"This is madness," Sebastian murmured, his lips barely moving as he let his thoughts be known to her. "We have so little-"

"We have all we have," his companion, the tall and elegant, violet haired, ram-horned beauty that was Philomel van der Aart replied, her well-toned arms lifting to cross over her chest. "We are all there is. So it has to be possible. There has to be a chance."

"Look," the man with the toussled hair, and fair eyes looked down at the people before them. The room of nine other individuals in the glorious round room, some of them perched on the edges of the ten thrones that made a circle in the middle of it. Pillars ringed them, like a crown in itself, a memory of the empire that once had been. Now, instead there was the Corone Assembly, ten nembers of which met here once a week to discuss the concerns of the nation and their city. The same ten that were in that room just then, Philomel the only one that did not belong.

And they also met in emergencies. And the incoming of a threatening army was most definitely an emergency.

Sebastian, a long term standing member of the Assembly, and well respected gentleman of Radasanth, gestured to the bickering and stern shakings of the heads. "Look," he repeated, "they can hardly agree amongst themselves what time of day it is, let alone how to organise a safe defence of the city. We are doomed, Philomel, utterly hopeless. Yes we have the Imperial forces, but they are being led by the General and he-"

"Is out of the city, braving the country, yes," she nodded in agreement. "His plan was to meet them head on. But my sources tell us they they are still headed here."

"And their numbers, from that of either division, from the ship that managed to survive the sacking of Tylermerande, are too great! Clearly they are coming now for Radasanth, if General Ivan's reports are anything to go by. His dragoons you know have slaughtered what they can of one of the two battilons yet still-"

"They keep coming," she sighed, and she adjusted her stance. Beneath her her two large hooves, that supported her goat legs and thus her humanoid torso, dressed in full battle gear, adjusted. Raising a hand she ran long slightly-tanned fingers through the tails of her own plait.

"Look, that is why I am here. I came from Underwood after my meeting with that traitor pig, van-fucking-Osiris." Her slate grey eyes moved and fixed on the Counsellor. "He is gone from us. There is no hope, he will not back down. The threat is serious but-" Sebastian began to open a mouth to reply, and she laid the same hand on his chest; a subtle remark of the relationship that had truly brought them together. "But, Sebastian. Your city is my city. You have the entirety of the Gilded Lily and what warriors I can summon here at the guard. We will be well."

He looked at her with a single brow raised. Charmingly, she smiled that beguiling smile she had. "Every single whore in Radasanth is in some way connected to the Gilded Lily, and by my rules they have spent the last five years all in combat training." She paused. "Yes, to protect themselves, but that training they will now call upon to defend their home. Their city ..." She rolled back her shoulders. "My city. Our city."

"But Philomel ..." Sebastian began to say.

A fabulous grin spread across the gorgeous queen of whores' face. Hand coming down to rest on the hilt of one of her two swords, mighty things that had slain heroes as well as villains. She pushed out her chest, the drakescale breastplate that covered just her massive breasts, and the shimmering mythril chainmail beneath it. Raising her chin she twisted fully away from Sebastian and began to head straight from where they hid, in the eaves and shadows of the Assembly Hall, confidence bubbling within her.

"Gentlemen!" she suddenly pronounced in a loud, clear voice as she stepped into the light. Into the presence of the men, who were all but shouting at each other due to the army waiting for them at the walls of their city.

"Philomel!" Sebastian hissed.

But it was too late. She began to stride. Right into the heart of the issue.

- * -

An hour later she was upon the outer walls. Along them, bathed in the mellow light of the summer dusk, were stationed what troops could be mustered. The City Guard, the private armies of the club owners, the Imperial troops, even some Rangers of Underwood who had been residing in the city. Amongst them were members of the Gilded Lily itself, each a woman of no plain beauty, with power in each stride and a weapon in hand.

All now under the command of the Lady of the Gilded Lily, the Matriarch, the High-Priestess of Drys, the great Philomel van der Aart.

She was where she belonged. Archers and other ranged fighters stood on the walls. Ballista and other large mechanical devices were in place in strategic places on the towers. The inner walls were similarly armed, with the thousand and more warriors prepared to fight to the death. And in the city itself, along the harbour, in the citadel, at the gaurdhouses, were further melee-specialists. Each warrior had been placed where Philomel and the Majors had theorised where they would be best. One such Major, an elf called Kerr Barren, stood with her, a cloak flapping in the wind. Also waiting.

Waiting.

For the army to come. For the assault to begin. For them to commit to defend their beloved city - with their lives.