Grissa's daily evening walk was filled with a bit more anticipation than usual. While she was often annoyed or disinterested in the changing of their Nevermere oppressors, this time was different. Had her letter been received? Would the accursed Isolde and her ilk soon be pushed out of power?

The Kore-spirit very much liked the thought of that: she could almost hear her vengeful daughter laughing in her mind. Grissa whispered and muttered under her breath to calm Kore-spirit, assuring her of a near and swift justice.

The elderly woman was caught off-guard by one of the soldiers waving, taking a moment to process his question.

"Of course, young man," Grissa nodded, both hands wrapped around her walking stick. She would be exceptionally, uncharacteristically polite to the Nevermere soldiers. "What is ours is yours. I certainly hope you feel welcome and at home in our humble village."

"Thank you," Warren said, a quick nod as he pulled the cork from the skin and dipped it into the water, the leather expanding as it filled up. When he was done, he corked the skin and reattached it to his belt, returning his attention to her.

He didn't recognize the older woman, though she had surely been there during both of his last visits. The younger men were never focused on those older than them - that was inevitable. Though his wife had passed away a couple of years before Coheeds invasion of Cambria, Warren had never attempted to mingle with the Cambrians in such a way. His son had been far too heavy on his mind during that time. He'd already lost his wife, and he was afraid that if he attempted to find someone new, his son would hold it against him. He couldn't deny that his eyes had wandered, though. The women were nothing if not beautiful.

Yet he hadn't been able to remember any of them specifically, and he didnt expect any of them to remember him. "Young man," he laughed quietly, shaking his head and resting his hands behind his back. "I haven't been called that in quite some time."

Warren glanced around and thought about home. Although Cambria was much different from Nevermere in many ways, it was the place he had been second most in Terra Nova and he couldn't deny that the women seemed to make everything feel like home. Walking into the village was like walking onto a family estate. Everyone seemed to know one another. Everyone had a role, and children ran about freely. Their laughter filled the streets, and there always seemed to be a mutual respect between them all. It was more tense this time, perhaps because of the increased number of soldiers, or Isolde's rule. "I do feel welcomed, thank you. I've always thought it was beautiful here. I'm Warren."

"I am glad to hear that, Warren. I am Grissa," the elder dipped her head. "I have not had the..." privilege wasn't the right word, "Opportunity to visit where you soldiers hail from, but I am sure it must be quite something as well to build such strong women and men."

This Warren certainly looked a strong man, at least. Chiseled features, solid build, respectable. In her youth, he might have been a man she'd sought out to mate with, were he a Coheedsman. She hardly thought about such things anymore, other than finding good matches for some of her much younger sisters. Perhaps she could direct one his way...men were men, after all, and Grissa doubted the All-Mother worried about which nation her daughter's seed came from. All women were daughters of the All-Mother, after all, some were simply lost. 

She paused, taking a few deep breaths of the fresh chill mountain air, smiling at the sounds of children playing a bit down the road. 

"You and your soldiers must miss your families while you are here," Grissa said, looking back towards the man. "Why not bring them with you?"

As she introduced herself, Warren bowed his head as well. As she spoke of never having visited Nevermere, he was reminded of his time at court. He knew very well that, as Captain, he'd be expected to level some sort of decorum. In most situations like that, he reverted back of the most basic of principles: simple, respectful manners. His father had always taught him to do unto others as you would have them do unto you. If he expected the Cambrians to work together with Nevermere, to accept them and become a true part of them rather then something entirely separate, he had to treat them like they were Nevermerans themselves.

But he also had to be careful with his words, and he'd never been good at spinning subtle tales like Alinore. "I hope you're able to visit sometime, then, ma'am. It certainly has it's own beauty," he replied, genuine in his words, though careful. He couldn't blame her for her hesitation when he was soldered to his own. He could certainly agree with her emphasis on putting the women first. "If you'll excuse my saying so, though, I'm not sure it's Nevermere that makes the women so strong, it's the other way around."

Grissa appreciated his words about women making his country strong with a small smile. She'd heard plenty of horror stories of the way women were treated, seen firsthand the crude comments and objectification by some of the male soldiers. The Cambrian elder was used to that detestable treatment from the Coheedsmen. At least not all of the Nevermere men were so idiotic.

She noted his gaze leave her, his words entirely impersonal. It seemed more like he was giving out instructional information than having a conversation. Was he just business and mission focused?

"I'm sure," Grissa repeated. "Do my old eyes deceive me or were more soldiers than usual brought this rotation?"

Elders in Cambria were held in high regard for a reason, and generally he found that older women were a lot smarter than older men. Maybe it was because men grew too arrogant with age, he couldn't be sure. Maybe he was biased because his mother was such a strong figure in his life, but no matter what the reason, it took nothing away from the woman standing before him.

