These segments will be a small chapter as I was taken to task years ago about “head hopping,” changing the internal monolog from one character to another with little or no warning, so the reader becomes confused. With one one deliberate exception that comes to mind right now, I do not do that anymore. So, since this little bit around the campfires is all Pai, I’ll separate it.

Having a cute gal from a country allied to yours for a century wander into your camp can be vaguely disturbing or, with accent, somewhat endearing. Pai uses that to push them and gets a surprise. Have I mentioned how seriously I, and they, take loyalty?

Enjoy my content? Buy me a beer!

One more ale and much needed trip to the bathroom had them across the bridge and walking due south in the twilight, up the hill toward the Capital Grounds.  Closer, they saw lights and tents then heard the voices and yells of children.  There seemed to be nearly a hundred, with a few adults scattered here and there.  And, thankfully, those six portapotties set up over there.  Rather not have him piss against the tree he’ll be sleeping under.  “Any idea?” he asked.

“Just checked,” she said, pulling from the Void.  “There are several Brother- and Sisterhoods here on a kind of field trip to learn more about the imperium’s government.  I know you are tired, but this might be a chance for me to gently sound these kids as to how they view Aurelia.”

“Yes, I am a little tired,” he admitted.  “I have read a little about those groups.  A dozen per, ages eight to eighteen, randomly assigned, right?”

“Yes, not mandatory by strongly encouraged for community cohesion.  Even my mom started something similar in Russia a century ago,” Pai said.  “Largely self-directed, the older ones keeping control of the younger, I suspect the adults are here as chaperones to make sure no one gets pregnant.”

“Did my part there last night,” he muttered.  “Picked out a tree for me, Wife?”

She bedded him down in a tiny dell.  With kids about, made sure his lock was on his rifle, then put a thin blanket from his bag over him.  He was asleep before she took two steps away.  Not so much tired, but stressed.  The three of us together is not easy on either of the humans, she knew she should not talk that way, even to herself, and Alix’s mother…

“She really, really hates me,” she whispered, walking slowly toward the encampments.  “Graf is a dislike as a foreigner and because of their relationship.  I am hated.”

She stopped.  “I have never been hated before.  I am older.”

On the eastern side of the Grounds, the Prefect’s Palace side, were twelve and seven tents, just slightly apart, with two cooking fires, one at the head and the other the foot.  Light was from some torches here and there, though both the young and older held some flashlights.  Fire is atavistic, and provokes a genetic, emotional response in hu- these people.  This is an adventure they will carry in their souls.  I need to talk to Uncle Balthazar about that.  Later.  She moved a bit closer…

“Hold up, there,” a man called to her right.  He shined a light from her feet to her chest, not wanting to ruin her night vision.  Silly.  “You are?”

“I am Pai Winstead.  My husband is asleep under tree, over there, away from your encampment.  We are just passing through and shall be gone at seven in morning,” she reported.

“You don’t look local,” he said, still not satisfied.

“I am not.  We are not.  I am a subject of the Russian Empire.  My husband is from former Wisconsin, not yet a part of any political entity.  However,” her tone changed and she took a step forward, “we are here at Empress’ order.”

Flustered by her words and the sonics behind them, the man was confused.  “Well, then.  Ah.  We do have some kids here, and no one wants trouble…”

“Why did you,” she drew the word out, “mention trouble?  I’m a tiny young woman.  My husband is already asleep in the dark.  We Russians, too, have the Brother- and Sisterhoods.  I wanted to be older about how you, in the imperium, nurture them.”

With more sonics about the word nurture, he finally relaxed.  “Mrs. Winstead, was it?  I’ll introduce you to the other parents and see if it’s okay for you to speak with our kids.”

“They are your children.  Nothing on earth or over it is more important.  Your name?” she asked.

“Sorry, me being surprised and now rude,” he said, holding out his hand.  “Bret Zim, from Georgetown, to the east.”

“Zim?” she echoed, touching his hand.  “There is a connexion to the imperial family…”

“It’s family lore,” he corrected, almost embarrassed.  “Very distant cousin.  We’re no part of that.”

“I see.” This one, perhaps mid-thirties, mentally distances himself from House Hartmann.  I do want to speak with the children.

From the northern fire, down the centerline between the tents, girls on the right; I bet adult patrols overnight.  Some of the senior members are eighteen and can do what they want.  I wonder how they handle that?  They stopped again at the fire at the south, just a little down the hill.  Pai noted some lights from the Mansion, but no one came out.  This would be an excellent time to tell stories.  Why do they not?  That she was a foreigner had a few sidelong glances, but the youthful look of her body mollified the men.  If only they knew what this form was.  No one objected to her speaking with the kids still out and about, but no disturbing any little ones who might already be in their tents.  She bowed deeply, thanking them.

I want to talk to the boys, first.  They will have created a hierarchy in moments of setting up, here.  She looked about, the area perfectly visible to her mechanical eyes.  There, those three.  Mid to late teens, so leaders.  Pai, normally moving silently, made enough noise they, at the edge of the camp, by the Palace, all looked over to see her walk over.  I know this body looks young, I’ll use that.

“Hi, guys!” just to play with them, she allowed her local dialect into her voice.  “Am visiting from Russia.  You have campfire?”

The one who looked oldest introduced himself and the other two.  Their Brotherhood was from Bardstown. 

“Ah!  Much your imperial history there!  First Empress’ father was, how do you say, militia keptin?”

They tried to talk over themselves, explaining the Breakup, the mutiny in Fort Knox, Leslie Hartmann, and the formation of the imperial family.  I really am a sneaky person.  Perhaps, after people like my mom and Faustina, a certain deviousness is required in this Changed world?  Again, another question for my devout uncle. 

Her mouth just parted, she looked from one to another as they all talked.  Faking a shudder of chill, they walked her back to one of the fires.  Seeing three with this very cute girl, other boys converged immediately.  Pai smiled, but for a reason they did not know.

“But, so long ago!” she said a little over them.  “Now has peace.  Imperial family not important, no?”

The silence was total.

“I say wrong?” she asked.

“Don’t you respect you own imperial family, the Romanovs?” someone yelled from two ranks back.

“Of course.  Imperial family guides us.  But it is other who rules.” She dropped her voice.  “Like here, is different person.”

That got their attention.  The murmuring and disquiet was immediate.  She noted some of the chaperones coming over.  “I not want anyone in trouble with your minders,” she said softer.

“Our empress…” one voice in the dark.

“The imperial family,” the young man who first spoke with her said, loud, “saved us, protected us, have taken us to the stars!  I, no, we, will not have some Russian badmouth them!  Apologize!”

Yikes.