Vocabulaire:

1. Charon – The boatman ferrying the craft that takes the shades of the dead to Hades; supposed to be paid for the trip with a coin.

2. Corona obsidionalis – Also called corona graminea. The highest military decoration for a Roman soldier, it was awarded only if the soldier saved, by his personal efforts, at least an entire legion, or the whole army itself. The army had to be the one to grant it, unlike other decorations, which were often granted by the commander and to the members of the army.

3. Dis – Roman god of the underworld, Dis or Pluto.

4. Romulus and Remus – Twins said to be the founders of Rome. They were cast into the wild as infants and saved by a she-wolf who suckled them as her own cubs.

Inter Nos

par ethnewinter

The rapid knocks, followed by the visitor's announcement, brought Nao's head up with a smile. She looked at the girl at the other end of the room and tipped her head towards the door. The girl was quick: she had not even waited for the centurion's gesture to get up and head for the sounds. No sooner had the bolt been unlatched than the door swung open and revealed the senior legate with a shaky, grimacing sort of smile.

"Thanks, thanks," she said, striding quickly into the room and heading for the fireplace. "Oh, good god, I'm about ready to jump into the fire! Close the door, please, quickly."

Erstin gave a small chuckle as she bolted the door again.

"I'm surprised to see you're not wearing a thicker cloak, Chie-san," she said. "It's no wonder you're feeling chilly. Would you like me to warm some wine for you?"

"No, thanks though," said Chie. "The way I'm feeling right now, I wouldn't be surprised if the wine chilled in my throat."

She turned to Nao, rubbing her sides as she spoke.

"Ye gods, Nao," she said, chattering through her words as fine shivers rattled her teeth. "Why didn't you give me clearer directions? I must've gone through every inn on this block, thinking it was the right one. To think I believed you when you said I'd be able to find this one easily—that's why I didn't bother with going back to my room to get a thicker cloak, Erstin! Blame it on this rat—oh, stop laughing, Yuuki! It's on account of your oblique way with words that I'm frozen and just about done for!"

"It's your fault you couldn't find this quickly," Nao grinned, highly amused by the diatribe. "And it isn't my fault you're half blind."

The legate's eyes narrowed; her sight was somewhat less than perfect. Still, it was not so bad as to be deemed "half blind", which Nao knew.

"Oh, be quiet," she said.

"Well, lah-de-dah!" the other exclaimed, widening her eyes farcically. "No witty comebacks today?"

"Let me catch my breath first, then I'll take you on," the other woman replied, putting a hand against the wall to brace herself. "I'm too tired to banter."

"You do look a little winded, Chie-san," Erstin noted.

"Winded?" was the wry answer. "Why, I'm only staying on my feet out of sheer habit!"

All three of them laughed.

"Right," Nao said. "Come draw up a chair, Chie, and do that breath-catching before we go out again."

"Oh, don't talk about going out yet," the other groaned, coming to settle herself beside the small oak table. "Give me time to recover and get used to the idea. Why did you have to move quarters, anyway? The old place was fine."

Nao made a vague gesture: "I ran into an old friend the other day and he told me to come stay at his place. Here."

"I see."

"Anyway, you took long enough. I was almost worried," she smirked. "We've been waiting a while."

Chie threw her a dour look and muttered, "Don't complain when I'm the one who's been trudging in snow."

The centurion flicked her eyes towards the other occupant of the room. She laughed suddenly, startling both the girl and Chie.

"Oh, Sons of Dis, Erstin," she said, shaking her head at the girl hovering near the door. "Go already. We don't need you to look over us, anyway. We can take care of ourselves. Don't keep your friend waiting."

Erstin coloured brightly.

"What do you mean, Nao-senpai?" she asked, attempting to look as though she did not know what Nao meant and failing miserably at it.

The red-haired woman snorted.

"I mean, go already and meet that Otomeian girl," she answered. "You've been fidgeting there all this time and looking like you're about ready to run away. Been mooning about all day, I can tell. Go! It's fine."

Then, almost as an afterthought: "Just be careful, you hear?"

Chie smiled as the girl hesitated, inching her head this way and that as though unable to make her mind. Finally, her resolve appeared to strengthen and she headed for the door while thanking the primipilus—who stopped her just as she was halfway out of the exit.

"Come back here, Idiot," said the chortling Nao, her mirth growing as the girl retreated into the room with a bewildered expression. "Put on something warm, will you, or you'll catch your death of cold before you even make it there. It'd be a hard job for us to warm you back to life if that happens. Unless your girl wants to give it a try."

This time Chie laughed as well. Erstin, for her part, turned a deeper shade of red, although she did show an embarrassed smile too. After pulling on a few more garments as ordered, she left the two women in the room.

"The silly fool," Nao said affectionately. "Can you believe she was about to go out there in just a robe?"

"Who's this other girl she's meeting?"

"Don't you remember? I told you about her. It's the Sphinx's cousin."

"Oh," Chie said. "So it's that one?"

"Yes."

"Well, well. When you told me they were getting cosy I didn't think they were getting cosy that way. You didn't really elaborate, you know." She screwed up her eyes to the ceiling. "So little Ers-chan has grown up."

"Funny, isn't it? Somehow, it feels like not too long ago that she was just a little tot trailing in my tracks."

"Makes you feel old, doesn't it?" Chie said, smiling.

"Please. I never feel old."

Chie responded with a droll look.

"We'd better go," she said to Nao, after a second.

"Before we do that, I wanted to show you something."

Nao got up and made her way to a closet. She retrieved a leather bundle from within and returned, whereupon she laid the item on the table. Chie eyed it with curiosity.

"What's this?" the legate asked.

"Some things I just bought," was the answer. The bundle was unwrapped, revealing the glint of metal tucked into the flaps. "Have a look."

