Angelione's Culture and Arts Center was a three-story complex that occupied the Plaza of the Golden Dragon in the northeastern corner of the city. It was Asa who had come with her this time, as Santana had important business to attend to that morning. The southern wing of the center was the art gallery, filled with sculptures and paintings from artists around the kingdom. It was painted a muted gold, and the carpets were lush and red – the deep red of dying roses. And somehow, though the plinths and cases were many, it seemed open. Spacious. Desmond, the head of the center, had started the tour here, and was completely indulgent in Rachel's fascination with the works. He seemed in no hurry at all, and provided details on all of the paintings she wanted to see. At first, she put this down to her being Santana's…current lady, but she changed her mind as she talked more with the man, and watched him interact with Master St. James. He seemed genuinely excited to show her absolutely everything.

"It must be such a treat," she said, as they made their way into the center wing and administrative area of the Center. "Working with all of these artists."

Desmond had a broad, boyish face, with rosy cheeks and bright green eyes. When he smiled, the edges of his eyes crinkled slightly. "The art? Yes. The artists…well, it's a fifty-fifty thing. Artists can be a mercurial group. One minute, you're having a lovely conversation on the merits of the art of King Otto's reign, the next minute you're running and the bloke is throwing tomatoes at you."

Rachel laughed at this, but stopped. They'd just walked into the northern wing – the opera house. If she'd thought about it at all, she'd always pictured herself running about, asking a million questions and dying to see how everything worked. Instead she just stared. She let her eyes sweep slowly from right to left, taking in the box seats on the walls, the sloping ground level seats that lead down to the orchestra pit. The stage.

The stage.

Master St. James took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Come this way," he said, smiling.

She followed him down the center aisle, the thick red curtains of the stage looming over her, pulling her forward. She walked round the pit to the set of stairs he'd indicated. The absolute thrill of being on the stage took over, and she walked straight to the center. She let her eyes sweep up to the gallery, and grinned.

"Hold on to this feeling," Desmond said from the front row. "It's what gets you through all of the hard work and stress."

She couldn't help herself. Rachel laughed, and then started to sing.

Desmond and Jesse didn't seem to mind at all.

Santana crunched on a slice of pear as she wrote out the official Order of Promotion. These were rare, nowadays. The ranks of nobility were so stagnant that they were stinking, as her father had been fond of saying. Still, every once in a while, a lower noble would distinguish himself in some way, and be given a higher title. She'd wondered, when she was younger, why her father hadn't promoted Low Baron Marchioni before. He was his oldest friend, after all. But being in the midst of all the politics of running the land had taught her that that was precisely why her father hadn't promoted him. They were loved by their subjects, but there was always tension with the lower houses. She signed and sealed the letter, and set it aside as Edmund delivered the morning's mail.

"A light stack this morning, your grace," he said, setting the letters in front of her. "And young master Adam wished me to inform you that masters Asa and Gendry, and young Miss Teagan, have made significant progress with their work, and wish to give you a demonstration. He would, of course, have delivered this message himself, but the lad was…ah…tied up at the moment."

From the way the man's face was working to stay blank, Santana could tell he was trying not to laugh. "Very well, Edmund. Tell them I shall be down when Rachel has returned from the city."

"Right away, your grace."

"And Edmund?"

"Yes, your grace?"

"Please make sure they've let Adam down from whatever they were testing out with him."

"Indeed, your grace."

She waited until he'd gone before chuckling to herself. She'd have to have a talk with the boy. Adam was keen to be recognized as a useful member of the household, which made it a bit…easy to persuade him to do things without a second thought. That was all well and good, but she'd better talk to him before one of the older guards took things too far. She knew they'd never purposefully hurt him, but….

The top letter was from Count Chang. She'd only met him once before, years ago at his wedding, but they exchanged cordial greetings at infrequent intervals. The High houses kept their heirs sheltered from one another for the most part. Only war and weddings brought them together, and there were hardly ever marriages between High houses. The idea was that everyone would be a king in his, or her, own castle. Unless the true king visited, in which case all were peasants basking in the glow of the royal sun. Count Chang had written the usual greeting, news from his land on the harvest, well wishes for the coming year, etc. She wrote a quick response and set it aside.

