Go the Way of Destiny (1/3) (Queen, PG)

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Title: Go the Way of Destiny (1/3)
Author: seta_suzume
Fandom: Suikoden III
Rating: PG
Prompt: 108.) If you just set out to be liked, you would be prepared to compromise on anything at any time, and you would achieve nothing. -- Margaret Thatcher (born October 13, 1925), first and so far only woman to lead the Conservative Party (1975-1990) and the first and so far only woman to be Prime Minister of the United Kingdom (1979-1990).
Summary: Tielle was determined not to give in. The story of Queen's youth in Harmonia.
Word count: roughly 24,900 words. Whew, I've never written anything long enough to merit three posts!
Author's Notes: Thanks for effaced, who encouraged me, and DJ, who helped with the title.
Throughout the story, Queen goes by her given name (Tielle), since these are her pre-HSFDF days.





When Tielle was born, her father was already dead. He had been an instigator the new Harmonian governor said. There were to be no allowances made for agitators. Though there had never been any doubt Harmonia would take Sanadia, blood had still been shed in conquering it. And this time, the blood in question was that of Rumei Rimsky, the second-in-command of the Sanadian Annexation Expeditionary Force. The actual warrior who had killed him had already been put to death, but the stain of collective guilt remained on the entire Sanadian people. They had refused the invitation to surrender and welcome in their new rulers, and in doing so, they had signed the death warrant of their sovereignty and culture. By the time Tielle was born, the second daughter of a noble house, full-scale Harmonianization was already in effect.


Myalah Sasvenie had spent her life in silks and pearls, playing the piano to entertain her father, and later her husband. Even under occupation-imposed poverty, she strove to live her life with a certain degree of grace. The cobblestone streets bore the cracks of attacks that had come from below the earth, a hallmark of the work of Rumei Rimsky, "the second Sasshalai." No one had bothered to make the necessary repairs. Myalah lifted her dainty feet with care. It would not do to trip and fall in the middle of the street. While her recent past as the wife of the prince's chief treasurer meant nothing to the cold-faced Harmonian soldiers who watched her each day, her people recalled both her lineage and her dignity. Myalah Sasvenie was the descendant of kings. Though Tielle was too young to fully understand, Myalah told her little daughter this almost everyday.

While once she had servants, Myalah was now forced to walk the crooked street to the communal well and draw her own water with a leaky wooden pail. Tielle played in the dirt outside their hovel. She had never known any other life than this, nor could she remember the innate beauty or the quiet despair of her older sister, Solanne, carried away three years ago to become the governor's third wife. Tielle was only a child, fortunate enough to have remained in her mother's care this long.

Myalah placed the heavy bucket on the step as carefully as she could, but it was good enough. Some water splashed over the side, darkening the step, rolling onto the dry dirt of the yard, and mixing with the dust into a thick mud. Tielle reached out to put her hands in the mud, but Myalah moved quick enough to grab her tiny wrist and stop her. "No, you can't play in the mud," she scolded gently, "You'll get dirty."

"Uh-huh," Tielle answered. She frowned, but she would do as her mother said. Threats that, "If you don't behave, I'll let the Harmonians take you," went a very long ways toward encouraging good behavior, even if Myalah could feel her heart aching as she lied that way. Eventually the Harmonians would take Tielle anyway, good or bad.

The thing was, Tielle got dirty enough already, wandering through the unkempt yards, once well-tended, but now filled with dandelions and crab grass. Burrs would catch on her dress and her short black hair was often mussed and tangled. There were only a few other children her age in the neighborhood. One by one, around the age of five or six, they were taken away to serve and grow in Harmonian households. Orphans were given away even younger. They might never know they were anything more than everyday Harmonians. That would not be Tielle's fate if Myalah had anything to do with it.

"Tielle, wash your hands, go inside, and set the table," Myalah instructed her daughter, "I'm going down the street to see how Ruth is doing."

"Aunt Ruth is still sick?"

"Yes, she's very sick," her mother answered. Ruth was not really a relative, but in the better days, she and her late husband had served the Sasvenie family. Now that both women were reduced to the same level, Myalah felt she had an even greater duty to see to the care of her dear friend. Ruth was fading inch by inch. She had a son about Tielle's age. Raymond. Who knew what would happen to him once she died? Sure, to a certain extent she knew as she strode down the alleyway that he would end up in a Harmonian household, but what did the future hold for him there? A life of servitude or an early death at the hands of a cruel master? A life of rebellion, sending him back to till the soil of an inhospitable western plantation, or a life of obedience, sending him to be cannon fodder on Harmonia's newest front? She shuddered to think of any of these things.

Of course, these worries of hers had one positive effect on Myalah- they were causing her to plan ahead. Tielle wouldn't be hers forever. Myalah might have lost her wealth and status, but even in poverty, she still had her connections. She wasn't going to waste anymore time. As a mother, it was her duty to use them. The opportunity to have the necessary conversation was fast approaching she had to admit as she looked in on Ruth's sallow, sunken face.


Raymond left town with his head held high, despite the tracks cut so recently by tears through the dirt caking his cheeks. He wasn't the only child leaving home that day, but he was the only one who went with the solemn gravity of an adult. With his mother dead, he had nothing left in the ruins in the Sanadia. As Tielle and her mother looked on, Myalah's mind was cleared of most of the questions that had plagued her the week before on her last visit with Ruth in the land of the living. Raymond might bend, but he would not break. There was determination plastered across his face. He would come out of this period of servitude a strong man, like his father before him. The only uncertainty that remained was what kind of man he would be- Sanadian...Or Harmonian.

Tielle was still too young to understand these things. To her mother she would always be too young. "Mama, where is Raymond going? And Anana and Pearl?"

Most of these children were only a year or two older than her. She had played marbles with Raymond many times while accompanying her mother to his house. They weren't friends, but their mothers had been, so they had grudgingly tolerated each other. Anana had taught Tielle how to make a doll out of corn husks and string. She was tall for her age, and a good leader, always organizing the other local children for huge, neighborhood-wide games of tag or hide and seek. Pearl's father had been quick to change his allegiances once the Harmonians took the city, believing it was the best way to protect his family. Obviously his efforts had not proved enough.

