Chapter 174

Illyana looked around when she landed, she was immediately filled with anxiety when she fell into a heap on the floor and found that Albedo had not followed behind her. Relief however, was not long in coming. No sooner had she managed to get up on all fours, then she heard the calm and stately steps of her Lady walking past her.

"Lady Albedo… where are we?" Illyana asked.

"Kalinsha. An important city in the Holy Kingdom's northern half." Albedo answered, "I have business here."

"Business?" Illyana asked, her head a fog at the idea of a demon doing 'business' of any sort.

Albedo only made a cryptic smile down at her servant. "Yes, the Roble Holy Kingdom is going to be dearly in need of outside help soon, and when they are, you will see the one I Love, in all his greatness and glory."

"I am eager for the day, Lady Albedo." Illyana whispered with reverence. She got up and moved behind the demon woman, "How may I serve you in the meantime?"

Albedo pointed to a pile of documents which sat seemingly waiting for her on a nearby dark wooden desk. "Sort through everything, search for any hint of anything useful. Any disturbances, any problems I might exploit."

Illyana bowed deeply at the waist, "My Lady, I obey." She took her short, scurrying steps over to the desk, yanked the chair back, sat down, and began to read through the stack.

Albedo, for her part, sat at a table and waited while doppelgangers periodically entered the room to provide personal information on their progress. Illyana paid close attention with one long sharp ear while her eyes went from item to item until something of merit caught her attention.

"Lady Albedo, here is something." She said and stood up from where she sat. She approached the demon, knelt, and held the document out to her. "A squire, a scout working in the wildlands, charged with treason and collaboration."

Albedo took the document and asked, "Why is this important?"

"My Lady, her father is of the Nine Colors, even I've heard of Pabel, and her mother is a paladin too. They are of low ranking but, thanks to her father, a well-known noble house. The details of why she is charged… perhaps something can be done with that?" Illyana's tone was speculative at best, but as Albedo read it over she glanced up, "Go retrieve me something to drink, I'll read through the rest of it."

"As you command." Illyana answered, Albedo crossed her legs and let one arm drape over the back of her chair while resting her other arm on the table and reading through the document. 'Having a personal secretary is going to be a good idea after all.' She didn't really pay any attention to the elf woman's departure, instead she focused on the information provided. Illyana had good instincts, it seemed. 'I can blow this quite out of proportion, oh you unfortunate Neia Baraja, blessed are you who may serve the Supreme Being with your life.'

Albedo wore a pleasant smile on her face that remained there still when Illyana returned, "My Lady." The elf said and knelt and held up the tray with the porcelain white pitcher and a silver goblet of deep red wine.

The Guardian Overseer took the cup and drank half of it in a single long draught.

Illyana stood up and moved to her Lady's side. "Was I useful, My Lady?" Illyana asked.

Albedo answered immediately, "Yes, very much so. That squire might be just what I need. I am mildly curious if she is guilty though."

"I'm not, My Lady. She is a human, I have no doubt that she would have tormented me like all the rest. She's guilty of being human, that is guilt enough to deserve to die." Illyana replied with a silken vitriol.

"Perhaps, but you're right, it doesn't really matter whether she did anything against the law or the nation. It only matters what we can make people think, and how I will use that to draw my beloved into my arms to tell me how proud he is of all my hard work." Albedo said and held out her cup.

Illyana held the tray with one hand under the center, picked up the pitcher, and poured another cup. "Yes, Lady Albedo." She answered with devotion and smiled contentedly as her Lady drank, the memory of the burning city still lingering behind happy elven eyes.

The memory lingered every day and night for weeks, as the long work went on.

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Pabel sat outside the cell where his daughter was confined, he was seated on the floor, largely because she was as well. A half rotted old wooden chair sat neglected a few feet away, and Neia listened to the rough hewn man with rapt attention.

"The trial will begin tomorrow, our… our request for clemency was declined. Her Majesty will not hear the case herself, and you're to be tried by a group of lesser nobles and a minority of soldiers from the Order." Pabel explained, but his wavering face bucked up into a smile.

"On the good side though, evidently you've built up quite a reputation, for weeks since word of the accusations against you began, stories about your exploits have been everywhere." Pabel held a hand through the bars, and Neia took it in both of her own, her fingers rubbing around his warm skin.

"Dad, I'm not famous, or at least… I haven't done anything I deserve to be called 'famous' for." Neia denied it, but then cocked her head, "What are they saying?"

"That you beat a frost dragon in single combat and forced it to serve you. That you were using a dragon to help protect the wilds and keep demihumans out of a broader stretch than any lone scout has done for a hundred years. That your reputation is so widespread among the demihumans that many refuse to come south until you die." Pabel couldn't keep the broad smile of parental pride off of his face as he recounted those and other stories that Neia knew were absurd on their face.

"Dad, I didn't beat the dragon, he landed here already wounded, I was just taking care of him." Neia shook her head, 'How ridiculous can stories get?!' She asked herself, and answered, 'Very,' in her head, a moment later.

"So where is mom… why isn't she here today?" Neia asked, changing the subject.

"She is… being herself." Pabel said with a sigh and slumped forward a little while still holding his daughter's hand. "You know her temper."

"Yes. I know." Neia said, unable to look at him for a moment.

"Don't be like that, she only wanted what was best… she just had a hard time saying it." Pabel offered the gentle rebuke to his daughter, but tightened the grip of his hand with a little squeeze.

"I can only be like me. And I know what you're saying, I know it now. But she's liable to cause more trouble, you know how stubborn she gets when an idea settles in her head." Neia answered her father, and he laughed.

"She reminds me of someone I know." Pabel laughed in spite of the stone and the bars, and Neia flushed red as she realized he meant her.

"I guess." Neia reluctantly acknowledged. She then took a deep breath and let her father's hand slip from hers as she withdrew a little beyond his reach. "Dad, listen, I want you to do something for me. I want you to take mom, take mom and go. I know what I asked you before… but forget that. Whoever is supposed to scout the wildlands is probably dead by now anyway, offer to go check on them, ask for a few days away. I don't want you two here for this."

"I refuse." Pabel answered immediately. "You're my daughter, I left you alone too many times when you were growing up, I wasn't the best father, even though I wanted to be. But I won't fail you now."

Neia cracked a little smile while she struggled to keep back tears. "You're a better father than I knew, there's no talking you into leaving me now, is there… no, no of course not." She answered her own question. "Don't worry, I'll do my best when the time comes. Go on, get some rest, I'll do the same. See you tomorrow." Neia said and ended their time together.

When she stood up, so did he, they embraced through the bars, she breathed in the scent of oiled armor, soap, and linen, then on tiptoe, she kissed his brown bearded cheek, and let go.

They parted in silence then, the door clinking shut just as Neia lay down on the straw again and pulled the moldy blanket over her to try to sleep for at least a little while before her 'final battle'.