The next letter was different. It bore no seal and the writing was in normal ink, instead of the expensive blue used by the rich. She opened it, and let out a yelp of delight. It was from Artie, announcing that the baby had been born that morning. She leapt from her chair, ready to go at once to the village, but stopped with her hand on the door. It had only been a few hours, from what the letter said, and Brittany would be tired. Better to wait until evening. She took a few deep breaths and walked back to her chair to read the final letter.

This one was from Finn, and sent a chill into her heart.

Archduchess, it read, You asked me to keep you informed on the situation here. Prince Blaine's Biomancers have returned from their expedition. The source of the pollution is Black Magic, and it's spreading. As I write, my council is already gathered and I will, by this evening, have picked those who I intend to take with us into the forest. Please let me know by return albatross when you'll be arriving. I send my fondest regards to you and to Rachel. Sincerely, Lord Finn Hudson.

Albatross. This was serious. Normally hawks or eagles were used, but an albatross meant you needed speed. She hurriedly scribbled a return message, as well as a letter to Prince Blaine, requesting an Airship, and to Dave, requesting his presence at the Manor. She heard wheels on the cobblestones out in the courtyard and walked over to the window.

Rachel was descending from the small carriage, followed by Marie. The girl was carrying a bag bearing the Culture and Arts Center's logo.

Santana smiled. She knew Marie still resented her new position, but the girl was warming up to Rachel. Her songbird had that effect on people…. She tossed the letters into the Out tray for Edmund to pick up, and strode down to greet them in the entryway.

"Did you have a good morning," she asked when she reached Rachel.

"It was wonderful!" Rachel answered. "And Desmond wants me to have a few of my practices there, to get used to the acoustics in the auditorium."

"He's got a very business-like mind, our Desmond. Usually, if he thinks it's a good idea to do something, it is. I'll keep one of the coaches prepared for you, for when you need to go into the city. However, there's a small matter about which I need your immediate assistance."

"What's that?" Rachel asked as they walked through the courtyard.

"I must go see what my young recruits have been up to in our absence," Santana said, flashing a grin her way. "Nothing's billowing smoke, and my manor is still the same color, but we should still go see what they've schemed up. I'm terrified to go alone."

Rachel laughed. "Raiders, hellbeasts, and dragons don't frighten our lady, but three teenagers with time on their hands do."

"Time and equipment. Time alone would be fine, it's the fact that I've supplied them with copper and gunpowder, among other things. Shall we?"

They made their way down to the armory, but stopped. A new shed had been erected, just in front of the stables, and odd purple and orange sparks were emitting from the doorway.

"That's...new," Rachel remarked.

Santana squinted into the musty gloom for a moment, and then hauled Rachel out of the way. A bright purple mushroom cloud exploded horizontally out of the doorway, followed by three coughing youths.

"Bloody hell, Asa!"

"I thought it would work this time!"

"Next time, leave the potion brewing to me! I can -" Teagan began, but broke off when she heard the polite little cough.

The three of them turned to see their mistress, and bowed automatically.

"At least I know you've been working hard," Santana said, trying not to smile and failing. "And the new shed?"

"Master Ridcully made the walls impervious to magic," Gendry explained at once. "We wanted to test your armor."

"And which of you was responsible for the most recent show of pyrotechnic delight?"

"That'd be me, my lady," Asa said, shamefaced. But then he brightened. "But at least we know that your armor is most definitely impervious to any acid-based spells or potions."

"That is a blessing."

"Would your grace care to step inside?" Teagan said, holding the curtain flap open. "It's quite safe."

Santana expected the same sort of musty gloom of Ridcully's workshop, but it was actually light and airy inside. Things...mechanical things… glittered and whirred from shelves. In the corner nearest the open windows, stood two dummies wearing nearly identical suits of armor. The only thing different was the coloration. One seemed to be a muted white and gold, while the other was darker, giving off a blue and silver hue.