"To Harmonia," Myalah told her daughter. Her voice was icy cold. Technically they were already in Harmonia, but when speaking among themselves, the adult of citizens of Sanadia resisted, persisting in at least a nominal separation of their land from that of the oppressor.

Tielle pressed on, presenting her mother with the favorite question of small children everywhere. "Why?"

"Because they've reached the age where they must. They could be away for as long as the next ten years."

"Ten years?!" she worried, frowning and fretting, reaching for her mother's hand. "That's like forever! That won't happen to me, will it?"

"No, no, it won't, dear. Not if I have anything to do with it," Myalah replied with all the ferocity of a lioness protecting her cub. Tielle slipped her small, dust-stained hand into Myalah's clean one. Myalah squeezed her fingers tight.

The man ultimately in charge of the movement of Sanadian citizens into other parts of Harmonia was not the governor, but a priest he had delegated the task to. He dealt with these matters in conjunction with the policies being employed by Bishop Kaeyani and her agents in the southwest, Bishop Talleric in Tisbahl and Tabard, and other political heavyweights presiding over regions packed tight with Third Class Citizens. Small and unassuming, Father Koskayn-Noyemi emerged from his office behind the church to stand watch over the execution of the policy he was assigned to oversee. His part in this hated destruction of families had earned him only rancor and death threats from the people of Sanadia despite the widespread understanding that it was not Koskayn-Noyemi who was responsible for the policy. Kill this man, and Governor Mercade would appoint another to take his place. This decimation of Sanadian pride and culture was not the work of any single man or woman, but of an entire marauding, oppressive nation.

Once this new batch of children had been carted away, the silent Sanadians, aside from weeping parents, began to depart. Father Koskayn-Noyemi, wrinkled and balding, stood at the edge of the city by the earthen barricades scooped up by Harmonian war mages to stand as makeshift walls to hold in the inhabitants of the once open city. One of the soldiers perched atop the wall shaded his eyes and stared off in the same direction as the cart carrying the youngsters, following it until it disappeared down the arid desert road.

The sight of grown men and women sobbing openly unnerved Tielle, who scooted closer to her mother's side. "Are we going home yet?"

"Not yet, but soon," Myalah said. She didn't look at her daughter, but continued to gaze across the plaza at the middle-aged priest. Without warning, she began to move forward, yanking her daughter along after her. "I have to talk to that priest first."

Now Tielle changed her mind about being in her mother's tight grip. She didn't want to be pulled any closer to that scary Harmonian- she wanted to run away and hide in the hollowed out dead tree Pearl had shown her behind the rationing warehouse. She squirmed and dragged her feet, trying to pull away, but her meager efforts proved unsuccessful as Myalah tugged her onward to Father Koskayn-Noyemi, who had caught sight of their approach and was waiting, curious, to see what Myalah would say.

"Good afternoon," the priest greeted them mildly. He never knew what to expect when dealing with Sanadians. It was best not to presume anything and simply to wait.

"Sir," Myalah addressed him formally, "My name is Myalah Sasvenie. You might know my older daughter."

"Miss Solanne," he replied.

So he did know. That made things easier. "Yes. And this is my younger daughter, Tielle." She yanked the girl forward, in hopes that showing off the pathetic state of a girl who should've lived like the aristocrat she was born to be, the priest's heart might be moved in favor of her plan. Tielle was not pleased with her mother's crafty maneuverings and was quickly back at her mother's side, trying her hardest to blend discretely into Myalah's skirt.

"There's something you want...?" Koskayn-Noyemi ventured tentatively as the last pause continued on, hanging in the air.

"When the time comes for Tielle to leave me, I want her to go and stay with her sister and the governor," Myalah presented her idea confidently, as though as were dealing with someone on equal footing, not petitioning a conqueror as she really was. But as she continued on, her strength gave way to pleading as she cast away her pride for the sake of her daughter. "I don't care if she goes there as a servant, but please, allow Tielle to live with Solanne! She can learn the ways of Harmonia there as well as anywhere, can't she? I'd do anything for this! Anything!"

He entertained the possibility of saying no to her or giving some harsh demands as a requirement, but swiftly let that idea slip away. Apparently she didn't realize that Governor Mercade's invitation that Myalah come to live at the mansion as an "honored guest" remained open. He didn't relish wielding power over the powerless. He was only doing his job, a job that would eventually exercise a positive effect on life in Sanadia. Later generations would not suffer like these ones. They would fully integrated in Harmonian society. "I'll speak with the governor about it," he promised.

Like any other Harmonian noble running a large household, Governor Mercade needed plenty of help to take care of his expensive mansion and holdings, and for reasons of convenience as well as cost, locals were preferred to do this work. There was also the added hope that if Solanne heard that her younger sister wanted to come live and work at the governor's mansion that she could throw whatever weight she had as his wife, however small, toward getting Tielle into the best possible position. More than in the past, Myalah had hope.

"Thank you, thank you," Myalah practically wept. She hadn't been entirely sure he would even agree to passing on the message until he said so. "Thank Father Koskayn-Noyemi, Tielle," she urged her daughter.

Tielle bit her lip. She didn't want to talk to this weird old priest. How would sending her to the governor's mansion help her any? She didn't want to leave her mother at all. "Uh-uh," she refused, shaking her head.

Myalah felt a chill run down her spine and she turned in preparation to convince Tielle to be polite even if it took a few sharp words to motivate her. They were noble people and Tielle was going to behave like an aristocrat even if she had to live like a serf. Who knew, this purposeful breach of manners could break the deal.

But the priest laughed. Myalah stopped, straightening back up. "No, no, that's fine," he insisted. "She doesn't need to thank me. She doesn't understand what you're doing for her."

It made her start to blush a bit, and the tears, a mix of frustration and relief, that she had worked so hard to hold back, began to dribble down her cheeks because he was being kind. He understood her feelings. He was a person after all. Was it a blessing or a curse that more of the Harmonians didn't know this? It was so much more difficult when they were kind.

"Mama, Mama, come on," Tielle tugged at her mother's hand. She was like a statue, fixed to that spot on the side of the plaza. The pavement was cracked beneath her feet, treacherous and serpentine. Koskayn-Noyemi looked at Tielle for a minute, and she redoubled her efforts to stir her mother from her stupor. He was a bad man, making her mother cry like that. He was bad and she hated him. At last, he bowed his head to them, having no hat to tip, and turned, walking away. Myalah was roused at last after what had felt a disastrous eternity to her daughter.

