Talia woke late in the day and turned at once in her bed to face the door. The chair still rested below the door knob, a sign that no one had entered as she slept.
She sat up at once and went to the window, opening it and leaning out to survey the town below.
Napolanva was small but bustling. The Inn seemed to be the largest building in town besides the tower in the distance, which was probably part of a temple. Merchants and farmers lugged handcarts through the streets as women with baskets on their head wove deftly through the foot traffic. Somewhere nearby, there was likely a bustling marketplace.
There were also many soldiers. Most of them wore the colors of the Bludstone troops, but some bore the Emperor's insignia on their armor- a golden sun.
Talia looked over the streets with a careful and discerning eye. She was resolved to no longer play the role of a helpless prisoner waiting to be ransomed or executed. Ora had accomplished great things, after all. She had likely studied the politics and attitudes of the nobility, and learned quickly from her new surroundings.
For their people, Talia could do no less.
"Number 27, Road of the Setting Sun, East River District, Torobirk," she whispered to herself.
Of course, she realized that she had too easily been fooled before. The maid in Pirchburg had convinced her to run with just a bit of decent theatrics and the threat of danger to her people. She would not make so great a mistake a second time. She would not pin all her hopes on a scrap of paper from a woman she had never met before. She would be cautious and not run headlong into a trap.
There were other things she could do to help Vezda-- secrets she could learn, perhaps even allies she could make.
Talia smiled to herself as she shut the window. If the Emperor's soldiers were in Napolanva, she would discover why. She had also remembered that Prince Mikhail was soon to be married and that he seemed quite displeased about the fact.
Finally, there were the marks that both the Prince and Ilya bore. She had many theories about those marks. It was time to test some of them.
Talia washed her face and combed through her long hair, braiding it herself to wind around the top of her head like a crown. She opened her luggage and realized for the first time that all of her new gowns were done in drab colors- brown, black and grey. She should have put more effort into her appearance from the beginning. If she wanted to be the sort of person who had some power, she should at least look like someone who hadn't been beaten.
Talia chose a black dress with a sharp profile and jet beading draped across the bodice. Of all her gowns, it was the most eye-catching.
Glancing at herself in the mirror, she quickly pinched her pale cheeks and lips to raise some color and removed the chair from the door.
Banter and being disrmingly charming were skills she acquired in childhood and had made good use of through her short life. She would dust them off and make them serviceable once again.
Downstairs in the main hall, a soldier wearing colors saw her coming and quickly slipped through a nearby doorway. A moment layer, Ilya emerged and gave her a nervous bow.
"Nothing to worry about," Talia greeted him, "Your prisoner is merely starving and comes to inquire about breakfast... or is it lunchtime?"
"Closer to supper actually," Ilya responded and gave her a look that swept her up and down. A worry line appeared on his brow.
"Ilya of Pirchburg!" she smirked. "That was a disapproving look if ever I saw one!"
He offered his arm to escort her, but the furrow in his brow only deepened as he did so.
"You look... well," he said, and the words seemed to hint at something entirely else.
"I feel well," Talia answered lightly. "Hungry, but well, and more like myself than I have for many months. Which is odd, because I did not sleep as well as I might."
"Didn't you?" Ilya asked politely as he led her into the dining room.
"No. It's quite noisy for a small town, isn't it? More so than Pirchburg anyhow. So many soldiers down there crashing around in their armor on the streets! You'd think there was a war on," she chuckled.
"Yes," Ilya agreed and frowned.
Talia did not let the frustration show on her face. The normally chatty man had chosen a fine time to mimic the stoic demeanor of his master! She smiled brightly at him as she took a seat beside an empty table.
"I feel like meat today. Do you know, I like meat a great deal better now that I've been here some time. I remember your Prince told me that once... a long time ago, that people ate meat a lot in Unaria. I didn't even know what meat was back then. I tho8ghtvhe meant fish!" Talia rambled.
"Uh-huh," Ilya agreed, taking the seat across from her and continuing to stare at her as if a horn was growing out of her head.
"What is it?" she asked, feigning nervousness by smoothing down the front of her dress and touching her hair as if to check that it was all in place. "You're staring at me as if my mouth is dripping blood-- it's quite rude!"