"It's not just for show," Gendry began to explain. "We had Master Ridcully teach us some...er...basic spells. The armor is infused with different blends of magic."

"Oh?"

"The blue one is better for fights," Asa explained. "Lightweight, impervious to most magic, and takes shocks pretty well." He handed her a sword with a grin. "Have a go."

Santana took an experimental swing, and was surprised when the force of the blow reverberated up her arm. The armor looked untouched. "Impressive."

"This one is a little different," Gendry continued, pointing to the golden suit. "It's heavier - able to withstand any sort of extreme weather. And it's not as good with magic in the form of spells, but it'll withstand any sort of...er...magical matter."

Santana beamed at them. "Very well done. Teagan? What have you got for me?"

Teagan's side of the workshop was a little like walking into a toy store. Gearwork objects lined the walls - little bug-like message carriers, small scuttling distraction objects, balls full of Carmelian Nightflower powder, that temporarily made the air turn black as night...and a steam powered jetpack that Teagan wouldn't let Santana test out.

"It's not ready, your Grace!" she insisted, taking it away from the overexcited Archduchess.

"Well, as soon as it is -" Santana began, but a commotion outside.

Cynara and a few of the other guards were headed to the stables. She stopped and bowed to Santana. "Raiders, my lady. In one of the southern hamlets."

"Handle it, then," Santana said wearily. "Where are they all coming from, anyway?"

"The runner said they have Mountain features. Probably marauders from the Eastern Range."

"See to it. Take one of the eagles in case you need to send for backup."

The Captain bowed and hastened to the stables.

Santana sighed. "I should see to a few matters," she said to Rachel. "Will you be alright?"

"Of course," Rachel said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I have a lesson with Master St. James."

"I may not see you for dinner," Santana said as they walked back up the cobbles to the nearest manor entrance. "You've heard of a smith in your town called Abramson?"

"Oh yes," Rachel said. "He does beautiful work."

"Indeed he does. We've...known each other for quite some time, and his wife has just given birth this day."

Rachel let out a squeak of excitement. "That's wonderful! Brittany, I believe…?"

"Yes. I invite them to the Manor sometimes. I expect you'll meet them in due course."

They parted ways in the small foyer just outside of one of Santana's offices. Santana watched Rachel head up the stairs before letting out a sigh. Raiders...more of them. She didn't understand. It wasn't a time of famine, or war, or plague. Her lands had plenty - even the poorest could get food and shelter. What was it that made people want to burn her land to the ground? She went into the office and closed the door.

"It's never too late to turn it back around," Rachel sang. "Yeah, I know you can. Don't bury your demons deep in the ground…. When it all falls down, the only way is up...up...up. The only way is up."

"Beautiful," Jesse said, playing the last few notes on the piano. "You've improved quite a lot with that one. I think we should add it to the set-list."

"What set-list?" Rachel asked.

"The set-list Desmond demanded I put together for you. He wants you to sing at the Arts Center."

Rachel gave an excited yelp and jumped up and down for a few seconds. "He said that? He liked me?"

"He was incredibly impressed," Jesse said as he collected the music. "Come and sit."

They moved over to the small table near the window and sat, a notebook open in front of them. Jesse wrote "Up" in the slot marked with a one.

"I think we should add Kiss Me as well. That was a good one. What songs would you like to add?"

Immediately, every bard in the land and their songs filled Rachel's head. Her panic manifested itself as a deer in the headlights look, and all that managed to escape her mouth was, "Ahhh…."

Jesse smiled. "Your work then this week…. I'll be out in the Eastern Range at an event, so I won't be here for our next lesson. Use that time to look through these books and pick out songs you think you'd like. When we get back, we'll narrow down the list."

"I will. Jesse?" she said softly as he stood to leave.

"Yes, Rachel?"

"I don't know if I've said this before...but thank you."

He smiled brightly. "You're ever so welcome. It's not often I meet someone with your talent and work ethic. It's been a pleasure working with you, Rachel Berry. I hope we may continue for some time."