"Let's go home, Mama."

"Yes, dear."


*********


Solanne Sasvenie-Mercade felt cold. As cold as if her bones were made of ice. It made no difference if she bundled up or opened the windows to let in the dry desert air. No tea or fire or hot bath could warm her because the chill came from within her. It was not the result of any disease or defect of character, but had results from the pain inherent in the situation she was living in. Her heart had turned to ice.

She looked down from the balcony and did not recognize the little girl being brought in through the servants' entrance as her younger sister. It wasn't surprising. When she had left home, Tielle had been nothing more than a baby. They knew of each other, but there was no real sisterly bond between the two. The thing they shared most strongly was their affection for their mother. All they had in common was blood.


The governor left his study to greet his sister-in-law. He liked to give the impression that he was an eternally busy man, moving from one task to another without rest, but as a result of his skillful delegation and the heavy military presence General Ernbrock maintained in the area he often found himself with substantial amounts of leisure time in which he could enjoy his many hobbies, from collecting butterflies to translating old Arradian texts to practicing his archery. Of course, just because he had all this time didn't mean he devoted much of it to his wife or children. He liked his work and he liked his hobbies. Wives and children were simply another part of the trapping of a successful life when one was a First Class Citizens.

Tielle felt uncomfortable around him from the moment she stepped into his presence on the chestnut-colored tile of the kitchen. Governor Katch Felip Mercade was an imposing physical presence at six feet and three inches. He was somewhere in his fifties, his blond hair graying all the way through and tied back with a bow in a smooth little ponytail. Myalah had been aged before her time by the stress of the occupation, but Tielle could still see that her brother-in-law was significantly older than her mother. She wanted to tell him so, but held back her quick tongue, thinking of the many times her mother had exhorted her before leaving to, "Be thankful for your situation. Treat the governor and his family with respect. Do exactly as they tell you."

"Good morning, sister," Katch greeted her. Tielle stared at his piggish, upturned nose. "Sister," huh? This old guy might be her brother-in-law, but she had seen enough to know she certainly wasn't here to be his sister. "It's already heating up this early in the morning," he small-talked with the precision of a man with much experience.

"Hey," she said to him in reply, nodding her small head.

The governor raised an eyebrow.

Kiana, the woman in charge of Tielle and the other young helpers in the house, looked like she might pass out. Everyone was clueless their first day, but hadn't anyone told this girl anything about how she was to address the governor and other Harmonians of high rank? She hoped Tielle learned quickly, because otherwise this sharp-tongued girl was going to be the death of her. There were certain standards one needed to uphold in a household of this caliber, after all.

"Hey?" Katch asked in reply. "I don't get it."

Tielle stuck her hands into her pockets and gaze up at the mountain of a man. She couldn't think of anything nice to say, so she didn't say anything. His piercing gray eyes seemed so far away they could've been stars in the night sky and he smelled like old books and garlic. What had possessed her sister to marry a man like this? She must be pretty stupid, Tielle figured. Tielle herself still had some concerns about boys and their cooties, but if she had to get married, at least she'd pick around her own age who didn't smell so strange. Her mother's words and the harsh realities of life in Sanadia had taught her many things, but in some respects, Tielle was still quite naive.

"She doesn't mean any harm, sir," Kiana stammered, regaining her scattered senses. "She's just being casual."

"Cute kid," Katch said. He was no longer smiling condescendingly. His expression was close to neutral. Kiana frowned and fidgeted with the fringe on her apron. She didn't like it when she couldn't tell if he were being sarcastic or not. It was unnerving.

"Do as you're told, Tielle, and things here will be just fine," he knelt down to her level, instructing her in much the same words her mothers had used but with a a cool aura of command taking the place of fervent pleading. If she failed her mother, Myalah's heart would be broken. If she failed Governor Mercade, he would only punish her. It would be nothing personal.

He patted her on the head before he left. Tielle scrunched up her face in annoyance. She hated it when someone messed up her hair (not that there was much to mess up with the straight, short cut she kept it in).
"Oh, my heart..." Kiana sighed in relief, leaning back against a counter and clutching at her chest. "I had no idea what to expect next!"

Tielle's annoyance faded as she watched the assistant chef's bizarre melodramatics. If Kiana talked to herself like this often, she was going to be an amusing person to be around- and Tielle knew that it only took one interesting person's presence to spice up the entire area, just as a tiny pinch of pepper made an entire bowl of soup hot.

"Well, I think the first order of business with you will be setting some ground rules," Kiana decided once her heart had stopped pounding so erratically. "I am the assistant chef here and it is my job to handle all of the lesser servants in this household. You will report directly to me on all matters unless specifically asked to do otherwise by the governor or the lady."

Tielle nodded. She was listening. Kiana didn't seem like a bad person. She was just doing her job the best that she could. And she was Sanadian, wasn't she? She would understand some of the particulars of her situation. ...Or was she? Actually, Tielle was quite sure. Kiana didn't look like most of the Harmonians she had met. She had dark skin and black hair, along with very piercing blue eyes. She didn't look like Tielle's standard idea of a Harmonian, but she didn't seem quite Sanadian either. This was a bit of a stumbling block in her fitting this woman into the grid that had developed in her mind: Harmonian or Sanadian? Oppressor or oppressed? There would be only one criteria by which to judge Kiana, and it would be by her actions.

"You will address the governor as "Governor" or "Sir" or "Lord Mercade." You can call his wife, "Lady" or "Ma'am" or "Lady Mercade." Avoid speaking any of the governor's children, and their tutor for that matter- she's one shrill customer. An icy one too. Me, I don't stand much on ceremony. You can just call me "Kiana." Come on," she headed through the back of the kitchen with Tielle on her heels across the dry yard to a wooden building set a fair distance from the main house but still within its fences.

Kiana opened the door and allowed her young charge in ahead of her. This was the servants' quarters, set up like a dormitory. It appeared to be set up to house seven or eight people. All of the bunks were empty, but several were left decorated or sloppily made in such a way as to shed some light onto the character of their inhabitants. One bed was covered with a patchwork quilt of green and pinks scraps cobbled together to resemble roses. On another bed the sheets had been left hastily thrown back from the time its inhabitant had scrambled away to work that morning, presumably without much time to spare.

