The city was hers. Her nascent Empire was growing. Selenia could feel it in her bones, taste it in the burnt smell of the air. With the battle for the walls done and the city occupied and in anarchy, the Empress was about different business today.
Today she wore her dark green dueling leathers, her sun-bleached blond hair braided tightly to her scalp, swirling in the interesting patterns native to the Desert of Silhouettes which she'd adopted from her late husband, Dead some 15 years now. Her tawny arms, more muscled than a pampered lady's should be, were bear to the wind. Her twin kukris were sheathed at her sides and a snowline cloak thrown about her shoulders. The blasted thing was both hot and heavy, but it looked good. And in the Ivory Court, Appearances were important indeed.
She knew the city well, and little had changed. Her men were engaging in freedom celebrations, but she was escorted by the other members of the Ivory Court that wished to witness the event.
She strolled confidently to wear her scouts reported Duchess Raziella had holed herself up...
