Aldous and Bayard were standing near the southern gate, close to where they had carried the wounded guards while Malia fought the demon, when Bayard noticed someone observing them, “Hey Aldous.”

“I know.” The redhead nodded discretely, “A Council dog. He’s been watching the fight all along. It’s a good thing the boss didn’t intervene; now technically we didn’t disobey the old man’s order.” Aldous abruptly shifted his somber expression when Malia and Gorken joined them, choosing to cheerfully congratulate the princess on her victory and to mock the futility of putting her in flimsy irons; the rusted chain that bound her wrists together had snapped during the clash with the demon.

Malia glanced at the unconscious men, “Where should we take them? I could try healing them, but their lives don’t seem to be in immediate danger. I’d prefer to use my healing magic only when strictly necessary… I’m not great at it.”

“Don’t worry about that. We’re heading to Rose’s study.” Gorken assured her, “We have our own healer.”

Aldous and Bayard summoned more members to help move the wounded while Gorken sealed the gate; Malia stayed by Gorken’s side and later joined them at what she assumed was the sick ward. The large room was lined by rows of beds, a few of them occupied by the injured guards. At the bottom of the hall, a heavy curtain hid the rest of the area from sight. “Rose, are you there?” Aldous called out, “We have wounded men.”

The curtains oscillated sinuously before parting at the hands of a robust woman. Time had gifted grey streaks to her blonde mane; her broad hips, round belly and generous breasts where tightly hugged by a battered burgundy dress. “My sweet boys are back!” Rose reveled briefly, “And you bring me injured men. I’m glad to see imprisonment didn’t change you, dear Gorken.” She pinched his cheek, “Step aside children, let me take a look at them.”

The woman took her time to examine the young men, meticulously cleaning their wounds and bandaging them. Aldous, Bayard and Gorken served as her assistants, and Malia floundered her way into attempting to do the same. Amsel had been watching the process anxiously, convinced he would be nothing but a hindrance if he intervened. When she was done, Rose smacked Amsel’s bottom encouragingly, “Change that expression, they’ll be fine. Why don’t you go and get some rest? You’ll want to be here for them when they wake up.”

“…Yes,” Amsel bowed his head, “You have my thanks… all of you!”

Once Amsel left the room, Rose sat down on one of the beds and scanned the faces of those left in her study, “Would you mind filling me in, kids? Who’s the young lady?”

Malia straighten her back, as if addressed by a superior, “I’m Malia Daimonlance, a new member of the rebellion. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I see. That explains the broken shackles.” Rose pointed at the handcuffs on Malia’s wrists. “You all look terrible. Why don’t you take a bath and change out of those muddy clothes?”

Gorken sighed, “I have to go talk to the Council. They will want more explanations.”

“Fine, then go.” Rose gestured with her hand, “But little Malia will stay with me. I’ll help you out of those shackles and find you some new garments. Meanwhile you can use my bath.”

“Rose?” Aldous objected meekly, “I’m not sure you have the authority to do that… As ineffective a restraint as they may be, the Council put those shackles on her.”

“Let the Council come and tell me I have no authority to do as I please in my study.”  Rose put her hands on her thick hips, “I’ll wait for them. Until then, I won’t have her looking like a filthy prisoner.”

Malia waved her hands, “That won’t be necessary, I can just-”

“Malia,” Gorken interrupted, “I would like you to stay here, too. I think I have a better chance of convincing the Council if you don’t come with me. Rose will keep you safe.”

“Oh…” Malia couldn’t come up with a reason to disagree, even though she wanted to, “Got it.”

“What about us, boss?” Aldous pointed at himself and Bayard.

“Go get some rest, you earned it. We'll meet up here in a couple of hours.”

“Understood.” Aldous rejoiced, eager to wash the dirt off his body, “See you later!”

Malia watched as her three friends went their different ways. Only when she was left alone with Rose did she feel the weight of finding herself in an unknown environment. The constant presence of Gorken, and then Aldous and Bayard, had lulled her into a fictitious, frail tranquility that vanished as soon as they did. Her ignorance made her no more than a lost stranger in a rigid, unforgiving maze. She wasn’t even sure if she could find her way back to the southern gate on her own. As far as she could tell, everyone but Gorken, Aldous, Bayard and perhaps Amsel considered her an enemy. Without her companions by her side, she was lost. Calm down. I’m strong. That’s why I’ve been training all these years. Don’t panic.

