The carriages clattered down the roads relatively swiftly. The contingent had met them at the fjord, and the armoured escorts prepared to take the contents safely to Alexston flanked the caravan. In the middle carriage, Amiel cradled a sleeping William and watched the countryside roll past.

Nessa watched. She wasn't sure what to make of it as it all passed on by Kergard's camp. Seated atop her ugly, wolfish mount, her eyes narrowed, and she made a small gesture to one of her guards to fetch the King. Did they stop it, or let it pass?

Lady Alexston had chosen to ride. Dark brown leather trousers permitted her to do so like a man. The loose white shirt kept her comfortable, and the black felt waistcoat prevented it flapping around. Overtop, her birthday cloak, draping back over her dark horse's quarters. The ruby-topped, engraved rapiers her husband had given her were settled at either hip.

She thundered through otherwise tranquil, late summer fields. Long, lush grass whispered at the shoulders of her animal, hissing across the ankles of her boots and swaying back into silence after her passing. Sundown was undeniably on the edge of the moment, and it hounded her with rose hues and cheerful, keen voiced birds.

She paused for only one moment. By a tree, she reined in the black-furred beast and turned. Her glove held the reins nonchalantly, and the usual crafted style of her hair had gone to entirely natural half-curls that cast themselves as fluctuating ruby-amber in the orange-shot light. She bore a bright, free, self-satisfied smile.

She'd stopped to simply regard a pair of pale blue eyes she knew comparatively well. Ulrika looked right back at her. They exchanged a small, simple nod.

Heavy hooves fidgeted, and turned back to the trail they'd been headed for. Lady Alexston had won her freedom. The talks of suppressed desires and limited behaviour were rendered moot.

"Who is she?" Nessa asked, purely for the sake of gaining some understanding of what exodus she was witnessing.

"She's Eave."

And no one in Nharati would again hear of 'Eave' for almost three more decades; the Advisor was finished. For now.