"This place will be yours," Kiana instructed her, patting one of the lower bunks. "You can put your things in here," she gestured to a bland wooden chest at the foot of the bed.

"Why can't I have a top bunk?" Tielle wanted to ask, but she restrained herself because it didn't seem like a good idea to be rude to her boss on the very first day, especially after that show with the governor. She had to think of her mother. Myalah wouldn't have wanted her to get a bad reputation or be at odds with the people who should be her friends in the house.

Tielle had barely brought a thing with her. She didn't own much to begin with and her mother had warned her that she might not be able to keep her things, so a few pieces of jewelry her mother had given her had remained for safekeeping at their little wooden house. She placed her bag on top of the chest and stuck with Kiana as she moved onward, back out of the servants' quarters, carrying on with her advice and rules for the new girl to follow.

A boy walked past, carrying two buckets of water on a yoke over his shoulders. His tan face was smudged with dirt and he stunk like expensive perfume. It was an odd combination. Tielle could still tell that he was one of them. A servant. The florid perfume probably cloaked some inhabitant of the house like a November fog. Was it her sister? Tielle hoped not. If Solanne smelled like that, what were the chances they had anything in common? What were the odds she wasn't completely Harmonianized?

...And why shouldn't she be? She lived in a beautiful mansion with servants to tend to her needs. Her husband was distinguished, if old and annoying. Still, it would be sad to find out that Solanne had left her roots behind. Tielle didn't expect much time to talk with her older sister, but she had hoped they would have some sort of special bond based on their shared heritage, if not their particular family tree. There was no way their mother would've given Solanne the advice to assimilate and Tielle the advice to retain her identity. Doing what you needed to do to survive was one thing, surrendering your background in exchange for another was something else entirely.

"Are you listening to me, Tielle?" Kiana interrupted her wandering thoughts.

"Err, uh," she stalled, trying to focus on what the nice woman had just been saying to her, "Something about the kitchen? ...Can you tell me again?"

Kiana frowned. She didn't like the way Tielle was reacted to being caught daydreaming. She was unapologetic. It was a bad sign. "I was telling you that you're going to get up at dawn each day to help me out in the kitchen. You'll have to wash and dry dishes and do whatever other jobs I need you to do."

"Oh, okay." All things considered, it didn't sound that bad. They weren't asking her to go draw the governor's bath or anything. This was the kind of work she had already done at home to help out her mother.


It turned out that she was right about the kind of work. But as far as the volume of work was concerned, she had had no idea. The kitchen bustled nearly all day long. There were three meals to make for the family, three meals to make for the servants, and random snacks to whip up for the governor and his older children according to their flighty whims.

Tielle stood on a step stool to reach the sink. She looked at her pink, wrinkled fingertips, thinking that if she spent much more time with them in the sink, they would be pruny forever. "Are we done for now?" she asked Kiana impatiently. When they were between jobs, Kiana would let her go out into the yard or back to the servant's quarters to take a nap or play with Talzian, the boy she had seen carrying water on her first day. He was closest in age to her of all the servants here and had also received this post as a result of family ties. His mother had claimed he was the illegitimate child of Rumei Rimsky. The fact that this argument was not disputed by the governor, who had been Rumei's brother-in-law through his second wife, was evidence enough that it was true or all but.

The inheritance-less Talzian Rimsky didn't talk much about it. Tielle learned about his background from Kiana and thought it was something of a surprise. Talzian didn't look the least bit Harmonian, but perhaps the shade of his hair was the same as the man the Harmonians had called the "russet wonder." If anyone had been scammed by life, it was Talzian, in Tielle's opinion. How could he bear it? He was worked hard by his uncle and cousins, harder than she or Kiana was, and harder than the other servants as far as she could tell, almost as if it was punishment for his mere existence. It didn't sound like the Rimsky family had been informed about their bastard scion, but that Katch had kept his knowledge of the boy to himself to save them the trouble and the possible scandal. All in all, Rumei Rimsky had been a typical Harmonian "war hero."

"Sure, sure, dry your hands and go," Kiana dismissed her. "Just be ready to come at my call. Never know when we're going to need you."

"Yay!" Tielle yelled, throwing up her hands. She made no effort to disguise her excitement. Free time when she wasn't so tired she melted into her pillow in exhaustion was hard to come by. If she was lucky, Talzian would be within tasks too.

"Tal?" she asked, skipping out into the yard. He usually lingered outside the backdoor when he was waiting for his next bit of work. He didn't want to be far from the beck and call of his masters and mistresses because the haughty Astalia and Dimionne, the governor's children by his second wife, might hit him or yell. Tielle hadn't seen much of them since coming to the governor's mansion and she hoped to keep it that way. They were loud and irritable and appeared to be in their early thirties. It made Tielle like them even less. Weren't they too grown-up to be living with their father and acting like such big babies? Just about the only thing she knew about Astalia was that she was the one practically bathed in perfume (she was happy to find out it wasn't her sister). All she could say about Dimionne was that he spent most of his time in the library, but when he was crossed, he could be just as noisy and obnoxious as his older sister.

Tal wasn't under the almond tree or sitting on the step. Tielle sighed in disappointment. It could be boring to have free time without anyone to talk to. She hadn't brought any books along with her and had never been able to get her hands on any here. She could tell that Kiana, at least, could read because she used a cookbook in the kitchen, but reading in general seemed to be discouraged among the servants. What to do now? She could scribble in her journal (she couldn't think of much to write, so she usually drew pictures of pretty princesses on long-legged horses) or climb trees or just walk around the yard thinking, but if she did that, someone else might see her idling and decide she could use some more work to occupy her time.

She was still making up her mind when a shrill voice interrupted her thoughts. "You there! Where is Talzian?"

Tielle whipped her head around to see Astalia Mercade standing on the back step, her arms crossed furiously and her pale face reddened with anger. "Uh," she gaped stupidly.

Apparently she wasn't responding fast enough for the governor's daughter because Astalia took this as a cue to stomp out into the yard in her pink day slippers and glare down at Tielle in hopes of cowing her into submission. "Yes, Talzian, girl. Where is he?"

Now that Tielle had had a chance to recover her composure, she was annoyed. She wasn't dumb. She didn't need anything repeated to her. "I don't know," she snapped, "I haven't seen him all day." It was the truth. It was only her manner of relating it that was biting.