“Come on dear,” Rose pulled Malia out of her own head, “don’t hyperventilate. Let’s focus on finding a way to get you out of those shackles.”

“That’s alright,” Malia blushed, “I can do it on my own.” She then used her hands and her enhanced strength to break what was left of the irons.

Rose whistled in content surprise, “Quite the young lady, huh? Well, come here, I’ll take your measurements so you can go wash yourself while I fix some of my old clothes to fit you.”

“Thank you.” Malia rubbed her wrists, “Lady Rose, can I ask you something?”

“Please dear, drop the 'lady', I’m no lass no more. What is it?”

“Why do you trust me so easily? Your reaction was nothing like the Council’s.” Malia recalled her recent meeting with Aldous and Bayard; she had assumed they were exceptions.

“That one’s got an easy answer. I’ve known those brats since they were little. I trust their judgment; there was no need to ask them about the obvious.”

“But I’m an immortal.” Malia countered as she raised her arms so that Rose could gauge her waist.

“That’s more of a reason not to ask a thing! If they trust you even when you go around parading that your last name is Daimonlance, what else do I need to know? I’m not fond of making myself look like a fool, little Malia.” Rose stretched the measuring tape on Malia’s thigh, “And you looked so cute trying your best to help out with the injured, I couldn’t bring myself to suspect you.”

Malia’s ears went red, “You’re too nice.”

“Stop buttering me up, sweetie. I’m only nice when I want to be. You need a piercing glare to keep these lost children in line.”

“You’d be a great mother.” Malia muttered without thinking. The grief her words brought to Rose’s semblance made her regret them instantly.

“I don’t know about that. No good parent should outlive their child. A fine young man, my boy was. He was a member of the rebellion, you see. I never liked that, I hated the rebellion. I still do.” Rose returned to her desk, rummaging through drawers and looking for parchment, “But as I loved my child, I love these kids. That’s why I’m still here.”

“I’m sorry...” Malia said. That was all she could say. Then she forced herself to end the silence that followed, “But I think the rebellion is doing the right thing. Something must be done about immortal cruelty.”

“And what’s your story, dear? Why is a little immortal noble joining the human rebellion?”

“I… I feel there’s something wrong with the world. I lived most of my life in the castle, among the nobility, and even so there are so many things that I don’t know; that no one knows. It doesn’t make sense. I felt I was stuck, that I wouldn’t be able to change anything. At first I thought that from a position of power I could make a difference, but nothing I did amounted to more than a nuisance for a system that’s much bigger than one princess throwing occasional tantrums…” she trailed off, “I don’t have a plan, but, maybe from the outside I could…” I could what? Overthrow the government? Help people? Or simply run away? “…I’m sorry if I’m just spouting nonsense…”

“It makes all the sense in the world, little one. There, I’m done writing down what I need.” Rose walked towards the curtains, “My private bathroom’s over there, beyond my study. I don’t think a lady should share a bath with the other members of the rebellion if it can be helped, so feel free to use mine whenever you want.”

“Thank you, Rose.”

“You can leave those dirty clothes here,” Rose pointed at a basket, “I’ll wash them for you.”

When Malia unbuttoned her vest, she remembered the little book she had taken back at the vault in the palace. She removed it from the inside of her tunic, and once again stared at the unknown characters on its spine. When Rose saw her she added, “If you have time later, you could take that to Konrad. He loves all kinds of ancient rubbish, as long as it’s on a piece of paper and away from the present moment. He’ll take a liking to you if you bring him a new book. I don’t like him though, so be careful around him.”

Before Malia could ask about it, Rose was already in her study working and humming to herself. Resigned, Malia followed the path Rose had instructed her to; soon she arrived to a room with a natural pool of hot water. Is this an underground hot spring?

Once again, Malia was surprised by the freshness of the air, in a place where the steam should’ve rendered it stifling. She entered the water and relaxed, enjoying the stillness of her own company. When she felt she was clean and done, she returned and found that Rose had left towels for her outside of the bath. Then she headed back to Rose’s study and encountered her still sewing, “I’m almost done sweetie, just wait a bit longer.” True to her word, a few minutes later Rose handed her a bundle of clothes, “Here, put this on. I figured you’re a fighter, so I fixed some of the boy’s old trousers to fit you.”

“They fit perfectly!” Malia was pleasantly shocked.

“I’ll keep patching up some clothing for you, so let me know if you have any preference. You can help me out while we wait for the boys. Knowing how to stitch can come in handy. Here, grab this for me.”