Rachel watched him leave, and then looked down at the books. She wanted to start right away, but at the same time she had a certain restlessness now. She didn't want to sit still, or sit around reading, so instead she organized her things on the desk and made her way out into the cavernous main hallway, with Marie following silently behind her. She passed a few servants who nodded at her, without smiles, but without actual rudeness. By now, everyone at the Manor understood what had happened with Marie. Most of the servants snapped fully in line as soon as it was clear that Santana wasn't just going to throw Rachel aside. A few were still…. She shook her head. It didn't matter. She had Asa, Gendry, and Cordelia on her side, and she was reasonably certain that Marie hated her a bit less. She wished she knew how to speak to the girl, so that their days were less...tense. But for now, she let her be unless she needed something. It had to be hard on her, and Rachel wasn't inclined to make it any harder by trying to force a friendship. As for the rest of the servants...well, she could take the stares.

She was halfway down the stairs when she met Teagan coming up. "Enough explosions for one day?" she asked.

Teagan grinned. "For the morning, at least."

"What are those goggles for, Teagan?" Rachel asked. "I never see you without them."

"I've terrible eyesight, my lady. When I'm working on things close up, I need them. My family never had the money for real glasses, so when I was eleven, I made myself useful to the lens maker. He taught me a few things, and I was able to save up and buy just the lenses. Made the goggles myself."

Rachel blinked at her with astonishment, and a not small amount of admiration. "That's amazing. What else can you build?"

Teagan thought for a moment, and then shrugged. "Small things - never managed a coach or anything like that - but little stuff, like you saw. Er...may I ask you a question, Lady Rachel?"

"Of course."

"...is Sugar coming back?"

It hit Rachel then, that Teagan had lost a friend in much the same way that she lost her sister. True, the girls hadn't known each other long, but they'd obviously had a connection. "Not soon, I'm afraid. She's at school."

Teagan nodded.

"But perhaps you could help me with something? The Winter Feast is the month after next, and I'd like to pick out a gift for her. Between the three of us," and here she smiled at Marie, "we should be able to think of something."

"Of course, my lady!" Teagan said. "I'll just put my things away, shall I?"

"Meet us in the practice hall when you're finished."

Santana galloped at full speed down to the town of Hemlain. The morning had been filled with important things - immediately important, that is. Even the fun she'd had with Rachel and the newest Guards counted as a matter of state, since she'd need the inventions on her trip to the Huds. But this...this was important too. She'd eaten a hasty dinner and had Nigel ready her horse. She'd thought about staying away, but… Blaine's response and Finn's second letter of the day made it clear that she'd be leaving in two days at the latest. Her heart pounded as she rode, slower now, through the cobbled streets of the town.

There were carnations strewn on the path leading up to the house - a good sign. A sign of a mother's love. Santana smiled broadly when Artie opened the door.

"Come in," he said, beaming up from where he sat in his wheelchair.

Santana strode into the small house and nodded respectfully to the midwife and Brittany's mother. "Ladies, good evening," she said quietly. "How...how is she?"

"Wonderful, m'lady," the midwife answered. "She pulled through without any complications."

"And...the baby?" she asked, turning to Artie.

"It's a boy," he said, and Santana could feel the happiness radiating off of him.

"Born at eight o' the clock this morning," the midwife said. "Nine pounds flat, with a patch o' brown hair and Brittany's blue eyes. I think he'll favor Artie when he's older."

"And we call him?" Santana asked.

"Augin Trott Abramson."

Santana leaned down to hug Artie. "Congratulations. I'm overjoyed for all of you. But why are you in your chair? Are you not feeling well?"

"Nay, my lady. I...er...wore myself out today pacing in the waiting room on my crutches."

Santana grinned and nodded. "Understandable. Now...where is the bundle of joy?"

Artie laughed and led her down a short hall to the master bedroom. When they entered, Brittany was sitting up, rocking the baby.

"We have company," Artie said.

And since they were alone, Brittany called Santana by her given name. "Santana! How are you?"

"I feel as though I should be asking you that," Santana said, sitting next to Brittany on the bed.

"I'll give you two a moment," Artie said, and wheeled himself out of the room.

