Marie looks up, still on her knees. “My lady, I could never quest as you, I mean that...that this is my home. But we mustn’t hide behind the guards if it’s attacked, simply because we are humble maids." Her tone hardens, the volume rising, "Nor must we take a man simply for his protection against other men. You’ve shown us The Shieldmaiden’s virtue." She stops, steady herself and lowering her voice to what is proper for her station. "We...we seek only to be worthy of your example.”<br/>--------------------------------------------------<br/>As Aren and Dora reach the docks, separately, several footmen in both green livery and the garrison’s red and white are present, as are the garrison’s horsemen. Those in green immediately come to arms, their long spears leveled before the garrison stand them down.<br/><br/>Dora perches on roofs and garden walls as Aren receives the marching orders from one of the sergeants (ride through main street, receive accolades, be watchful and then out the gates and straight on to the castle at a brisk pace; about three times as long as simply riding hard from here). The Lord Mayor is climbing into the white carriage, dressed in his best finery; yards of silk in red and gold (Hammensend’s colors), a fur collared vest against the morning’s chill, and his great chain of office. The Landau’s shocks heave slightly under his weight as he takes the forward, rear-facing seat  and settle as he centers himself. In the rear seat is a lady clad in green samite, her gown having a tight bodice and low neck with billowing shoulders and skirts of green. A gold raven’s head is woven into the panels of the bodice and a small, green cap adorns her coifed, upswept, red hair. She is speaking to a man outside the carriage armored and wearing a white surcoat. They get a better look at him as one of the footmen approaches him and see that he is as large as Aren and as dark as Aren is fair. The footman points toward Aren and the large man beckons him forth.<br/><br/>As Aren approaches, that this is Victoriana’s brother is undeniable. The same cheeks, the same piercing eyes, the same olive skin, though his is considerably tanned from his service to his god. “So, you are the Aren who saved my sister. Will you ride with me?” Aren somehow feels those last words were a bit out of order.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Listen DC 30 to hear over the distance and din</div><div class="spoiler_body">To Kerith, the lady says with a smile, “Ne, dragi, take your Noćna. The mayor here will be excellent company.”</div></div>