The questioning continued for hours, covering every topic that Lily had prepared him for—and many she had not.

Despite that, Alarion felt more at ease with each question. Some had been difficult, such as when she'd asked about how it felt to fight against the dead, and especially against his own comrades. Even then, Ella gave him plenty of breaks between the more severe topics, splitting her time more or less evenly between her two guests.

"… We can only hope, Governor," Ella agreed, turning her attention to Alarion. "Perhaps Orphan will be of some use in that regard?"

"He is full of surprises," Williams laughed, a little too performative. "I was not expecting him to become a civil intermediary in my absence."

Alarion winced. True to his word, he had been accepting visitors at Lily's villa for two hours every day since his speech. Most complaints were material—about food or housing shortages. Others were disputes, often with Vitrian officials, but sometimes between the Ashadi themselves. He did his best, listening to the petitioners and taking their complaints to the vice-governor, or mediating himself when possible. To her credit, she saw the opportunity Alarion presented. She couldn't give them everything, for there was not enough to go around, but she provided enough.

The Ashadi felt their voices heard, and violence in the city plunged overnight.

"It was not my intention," Alarion said. "I have your daughter to thank for that speech. Since then, I have just been doing my best to keep the peace."

"Oh, now I know you are stretching the truth," Ella laughed, shifting slightly in her seat and cocking her head to one side. "What is it they call you again?"

Alarion blushed. "Martyr in the West. I have asked them to stop."

"That is the common translation, for our listeners. I believe in Ashadi, it is, Vaelde, oto sai. Is that right?"

"I believe so."

"That is an old word, is it not?"

"I am not sure I understand your meaning," Alarion frowned ever so slightly.

"I mean that it is archaic. I believe the more modern word for martyr would be Vael, but they chose the word Vaelde because it sounds more refined and does not carry some of the baggage of the Second Ashadi War."

Unsure of what to say, Alarion simply nodded.

"I only ask because one of our producers had a major in continental languages. He explained to me that Vaelde takes its origin from the Celesian word Vaelaeveria, meaning martyr of my people. I thought it was ironic, given that you are not of their people."

"I am sorry?"

"Do not be," Ella waved the words away with a smile, as if they were an actual apology. "My point is that you are not Ashadi. You are Imurian, no?"

"Oh. Yes," he agreed. "But I have lived most of my life in Ashad."

"Since you were eight, correct?"

"Around that, yes. I am not entirely sure."

"A long time. I certainly understand the self-identification, and I doubt anyone would blame you." She let the words hang for a moment before asking, "You were born on an orchard, is that right?"

Alarion's blood froze.

Had she known that? The Ordinates had never asked, nor had Elena—and certainly not Dar. The only person he'd ever told was Sierra.

"Near the township of Redburn?" Ella prompted.

Alarion drew in a sharp breath, then nodded. "Close by, yes."

"You said you were eight, so that would have been… 489 A.T.S.?"

"Around there."

"I am not sure what you are getting at," Williams said.

"It is a bit of a footnote," Ella explained, to Alarion's growing dread. "But there was a tragedy in Redburn, toward the tail-end of the Imurian Annexation. Can you shed some light, Alarion?"

He paused just long enough to look guilty before saying, "I cannot."

"Perhaps a reminder?" she suggested. "The entire population of Redburn was found dead in two locations in the summer of that year. One hundred and ninety-two were found in the city itself, brutally murdered at knife-point. Authorities found the remaining population several miles south of the town during an exhaustive search."

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Alarion said nothing. Even if she'd asked a question, he wouldn't know where to begin.

"Is this an appropriate venue for this discussion?" Williams asked.

Ella ignored him.

"The Imurians blamed us, of course, given the war. But an independent investigation conducted after its conclusion definitively proved the Empire's innocence. There was, however, one discrepancy in their records. The census listed eight hundred and eighty-nine victims, but they only recovered eight hundred and eighty-six bodies."

"What are you suggesting?" he asked at last.

"I have it on good authority from a confidential source that you fled Imuria alongside your mother and sister. That would make three," Ella's ice-blue eyes burrowed into his as she spoke. "I am obviously not suggesting that you had any part in this, but perhaps you know who did?"

"I was eight years old," Alarion answered flatly.

"I think the Orphan has said enough," Williams warned

"An eight-year-old with an Aptitude of two hundred and thirty-eight. Did the events at Redburn have anything to do with that?"

"No,"

"Stop talking, Alarion," Williams said again.

"Did your mother-"

"I am not answering questions about my mother."

Williams' chair squeaked sharply on the polished floor as he stood abruptly. He interrupted Ella's next question by swatting the overhead microphone away and grabbing the host by the arm. He dragged her a short distance away, the two furiously arguing in hushed tones.