Chie peered at the contents of the bundle, then reached for a thin metal star whose circumference was roughly the same as the width of her palm. She held it up, eyeing the five sharp points at the edges of the disc.

"I'm not really an expert on these things," she said. "Never been good with projectiles. But I do know enough to say this is a good piece of metalwork." She turned her eyes to the other, similar discs in the unwrapped bundle. "Where'd you get them?"

"Some blacksmith out at the edge of town. Great stuff. I'm damned glad I talked to the tribune—Akira Okuzaki, I mean—yesterday, or I wouldn't have known to go there."

"Akira-kun?" Chie replied, setting down the weapon. "Oh, yes, I've seen her carrying some of these too. Shuriken, you call them, right?"

Nao nodded: "She would have some. Her family comes from the same place I got trained, you know."

"Oh, yes, the Okuzaki were originally Sulpicians. But most of them stay in Hime now."

"Like everyone else looking to go up in politics." Nao picked up another object, slipping her fingers through the holes in the implement and showing it to Chie. "What I really like is this. Look at the detail. Good. Great grip, too. Slips in real smooth and fits beautifully, like sex."

Chie laughed, a hand thrown over her eyes.

"What a simile!" she said.

Nao laughed too. "No, really. You try it. Here."

She slipped it off and handed it to Chie, who put it on. It reminded her of those crude 'knuckles' that some of the more violent members of the Himean populace employed during their street fights. The difference was that, whereas those only had slight bumps or ridges at the 'knuckles,' this was fitted with razor-sharp, outstretched claws. She made a slight face at the weapon, grudgingly admitting that it was handsomely worked even if she could not quite countenance the brutality of its purpose.

"What an awful-looking thing!" she said, wrinkling her brow. "What do you call it again, Nao?"

"Depends. But where I come from, we just call it the claw."

"What do you plan to do with this, anyway? You can't use it for battle, since it couldn't possibly cut through a cuirass—unless you put all your strength into the blow, I suppose. It's an assassin's weapon, isn't it?"

"Yes. I left my old one at home, and figured I might as well get a new one. Especially since the stuff here is much cheaper than anywhere else, even when it's such good quality."

"Right." Chie took off the wicked-looking instrument. "Why do I have this feeling you're planning to use it on someone?"

"I probably will. That's what weapons are for."

"Oh, Jupiter!"

"Sure, call him." The centurion chuckled. "I'm just keeping my weapons up to date. You know, the way you like to pick every new bird's feather for your collection."

A laugh erupted from the other's mouth.

"Quills, they're called quills!" said the legate. "And you just made it sound as though I go around plucking the tail feathers from whatever poor fowl comes my way."

"Speaking of birds," Nao said. "I'd love a good cooked one right about now. Actually, I'll take anything cooked at this point. Come on, I'm hungry. Let's go already."

"Anywhere in mind?"

"There's this place nearby that Kenji-san told me about. How he described the roast boar there had my belly roaring." Nao closed her eyes in anticipation of the culinary delights to come, her tongue coming out to lick at her lips. "Good wine, too, he said. And the desserts he told me about! Custardy rolls and fig pastries. Oh, let's go already, damn it."

"Goodness!" Chie cried, grinning. "The notoriously hardy Nao Yuuki, a sybarite?"

"I like good food," the centurion retorted. "Anyone would pick oysters over plain olives any day. I don't mind roughing it when there's nothing else to be had, but my goal is to kill myself from eating as much as I can when there's good stuff in front of me, to make up for the other times."

"Admirable goal," Chie replied. "Mind if I join you on this mission?"

"Shit, we can share the same boat trip down the goddamned river. I don't think Charon would mind."

"If he does, we'll set aside a leg of boar to bribe him with."

Nao grinned and threw a garment at her: "Here, you borrow one of my cloaks, Legate, or you'll be making that trip before I even get started. Glad you had sense enough to put on your thickest socks, at least."

After wrapping themselves snugly in their capes, they went out. They found empty streets to greet them, with only a few odd stragglers sitting by the warmth of an outdoor brazier or a fire. The early evening was washed with the deep midnight blue of the sky and the colour was reflected by the snow that blanketed almost all the surfaces, the whiteness taking on an azure-tinted aspect. Here and there, the monochrome was interrupted by swathes of yellow light coming from windows or open doorways, as well as the lamps hanging from taverns and shops by the path. Chie noted to her companion that the city looked 'rather lonely'.

"More snow coming is why," Nao commented. "Look, it's covered everything already."

"I know—I spent nearly an hour walking in it earlier, remember?"

After a while, she asked: "Is it far, Nao?"

"No, we're close."

"I hope so."

"Relax, we'll get there faster than you can say Aoi Senou."

"You don't know how fast I can say that," Chie said, letting out a chuckle.

"I'll bet you'd give Mercury's feet a run for their money. Hey, isn't that the general?"

Chie turned to look, narrowing her eyes to slits as she squinted at the gazebo Nao was pointing to. It was in the middle of a snow-filled clearing, one of the market spaces usually filled with shoppers and stalls. It was empty now, however, and what few stalls had not been packed up by their owners were bleak-looking and empty. After a while, she finally made out the figures standing in the gazebo in the middle: it was their commander and her Otomeian bodyguard. She and Nao made their way to them, speculating on the reasons for the pair being out there in such weather and without anyone nearby.

"Shizuru-san!" Chie called out, waving.

The figures in the distance looked their way. The taller, blonde figure waved.

"It is them. Whatever are they doing out here?" Chie mumbled as she walked forward. "It's too frosty to be out. Why, there's hardly anyone else on the street!"

Nao grinned, lifting her eyebrows suggestively.

"Yes," she said. "Good point. Maybe that's why they're out here."

