Thepa arrived at the dock shortly after the sun had risen above the horizon. The docks were not her favorite place in Goldale. As soon as her hoof found the final step down the spire, she was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer volume of people resting on the pavement, now alerted to her presence. Her previous visits to the first level hadn't gone unnoticed—not that she was easy to miss. She was the only person in Goldale who wore the green beret and, as far as she knew, the only Youngling of the Mountain in the Goldale army and, as far as she bet, the only upper echelon to visit the first level.

It wasn't the people's presence that bothered Thepa, though. In less than a minute, she had emptied her coin purse, giving away every bit of salary she amassed in the last two weeks. What troubled her more than anything was the smell. Sludge and refuse assaulted her senses, forcing her to breathe through her mouth. The entire level reeked of it, but the worst came from the people she was so desperate to help. It was so bad, she considered it a blessing she hadn't eaten breakfast when the rest of the crowd dissipated empty handed.

Now considerably lighter, she made her way to the docks to watch the ships come in. Vessels from the five nations and fishing towns crowded the harbor, each one a tapestry of colors, flags, and emblems that told stories of their distant lands. Towering masts from the Kingdom of Clayborn, sleek elven ships adorned in red and gold, stood out against the rugged, sturdy vessels of the fishing town of Pearlview. Human and Galak merchant ships, painted in blue and white, bustled with activity, jostling for space alongside the ornate, gilded boats of the third-level nobles. Even the longboats from the Federation of Wildehaven, with their green and red sails, mingled with the voices of sailors and traders, speaking in tongues from every corner of Sainta.

She was certain she had even caught a glimpse of a pirate ship from the Free Nation of Swampspell, but they made it difficult to be sure. The only nation that seemed to lack representation in the bustling port was her own, not that she was surprised. The Sisterhood did little in the way of trade, preferring to make it on their own.

Finding her way over to the ship with red and green sails, she boarded to see sailors unloading crates of exotic goods. The scents of foreign spices mingled with the city's stink, filling the air with an overwhelming blend of aromas. She started to approach the poop deck to ask the captain about her charge when a sight for sore eyes caught her attention—a familiar presence, currently engrossed in the task of offloading a bolt of silk.

"Claudia!" She squealed rushing to her friend.

Claudia turned, catching sight of Thepa and dropped the bolt in the process. Her face lit up, freckles stretching to the points of her cheeks. Thepa quickly closed the distance and hugged the woman she had deeply missed, only to get a mouthful of her blonde locks and a whack to the side from the small object Claudia had tied to her braid—a makeshift weapon she sometimes wielded as a whip. The padding of Thepa's tunic largely protected her, but it didn't stop her from wincing as she embraced her apologetic friend and sister.

"Sorry," Claudia said looking up with her large brown eyes. Her face fell allowing the tautness of her freckles to lax. But Thepa shook her head. A strong emotion of love welled up in her stomach threatening to escape from her eyes.

"You don't have to be sorry. If this is the Claudia I've been missing, I'd gladly let you beat the tar out of me."

"Well, that too." Claudia said giving her a second quick hug. "Just so you know, I was sworn to secrecy."

"Sorry about what then? Sworn by—" she froze. Claudia was a Sargent Major of the Ministry of Venya. Mentally she kicked herself. Between Einkidi's letter and the archduke's request, Thepa already had all the information she needed to know who was coming. She didn't even need to turn around to know the voice that now addressed her was exactly who she thought it was.

"Ms. Warbol, I was told you were coming today. It's lovely to see you."

Thepa plastered a smile on her face as she turned to see Mistress Deeprabbit standing at the top of the stairs leading into the hold. The middle-aged halfling stood with her hands casually at her sides, her luggage neatly placed by her feet. For a moment, Thepa froze, confused by the woman's outfit. The halfling dressed in an elegant green outfit, one that seemed more appropriate for a night of fine dining than for a sea voyage across the ocean to attend a council meeting. Thepa's instincts told her that something was off, but hoped that if the dress was important enough to wear, it would be with a reason that didn't involve her.

"Ms. Deeprabbit," Thepa cooed, feigning surprise. "It's lovely to see you. Here, let me get those bags for you." She turned sharply to her friend, Claudia, forcing a smile through gritted teeth. "Claudia, why didn't you tell me I was here to escort you and the Mistress?"

Claudia raised her hands in mock surrender, taking a few steps back in the process. "Remember, I was sworn to secrecy."

Thepa grabbed Deeprabbit's personal belongings, the weight of the bags pulling at her arms. As she turned back, she couldn't help but shoot daggers at Claudia, maintaining her surrender.

"Oh, Ms. Warbol," Deeprabbit interjected, her voice carrying across the shouts and cries of the sailors around her. "There's no need for you to carry my bags. Ms. Silver can handle those. I'm sure your charge will require your full attention."

"Be strong, Thepa," Claudia added, pointing over Thepa's shoulder, a hint of warning in her tone.

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Thepa frowned, her curiosity piqued. "Why would I... oh." She turned slowly, her eyes widening as realization dawned on her. Before she could react, her grip on the bags loosened, slipping from her hands, crashing to the floor with a heavy thud. The sight before her left her speechless, and all thoughts of maintaining gracious host vanished in an instant. She had thought Deeprabbit's presence would be the worst to be imposed on her. What stood before her was way worse.

"Ah, I see you understand the situation. Ms. Silver, please grab my bags. I'm sure we can make our way to the palace on our own while Thepa and her mother get caught up. I'm hoping to see the archduke before the meeting, so let us make haste," Deeprabbit answered.