Lily stole the opportunity to rush on set, crouching down next to Alarion where he sat.

"Are you alright?"

Alarion swallowed the lump in his throat. "I think so."

"Good. You are done. Springing that on you is low, even for her."

"I want to stay."

Lily frowned. "Are you sure? I do not think she is going to go back to the simple questions."

"I need to ask my own," he said.

Lily studied him for a moment, then smiled thinly. "Be careful. When you are ready to walk, we walk."

It took half an hour for Williams and Ella to resolve their conflict. Williams raged and threatened, but like all true Vitrian strife, it came down to a contract. Ella's was ironclad. No editorial oversight, two and a half hour minimum. Williams took the loss with all the grace one might expect, storming out of the studio.

Ella, for her part, didn't miss a beat. "Before the break, we were talking about Redburn."

"I do not know what happened," Alarion said. The argument had given him time to weigh his options. Lying was out of the question—especially when he didn't know how much Ella knew—but refusing to engage was almost as bad. His previous answers made him look guilty as sin, so he leaned on the truth as he knew it, while omitting the worst. "There was a man, a Systemborn, I think, but I do not know that for sure. He was conducting some sort of ritual that went awry. The backlash killed everyone involved."

"A failed ritual hardly explains the bodies found in the town proper," Ella noted.

"I know nothing about those," he answered honestly. "I did not even know they had died."

"Why did you run? Why not go to the authorities?"

"I do not know. Leaving was my mother's decision."

"Would she know the answer?"

"She might." Alarion drew a shaky breath as he gathered the courage to ask a question of his own. "Did you find her?"

Ella's eyes softened as only mother's could. "No. We are still looking, and we could use your help. But so far we have not."

Alarion's eyes stung. Part of him had been hopeful. Ella had known so many details that it had been conceivable she might have tracked them down. And she seemed like the sort to spring an ambush if she had. Yet despite his incredible disappointment, Alarion knew it was for the best. Just like he knew he could not help her.

If Ella found them, then the Vitrians would have them. Sierra's father couldn't hurt Alarion directly, but he'd have Alarion's family killed in a heartbeat if he knew where they were. Assuming others didn't attempt to capture them for leverage.

When he was strong enough, he might search them out. But for now, anonymity was their best defense.

If they were still alive at all.

"Since we are running out of time, I want to move on to another difficult subject."

Alarion steadied himself, policing his emotions to focus on the task at hand. "Okay."

"You are the only survivor of the Trinity Massacre."

"Is that a question?"

"I suppose not. How are you the only survivor?" she pressed.

"The report is public," Alarion told her. "I could not sleep. I went for a moonlight walk to a small outcrop next to the manor. When the attack happened, I hid."

"And the Ashadi terrorists failed to locate you?"

"I saw none of them, so they must have."

"You can understand why some find this suspicious?" She asked.

"Mm," he answered. "But I hope my recent actions speak louder than those suspicions."

"I am on record as being skeptical of the official story, and even I must confess you have won me over on that front." Ella leafed through the papers on her desk until her fingers closed around a glossy image unlike the rest of the blank pages. "Do you know what this is?"

Alarion did. The photo was of ZEKE's ruined body propped up against a wall. His cracked-open head made for a grisly, if bloodless, sight.

"That was my Steelborn instructor, ZEKE."

"A Zephyr Industries model, formally known as Ezekial, is that correct?" When Alarion agreed, she drew his attention to the wound on his head. "And this?"

Alarion did his best to feign ignorance. "The death blow?"

"Not quite. Would it surprise you to learn that this Steelborn might be a living witness to the massacre?"

"It would delight me," he said. "I was quite fond of ZEKE, even if he was stubborn. And if he were alive to tell the tale, he would exonerate me fully."

Ella pursed her lips briefly as if considering pressing for more information. But with their time running short, she set the photo aside and moved on to her last line of questioning.

"Your original posting was to the 126th Fusiliers, was it not?"

"It was."

"From there, the 27th Reserve. Then the 92nd Irregulars, followed by the 103rd Reserve…"

"All correct," Alarion confirmed, not seeing her point. "Why?"

"Have you kept up on the status of your previous units?"

He felt a pang of dread. "No. Why?"

"The 126th was wiped out to a man during a subjugation nine months after your departure," she began. "The 27th took eighty percent losses around the same time. Recent casualty figures for the 92nd and the 103rd are still restricted, given the ongoing situation, but it is well known that the 13th suffered heavy losses."

"What are you getting at?"

"A township dies, and you survive. A household dies, and you survive. We could not track your living relatives because every family that hosted you is either missing or dead. Every unit you serve in goes on to suffer well above average fatality rates." Ella fixed him with a stare as she asked the question she had been building to all along. "Why is it that everyone around you dies?"

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