It’s unlike her to disobey her queen this openly, but she feels no worry.
Baltians are strict in their respect: the Queen outranks her, so despite her feelings, she bites her tongue and agrees when Tsilutsuli says to keep their distance from the land dwellers. It works for a while; she continues training, keeping to herself. But the thought stays in her mind: although the land inhabitants seem harmless — weak and disorganized, even — they outnumber Baltians several times over. Helice sees no benefit in keeping them at arm’s length when they can be utilized by her army.
So she swims, alone, leaving behind her guards. If they suspect anything, they will say nothing. She’s instilled enough fear into them.
Helice reaches Tephra’s shores, though of course she doesn’t know it by name. She looks relatively harmless with no knowledge of her reputation following her — any battle scars have long been healed over, disappeared with every year stolen from another — and she hopes she doesn’t set off any alarms, as an outsider would in Baltia.
The greenery of this land is unlike anything she’s ever seen, and she allows herself a moment to be impressed. She continues to walk, with no particular destination, looking around as she navigates her way through the dense thickets, but pauses as a colorful bird flies past, catching her eye.
She steps closer to where it’s landed on a branch: long-tailed, bright blue and yellow and green, not at all like the large gray vultures she’s accustomed to seeing feast on the carcasses of her fallen soldiers. She avoids the Ruins now, pushes away the memories of their lifeless faces, tries to forget the name of every dead body.
She’s unsuccessful.
A squawk from the unusual bird brings Helice back into the moment, and she scowls at it, looking around once more.