Astalia recoiled, stung by Tielle's tone. Before she could be angered further, she first had to reel with the shock. No one had ever spoken to her this way before. Her late mother had indulged her every whim, her uncle Rumei had treated her like a princess and her father had done likewise. The servants respected her and trembled in her presence and her hated Sanadian stepmother did likewise. She stared at Tielle, wondering what she could possibly do or say that would put this girl thoroughly in her place.

Tielle rolled her eyes and began to walk away. Why was Astalia just standing there like that? Her fury transformed her plain face into a monstrous one. Tielle's break wasn't going to be infinite. She didn't have the time to waste on this distraction. She might as well go inside and draw.

"Where do you think you're going?" Astalia yelled after her.

"Inside," she shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Geez, was this lady stupid or what? And she really did stink. Hadn't anyone ever told her perfume was supposed to be subtle? Even Tielle knew that.

"I didn't dismiss you."

"But I wasn't even doing any work for you. You asked me a question and I answered it."

Talzian burst out of the back door just before Astalia had a chance to gather her vitriol to respond to that. "Lady Astalia! I'm right here!" he announced in a loud and severe tone. He didn't usually speak that way to the governor's daughter, but it scared him the way she was focusing on Tielle so intently and he didn't want to see what would come next in this confrontation. Tielle and Astalia both had powerful wills, but one was the master and the servant. There was only one way the situation could end.

"Talzian!" Astalia turned her attention to the boy. "Where were you?"

"I was climbing around in the attic to find some books for Master Dimionne," he replied calmly. "I must not've been able to hear you calling. I'm sorry, Ma'am."

This placated her somewhat. "Oh," her lip twitched, "I see. Well, it's just one of those things then. Let's go then. I have some work for you," she turned and headed back inside after him, closing the door softly.

Tielle sighed in relief, her jaw hanging open long after Astalia and Talzian were gone. What had she been saying? Speaking that way to Astalia was extremely foolhardy, even if the older woman had no reason to treat her that way. What had come over her? ...The only thing was, despite how her own unexpected words had shaken her, Tielle felt no guilt over what she had done. Astalia had deserved it. Tielle wasn't about to kneel and scrape just because some overgrown spoiled brat didn't like her answer to a question. As small as it was, there was a flame of pride within her heart and it was also a spark of power. It was up to her to decide what she was going to take and what she wasn't here in the governor's mansion just like anywhere else.


***

"Solanne, I met your sister," Astalia said, a smug little quirk of her lips betraying her cruel intentions. She was starting small to gauge her young stepmother's reaction. The effects just wouldn't be the same if she came in complaining about what a loud-mouthed brat Tielle appeared to be.

"Oh," Solanne replied softly, just for the sake of acknowledging her stepdaughter's remark. Astalia was nine years older than Solanne and this was one part of the friction between them. All Solanne could do was try not to offend her. She should've been in the more powerful position as the stepparent, but so many other factors conspired against her: being younger, being Sanadian, not to mention less educated...

"What's that? Don't you care about your little sister?" Astalia knew Solanne's cold ways of deflecting her barbs with an icy exterior and she wasn't about to give up so easily. Solanne could only pretend to be made of ice for so long. If Astalia really wanted to, eventually she would find a way to break through the frigid surface to her warm heart. "She looks a little like you. She has short hair, but straighter than yours. Good posture too."

Solanne nodded just slightly, her short, soft hair bobbing its gentle waves against the backdrop of her cheeks. She picked up her embroidery and set back to work on it, stitching tiny blue cornflowers onto a white blanket for her own daughter. She didn't have much to fill her days, but she still had better things to than listen to Astalia's poisoned tongue. Astalia was like a bouquet purposely made up to and given away with a bee inside. When she wasn't off courting, there could be only one of two things on her mind- her own comfort and others' displeasure.

Astalia was getting tired of this. Maybe Solanne really was as icy as she seemed to be. To Astalia's knowledge, Solanne had never even gone so far as to meet her sister. Perhaps this was the downfall of the Sanadians- they didn't even feel strongly enough toward their own relatives to want to save their children generations of slavery. "Don't you feel like seeing her?"

"Not especially," she said flatly. It was easy to project a neutral demeanor, since her real feelings weren't far from this facade. She did want to speak with Tielle. She wanted to ask her about their mother and Ruth and some of the other people they probably both had known, but she barely knew her sister and she had grown used to disappointment long ago. What good would it do to get her hopes up?

This just wasn't going to work out the way Astalia had intended it. She had been hoping for a more interested reaction from Solanne. She had seen so much potential for fun in going out of her way to torment that little spitfire Tielle in front of her sister, knowing her clueless father was the only one who could tell her to stop. Her smirk had already dripped off her severe face, leaving behind a sour, drooping frown. "I see," she hissed, getting up from her place on the small couch to leave that impossible stepmother of hers alone again. Unlike her run in with Tielle, which had left her too frazzled to act immediately, this time Astalia remembered to slam the door behind her as she left. Fine, be that way, she huffed. She had plenty of other things she could be doing. And she could still up some trouble for Tielle if she really felt like it, it just wouldn't be possible to torture both Sasvenies at once.

Solanne let herself slump slightly after Astalia was gone. It was hard being around someone so obviously out to get her for so long. Becoming the governor's wife had not been her first choice of futures, but when they were wed six years ago in an impromptu Harmonian ceremony in the only church completed thus far in the region, she had not known it would be like this. Often Katch ignored her, her stepchildren hated her and made no secret of it, she never saw her mother because of Myalah's proud refusal to come live at the governor's mansion and Katch's insistence that she never leave, she didn't know her sister, her children were barely hers given over to young to the care of a Harmonian nanny who viewed her as someone with nothing positive to pass on to her offspring. Feeling so numb was the only thing that kept her from doing something drastic.

She was so cold she moved as slowly as a glacier. She couldn't think of a way to act drastically if she tried. She was as pitifully resigned and as helpless as her ravaged homeland. She was so empty she no longer cried as she worked away on this one insignificant thing she could do for her four-year-old daughter. They were going to be almost as strange to each other as she and Tielle. But the pain, like always, was stabbing and cold. Once frozen, how could she grow any colder? What else was there that this world could do to her?


