We are a proud family, Katrine, and our traditions are rooted in adherence to duty. Palatia’s history is one of shame, of subjugation and servitude. Never again, we have sworn, shall we be the victims…always the conquerors. This is the way. Remember it well, never forget…for it will demand much from you.

Begin your adherence to the way, my daughter, now, by not mourning me. If my life has been lost in service to our Alliance, have only joyous thoughts, for death in battle is honorable, a fitting way for one of the Regulli to die.

Grow, my child, revel in the joys of life at Litora Montis. Run, hike, feel the sun on your face. And when, in time, you reach adulthood, know that my pride follows your every achievement. I know you will bring only glory and honor to our great house.

Litora Montis, Rigellus Family Estate

Astara II, Palatia

Year 58 (307 AC)

Katrine fought off the wave of sadness. It was unbecoming to someone of her station.

It was disappointing perhaps, that she couldn’t see her children for a longer time before she embarked. It had been over a year since she had last been home, and she felt a longing to spend more time with them, hold them close. But duty was first. Always. It was the way. And it fell to her to teach them that lesson, by example. Her natural instincts to shower them with affection would only make them weak.

The way is the way…

She owed even the two days she’d had with them to Vennius, who had dispatched his private flyer to take her home. Kat had been ready to cancel her trip back to the estate after the Commander-Maximus had given her the orders to take command of Invictus, but the old man had insisted she return, that she visit her children, even for a few hours.

She smiled thinking of the old man. Palatians weren’t supposed to mourn parents lost in battle. They were supposed to proudly wear their status as war orphans. But she was still grateful she’d had a second chance to enjoy a father’s love and support.

She’d wondered if the children had been as anxious to see her as she had been to see them. She remembered her own childhood, her mother killed in action when she was only three, her life among the stewards and tutors of the family manor. Her father had been on campaign much of the time, of course, a ship commander first and then a fleet exec. She had seen him perhaps once a year on average, generally for no more than a few weeks, though she recalled one stretch of almost three years he’d been gone during the Eucallus War.

And then the last time.