"A little boy," Santana said, as Brittany passed the baby to her. "Should I fit him for a Lopez Guard uniform now, or...?"

"I'm guessing you'll have to pry him out of Artie's cold dead grip," Brittany said, smiling.

"I won't keep you long," Santana said after a moment of staring at the still squishy infant. He did indeed have her beautiful eyes. She handed him back to his mother. "I know you must be tired. But I needed to come see you..."

Brittany smiled and gazed at the Baroness with nothing but fondness. "Thank you for visiting. I do love getting to see you."

Santana leaned down and kissed the blonde on the forehead, and then the baby as well. "Let me know if you need anything?"

"Yes, m'lady."

"I mean it, Brittany. Anything you need." With one last smile at the pair, Santana left the room to find Artie. She slowed, hearing hushed voices from the parlor.

"It's complicated. There are things you don't know, and she and Brittany..." That was Artie.

"I don't see why she returns to lord it over you..." Brittany's mother.

"That's not what it is. She cares for us..."

"That's not what -"

Santana sighed and looked out into the bit of the room that she could see. Artie was in front of the fireplace, but not looking down the hall. Over the cheery fire was the Abramson shield. Artie wasn't a lord - not even a Lower Noble, but he'd bled for House Lopez in the bitter war that took Santana's father. Her father had still been alive after that battle, and he'd designed a shield for Artie, after the smith had saved Santana's life. Now it hung on the wall, crossed with Artie's own sword, and one of Santana's father's swords. Santana looked at it for a long moment, and then took a few paces back. She made her footsteps heavier, and called, "Artie? I think I'll be off now."

"An honor, as always, Santana," he said quietly.

She caught the looks of the other two women and smiled. "I may call on you tomorrow, but I shall let you rest for now. I'm sure you're exhausted as well. I'm so happy for you," she whispered, hugging him again.

She felt the chill of the evening mist as she rode through the streets a few minutes later. She stopped at the junction of High Street and Leathercap Lane. Puckerman's tavern, The Wily Squid, stood there. She thought for a moment, then headed down Leathercap Street to Rosewood Court. There, at the head of the semicircle of terraced buildings, was Dr. Berry's home and practice. She'd never actually been to see where Rachel lived. The old place's windows had a thick coating of dust, and seemed...muted, compared to the rest of the houses. She felt the chill a bit more, and didn't know if it was because of the cold, or the fingerling tendrils of memory stretching out to her from the house. She turned Firebolt round, and headed back up the lane. A Ranger stood at the end of it now, presumably to keep guard now that the pub was beginning to fill with people. He bowed respectfully as she passed. She nodded and continued up the High Street this time, until she was outside of town on the open road. She spurred Firebolt on, and galloped home.

Around forty minutes later, Santana stood quietly in the doorway and watched as Rachel lit a few candles. She'd been looking everywhere for her little songbird, and had just now found her in the Manor's small chapel.

Rachel turned and smiled at her, before pouring some of the Blessed Oil and Water into the altar and making the Sign of Peace over it. She walked back to where Santana stood and took her hand.

"Alright?" Santana asked.

"Perfect. I thought we should light some candles in thanks for Brittany. How are she and the baby doing?"

"Well," Santana said, smiling widely. "I just saw them all. A gorgeous little boy, and Artie's practically melted with happiness."

Rachel grinned. "As well he should be."

"Do you want to see the baby?"

Rachel nodded so quickly and smiled so brightly that Santana would've been concerned about demonic possession if they hadn't been standing in a chapel.

"Right, we'll go back down tomorrow afternoon once they've had some time to rest. For now, we should get some rest ourselves."

"What is his name?" Rachel asked as they walked back to the manor proper.

"Augin," Santana said, smiling. "Augin Trott Abramson. He's...well, right now, he's just squishy and sleepy, but I'm sure he'll be adorable."

Rachel laughed. "I expect so."

The light golds and purples of sunset were dimming and fading into the inky black of night. They made their way back to Santana's chambers, and undressed for bed. That was something Santana had noticed. The last day or so, Rachel was more comfortable around her - less hesitant. This pleased Santana, and she thought it a good time to ask the girl something that had been praying on her mind.