***

Talzian had worked hard over the past three months to take the brunt of any anger directed at Tielle. At first he had just felt sorry for her, being young and naive, but the more time he was spending around her, the more he started to wonder if he loved her. She had just turned nine. She was too young for love. He had to admit he wasn't much older or wiser. He was only twelve. But he had known a lot of hate in the course of his life, so he was pretty sure that he understood this strong feeling as the opposite: love.

"Talzian," Tielle popped out of the back of the kitchen, "Kiana's not feeling so good. She needs extra help. Are you busy?"

"No," he stood up and brushed off his pants. "I was just thinking." It was a hot day, with the heavy cloud cover trapping in the high temperature. Beads of sweat were running down his cheeks.

"You, uh, might want to get cleaned up though. You look kind of dirty, and it's the kitchen after all."

"I'll just wash my hands and face."

They came into the kitchen together, slipping around the head chef as she took a tray of buttery rolls out of the oven. It was even hotter in here than it was outside. Talzian washed his hands in the lukewarm water of the half-full sink and splashed his face as well, wiping it dry on his sleeve. He was very obedient to the masters, so Tielle liked to see him like this, acting a little bit bold.

Kiana didn't look very well, tossing the salad greens with a pair of tongs. Her face was redder than could be explained away by the heat and she had dark circles under her eyes. "Oh, good, you found him," she let out a sigh of relief as she passed the salad bowl into Tielle's hands. "I can't go out in front of the family looking like this. I need you to take my place tonight in setting and serving the table, Tielle. Now, now, don't worry, you won't be doing it alone. I've shown you how to set the table before and when you're serving you just need to be polite and follow Fiona and Kelrynne's lead."

"Err, uh, I'll try," she mumbled. She wasn't exactly nervous. She didn't imagine she would mess up, but there was always a tense sort of anticipation associated with tending to a task she had never done before. She had never been inside the dining room while the family was eating. This would allow her an opportunity to see them all together up close and personal, whether or not this was a chance she had particularly desired.

From the moment Tielle stepped into the dining room, she thought Talzian was lucky to remain in the kitchen. The long table, large enough to seat about twelve people if there were guests, was nearly ready with places set for each member of the household who would be eating there, from the governor to his two-year-old twins.

"Don't dally, Tielle," Kelrynne jostled past her, hurrying to place delicately folded cloth napkins (they were meant to look like swans) on all the plates.

Tielle had to stand on tiptoe to place the bowl in the center of the table. She wasn't idling. She was doing this as fast as she could. Kelrynne was just a prissy kiss-up. She was a favorite of Ms. Astraav, the nanny and tutor, as well as the older children with her fawning over Harmonian ways and culture. She was trying to get people to call her "Orial" now instead of "Kelrynne," her birth name, as an indication of her newfound (Harmonian) faith. Orial was apparently a rather servile saint who had brought waters into the desert. The other servants were having none of this pious junk. She was "Kelrynne" to them and "Kelrynne" she would remain.

"And...perfect!" Fiona declared, setting a vase of white and yellow tulips as a centerpiece. The table was ready and within seconds the family would begin to file in.

Tielle stood to the side with Fiona and Kelrynne watching the ice cubes melt. She glanced toward the kitchen and caught sight of Talzian struggling to chip a block of ice. He was probably preparing to make shaved ice for their desert. She smiled at the back of his head, but he didn't feel her eyes on him and didn't turn around. She wondered if he would leave the governor's mansion when he was older or if he would stay to suffer stoically for the sake of relatives who never respected or loved him. If he asked her opinion she would tell him to leave. That was exactly what she'd do as soon as she had the chance. She would go home to her mother and work to take care of her. How exactly she'd go about doing this, she wasn't sure, but it was bound to work out one way or another.

The door opened and Domionne came in, polishing his spectacles and sniffing the air. "Is that a roast, Orial?"

"Yes, most certainly," she curtsied, as if the contents of the meal had anything to do with her. Unless there was a specific request from the governor, the head chef, Magdalena, made all the selections.

Solanne came in next. She wore all black as she often did. Tielle had never seen her in anything but dark or drab colors. She walked with her back proud and straight just like their mother, but unlike Myalah, she shamefully hung her head. Just after her came Ms. Astraav, carrying the twins, with little Alnika at her side. Solanne helped her situate the boys so they were propped up high and close enough to the table to eat. Even if they could reach their plates, they were bound to make a mess, picking at the food with their hands while Ami Astraav and Solanne tried to feed them. Alnika needed to be boosted up as well, but she was old enough to have learned proper table manners.

Domionne uncorked the wine and poured himself a glass in defiance of the usual policy of waiting until the entire family was situated and the meal blessed before eating. Fiona twitched nervously, expecting that the governor would not be pleased with this breach of etiquette when he arrived and saw it, but she couldn't really think of anything she could do to stop him.

"You ladies think the temperature's going to hit a record high this week? It has been unseasonably warm," he said, speaking generally to everyone in the room.

"Can't say," Ami answered, fussing with one of the twins.

"Ah! Excellent! I've been working up quite an appetite," Katch enthused, as he pounded into the kitchen on heavy feet. His good nature was refreshing compared to that of his soul children, but Tielle still didn't want to make the mistake of smiling at him. She had a feeling any outreach of good will directed toward the governor could easily be misconstrued the wrong way. They weren't friends and they weren't going to be friends. He was the master and she was the servant. Kelrynne pulled out his chair for him and Katch muttered something apologetic about him being a man and her being a lady. Tielle lost her need to smile. If she was such a lady, why wasn't he pulling out a chair for her to sit at the table alongside him?

"This looks great." He turned to look at Tielle and Fiona, a crease wrinkling his brow to indict that for a moment he questioned the presence of Tielle instead of Kiana, but he let the thought slip away as he repeated his overwhelming sentiment, "Tell Magdalena that everything looks great. I already know it's going to taste great."

He turned toward the other direction, looking at the half-open door. "Where's Astalia? She's keeping us waiting and I am really hungry."

"Do you want me to go and find her?" Kelrynne asked.

"Not yet, not yet," Katch waved a thick and aged hand side to side through the air. "We can give her a minute or two more."

His eyes met Solanne's for the first time since coming into the room. "That dress suits you," he said. It was also the first thing he had said within the dining room that night that was not positively jovial in character. He looked quite serious as he appraised Solanne's appearance.