"No, ma'am," he said, a little bit of a laugh touching his tones and drawing up the corners of his mouth. "You're as sharp as ever. We have a lot of new recruits this season, and a lot of them will be stationed here off and on. So they've decided to pair some of them off for training purposes. Nearly doubled the numbers. Really crowded the boats." Occams razor might have been working against him when coming up with a story to explain the increased number of soldiers, but he hoped that sheer dumb luck would get him through. Even if she did call his bluff, all he could do was double down. Eventually, he'd just claim ignorance. As far as she knew, he was just another soldier. Why should he know anything?

"I see," Grissa looked in the distance back towards the docks. "It is good to train the youth in so hands on a way, I suppose. Hopefully the Cambrian air and sun will do them well...and you lot can actually eat," the elder clucked, looking Warren over. "They must starve you in the city. I'll cook you a nice fat sheep while you're here to put some more muscle on before the season's up."

She paused as if in thought for a few moments, letting her ears focus on the bustling of the village, certainly much more activity than normal. What was Nevermere up to, she wondered. 

"Double," she repeated his words, raising her brows with pursed lips. "I wonder what war was won some sixteen years ago for such a boom in population." Grissa paused to look over Warren once more. "Are any of them yours?"

At her comment, Warren found himself looking downward, at himself. Had he thinned out? He couldn't deny he'd been spending more time at his desk. He still did his usual exercises and training in the mornings, but unlike before when he was working out along the soldiers he was teaching, now he wasn't being as active during the day. And he'd been unable to eat during the whole ship ride. That's all it was. Surely.

The ease with which he relented to her criticism reminded Warren of his own mother, and a wider smile, coupled with a chuckle, reached his face and lips as he shook his head. "Well, I can't deny that we could do for some sun," he said, "and I wouldn't dare reject the offer of a good meal. Three days on the ship thoroughly emptied my stomach."

Now, because she had reminded him of his mother, he felt more at ease speaking with her. He continued to smile when she joked about the rise in population. Warren, of course, couldn't say that they had put out for new recruits because they'd planned on going to war with the Eldouir, but there was also nothing that coincided with a baby boom in the right set of years. There was no need to make an excuse up, though. She asked the question he'd attempted to previously avoid and his smile quickly faded back into neutrality. Once again he looked away, his chest slowly rising and falling. It'd been three years now. It felt like much, much longer. "No, ma'am, none of them are mine."

They were though, in a way, all his. At least while they were in Cambria. That wasn't what she meant, though. "But they're all like my family, in a way. It would be difficult not to feel that way after serving for so long. Perhaps it's somewhat similar to the way you consider other Cambrian's your sister. You may not be blood, but you still care for one another as if you were family."

"It's settled, then," Grissa found that her smile back did not have to be faked. "I hear we're expected to attend some sort of feast gathering in the mess hall to mingle with the new cohort of soldiers. Perhaps tomorrow evening, then. That should give me plenty of time to hunt for our meal."

This Warren really was rather proper and polite...for a man and outsider, at least. She appreciated that respect, and hoped more of the soldiers were of the same breed...it would make negotiations for an independent Cambria so much more achievable.

But then his face was distant once more, more shell of a man standing in the place of the able soldier. With his answer and attitude, she could only surmise that the man had lost his child. That resonated deeply with Grissa, who daily carried the burden of Kore's death...Kore's murder. Even now if she unfocused her eyes, she could see the dark Kore-spirit hovering just behind the soldier, vengeful eyes burning red.

"Patience," Grissa muttered under her breath, unintentionally aloud. "The time will come soon enough."

The elder refocused on the man, "Of course. Family can be built in blood, sweat, or tears. I would imagine a great many of your young soldiers look up to you as their warrior-father, and your bond only grows with each blade deflected and arrow shielded to protect them from harm and lead them to victory."

Warren had heard mention of a feast in the dining hall, which he remembered from his last visit to Cambria. The soldiers would be ready for a good meal after spending three days on the boats over, and it would be good to get them mingling with the women, though he wasn't sure yet if he'd be joining them or making his own preparations. He still had to get Regan's room ready for her and her traveling companion.

"Oh, did you want help?" He asked, though he realized immediately after that it might've been rude to insinuate that she couldn't handle the hunt herself. Women her age in Nevermere would have been long since retired, and even the commoners would likely have family that helped to take care of them. That she was still going out and hunting herself was an incredible feat, but it wasn't as if the Cambrian's were normal women.

He couldn't have known that Grissa, like him, had lost her child. If he had known, he might have spoken of it. Not as a manipulation, never for that, but mutual commiseration was something he could share with few others. Instead, though, he heard her mutter under his breath and for a moment, he worried that she was cursing him. Grissa was not a witch, though, and patience was not a curse. "The time? Ma'am, I'm not--" she was already moving on, and he frowned, but let it go. Maybe it was some kind of prayer. Maybe she knew, and just hadn't said. Whatever it was, he accepted it as a difference in culture.