"If that's what it is, the sensible thing would have been to stay inside Shizuru-san's room," Chie returned, unable to help getting in on the joke. She paused to adjust her footwear and pull a sock up, which prompted her companion to stop as well. In the few moments before they began walking again, she took in the scenery surrounding the pergola they were approaching, from the twisted branches of the few ice-spangled trees in plantboxes to the clean, white smoothness of the snow blanketing the entire space. All of it gave the scene an otherworldly quality.

"Pretty," she puffed out. "The setting is nice, I mean, even considering the awful cold. I bet it doesn't look as pretty when it's summer, what with all the merchants and people around here. But right now it's really beautiful, in a lonely sort of way."

"Ooh, the romance of it all," was the sarcastic reply.

Chie smiled dreamily.

"Ah, don't you feel it, Nao?" she jested. "There's something in the air."

"Whatever the fuck it is, it's freezing me to death," Nao snickered. "But the lovebirds over there don't look like they're minding it."

"Quiet! They'll hear you."

"Why, afraid they won't let you get close enough to pluck their tails?"

Chie laughed and shushed her, saying that they were fairly well within earshot by now since whispers carried in the winter silence. After a few more strides, they called out again in greeting.

"Hello there," came the response. "Chie-han, Nao-han. Out for a walk?"

"Heading to dinner," Chie answered. "What are you doing here, Shizuru-san? It's cold." Her breath turned into mist as she spoke, and she wiggled an eyebrow at it. "See?"

"Cold in more ways than one," Nao put in, with a small smirk for the girl beside Shizuru. It was a wasted effort, however, as the dark-haired girl had her eyes fixed on a piece of wood that she was worrying with a knife. "Enjoying the fresh air, General?"

"Yes, and resting," Shizuru replied, giving them a bright smile. "We have been going about the town all day—you recall I ran into you earlier, Chie-han—talking to some of the citizens."

"Don't tell me. The issue about the governor, is it?" said Nao.

"Quite so."

"How does it look, Shizuru-san?" Chie asked. Shizuru sighed before responding.

"It appears Shikishima-han was telling the truth," she stated simply.

Nao sneered, her fine red brows trying to meet.

"'Course it's true. If someone says something bad about a politician, you can expect it's an understatement," she muttered, to the other two's amusement.

"Does that sweeping statement include us?" Chie asked, pointing to herself and their general.

"It's an expression or—whatchamacallit, a common saying. And no, you know it doesn't."

"A common saying."

The other two Himeans shared a wry smile.

"The sad part is, I can't blame people for coming up with it," Chie sighed. "So. I guess we wait for Suda Yuuji-san to come home, then?"

Shizuru nodded.

"As it is, that is all we can do," she said. "I do wish he were here now, all the same."

"What is taking him so long, I wonder?" Chie mused aloud. "He should know we're here—surely the news must have reached him already. Any other governor would've come rushing back by now, or at least sent a message."

"I do not mind," Shizuru said. "If it is indeed on account of some public business that he is not present. The delay is of no matter, in that case."

"Well, seeing as he doesn't have any scruples about the citizenship itself, I don't think he'll have any scruples about making us wait for the sake of something that's a little less than public business," Chie told her.

"We could fetch him if you want, General," Nao put in.

"I do not think," Shizuru answered with a mischievous look, "we need to have you do any 'fetching' yet."

Nao and Chie laughed.

"Oh, now, I'd play nice, General," the primipilus protested jokingly.

"I think Shizuru-san would feel better if you said you wouldn't play at all," Chie quipped. "You said the same thing when you went to 'ask Prince Artaxi to be quiet' during the march, if I recall."

"Well, I shut him up, didn't I? From the sound of things, seems like this Yuuji can do with some trussing up, too."

"Yuuji, Yuuji," Shizuru mumbled, drawing their attention. "Ah, Chie-han, I meant to ask this earlier, but it slipped my mind. Is Suda Yuuji-han related to Aidou-han?"

Nao blinked at the commander question, then brought up her eyebrows as she hit upon it.

"Oh, right! Legate Aidou's a Yuji, isnt he?" she asked, getting a nod from the fair-haired woman. "Well that explains a lot, don't it?"

The other two women smiled, knowing the centurion disliked the legate in question.

"As far as I remember, they are related," Chie said later. "But distantly. The Yuji with one U and Yuuji with two U's come from one main bloodline, but the branches split off and became distinct from each other a while back. So the relation is now relatively remote, for most purposes."

Shizuru digested this. "I see. Thank you for clearing that up for me."

"They seem like enough to me," Nao muttered, drawing her lips into an expressive grimace. "A coward and a cunnus selling the citizenship. Pah!"

"Old sourpuss," Chie said, nodding warmly at her friend's sneer. "Why don't you show Shizuru-san those new things of yours, Nao? Has she seen them?"

The centurion's expression relaxed.

"No," she said, drawing one of the metal stars from the pouch in her cloak. "Just got them, General, and a pretty lot they are, too. What do you think?"

Shizuru took the proffered object and brought it up to her face. Her eyes took in the fine, razor-thin edge and gleam of metal hungry for flesh to bite.

"Most impressive," she said, after a moment. "A good find, Nao-han."

"I thought so."

"How was the price?"

"I'd say cheap, considering the quality."

"Ah." She hummed, eyes growing thoughtful. "I suppose I had better get my naginata's blade seen to."

"We've been sending the serviceable swords for whetting," Chie told her. "I don't think we'll need to get any good number of replacements, though. What with the enemy armour we took from our battles, and all. Most of what we're getting done will be maintenance."

"That is good." A pause. "On another subject, has the mail bound for Hime not departed yet?"

"Just did, a few hours ago," answered the legate. "I put the letters you wrote in there, too, along with the report for the Senate."

"Thank you."

Chie acknowledged her with a brief nod: "I actually meant to entrust them to Takeda-san, but I couldn't, it turns out."

"Why?"

"Oh, you didn't know? He didn't go down to Argus to catch his ship after all. Said he'd prolong his stay here and wait for the next one."