She met his gaze with a quiet calm of her own. "Thank you." Tielle practically imagined she would call him, "Sir" or "Governor." Did her sister ever call this old man "Katch?" It was hard to imagine it.


The waiting time that passed before Astalia deigned to make an appearance was in all likelihood not much more than two or three minutes, but it was an uncomfortable eternity to Tielle, and apparently to her brother-in-law as well, who unfolded his cloth napkin and tucked it across his lap, then proceeded to fiddle with the silverware, not speaking to any of the assorted members of his household present in the room.

"Sorry I'm late," Astalia said as she slunk into the room. As far as Tielle could tell, she didn't look especially sorry. She was smirking despite her supposed apologetics and she walked with her turned up nose in the air. Tielle wondered if anyone had ever made fun of her as a girl for looking so much like a pig. Even for a Harmonian, Tielle found Astalia pretty distasteful. She wasn't even that pretty. No wonder she couldn't get married.

"Finally," Katch muttered, making no secret of his impatience. Tielle enjoyed watching the way Astalia's smug, self-satisfaction slipped away like mascara running down wet cheeks at her father's criticism. Apparently someone's opinion other than her own did matter to the stuck-up woman after all.

Katch scrambled through a quick prayer and then the family began to eat, initiating the servants' work in earnest. Tielle scurried around refilling any glass that dipped below half-full (except for Domionne's wine glass, because they last thing anyone wanted to deal with was Domionne drunk).

"Orange slices? On a roast?" Astalia complained, "Who came up with this idea? Do I have to eat this?"

"There's salad too, Talia," Domionne groaned. "Do you have to eat noodles at every meal? Or cake?"

"It wouldn't hurt you to lay off the wine," his older sister scowled, beckoning Fiona to serve her an extra large portion of salad.

"It wouldn't hurt either of you to shut up and let me enjoy my meal," the governor murmured to himself between bites. Tielle was nearby, passing Ami the jam for the rolls, so she suspected she was the only one who could hear him.

After a few moments of cold, purposeful silence, Astalia turned her whip-like tongue back to her usual victim, Solanne. "Who taught you to cut your meat like that?" Several pairs of eyes gravitated toward Solanne's plate. Tielle didn't see anything wrong with it. But, then again, she had never known there was a "right" way to cut meat at all. You just cut it. "You may look like a pretty porcelain doll, but deep down you're as savage as the rest of them," Astalia continued, watching Solanne's jaw tighten as she silently studied herself against these ill-intentioned words. Tielle's teeth were clenched as well, but her reaction was one of defiance, not defense.

"She can eat however she wants to as long as it's not in front of company," Ami Astraav answered, not truly defending Solanne's actions. Tielle was unhappy to see the nanny's distaste grow worse. "And as long as the children don't learn from her." She reached over nonchalantly and straightened the fork in Alnika's hand. "Like this, dear."

Solanne looked down at her plate, solemnly picking up an orange slice.

"The governor needs another napkin, Tielle," Fiona jolted her back to the reality of her position not a moment too soon. She nodded and swallowed the passionate invective she had been preparing to hurl in her sister's defense.

The bitter dialogue carried on as she rushed back to the kitchen where Talzian met her just inside the doorway. "Here you are," he presented her with a clean napkin. He had obviously been listening in. Magdalena was turning the force of a small ice spell on four large bowls of shaved ice and three tiny ones to keep them relatively solid until they were called for. Kiana was nowhere to be seen, having presumably left to go lie down.

"Tal-," she said, feeling the need to find some sort of outlet for her frustration.

"No time," he replied, turning her around to face the dining room once more. If she wanted to talk later, that was fine, but for now she would have to keep quiet and do her job.

She passed the napkin to Fiona, who exchanged it for the governor's stained one. He was no longer enjoying his meal. It was at this point that he drew the line with his family. If they wanted to bother each other, so be it, but he was going to have a pleasant evening. "Domionne! Astalia! Shut up!" he snapped, "All of you, shut up! I'm trying to savor my meal and you're giving me a headache!"

Startled by his father's outburst, one of the twins began to cry. Solanne reached for the boy, but Ami moved faster, snatching him up into her arms. "Father," Astalia whined, "It's no fair yelling at all of us. It's Solanne's fault that everyone is getting so worked up."

"That is enough, Astalia." She withered under the full force of his glare. This was the one person in the house who could draw a line she would not brazenly cross. Tielle was disappointed. As much as she liked to see Astalia getting what she deserved, something about this wasn't very satisfying. "Solanne, take your plate and go finish eating in your room," Katch commanded his wife. The bite had gone out of his voice, replaced by a pragmatic annoyance.

Solanne didn't argue or agree with this decision. She set her napkin on the table and picked up her plate. Tielle managed to hold back her shock long enough to react to this sudden justice realistically. "I'll help her!" she declared, rushing to pick up Solanne's napkin and glass of pomegranate juice, trailing her older sister out of the room.

Solanne left the dining room swiftly, but after she was out of sight of the Mercades, she slowed her pace and eventually stopped at the foot of the stairs to allow Tielle to catch up without running. However, once she deemed the distance between them sufficiently closed, she proceeded onward up to her bedroom without saying a word to her sister.

She sat down to eat at a small oak wood writing desk, pushing aside a stack of pink and yellow stationery to make space for her plate. Tielle set the glass down and handed her the napkin, which Solanne neatly resettled on her lap. Tielle waited, wondering if she would yell or cry or curse or at least say something, but instead she picked up the fork she had laid across her plate before leaving and returned her attention to her meal. How could anyone accuse a lady of this sort of having bad manners? She wasn't a slob, she was a paragon of etiquette, Tielle thought, and not only that, she was practically a martyr!

Being an impatient young girl, Tielle finally loosed her tongue first. "Why do you let them treat you like that?"

Solanne proved herself, yet again, to be both mature and resigned. She swallowed and wiped her lips before answering. "I knew what I was getting from the very beginning going into this." That was it. The first words she had spoken to her sister since her arrival at the house.

"Really?" Tielle challenged her, scrunching her fingers into fists as she posed the question. What was Solanne getting out of this? She couldn't seriously believe that anyone would knowingly put themselves into this awful situation. "Did you really know or are you just making excuses for them?"

