Faces, all foreign to their new Sleuth, flooded in from the surrounding borders. Essetia imagined many knew nothing of her and nothing about her, let alone her name… It was a cumbersome feeling being privy to such sensitive information, but Essetia hoped these mere strangers would receive her with open arms. She feared the looks of concern or of question, after all she only knew but four by name. It felt as though a heavy stone had been placed in her gullet and now she was forced to carry it about without complaint, without relief. Being so fresh and new to entitlement was a peculiar feeling for the mare and she often dealt with the obscure nature of her standing amongst these strangers by ignoring it altogether. But here she was, hidden away behind those who had comforted each other, supported each other, and worked for each other for as long as time cared to reveal… and she, once a mere passerby, now meant to protect and serve them.

Oh the many spoils life intended for her.

Quiet, pale eyes fixed themselves willingly on the painted man, a man she now regarded as -Leader? Czar? Sir?- commander, before settling more comfortably into position. Her muscles had worked themselves into knots and her nerves had trembled to life in response to the impending summons, but now that her kin had arrived, each one greeting another with recognition and trust, Essetia relaxed. The stallion welcomed her kindly as did Ghost, but they were most certainly gathered for more perplexing causes. The mare did her best to follow their exchange but her throat caught and a small sigh fell from between parted lips when unexpected news graced ill-prepared ears. She had heard of their new medic, had celebrated alliance with the almighty Throat, had prepared somber thoughts for departed friend… but could not overcome the idea of murder in Helovia.

Fear, quite strong and swift, pressed the very air from her lungs and Essetia chilled, frozen in a mire of frightful thought. It wasn’t until her Czarina, in all her shadowy brilliance, uttered the very syllables of name and rightful calling that the mare shed surprise in order to feign appreciation too far gone in the waves of past glory. She was grateful for introduction and the need to welcome her into their folds but with panic gripping the hazy regions of her former life, Essetia was all but jubilant. “Thank you,” she echoed in reply.

Words of wisdom or grace were naught in the wake of dark tidings.

However, as fate would have it, that would not be the last of Essetia’s fall from ignorance. An alliance with the Edge would put she and Romul on the fast track to learning of her father’s whereabouts and somehow it, if painful, was a relief. She feared that without such knowledge she might surely drown in despair, wondering if her father had been taken by the hand of another. Murdered. Gone.

She wasn’t quite sure what took place after that.