Shizuru's eyes narrowed, which Chie interpreted to mean she wanted to know why, again.

"I don't know why," she said.

"Odd, that," Nao said. "To decide to winter here instead of Hime. I mean, it's not like he didn't have a choice."

"Well, now," said Shizuru, a teasing twinkle coming to her eye. "You make it sound as though you yourself would rather be in Hime, Centurion! Can you stand being in my army no longer?"

Nao laughed at the tease.

"I can stand it fine, General," she declared. "Just give me a good fight and good people to fight with and I'll stand the pits of Dis fine, if I have to."

"There," said Chie, smile breaking out. "I'd drink to that."

"As would I," said the general.

"Then by the gods, let's all drink to it now!" Nao exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "That's what we were going to do, anyway. We're going for a nip, General. Come on, and we'll sample the best food and wine this town can serve up. What do you say?" She turned a short smirk to the silent figure beside Shizuru. "That includes you too, Kid. Not like we can leave you out, anyway, as you're always with Fujino-san."

The girl's eyes flashed to Shizuru as if by instinct. The general smiled at them.

"Are you hungry, Natsuki?" she asked genially, actually seeming to defer the decision to her attendant. "We can go and have dinner with Nao-han and Chie-han, if you are. Or if you want to come in out of the cold now, at least."

This brought a small, vaguely apologetic gesture indicating that the younger woman did not wish to go in yet, followed by another that managed to convey a suggestion that Shizuru should go if she wished. The older woman shook her head, still smiling.

"It is all right," Shizuru said. "I myself do not feel hungry yet."

She turned to her primipilus.

"Shall you take our apologies, Nao-han, that I cannot take you up on your offer?" she asked. "Perhaps it shall be my turn to invite you next time, but I am afraid I—no, we—must decline for now."

"Sure, more for me!" the centurion replied heartily, to their amusement. "Mind if we go?"

"Not at all. Please enjoy yourselves."

"We'll be off, then," Chie said, giving a small wave as she moved away. She tipped her chin jauntily at her friend's bodyguard-cum-attendant. "Try to make her come in soon, Natsuki-san—I'd hate to see two woman-shaped blocks of ice here tomorrow."

"I suppose that means I should cancel my plan to make snowmen."

After a few more jests, the two Himeans left, stepping high and fast through the snow. Shizuru watched them go before turning back to her bodyguard. She was about to ask the girl if she did not feel cold yet when her gaze fell on the object in Natsuki's hands.

"What is that, Natsuki?" she asked, gesturing to it.

Natsuki dropped her eyes to the object, then looked back up at Shizuru and held it out to her. The older woman took it and realised that it was the block of wood Natsuki had been chipping at the entire day as they made the rounds of the city. It was no longer a mere block of wood.

Her eyebrows went up in admiration.

"Why, this is quite well-done," Shizuru said, turning over the small figurine in her hands. "A wolf, is it not?"

She looked up to see the girl's nod.

"It is very nice." She sighed. "I myself am not much good at carving small objects like this. Oh, I daresay I can turn out a decent wooden horse or soldier. But not with the detail you have put into this. I can actually see the wave of the coat."

She said this while tracing the lines of the little wooden wolf, trying to feel the nuances of the grain and the chipped edges through her fingers, which were faintly numbed by the chilly air.

"This brings back memories," she said.

A small sound from the other brought her eyes back up. There was a curious look on the younger woman's face and she smiled at the silent question there.

"You see," she explained, "when I was younger, much younger, I used to know some friends whose parents would come back from campaign with something like this. A little Trojan horse perhaps, or a small wooden doll. I thought it ever so sweet, you know. For a parent to make such a thing on campaign and come back with it."

She paused and turned to lean against a cool pillar, her hands still playing with the carving as she went on.

"Odd whims we get when we are children. I used to hope," she said, "for my father to come home from campaign with one for me too. Even if he was not a mere ranker and could afford to purchase a carving instead, even if it was badly done. I would not have minded. I only wanted him to make one for me."

She sighed and followed it with a chuckle. After a few seconds of silence, the other finally took it upon herself to prod Shizuru into talking again.

"He did?" was the question.

Shizuru shook her head.

"No, he never did," she told the girl looking at her. "And I never did ask him to. Not that I really minded, nor that I ever thought less of his love for me due to that. It is simply that he was not that kind of man. He was a good father nonetheless. And he brought me back other things, riches and treasures found in campaign, which I liked too."

She shrugged.

"Although I still did wish he made me at least one carving." The older woman laughed at herself. "I am hard to please, it seems. Ah, well."

She was about to hand back the object to Natsuki when the girl asked another question.

"You like it?" the Otomeian asked.

Shizuru stopped in the act of holding out the wooden wolf. She flicked her eyes to it to ask if it was Natsuki was talking about, and the girl nodded.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I do. It is very well-made, as I said before, and the detail is impressive considering it is so small I can swallow it with my hand. I like it very much."

The girl made a sort of half-shrug.

"You," she said quietly. "If you like it."

Shizuru tilted her head, wondering what the girl was trying to say.

"Forgive me, Natsuki," she said. "What was that?"

The girl nodded at the tiny figurine in Shizuru's hand.

"You may have it," she said, making the older woman's eyebrows go up.

"Oh no," Shizuru replied, feeling something like shyness stir inside her. "I couldn't, Natsuki. After all, you might have made this for some—"

"No one," the girl interrupted.

Shizuru looked her in the eye.

"Are you certain?" she asked, feeling rather warmer than before. "Would you truly like to give it to me?"

Natsuki nodded.

"Yours," she told Shizuru, who smiled at the hushed statement.

"I see," the older woman said at length. "Thank you, Natsuki."

Natsuki said nothing.

"I will keep it with me at all times—indeed, wherever I go," Shizuru said, bringing a hint of colour to her companion's cheeks, as well as a small mumble of disbelief. "Do you not believe me? I shall, you know."

