The fall of Hybra was not necessarily an economic disaster, though it did sever us from our supply of precious gems and metals. Rather, it was a time of great upset as we realized that even gods could fall, and we couldn’t help but wonder if we would be next.

-Lord Radon, ‘On the fall of the Ma’Kur’

“Sheena, my dear, welcome home,” Martin Rossi extended a hug to his daughter who begrudgingly returned it, and then did the same for her mother. They stood in Martin’s study at the rear of the house; a tall casement window overlooked a sprawling green yard endowed with an oval-shaped concrete fountain. Martin gestured for his daughter to sit on one of the padded mahogany chairs nearest his towering bookcase.

“I’ve prepared tea, dear,” Mother gestured to the porcelain tea set on the small table just before the chairs accompanied by a plate of small sandwiches, sugar cubes, and salt extract. Compared to the dishes and utensils that she’d become accustomed to in the servant’s dining room, these seemed to be extravagant.

“Well,” Father said, straightening his tie and giving his jacket a tug before taking a seat himself. “How was your-”

“You’re a terrible person, father,” Sheena glared at him from across the table before snatching a teacup and pouring. “what is it to mean, that a servant delivers me a message stating: ‘The car will be at the Market Station in the morning’? Might I have had a little more time to prepare?”

“Sheena,” Her father chuckled. “You put Micah Lavoric, son of everyone’s favorite dictator in a dress and gave him the Rossi name without so much as a word or blessing from us, how would you like us to respond?”

“I had hours to prepare her!” Sheena protested. “Just hours to ingrain years worth of proper behavior into her! Just how do you think that went?”

“Given that beautiful curtsey and eloquent greeting she gave,” Mother said, sipping her tea. “I’d say it went well.”

“Anything is possible when you resort to physical violence,” Sheena huffed, prompting a raised eyebrow from her father. Mother simply laughed.

“So you’ll raise her the way your sisters raised you then,” Mother mused. “Fitting.”

“You know very well it wasn’t like that at all! Yes, my sisters were stern at time but they gave me adequate time to acclimate. I may as well have discharged a pistol in Lyra’s face!”

“But did it need to be that extreme, dear?” Mother questioned.

“Had I shown up with an unprepared, you would have noticed immediately,” Sheena pointed out. “We may not be noble, but it doesn’t stop you from running your house like it.”

“To more important matters,” Father interrupted, clearing his throat and producing a brown file folder. He opened it and held a scanned a sheet within. “the reports from the High Lady’s staff state that this Lyra is a valuable addition to the household staff and that while she is a bit mischevious, she acts as any other girl her age. Promising, but we have the Lavoric part to deal with. Balthasar, I believe you have something to add?”

“The truth,” Balthasar said, stepping forward from the corner of the room. “is very difficult to hear. That girl out there is not-”

“What is she doing, in any case?” Mother interrupted as she rose from her chair and crossed the room. She cracked the study door and peered outward, then returned to her chair. “They’re fawning over her like a newborn puppy.”

“Good sign, I would suppose,” Father mused.

“You were saying, Balthasar?” Sheena tried to rush the aging soldier alone.

“The truth is that the girl, Lyra, is not Micah Lavoric, and I do not mean this in a philosophical sense. Micah Lavoric died inside the Stormveil.”

“In what manner?” Father asked, suddenly far more interested.

“I gutted the boy and strangled him with his own intestines,” Balthasar shrugged. “It was no easy feat, given the amount of time we were inside the Stormveil and the adversaries we faced, it should be of no surprise that he picked up a trick or two.”

“How long, precisely?” Father asked. Balthasar gave no answer.

“Then who is in my sitting room right now?” Mother demanded. “It surely seems like-”

“An echo, perhaps,” Balthasar shrugged. “seemingly uninfluenced by Stephen Lavoric’s unique moral code. I have shared this information with the Lady Jenwise, and while it took some time for her to believe me, she will arrange a pardon based on your recommendation.

“That will depend on what we see here today,” Father said. “and whether or not I wish to allow her the Rossi name.”

“In an any case,” Balthasar said. “No matter your final decision, your debt to me is repaid, I cannot ask you to bring your family to ruination, only that you give the girl a fair chance. I will, of course, wash my hands of this entire affair.”

“Then you no longer wish to stay in contact with the girl?” Mother frowned. “That seems extreme.”

“A normal, well-balanced teenage girl does not need a crusty old general hanging around as a reminds of past misdeeds,” Balthasar pointed out. “Best to distance her from all of this.”

“If this interview goes well, then I tend to agree,” Father nodded. “What would she do? Other than being tormented by her older sisters?”

“That, is a full time job,” Mother smirked. “and one I think one that Sheena will markedly enjoy.”

“The girl will need to be educated,” Father said, decidedly. “Which means removing her from that service position. On that matter, how long do you plan to remain in the high Lady’s Employ, Sheena?”

“The High Lady has offered me a letter of recommendation as early as next season,” Sheena said. “It ought give her time to find a suitable replacement.”

“Then,” Father rubbed his hands together and rose from his chair. “Colleen, I presume lunch is prepared?”

“You know it is, dear,” Mother said, rising and crossing the room. “Shall we meet with Lyra, then?”

“Of course,” Father said. “The sooner we meet with her, the sooner I can reject her and revoke Sheena’s inheritance.”

“Father, you are such a jokester,” Sheena rolled her eyes as she followed them.