After an eventful night, dawn finds Robin pulling twigs from her hair and yawning and stretching her way into the Castle.  A shudder goes through her frame as she enters in the leaning heap of stone.
            Almost immediately disoriented the Ranger pounces on the first poor sleepy page she can find.
            "Can you tell me, please, if Prince Benedict is still within the Castle?"

"I believe so, My Lady.  I saw him talking to Steward Vent this morning."
            The castle pages are sadly lacking in initiative compared to the runners who serve the Rangers. Corvi would have already run off for Benedict by now.

Corvi... Robin flinches slightly at the memory.  Another ghost from before the great chasm that divides her life in two.  Did Corvi slip off into the encroaching Deep while Robin was gone?  Or does she simply not exist in this reality?
            Realizing that she's been drifting, Robin drags herself back with a shake of her head.  "Would you be able to take me to him?" The Ranger decides to play nice with the sheep.  After all, she's still getting continually lost in the meadow.

"I think I know where they went, yes.  Please come with me."

"Thank you."

The lad leads her up stairs, climbing through wings and halls that are not well-frequented, towards some that look as if they are merely there to give shape to dust.  There are window-slits, but not much air or light come through them.
            Eventually the page opens a door that leads out to a balcony overlooking the city.  Prince Benedict stands in the sunlight, quietly speaking with a shorter, pudgier man.

Robin represses the shudders as she walks, wrapping her arms tightly around herself as their footsteps echo weirdly through the dead empty tunnels of Amber Castle.  Her breathing comes faster and faster, in short little pants, as the dust seems to reach out to smother her.
            When the door opens, the Ranger can't help herself and she rushes past the page onto the balcony.  Once she's in the wind once more, a deep breath goes into the girl and she fights to unclench herself and return her color to something approaching normal.  It probably would be a good idea not to be gasping when she meets her oldest uncle as well.

Benedict stands near the edge of the parapet, his empty half-sleeve blowing slightly in the wind.  He turns at her approach.  "Ah, Robin.  I assume you were looking for me and are not just here taking in the air?"  The pudgy man is silent.

"At this point, air is a very good thing."  The Ranger says with a rueful chuckle.  "But yes, sir, I was looking for you.  If you have a moment."  Robin smiles apologetically to the pudgy man.

"Of course,"  He does not even turn back to the other man.  "Steward Vent, we can continue our discussion later."
            The Steward smiles gracefully at the Prince and makes his way to the door and the page follows him.
            When they are alone, Benedict leans out onto the parapet, his one arm bracing his wiry body.
            "What can I do for you, Robin?"

"Sir?"  Robin fights the urge to stutter or hum and haw.  "I wanted to offer my condolences to you.  Aisling was a brave and beautiful being.  It risked everything to return my men to me.  And it's loss diminishes us all.  If there's anything I can do..." Robin trails off with a shrug.  She didn't really feel like taking up anyone who made that offer to her, but still.

He stands quietly for a moment, perhaps contemplating the city moving far below.  "I didn't really know her, of course, and so the loss is more abstract than personal.  I think she was much like a moth flying between torches in a windstorm.  For all that she was a spy for our enemies, the reports I have heard indicate that she was honest, if unwise."

'Her,' Robin thinks, 'she.'  And remembers Jovian's winces whenever the Ranger used a neutral pronoun for Aisling.  Okay, probably best to avoid those here as well.  Though Robin doesn't think that Aisling was any more female than a sunset is.
            "I didn't know her well either, sir.  But..." a fond smile lines Robin's lips in the morning light, "she was kind.  And funny.  And helpful... I wish we had had more time."  Robin's smile turns sad as she also turns to contemplate the flowing air over the mountain and the clouds.

Benedict looks at her sad smile.  "Do you have any children, Robin?"

The Ranger's eyes flick back to Benedict, a little surprised.  "No, sir."  A small shake of her head sets the beads in her hair to clicking.  And the daughter of Julian waits for it.

"That's good," says Benedict absently.  He changes the subject.   "I understand you are taking the war to our enemies.  How do you plan to proceed?"

"Father has dispatched me to The Isle of Danaan to speak to the priestesses there concerning Dragons and their weaknesses.  And to brush up on my goddessing."  A wry twist tweaks one side of Robin's lips.
            "I suspect a more formal plan will develop from there."

Benedict nods. "Being a god is a shortcut to power, but it's a limited power.  It leads to self-limiting mindsets.  As to Dragons, they are creatures of Chaos.  Fight them with our strengths."

Robin rolls that around in her mind, her brows raised in appreciation.  Sweetly done.  "Thank you, sir."

"Fight well, Robin."  He turns back to look over the city.  The flap of his sleeve where his arm is missing waves languidly at the port below.

"Yes, sir.  Thank you again."  Robin nods to her Uncle and takes her leave.  As well as a deep breath as she plunges once more into the dusty twisting close corridors of Castle Amber.