Unexpectedly, Natsuki lifted an eyebrow and smirked humorously at her.

"It is true," Shizuru protested, laughing a little at the girl's scepticism. "I promise. I shall take it everywhere I go. It shall go right into the chest I use to house the other things I always bring with me on campaign. Why, I might even bring it along with me everywhere! I may put it on a chain of some kind, and carry it thus, just to spite you for your lack of faith in me."

The girl mumbled something that she failed to catch, and she leaned forward to hear better.

"What?" she asked, hoping Natsuki would repeat it, which the girl did.

"Even when you bathe?"

"Why, yes, I shall bring it even when I bathe," Shizuru answered, laughing at what was obviously a tease. "I shall call it my little Natsuki, my personal charm."

This brought on a full blush and a series of mutters. Shizuru laughed, shaking her head at her companion.

"Do not tell me you dislike the name," she said. "It is yours, after all."

More muttering, the words turning into curling tendrils of white fog as Natsuki moved her lips. The older woman moved a step closer to lean her hip against the cool marble railing, her face showing her enjoyment of the reaction she had provoked.

"Well then, give me another name for it, if you will," she said through a few more chuckles.

Natsuki scowled at her, obviously still piqued by the jab.

"Unless you do so, I shall continue to call it my little Natsuki," the older woman threatened.

The scowl remained and the girl turned away as though snubbing her.

Shizuru sighed.

"All right then," she said, disappointed that the girl did not bite. "So little Natsuki it is—"

A soft grumble interrupted her and she stopped speaking. Her head snapped to the side.

"What was that, Natsuki?"

The girl took a moment before answering. When she did, Shizuru heard her clearly.

"Call it Duran."

The older woman echoed the cryptic pronouncement.

"Du... ran?" she said.

A tilt of the chin: "Duran."

"Do you mean that is what we should call it?" Shizuru asked.

A nod. Shizuru smiled, pleased by the sound of the foreign name.

"What does it mean?" she asked, knowing Otomeians often picked names for children or pets based on meaning.

"It means," Natsuki said, "from the cold."

"Fitting," Shizuru nodded. "And ironic, considering it comes from a summer child."

Natsuki held out a hand to her, seeming to want the figurine back.

"Oh," she said, grinning. "What did I say now? Are you taking it back already?"

The girl looked surprised at this interpretation.

"No," she said.

"What do you want with it, then?"

She handed the sculpture to Natsuki, who took it as carefully as one would take a delicate flower, plucking it cautiously from her hands. The girl had drawn out the knife she had been using for carving, and she looked at Shizuru.

"I will, um," she began. "Carve. Your name."

Shizuru's forehead wrinkled.

"My name...?" she asked, trying to probe the eyes trained on hers. After a few seconds: "Are you going to put it there?"

A nod.

Interesting, Shizuru thought. Must be a custom with them.

Natsuki nodded again: "How..."

"How?"

Natsuki gave an eloquent shrug, pointing the tip of the knife at the object in her hand. Shizuru's head came up as she apprehended what the girl wanted to know.

"Oh, yes," she said, pushing off from the railing and looking around. "Of course. Let me see now..."

She began to walk, making her way down the marble steps of the portico with Natsuki following her. Once she reached the snow, she lifted her foot and began to trace her name in the white powder, Natsuki watching the movements.

"My name is written this way," she said afterwards.

The girl hummed and began to copy the symbols into the sculpture.

"Thank you," said Shizuru when she was done, making no move to take the carving being held out.

Natsuki nodded, still holding out the object.

"May I ask you to do something else for me?" Shizuru asked, prompting the hand holding out the carving to drop. "Would you please carve your name here, too?"

Natsuki made a small sound of perplexity, her face showing confusion at the request. Shizuru took it upon herself to explain further, aware of sounding more earnest than normal.

"To prove that it is a gift from you," she explained, the corners of her mouth turning up. "It is a gift, is it not?"

Natsuki eyed her for a moment before answering in the affirmative.

"Then," Shizuru said, feeling a little self-conscious before that unwavering gaze. "Would you be kind enough to put your name there as well?"

The girl seemed uncertain; Shizuru registered it.

"Please?" she asked.

The word was all it took to nudge Natsuki to a decision. Nodding quickly, the girl started to carve her own name on the wolf as well. Shizuru smiled brightly at that and murmured her thanks as she watched the girl fulfil her request.

"Oh, yes," she said, as the girl worked. "Why did you make a wolf, by the way? To refer to the daos, I suppose?"

Natsuki nodded, still intent on her task.

"I see."

"Also…"

"Yes?"

"I… I like them also."

"Wolves?"

Another nod.

"Ah," said the older woman. "You do have some around Otomeia, yes?"

An affirmative sound, then, later: "In the forest."

"As expected," Shizuru said. "Do you know that wolves are actually quite an important to Hime, at least in its mythology? Because of the tale of the twins Romulus and Remus?"

This time the girl even smiled, glancing up briefly from her work.

"Ah, so you are familiar with it," Shizuru observed.

"Mm-hm." The girl seemed pleased with her own knowledge. "I read."

"In a book on Hime, I shall wager?"

"Mm-hm."

"I see." A pause. "Do you like to read?"

"Yes."

"I see."

Natsuki looked up.

"Very much," she added to her earlier answer.

Shizuru smiled brightly.

"I see," she said again.

The Otomeian lifted her chin, apparently finished with what she was doing, and handed the figurine back to Shizuru. Shizuru took it and read the characters on the side.

"That is good," she murmured absently, inspecting the way Natsuki had carved the names: the girl really had a talent for detailed work, she could see now, for the carved characters were below the length of her smallest fingernail in height. She gave the girl another smile of thanks before parting the ends of her cape and tucking the object into her pouch.

"Shizuru..."