"I do hope they trust me to do what I can to teach and protect them," he admitted, even if warrior-father sounded a little silly to him. It was only silly because they didn't consider themselves warriors, but soldiers, and his soldiers considered him more a pain in the ass than a father figure. But it was a nice thought. "If I may ask, Grissa, I've heard some of the other women speaking about the All-Mother? Is she your goddess, or are they referring to the Chieftess?"

"Thank you for the offer, young man, but I have to stretch out these bones somehow," the old woman chortled. "Besides, a young buck like you may just frighten them all away!"

Grissa's daily hunts kept her busy, a good pastime with a purpose. Alone in the mountains, tracking and stalking, she had a better connection to hear the voice of her long lost daughter. It was Kore-spirit that kept her company more than most these days, mourning and reflecting on the Cambria of the past. Fantasizing about how she might put an end to Isolde's reign and finally give the vengeful Kore rest. She sought the All-Mother's guidance during those treks as well, in the whisper of the wind, the patterns in the snow, the mumbling of the brook. All seemed in confirmation of the change that would come to Cambria...and Grissa hoped and prayed for its rapid arrival.

"I suppose Goddess is one such term for her," Grissa allowed, leaning on her walking stick. "She is our creator and provider; we believe we bear her image, and follow her guidance as stewards in this realm. She has never forsaken us, even leading us out of Coheed oppression many years ago, even before my time! Many of our youth forget the goodness of the All-Mother and lack faith," that was said with a bit of sorrow, though she did not voice that she blamed Nevermere for that particular calamity. "But I have no doubts that in time She will make herself clear again and all will revel in her power

"We would refer to our Chieftess as Mother, but..." her face cycled through disgust, anger, and finally sadness. "Our last Chieftess, my daughter Kore, was taken from us. Taken too soon. Priestess Isolde is our leader now."

While she kept her voice even (Grissa knew all too well how far voices could carry), her face and posture showed all too well her disapproval of such a fact. It took a deep breath and a sigh to return her expression to neutral.

"But, I imagine our politics are of no interest to you."

Warren understood her reasoning for wanting to do the hunt herself. His father had always told him that if you stop working when you get old, you just up and die. He'd thought it was silly when he was young, but his father had passed away from illness not long after retiring from the military. Grissa probably had it right. It was best to keep in practice, rather than sit around and let time do it's worst. "You're probably right about that. I'm not particularly sneaky." He replied with a faint smile, conceding that it was, unfortunately, the truth.

She seemed more than willing to speak to him about her goddess, which he appreciated. Religion could be a touchy subject to some people. Some wanted to keep it to themselves, as if telling others might steal it away. Others would talk about their beliefs for ages. Warren and his family had never worshiped the twofold goddess, but he figured that if there was any deity looking upon them and controlling all that they knew, it must be a woman.

The pinch of pain in his chest forced an inhale, and he bowed his head down toward the ground. "I didn't mean to bring up painful thoughts," he said, apologetically. "I know how it feels to lose a child. My sincerest condolences could never be enough." He moved his hands behind his back, linking his fingers together and rubbing them against one another. Her dislike for Isolde came immediately clear, and he couldn't blame her. Odina had mentioned in their meeting that many of the Cambrians thought that Isolde had poisoned the former Chieftess in order to take her position. If that was true, Grissa had every right to want her gone.

He disliked the thought that the information was useful, that Grissa could be useful, if removing Isolde proved more a problem than it should be. But he had to think that way. He wanted this transition to go as smoothly as possible, and if that meant asking one of their elders to support Odina taking over, so be it.

"I do appreciate the information, ma'am. It'll help me understand your fellow Cambrians more while I'm here." He nodded to a pair of soldiers as they passed. Lucky for his cover that most of the soldiers tried to avoid him as often as possible.

Grissa dipped her head at his words, "Likewise, young soldier."

It was as she suspected...he had lost a child. Much more unfortunate for one so young. She was not sure if parenthood was as sacred in his culture as it was in hers, but certainly the sting could not be any less. The elder almost scoffed at her own heart for feeling a pang of sorrow for the soldier: the last thing she expected today was to sympathize with a man, of all things. Still...this man had proved to be decidedly un-barbaric, unlike his brethren. The Coheedsmen would have made pointed efforts to show off the size of their muscles and other organs by now, all while abusing any and all women in sight. Misbehaving naughty children, the lot of them. This Warren fellow probably had more brain then all of Cambria combined.

"I am glad to be of assistance," she replied, smiling softly as she shifted her weight: her age was beginning to pain her bones. "I am always pleased to aid polite warriors on their quests. Do let me know or stop by if you seek anything else. My hut is the fifth along that line," the woman pointed a gnarled finger to the west. "And I do become so lonesome for want of company."