Alisa didn't dare tell anyone about the dream. She hadn't dreamed in years, and to dream of a demon who knew her family name— it must have been because of all the travel, and being in the Parish, and staying in the estate. It was the only explanation.

And one she was going to keep to herself, she decided as she dressed for the day.

She was still uncertain as to what one wore to a Venandi presentation. Rarely would she be expected to wear a dress, though that wasn't to say she wouldn't enjoy the chance to. But she assumed once the meeting was over there would be training of some sort, so she opted for leggings and boots, a fitted cotton blouse and a leather fighting jacket over it. She wore no weapons because she had none to her name, and the jacket would give enough warmth on the autumn morning that a heavy cape wouldn't be necessary.

She had chosen correctly, it seems, for Chey gave her a look of approval as she descended the stairs for breakfast. No longer an Imerman in the sense, his dress was more ceremonial in nature, though it constituted the same long fighting jacket and gloves and boots he was more accustomed to, but in muted greys and whites. His sword hung at his hip, at least the one she could see— the Venandi had no qualms about being armed within the Parish.

"Eat something quick," he said as he pointed to the dining room where Bren was already devouring a breakfast pastry.

Alisa wasted no time grabbing one for herself, taking a bite while she poured herself a mug of coffee. She felt Bren watching her, but she wasn't ready to have another conversation with him. She had said all she needed to say the night before, for the time being, and had to trust that he would uphold his end of their agreement.

"I'll have your belongings brought to you at the Tower once things are settled," Chey was saying to her brother from the doorway.

Bren nodded, taking another bite of breakfast.

"As for you," Chey said, looking at her, "we have at least another month before the Initiation so expect more mornings like this until then."

"Is there a presentation every morning?" Bren asked while Alisa's mouth was full of coffee.

Chey nodded. "Every Venandi and Imerai have the opportunity to be presented to their Council by their family up until the day of the Initiation. And therefore we give each the chance every morning to do so so as not to be accused of favoritism in any way."

"So who will present us?" Alisa asked, finally swallowing. "Since our parents aren't here."

"I will," Chey said.

"But you're High Councilman," Bren reminded him.

"And also the closest thing to family either of you has in the Parish at the moment, so it will have to do."

"Won't the remaining Council members have a problem with that?" Alisa asked, remembering the conversation she had overheard between Chey and her parents.

"The Council can remember who leads them," Chey said with an edge to his tone. "Now, if the two of you are done eating and asking questions, we need to leave."

Neither she nor her brother challenged him, both respectively finishing the last bit of their pastry or the last sip of their coffee before following Chey out of the house. He was already halfway down the gravel driveway by the time Alisa emerged into the early morning chill, shutting the door behind her. With no horses in sight, it seemed they would be walking to the capital center.

She fell in step beside her brother, who was as taken in by the city sights around them as she was. Having been so used to Northwick, it was but a hovel in comparison to the glamour of the Parish. As they made their way from the residential district towards the more commercial portion of the city, the foot traffic on the roads also increased of Venandi, Imerai and common citizens preparing for another day ahead. No one gave Chey or them any attention, too focused on their own endeavors as if they were used to the High Councilman making this daily trek.

"I'll bring you just to the Tower," Chey called back to them from over his shoulder. "From there you'll enter straight into the meeting hall and sit until it's time."

Alisa nodded; the instructions seemed easy enough. The Tower in question was unmissable— it was the tallest, most central building in the Parish, and all roads seemed to lead to it. Made of smooth white marble, it was a beacon for all who made their pilgrimage to the capital. Not only was it the central seat of power for the continent, but also where the Clerics lived, worked, and maintained the history of the Venandi families.

A silent acknowledgment passed between her and her brother as their eyes met. Within would be the answers Alisa needed about her father's identity, and if anyone was going to help her find it, it would be her brother.

They walked through one more block of storefronts and restaurants before the road ended, opening up to a circular plaza that surrounded the Tower. Cobblestones turned to marble as it seemed the city opened up to reveal its central beauty. There were trees planted and potted flowers blooming, interspersed between marble sitting benches and viewing pools.

It was beautiful. Peaceful. Serene...

The absolute opposite of Venandi life.

"This is where I'll leave you," Chey announced as they arrived just at the base of the long, broad marble staircase that led to the main entrance of the Tower. He pointed up the stairs. "Straight ahead, and stay with each other."

"I promise," Alisa assured him, taking her brother's hand for emphasis. Bren didn't pull away.

Chey nodded his approval. "We'll speak later then."

He gave them each the Imerai salute— a fisted hand over his heart— and a nod before he walked away from the central stairway towards a side entrance, out of sight. Most likely one the Council members used to maintain a sense of privacy and mystere.

A tug at her hand by her brother pulled Alisa back to the present, and they were walking side by side up the to and through the large main entrance of the Council's Tower.

Chey was right— there was no way they could have missed the meeting hall.

Once they breached the top of the stairs, the front doors were opened wide with a Parish guard stationed on either side in their customary blue and silver regalia. Both were armed with longswords and held spears as they stood at attention, but neither allowed their attention to drift as Alisa and Bren walked past.

Once through the main entrance, they were in a large entryway with high ceilings and curving hallways spreading out on either side. Ahead of the was another set of open doors, again patrolled by a Parish guard on either side and through it, there was no doubt that it was where they needed to go.

The central meeting room was large and lined with benches, most already filled by spectating Venandi and Imerai alike. At the front of the large room was a long table with five chairs, the center one more ornate than the others— no doubt for the High Councilman and the rest of the Count of Five. Two more doorways were at the front of the hall, one on either side of the room, but that was it. No decoration, no ornamentation, no artistry.

This was more the Venandi agenda she expected from the Parish.

A few nearby onlookers gave her and Bren a curious glance, but Alisa kept her attention focused on trying to find them a seat. She wondered how many more the room could fit if they had another month of potential presentations before the Initiation. She finally found a spot about halfway down the aisle and apologized as she squished next to a redheaded Venandi with bright green eyes and freckles who looked about Alisa's age. They exchanged a smile and Alisa muttered an apology as she sat, with Bren next to her. Adjusting herself in her seat, Alisa caught the stare of an Imerman sitting across the aisle, his deep blue eyes meeting hers for longer than she liked. She gave him a glare which received a smirk in response before she looked away, paying more attention to smoothing down her jacket than the way his black hair fell across his brow or how the angles of his cheekbones beneath his dark complexion arched with that smirk.

You are a Rousseau. Which means people will be expecting more of you once you're there.

She hated feeling like her family name was as much of a brand on her as the one Venandi received on Initiation Day. But Chey was right. She was a Rousseau. And she was going to prove to them that she had the right to be there as much as anyone else.

So she looked back across the aisle, towards that Imerman who was staring at her before. Who continued to watch her.

Good.

Because she watched back. And to his devious smirk, she answered with a broad smile.

She did not falter. He did not balk.

At least, not until one of the front doors opened and the Council of Five deigned to grace them all with their presence.