"My apologies, Princess," Ilya replied without any sincerity, and signaled a servant from the bar.
Talia sighed and pouted her lip.
"Do you know... that ever since yesterday, when I heard about Ora and the law that she had passed, I've been feeling quite low. Not about the law itself, but... I feel as if she would be disappointed in me. That I have... in many ways... thought of only myself and my own predicament, and not at all about what I might do for my people here and in Vezda. How I might seek to make myself useful... how to integrate with Unarian society the way she did, and find ways to lighten the burdens of Vezda without fighting or killing. I wish... I suppose I wish that I could be more like her," she admitted, making her voice tremble in a way that was slightly piteous.
She stole a quick glance at Ilya through lowered lashes and was pleased to see that his face looked thoughtful.
The server approached and he ordered sausage and potatoes for both of them and ale for himself. As the woman left, Ilya turned to study her seriously. Talia waited, careful to look dejected.
"You're wearing a fancy evening dress in the late afternoon. It shows too much of your neck and shoulders. Your hair is braided in a style which most Unarian women would find strange and barbaric. Our warriors braid their hair in preparation for a battle. Noble women arrange their hair in curls or waves and gather it together much lower on the head. You should also know by now that no one orders 'meat' as a meal. Meat is part of a meal and is further differentiated as steak or chicken or sausage or venison, and finally... if you want to know why so many of the Emperor's soldiers are here in town, you should ask straight out," Ilya said and smirked at her.
"As if you would tell me," Talia scoffed.
"Try me," he shrugged.
"Alright. Why are there so many of the Emperor's soldiers around?" she asked and crossed her arms.
"Because he's sent a messenger to speak with Prince Mikhail upon his return, and then he sent a second, faster messenger to leave for the capitol the moment our Prince arrives so that the Emperor will be immediately informed of his whereabouts. The Emperor's messengers don't travel without a great deal of protection," Ilya explained.
"Why?" Talia asked, not even having to fake her interest as she leaned her elbows on the table.
"Why do they need so much protection? I suppose it's because they carry the words of the Emperor. They are, in a way, an embodiment of him... his mouthpiece... his-"
"No," she interrupted, "Why send so many men? What sort of message is so important that he would go to so much trouble?"
Ilya chuckled to himself and shook his head.
"And do you think I'll tell the captive ruler of Vezda who spent years at war with our Empire and despises our ruler, our state secrets just because she asked?" he grinned.
"You might as well," Talia shrugged. "Who would I tell? The table? The serving girl? The invisible commander of the invisible army I keep in my trunk?"
Ilya genuinely laughed at this and shook his head.
"I suppose you're right. Especially since I've already told you anyhow. I can't say for sure, but I suspect that the Emperor means to marry our Prince to the daughter of one of his greatest allies. The fact that The Duke of Bardie and his daughter have remained at court for several weeks now suggests as much. I would also imagine that they've been pressuring him in subtle ways for a response which would explain our Emperor's impatience in sending out two seperate groups," Ilya confided.
"Well... it doesn't seem like that urgent a matter," Talia frowned. "Weddings and marriages and all that can take a great deal of time to negotiate. It was almost six months of sending ships back and forth before father even agreed to consider the King of Blackside's terms when I was engaged."
"You're surprisingly indifferent about the matter," Ilya observed suspiciously.
"And why shouldn't I be?" Talia frowned and smoothed the whisps of hair from her forehead.
"You weren't quite as impartial when I mentioned it last evening," Ilya reminded her with a taunting glint in his eye.
"Well, you would be upset and offended too if the Prince was constantly trying to stuff his tongue down your throat and you found out he had a clueless fiance waiting patiently for him to sign his marriage contract!"
"Yes, I would certainly be upset if Prince Mikhail was constantly trying to stuff his tongue down my throat-- with or without the fiance. You make an excellent point," Ilya quickly agreed.
The two eyed each other from across the table and shared a grin. Talia was the first to laugh.
By the time their server returned to the table with their plates of food, there was a relaxed and light-hearted mood between the two sparring partners.