For whatever reason, this was Solanne's breaking point. Even here in the privacy of her own room she did not sob. Silent tears began to roll down her cheeks hugging the curves of her heart-shaped face. "No. I didn't know," she admitted. "I had no idea. There was so much pressure. And at the time I thought it would be all right. "How bad could it be?" I asked myself. I remembered what it was like to live in a mansion, Tielle. Before the invasion our family was rich and respected. We had servants and nice clothes and a library and a piano that I played everyday. I would have all of that again." She carefully dabbed an unused corner of the napkin along her red-rimmed eyes. "I though I would be giving this life to you and to Mother too, but she refused to come and live here. I thought she was just too proud. Now I can without a doubt that she was right all along. One can't compromise oneself for a little luxury today. There are a thousand tomorrows to think of. It's as bad as selling one's soul."

After all the distance between them, this chilling admission was almost too much for Tielle to bear. She stood trembling, struck with the irrational fear that her life would turn out just like her sister's. She had wanted to talk to Solanne before, but now, griped by this terror, she fled from her sister as if her misfortune were a contagious disease. She returned to the dining room somber as a ghost and served the remaining masters of the household their dessert of shaved ice and cherries. She was too shocked to be anything but the epitome of obedience. She hurried through the washing, drying, and reshelving of the dishes afterward, her desire to speak with Talzian also forgotten. She allowed him to be the home to deliver dessert to Solanne's room.

It was not until she was alone in bed that night that she remembered her sister was not the entirety of her heritage.


Tielle did her work the same as always, assisting Kiana in the kitchen, sweeping the yard, hanging out laundry to dry and other tasks, but inside she felt different than before the evening she had spoken to Solanne. Her mother had chosen to live her life as independently and proudly as she could. Her father had died on his feet for his refusal to compromise. She had made up her mind that it was in their noble footsteps she would tread, not in the tremulous tiptoeing of Solanne. She was biding her time.


Talzian was unnerved by the new air he had observed about Tielle. He was an exceedingly cautious youth and he had the suspicion that she was on the verge of doing something very foolhardy. However, he just couldn't find a spare moment in which to discuss it with her. Astalia had run across a new marriage prospect and was running him ragged with message-carrying and all manner of work to help her look her best for this (un)fortunate young gentleman (a Kaeyani, the rumors said).

Talzian had no way of knowing he had inherited his father's keen instincts as there was no one to bother to tell him so. Rumei Rimsky had also known how to grasp the mood or his men or his enemy from the flimsiest of hints. Talzian caught sight of Tielle in the kitchen as he passed through the yard carrying buckets of water. He worried about her.


The day of reckoning turned out to be the third day of the month. Tielle was dusting the shelves of the library while the bright sun of early morning blazed through the window. Once again it was shaping up early to be another hot day in Sanadia. It had been a man best known for his efforts to deal equitably with Third Class Citizens who had said, "The dry plains of the far west are the closest one can come on this continent to the sensation of walking on the sun. I would forgive anyone who lived in such a place for being a little ill-tempered about foreign rule." He had died about a year earlier, but his extensive writings about his experiences as bishop of the volatile Tabard and Tisbahl area had already been added to the library of Katch Mercade, as well as those of many other Harmonians in similar administrative positions. It was a pity Katch had accepted them as a gift from an acquaintance in the capital but had never bothered to read them.

Katch strutted into the library looking for some notes he had misplaced. They concerned his plans to rebuild the rough military garrison of Swansard into something a little more permanent. He had scribbled them down the night before and seemed to have put them down somewhere around here...
"Mr. Mercade," Tielle spoke up.

Katch, spooked, nearly jumped. He hadn't noticed her in here. She was working away so quietly and he was used to taking the servants' presence for granted. "Oh, Tielle. Good morning. What is it?"

She couldn't have looked that intimidating standing by a globe and holding a feather duster, but she felt the strength of her proud and noble ancestry turning her from a young girl into a tiger. "That night I served at the table- when you have the roast with oranges- why did you make your wife leave the room when it was your kids who were at fault?"

For a split second Katch prepared to answer her as if she were his equal, defending his choice to remove the focal point of the arguments regardless of who was at fault. Then he remembered who he was and who Tielle was. "It's none of your business. Stick to your work," he replied, serious and cold. He was prepared to let this breach of manners go at that.

But Tielle was not. "I don't understand what's wrong with you! You treat your wife so bad and you don't care about her feelings at all! You don't get along with your grown-up kids and your little kids probably aren't going to turn out any different from them! Why do you think that because you're governor you can be so mean?!"

Katch felt as though he'd been slapped across the face with a dead fish. He had never experienced direct insubordination on such a scale. He had never expected to experience it at the hands of such a young girl.
"So, a little fire salamander, are you? I knew you had spunk, but I didn't figure it was of this sort." As he spoke, ideas were forming in his mind over what to do about this. He couldn't allow this attitude to spread or to continue. He would have to take drastic steps. "I suppose you're able to speak this way because I've been too easy on you. I'm too easy on all of you. Now that it comes down to it, I can't see why I was using your people at all- all you are are a bunch of sharp-tongued grass snakes who could use to be tempered with a little religion and a lot of civilization! Each and every one of you Sanadians is out of my house as of today. And I know exactly where I want to send you. It's the least I can do so you won't end up exactly like your father."

She stumbled backward as he approached her. She didn't regret her words, but that didn't stop her from being afraid of their consequences. "Come along," he grabbed her upper arm and yanked her out of the library with him. "I'm taking care of you immediately." She squirmed slightly against his firm grip and allowed the feather duster to fall to the floor.

Solanne was on the stairs as they passed through the main hall. "What's going on? Did Tielle do something wrong?"

"I'm just fed up with the way this place is run. All the Sanadian staff will have to be let go." He would not damage his reputation by revealing Tielle's accusations to his wife. "You don't need to cry for her, Solanne. I'm writing a letter of introduction right now to send her to Crystal Valley to stay with my niece's family."

"It...not...working out?" Solanne ventured timidly.

"Precisely, Dear," Katch replied, moving on without a backward glance. Tielle turned her silent appeal toward her sister with a long, lingering look over her shoulder.

Solanne clutched her hands to her chest, but shook her head. She was not so bold as to protest against all hope. She was not even brave enough to speak out loud the one word she mouthed to her sister as she was dragged away. "Good-bye."

Part 2