrance at the rear. “And incredibly reckless.”

Suraiya laughed and wiped her eyes again.

“I’m beginning to think we have those traits in common.”

Selucia smiled back at her warmly.

“I’m beginning to think so too.”