"Rachel?" she asked gently.

"Yes?" Rachel pulled away slightly to look at her.

"Are… are you happy here? I mean...do you have everything you need?"

"Yes," Rachel said, without hesitation. "I'm happy here. It's been...strange, I'll admit. But I won't say it hasn't been pleasant."

"I just… I know I've said this before, but I don't want you to feel this is a prison. You're free to go to your town, or into the city whenever you want. And if…. I just want you to be happy here."

Rachel smiled and kissed her. "Thank you. I am."

Santana nodded, relieved, and ran her fingers through her hair. "I expect tomorrow is going to be full of activity. There are a few things we should discuss, but we'll leave them until morning. Goodnight, songbird."

"Goodnight, my lady."

The final day of the month was just as busy as Santana predicted. She barely got to eat breakfast, and there certainly wasn't time to talk to Rachel. In the morning, a few of the Lower Nobles came to put petitions to her. It was a long, drawn out process that ran right up until lunch, which of course they stayed for. The hospitality of a High House could never be in dispute, so a lavish lunch was prepared and served. She could tell some of them were less than thrilled to see Rachel sat among them. Sir Allen and Madame McGuinness were cordial, and Santana was quite cheered to see that Rachel paid the others no mind.

When the Lower Nobles had been seen off, it was one o'clock. Santana and Rachel had vacated to the comparative calm of one of the studies. Comparative, because they were away from all the fuss, but were arguing.

"I don't see why they have to be sent to Merconton!" Rachel protested.

Cynara and her men had made it back, no casualties, with the raiders that morning while Santana was hearing petitions. As always, Santana had sentenced the raiders to the maximum penalty hold in the Eastern Range. That had bothered Rachel no end, but she'd known better than to question the woman while the nobles were there.

"Rachel, I have no patience for -"

"I know," Rachel cut in. "And I understand why you feel that way. But have you ever stopped to wonder why they're doing this?"

"Yes, and I can't understand it."

"So that's it? You just pack them off to hell on earth and hope that solves the problem?"

"I'm open to any better suggestions," Santana said, oozing sarcasm.

Rachel, however, wasn't backing down. "There has to be a better solution. Couldn't you -"

"Rachel, I'm finished discussing this."

The younger woman threw up her hands in exasperation. "Of course you are. You're way is always right, even when it's clearly not working."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Santana yelled.

"That means that if sending raiders to the most dangerous, most grueling jail in the kingdom actually did any good - there wouldn't be any more raiders, would there?"

Santana opened her mouth, shut it, opened it again, and then realized that Rachel...sort of had a point. But she'd be damned if she admitted it - especially when a better solution was not forthcoming. She settled for repeating her earlier directive. "I'm finished discussing this."

"Fine," Rachel huffed, fully ready to storm out.

Santana was a little incensed. Okay, she was completely vexed. "I'm not going to ask your permission every time I have to make a decision for my lands, Rachel!"

"I know that. Because you only treat me like an equal when it's convenient for you."

"What?"

"You heard me. When you're trying to convince me to stay - to convince yourself that this isn't some sort of hostage situation -"

"Are you saying it is?" Santana snapped.

"No. I meant what I said last night. I love it here - I don't feel trapped at all. But half of the time you treat me like I'm your…." Rachel trailed off, unable to say it. "You give me information - you teach me about how you rule - like you want me to know what's going on, but you pull away the moment I question you."

A chilled silence filled the room.

"I suppose, since you want to be in the loop, that I should tell you that I'm leaving for the Huds tomorrow," Santana said icily.

And that took all the fire out of Rachel. "What?"

"Baron Hudson is going on an expedition to find what's killing his Diamondwood trees. He requested my help. I'm leaving tomorrow. Right now, I have things to attend to. I'm sure you can manage without me for a while."

LbN: Hope you enjoyed the longer chapter! I'm going to try (like whoa) to have the next one up by next Friday, and all of your reviews answered. Thanks for reading. The song Rachel sings during her practice is called Up by James Morrison.