The two left with a small sorry from Claudia as she grabbed Deeprabbit's bags. More might have been said, but Thepa wasn't sure. All she could do was stare at the gray haired, bronzed skin satyr whose blue eyes bore down judgment upon Thepa's own.

"Thepa," Lockti's voice cut through the air, both a question and a command. It was both an acknowledgment of her presence and an invitation to speak.

"Yes, Matriarch," Thepa replied, still frozen in place. A small voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to do something, but her hooves refused to move.

"I see that your time among the elves has dulled your manners. The Sisterhood taught you better than that."

Right, she thought, her mind racing. Act. Move. Bow. Manners. Hands. Do something. Move, dummy, move!

"Shall I go first to remind you? Surely you haven't forgotten your training?" her mother pressed.

"No, I..." Thepa stammered, finally reclaiming her composure. For a moment, she almost left her manners behind along with her dignity, but she quickly closed the distance, stopping just short enough to bend low to the ground with outstretched hands. A faint smile from her mother signaled her to ease, but she took a small step back, either out of caution or fear. At that moment, she couldn't tell which. She then lifted her chest, knowing her mother might want to inspect her.

This was her duty. This was her sacrifice as the Matriarch's daughter—the very thing she had tried to run away from.

"Green suits you," Lockti remarked.

"Thank you?" Thepa responded, uncertain if she was making the right moves.

"Beachwick green would suit you better."

Had Thepa not been in shock, she might have let her contempt show. As it was, she managed to mask her disdain while her mother continued to chip away at her dignity. "I had hoped after playing soldier for a few months, you would have changed your mind. Heaven knows how you stand the stench," her mother added, wrinkling her nose as she took in the rank air.

"It's not that—"

"Please grab the bag. I grow tired of this place. It's best to make our way to the embassy."

Thepa obeyed, leading them back toward the spire. Her thoughts were empty, her spirit crushed. Many of the same people who had gathered around for handouts attempted to converge on their position, but the Matriarch passed them by without a second glance.

"Dreadful," Lockti commented, ascending the stairs toward the second-level platform. "Your friend warned me as much. The elves don't even take care of their own. How could we cede power to them to win the war when our Beachwick is in a better state? You won't see a matron sleeping on the street."

Thepa knew this was another dig at her choice to stay in Goldale, but her mother's statement tripped her up. "Friend?"

Her mother stopped on the platform as she turned to face Thepa. "My daughter, if you wish to speak, do so properly. It's embarrassing. People will think I raised a rascal."

"I'm sorry, Mother. Could you please elaborate on what you mean by friend?"

Lockti sighed, distain pursing from her lips trying hard not to roll her eyes. Once more the elder satyr burrowed down on Thepa with a stern gaze lasting long enough to send an awkward chill down her spine. "The halfling woman on the boat. Ms. Silver, I believe. Between her and the one who came to the Beachwick a few months ago, the elven one, I'm starting to believe you have lots of friends. Must I remind you a Matriarch does not have friends?"

"So, you've said before," Thepa recalled growing up. At some point, she had stopped trying altogether to make a friend. A lesser being might have thought Thepa's mother was being cruel, but as sad as it made Thepa, she understood why. It was a burden of leadership. A Matriarch couldn't have friends. It either bred nepotism or put them in compromising situations. However, a new thought occurred to her. Throwing caution to the wind, she stood up for herself for the first time that day and voiced it.

"It isn't against the rules for a Matriarch to have friends. Even the Matriarch has the Sisterhood."

This time, her mother did roll her eyes. "The Sisterhood serves at the pleasure of the Matriarch. The Sisterhood needs a Matriarch more than the Matriarch needs the Sisterhood."

Thepa could feel her temper rising. Her skin began to boil, and her nostrils flared. Around her, people started to point and stare. If she didn't rein herself in soon, she feared she might lose control in front of everyone. Clenching her fists, she struggled to keep her voice steady, biting back each word with the tip of her teeth. "The Sisterhood has a Matriarch. She stands before me."

Lockti stared intently, her expression hardening, but then she froze, her eyes widening in shock at what she was seeing. The change was so abrupt, it caught Thepa off guard. Before she could react, Lockti suddenly shifted the conversation, throwing Thepa for a loop.

"Has something changed Thepa?"

There was an odd sound to the way her mother spoke, that if it had not been her mother speaking, she would have considered it to be concern. She thought about what happened to her on the wall, but there was no way she was telling her mother that. Once more the awkward feeling crept up her spine, but this time it settled in her horns. Something was amiss.

"I'm not sure—"

The Matriarch fully turned to her. She gave Thepa a raised brow and slowly crossed her arms.

"Have you been sleeping well?"

"Yes Mother."

"No strange dreams?"

"No Mother."

"Desires?" Lockti pressed.

"No, Mother."

"Longing for the Beachwick?"

Thepa couldn't tell what her mother was getting at, so she answered evasively. "I've always missed the Beachwick."

"That's not what I mean," said Lockti shortly.

Thepa knew, but what could she have said? Of course, she missed the Beachwick, she just wasn't ready to leave Goldale and she certainly wasn't ready to be Matriarch. Instead, she let the silence fall and looked incessantly at the blue irises before her.

To the north, Thepa could see some of her soldiers making her way towards her, but her mother continued to hold her gaze. It wasn't until they were almost at arm's length her mother turn towards the third level leaving her behind.

"I suppose a few friends could be useful advisors to help prepare you for the Matriarchy. Just be careful who you trust. Not all sisters are like Sister Vivian or Sister Onna.

In the distance, the second bell rang signaling the start of the workday. As the soldiers began to report some task she was half paying attention to, a single thought ran through Thepa's head.

What was that about?