"Yes?" she answered quickly, too quickly in fact. Natsuki spoke so rarely and she valued each rare occasion so much that each opportunity for it tended still to excite her into trying to grasp at each pithy word from the girl's mouth. "What is it, Natsuki?"

"Duh–duh–do you, um."

The girl stopped and looked dejected for having succumbed to her stammer. Shizuru had noticed that it tended to surface when she was most anxious, which was a difficulty as the girl got even more anxious when she noted her own stutter.

Shizuru tried to encourage her with a smile.

"Go on, Natsuki," she said. "What is it?"

It did not seem to be enough, for the crease between the girl's brows only deepened.

"Do not worry," she went on. "You may ask anything of me."

Natsuki sent her a doubtful look that brought to mind a child afraid to say something for fear of a reprimand. The older woman felt herself softening even more at the sight, and wondered at it.

I had not thought myself so affected by children, she thought to herself. Yet this particular child has the power to melt so much of me. The girl struck her as something still young and fresh, even despite all the Otomeian's years as a warrior. The girl's past, her origins, the slaughter of her original people and now her career as leader of a cavalry regiment famed for their abilities at slaughtering the enemy—all of this had not the strength to dull the still-existing but powerfully repressed child that had been denied its day yet still lived within. Shizuru had learned to look for it, waiting eagerly for the girl to let it slip and peek an engaging eye at her between the chinks.

"Truly," she said now with great solicitude, smiling at the child in the Otomeian that was still afraid to say what it wanted to say. "You may ask me anything at all, Natsuki, and I will answer anything you ask honestly. I am hardly a brute to get angry for a question, especially a well-meaning one."

The girl finally seemed to take heart. Shizuru schooled her face into pleasant anticipation as she waited for the other to start.

"You have, um," Natsuki began. "Do you have parents?"

The rusty eyes widened at the query, for Shizuru had not expected those words. She recovered quickly, however, when she saw the effect her reaction had on Natsuki. The younger woman did not move, but something in her eyes and stance seemed to bespeak a sharp inward flinch, an expectation of reproach for daring to ask such a thing. It was a mute, tightly-coiled apprehension that reminded her of another creature that had manifested much the same apprehension once: a new colt for her birthday, a sleek and fine specimen that had yet to be broken in. It was there in the way her bodyguard stood, reminding her of the nervous flicking of the ears; there in that green gaze, somehow similar to the anxiety of the animal's large, wet eyes.

So wary, she thought, reaching out to touch the girl's shoulder. The shining eyes followed her hand with tense attention, reminding her yet again of the way the colt had looked. Of the way it had been ready to turn either teeth or hooves to her if she hurt it. And when she put her palm on Natsuki's shoulder, she remembered too the feeling of touching that long-gone animal, the muscles that had rippled under the taut, sleek hide.

It was the feeling of touching dread.

You should not be afraid of me, she thought, willing the girl to understand it even if she did not speak it aloud. Her hand curled around the shoulder, almost as though massaging it, and she accompanied the touch with a smile. At this, she felt the other begin to relax.

"Do I have parents," Shizuru said, repeating the question. "Everyone does, Dear Girl. I suppose you mean if they are still alive?"

Natsuki nodded with care.

"I see." Shizuru replied, not bothering to remove her hand where it sat. "No, they have already passed away."

There was a soft murmur of apology.

"Oh, it is all right, Natsuki," she said. "I do not mind it now. It was a long time ago, you see. Around the end of my sixteenth year. For my father, anyway."

Natsuki said nothing, her eyes dropping to her feet. Shizuru kept her eyes on the girl.

"Would you like to know what happened?" she offered, her mind more on the murky shadows of the girl's past rather than her own. "I do not mind talking about it, so do not worry."

This brought the other's gaze back up.

"There is not," she uttered, "pain?"

Shizuru smiled: "Not of the sort you are fearing. I have made my peace with it."

"Umm."

Shizuru reluctantly let go of the shoulder under her palm, knowing she had to let go of it or Natsuki would begin to wonder.

"My father died on campaign," she started. "He was a senator too, as was my mother, and he was commander of that campaign. He contracted an illness on the march and died after a battle. Exhaustion of the body, perhaps."

Natsuki surprised the older woman by taking her hand. To be precise, she took only one finger and pulled the Himean with it.

"What—oh," Shizuru said, letting herself be led back to the pergola they had been standing in earlier. Natsuki brought the two of them to the railing, whereupon she got up onto the wide balustrade and patted the space next to her as if to invite Shizuru there. The older woman chuckled at the friendly-if-childlike gesture and followed suit.

"Thank you, my feet were freezing," she said playfully, before going on with her story. She told Natsuki how her father's death had been the reason for her decision to enter the military enterprise.

"I applied to be a contubernalis for that same campaign," she told the girl, who was listening avidly to her story. "Do you know what that is, the contubernalis?"

Natsuki shook her head.

"A contubernalis is actually a cadet of the Himean army," Shizuru told her. "In Hime, almost all soldiers go through at least that phase of military service, to fulfil the requirements of the state for all citizens to render service to the armed forces. However, as with most things, that position is altered somewhat in the case of, well, people of higher social status. In our case, we are not 'normal' cadets but made to be the special assistants of the highest officers—the better the family's connections, the higher the officer. The objective, of course, is to keep us out of actual fighting... or out of danger. I am sure you can see why, given that our lives do not revolve entirely around the military. We are potential senators first, we offspring of the upper classes, and soldiers and officers only after."

Natsuki nodded, her intelligent eyes lighting up in comprehension.

"But I was not really concerned about being kept out of danger at the time," Shizuru said. "I was more eager to actually contribute something to the battle, in terms of fighting. The contubernalis position was only a means to that goal—to get out on the same battlefield that had, in a way, killed my father."

She laughed all of a sudden, wrinkling her nose at her juvenile self.

