As we walk through Mountain Fort’s streets to the castle-like structure that gave the city its name, looking at the various knickknack shops selling cheap stuff, and sometimes food, I can tell that Shannon needed this.

 

As we stop at this stand with these gemstones set in necklaces, I admire this one with this rose made of rubies, and discreetly use my datapad to do the price from Sanctuarian pesos to Manticorian dollars, and am surprised that the price is so low, not 5% of what it would have been on Manticore, before Shannon turns to me, and whispers, “Tip very generously.” The old pre-prolong woman with white hair running the shop looks embarrassed that someone said that.

 

While I know it’s nice to be able to get cheap stuff (I was once a junior officer on a budget, too!), I know the people of Sanctuary deserve something closer to a fair price.  I know, that despite the Republic not being insanely rich, that these prices were caused by the people on Sanctuary not being able to sell them for much for so long under the Committee, not the Republic’s money issues. I end up giving the old woman a very large tip, despite knowing that the junior officers likely wouldn’t tip that much. We eventually reach the castle, having bought a decent amount of goodies (and a bag or two, because Shannon forgot to tell me she was planning a shopping trip), which is guarded by a pair of armed Sanctuarian officers.

 

We all let Shannon (who’s wearing a thin headband of a Elvanian tiara, like she’s been doing to hold her soft blonde hair out of her face since we got out to Bolthole, and had explained the mess of her past to her staff) do the talking, and she says, “We’re here to request a meeting with the Shirkahna.” Diana bleeks in agreement with Hunts Silently.

 

He recognizes Shannon and her native intel officer, and shows us inside to a room in the tower, “Please wait here.”

 

Shannon explains, “I think I should probably explain my past to the Shirkahna. Better he finds out from me, than some random news article. Especially as the Shirkahna we are meeting with is essentially the emperor of the most powerful of Sanctuary’s pre-rediscovery empires. That’s why I went with the tiara.”

 

A few minutes later, he motions us to follow him, thankfully being okay with Shannon’s bodyguards. He motions us into seats by the Shirkahna, although Shannon’s bodyguards and Mateo remain standing.

 

“Shirkahna Ambart, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” Shannon says.

 

“You, too, Admiral. I’ve known about the Grand Alliance, but I noticed you have bodyguards now, and you’re wearing your hair differently, and you sound different.”

 

As the sun lights the old, pre counter-grav castle tower, Shannon explains, “Well, I’m not a Dolist. I was born into the Elvanian royal family, as third in line, counting my aunt, the queen. When I was five, the Legislaturalists decided to take over. They tried to put a puppet government in power. Then, when I got older, I joined the Elvanian SDF, which for officially being loyal to the puppets, really was running the resistance movement, before I got stolen by the People’s Navy. For my own safety, I decided to claim I was a Dolist, instead of an Elvanian royal. I’m actually a Grand Duchess.”

 

While the Shirkahna looks surprised, he reacts pretty well to it. 

 

“Who are you, Admiral?” he asks me.

 

“I’m Sonja Hemphill. I’m the Baroness of Low Dehli, but I don’t use my title much. It took her a few attempts to realize that.” I nudge Shannon, but don’t push her on that.

 

“Well met, Lady Hemphill.” he replies, and I manage not to react to the usage of my title. After all, after dealing with Shannon, I like to think I’ve gotten used to her brand of chaos, and she was undercover for twenty years.

 

He then prompts Abigail for an introduction, with, “And you are, lieutenant?”

 

“I’m Abigail Hearns, Miss Owens. I’m the daughter of Steadholder Owens.” Abigail replies confidently and calmly, thanks to her training as a steadholder’s child, and her natural grace.

 

They shake hands, before the Shirkahna replies, “Well met, Miss Hearns.”