"I suppose I felt I had to do that much, at least," she said. "And I do think was being a little cocky then, in thinking I could do much at all. I felt, vaguely, that my presence would make a great difference somehow, as though fate would aid us better were I only present. How silly I was back then, now that I think on it! In my defence, it was only my first time so I was still quite green and perhaps, I do not know... romantic? Perhaps I went there fancying myself something of the protagonist in the story."

She smiled at the girl, who lifted a dark eyebrow curiously.

"First time?" Natsuki asked.

"To be in a war," Shizuru nodded. "So, really, I was a touch daunted when I first saw the slaughter on the battlefield. Really not at all as the poets describe it. Do you know what I mean?"

The girl actually grinned.

"War is glorious in writing," she offered. "Gory otherwise."

"Precisely," Shizuru said, exceedingly pleased by the answer. "That said, I was—and am still—a headstrong person. I disregarded my commander's instructions to stay out of the fighting and ran off into the fray the first chance I got. An insubordinate cadet. Ye gods, I was a horror."

The two of them chuckled.

"It took merely a few minutes to show me I was nothing but a foolish girl," Shizuru went on after that. "Still wet behind the ears yet jumping into battle in some misguided notion of being the hero of an epic. Ah well. Life disabuses us of all our cherished romances of self-perception at some point or another."

Natsuki's voice slipped into her ears: "But you won, no?"

"Yes, we did," Shizuru replied. "I thank the gods for that, and not for my sake alone."

"No," said the girl, shaking her head. "Shizuru, you won."

Shizuru gave the girl a baffled look, wondering what she was talking about.

"The corona obsidionalis," explained the younger woman, bringing a smile to the Himean's face. "You won it then, no?"

"You know about that?" Shizuru said wonderingly.

"Mm-hm."

"I see." Shizuru exhaled, watching the mist of her breath float up before vanishing in the dim light of the torches in the pergola. "Well, yes, I did win it."

She turned to her companion.

"My mother, she passed away while I was on that campaign," she said tranquilly. "Oh, it was no surprise—or no great one, at least. She was already ill when I left. The disease began the day she received the news that my father died..."

She paused.

"I suppose I did not expect her to go on without him, strong woman though she was. They were very fond of each other."

Natsuki said nothing, her eyes speaking sympathy.

"Hence, when I returned to Hime after the war, I was an orphan," Shizuru went on. "A war hero, yes, having won the corona obsidionalis, and automatically entitled to enter the Senate, making me the youngest senator in history, at the age of nineteen. Accomplishments for which people praise me and for which I have much to thank Fortuna. But I suppose that war cost me nearly as much as I gained."

"Sorry," said the girl. "I am sorry, Shizuru."

The older woman shook her head, diverted from her reminiscences by the pleasant sound of her name on Natsuki's lips.

"It's all right," she told her. "I do not feel bad about it anymore. There is nothing to be gained by dwelling on the past, or so I think, save if the recall is done to analyse it. So I prefer to busy myself with moving forward."

"And I shall be taking Hime with me as I do, much though some may hate me for it," she added, smiling wickedly.

"They call you a—a radical."

Shizuru's stared at her companion, startled.

"Yes, they do. Yes. Now, where did you hear that, Scamp?" she asked the girl laughingly.

The other only grinned.

"Well, I can make a guess, really," Shizuru said. "You are always with me, after all. I suppose I should not be surprised you have heard that word. And you, what do you think? Do you think I am a radical?"

The girl considered it, her eyes squinting.

"Well?" Shizuru urged.

"Is that good, being radical?" Natsuki replied, making the general grin again.

"It depends on whom you ask, Natsuki," Shizuru told her frankly. "If I told you that I am indeed a radical, would you think it was good or bad?"

"Good."

"Why?" she asked, amused by the swift answer.

"You are..."

"I?"

Natsuki smiled, her eyes shining.

"You are not bad, I think," she told Shizuru, who felt her joking smile fall a little at the words and prayed the girl would not notice.

"Well. That is very nice of you to say, Natsuki. Just to be clear," she said in mischief. "Does that mean you like me or not?"

The girl's eyes had just begun to widen when she decided to add something else.

"Or, put another way," she said. "Is that good or bad?"

She watched the girl's expression, amused by the inner fumble for words that could be read clearly on the pale countenance. It tinted the ivory cheek with a roseate stain.

"I think," came the husky voice. "I think it is good."

A curt inhalation before the girl added: "You."

She dropped her eyes after getting this out and thus failed to see Shizuru's blush rising in tandem with her own, much to the latter's relief. Shizuru blushed seldom and painfully, and it hurt her like a burn. The blush she was experiencing at this moment felt as though she had her face against a furnace, and she knew it probably looked like that as well.

The older woman slid off the banister and turned away to hide her face.

"Thank you," she said, ensuring her voice remained calm. "I think the same of you."

She shot a quick glance over her shoulder, glad to see that she was not the only one who seemed in danger of dying from blood-rush to the head.

"Natsuki," she said, turning away again. "I think we had better come in now, or risk catching cold. Let us have dinner as well."

She heard the soft mumble of agreement, then the muted sound of the girl's feet hitting the floor as she came down from the balustrade. She waited for Natsuki to stand next to her before taking a step forward, her lips pulling up unconsciously into a smile.

They left the pergola and went their way in comfortable-if-shy silence.

Meanwhile, another pair was walking out of the chilly streets of Sosia and also intent upon their evening repast. They entered a well-lit establishment and were duly welcomed by the proprietor, who ushered them to a table with great pomp after recognising the richness of their clothing. After telling the man to bring them some wine and food, they were left to their conversation.

"It's always good to see a fellow swordsman," said the male in the pair, smiling at his companion. "Or swordswoman, of course. It's been a while, Suou-kun."

Suou settled herself in her seat. "Almost all the people in our army are swordsmen and swordswomen."

He moved a hand dismissively.

"I mean true followers of swordplay as an art," he said. "Those like us, who understand its more elevated purpose."

This brought on a faint smirk, which he noted without real insult. After all, they had always disagreed on this subject, even in the early days when they had been training under the same master. She had always faulted the elitist principle their master—and Takeda—espoused regarding their sport, for she was of the contrary opinion that there should be little difference between those who trained in the choice schools of sportsmanship and those who had been trained by the battlefield itself. To her, the only real measure of excellence in swordsmanship was that of being skilled enough to win against an opponent in combat, whereas he considered the distinction of being a true 'sportsman' against being a mere 'soldier' one of import where valuation of skill was concerned.

"Anyway," he said, deciding not to worry their old disagreement. "You look well."

"Thank you," the fair woman told him, her extremely pale eyes turning grey in the low tavern light. "I think campaigning agrees with me."

"No plans to head back to Hime yet, then, even despite the issues with your campaign's funding?"

"Of course not."

"Hmm. Though it isn't like you can exactly just jump ship and go," he conceded. "You are a legate, after all. Fujino-san might not let you leave, even if you are family friends."

"She would if I asked."

"You sound so sure, Suou-kun."

"Because I know her better than you do, Takeda-san," she told him with a slightly mocking tone on the honorific. "She would give any of us an honourable discharge if we actually asked for it. See, she dislikes the language of obligation. She has no need of it, anyway."

"Is that so?"

She nodded.

"The woman," he said. "Strikes me as a little odd."

Suou gave him an enquiring look.

"I don't know why," he said. "From what I have to go on, I just feel that way, is all. I don't think I understand her way of doing things."

"Few people do."

"She seems a little too easygoing, though."

"You've always said the same thing of me," she retorted, a grin spreading on her face. "I guess easygoers do quite well after all. Just look at us. One a legate without being a senator and the other commander of a campaign in her early twenties. Not half bad, would you agree?"

He laughed, but it was reluctant. His smiling companion did not fail to mark it.

A woman came up and set a bottle of wine and two cups onto their table. Takeda poured for both of them and they resumed their dialogue.

"I thought you were going to go home today," Suou began, sipping at her beverage. "What happened?"

"I decided to postpone it."

"Oh, I didn't notice!" she said at his statement of the obvious. "Because?"

He shrugged: "Just a few loose ends here and there."

"I see." A smile. "How was my sister, by the way, last you saw her in the city?"

There was no need to ask if he had in fact seen her: Suou's sister was one of the busier senators, not to mention one of those easiest to spot.

"A vision as always," he said, eyeing the woman before him who could count as one herself. Suou and her sister were among the most stunning members of the senatorial clans and, many said, of Hime. "She seemed happy, from what I could see of her."

A corner of her lips curled up lazily, letting him know she had noticed his deliberate evasion of the topic of her sister's controversial wife, who was popularly denounced by the conservatives for her low birth. And Takeda was definitely no liberal. All the same, he was delicate enough to know he would be better off avoiding any pronouncements on the issue, as he was something of a friend—or old acquaintance—to Suou, though not to her sister.

"I suppose she's getting rather swamped with work right now," Suou hummed. "Being left to take care of the city and all."

"Yes, somewhat. But she carries it well."

"Like everything else."

She drank more of her wine, noting that he had yet to touch his. She devoted her attention to her drink, pretending to take small sips of it every now and then as she waited for him to talk.

"Suou," he said to her later. "I've a question."

"Yes?"

He met her eyes. "Do you know that Otomeian, the dark-haired one? Her name's Natsuki, I think."

Suou blinked slowly.

"You mean the general's girl," she said.

"The general's girl?"

"Yes, that's what we call her. After all, she looks like she belongs to the general, doesn't she?"

"Oh. I see. Right." He seemed to withdraw after that, his eyes narrowing. "Do you mean to say they're...?" He shrugged for emphasis. "That way?"

Suou lifted a silvery eyebrow.

"I'm not saying anything," she said coolly. "All I'm saying is that it looks that way. But looks can be deceiving."

He nodded vaguely.

"Why do you ask?" she said. "Interested?"

"What do you mean?" he murmured, his face that of a man with a great deal on his mind. His companion eyed him unenthusiastically, not feeling like putting up with his company this way: slow brooders like Takeda irritated Suou, especially when they had a habit of coming up with all the wrong conclusions, which she thought they did.

I had better shock him out of it, she decided.

"Do you want Fujino-san's girl for yourself?" she asked with near-perfect innocence, her very light eyes twinkling. "Turn her into Takeda-san's girl?"

His head snapped up at this.

"Perhaps you might like to take that up with Fujino-san, you know," she went on, hiding her inward grin. "And ask her about some things to see if it's at all possible. I would hardly be the best judge of it, after all."

"What are you talking about, Suou-kun?" he asked stiffly.

"Nothing, really," she answered, before feigning slight shock, her eyes growing wide as though she had just realised something of importance. "Could that be the loose end you were talking about earlier? Dear me!"

She laughed as he spluttered, knowing he would be visibly colouring now were his skin lighter.

"It's not that," he said curtly. Her eyebrow lifted once more as she reflected that her random shot might actually have hit a mark.

"Then why the questions about Natsuki-san?" she asked, keeping her tone light. The proprietor chose that particular moment to come up to the table, bearing plates and plates of food for them. After laying their dinner on the table, the man bowed and left them to their meal. Suou began before Takeda, reaching for the bread. She bit into the roll she had picked up, chewing carefully as she eyed the man in front of her. He looked mildly annoyed with her now, and that amused her to no end.

"I'm just curious," he told her finally. "That's all there is to it."

"Curious?" she said.

"Yes," he replied gruffly, taking a roll for himself. "I was just curious about them."

Suou sighed, letting another lazy smile drift over her face.

"Why, Takeda-kun," she said. "Aren't we all?"