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Sometimes -- like with the new lieutenant she'd recently met -- Hvergelmir thought she wasn't having much of an impact on the world at all. It struck her as such a large place, so teeming with concerns so much grander than her own: and she was such a tiny bit player in it. But sometimes -- like here, like now -- some young stranger in the sparkly dress of a Cosmos page here to seek her out -- Hvergelmir began to suspect she was developing a bit of a reputation.

"The very same," she acknowledged, setting aside her spinning. She had a good bit of thread going round the spindle now -- not a bad night's work.

The short dress, the youthful, fresh face . . . it was hard not to think of cheerful young Degrasse, looking at this merry little page. Hard not to think of the gentle warmth of Cove's hand. Hard not to think of the grim set of Sarras's jaw each time he pushed her and everyone else farther away. Hard not to think of Dionysia, all cast horribly in Negaverse blacks and navys, staring at her and demanding why do I know you?

She'd never brought much luck to the other knights of her order. They all seemed so ill-fated. Hvergelmir unconsciously clenched her fingers a little, nervous to somehow jinx this one too. "Hvergelmir Knight of the Cosmos. How can I help you?" she asked, trying not to betray her misgivings.

Hvergelmir smiled warmly in spite of herself. Although the words yesterday when I became a page sank horribly like fishhooks into her mind, gouging painful holes there, it was hard not to respond to this young page's innocence and enthusiasm. The world was dark and cruel, and she saw only its goodness and light -- its potential. Hvergelmir believed in goodness, she believed in potential -- but it would have been nice to spare this young page the existence of the rest. She wished she could. How greatly the rest of them could all benefit from such a happy, hopeful force around them. If only such things lasted.

"You haven't done anything wrong," she was quick to reassure the other girl. "It's nice to meet you, Hyperborea. I don't know many active Cosmos knights." She patted the bench alongside her. "Here, come sit with me. Let's talk a while."

While she waited for Hyperborea Page to take her seat, Hvergelmir indicated the glittery seal on her shoulder. "Mimisbrunnr's a good friend," she said with conviction. "And she's absolutely right about my oath. I have a vow not to raise arms against Negaverse officers while they fight in the belief they're protecting Earth from an alien menace -- that's us, supposedly. I'm trying to disabuse them of the notion. Did Mimisbrunnr explain anything to you about the war?"

Hvergelmir sighed. "Well, it's complicated," she began with some diplomacy. "There are no . . . people aren't born bad or good. People are just born. Anyone can become bad -- but anyone can become good, too. The people in the Negaverse have to do a lot of terrible things, and some of them are just doing it for their own gain -- but a lot of them do the things they do because they believe what they've been told. They believe they're trying to save the Earth from us."

She took a deep breath, wished she had a glass of water. This would be a long story.

"Over a thousand years ago, the whole galaxy used to be populated with all different kinds of people living on all different kinds of worlds. We were at peace with one another, generally. Things were thriving. It was -- it was pretty good. And at the center of all this peace, there were two kingdoms: the Golden Empire of planet Earth, and the second, great empire on the moon -- an empire called the Silver Millennium. Both empires were vast and powerful -- but the Earth didn't quite trust the moon, with such a long reach to its power. Their peace was tenuous, maintained only by the partnership between the two kingdoms established by the arrangement of Earth's knighthoods across the galaxy, serving the homeworlds of the Silver Millennium. The two kingdoms remained otherwise separate -- until one day, in secret, the young Moon Princess met the young Earth Prince, Endymion -- and the two fell in love."

She paused for a break, taking a long few breaths.

"Unfortunately, the prince had already been engaged -- to a young sorceress named Beryl. She was furious at his betrayal, and she blamed the Silver Millennium. She began to strike up talk that the moon was planning to take over the Earth . . . and she made a contract with Chaos for the power to raise a rebellion against their own prince and their enemies on the moon."

Hvergelmir sighed. "Beryl's soldiers -- many of them knights like you or me -- believed what they were told. They believed the Silver Millennium meant to move against them, to subsume them into the moon's empire. They fought fiercely, but -- in the end, the knights' Academy here on Earth fell to their and Beryl's forces and was ripped somewhere under the Earth, turned into a place called the Rift." She frowned. "No one knows what happened after that. Something -- terrible, I suppose, we don't know. All the worlds died out somehow. Things went quiet for a thousand years. Then we began to be reborn here -- and the war started again. The Negaverse, led by something called Queen Metallia, tells its soldiers that we've come to Earth to conquer them. That they have to stop us, kill us, protect their planet and their freedom. Many of them truly fight for this belief. They have no memories of their past, no memories of everything that happened a thousand years ago."

Hvergelmir smiled a little sadly. "That's what I'm hoping," she agreed. "I'd like that very much. But things are very tense right now -- and the world we live in can be incredibly dangerous. Mimisbrunnr wasn't wrong. There are a lot of people out there who'll want to hurt you, or who'll just be too afraid to believe that they don't have to. There's a lot at stake, and taking a chance on things like this can get you killed . . . not everyone's willing to risk it." She frowned. "It's not safe, what I do."

Hvergelmir shrugged. "I've staked my life on this oath," she clarified. "It'll kill me if I break it. Makes it a little easier to keep your word. And I can still defend my own life -- but that's all." She smoothed out her skirts, a little awkward about being accused of being brave. Her feet tingled, which she tried to ignore.

"Youma aren't part of my oath," she affirmed. "They can't be reasoned with or helped -- they just go on trying to eat people's starseeds. I still fight them, yes."

She frowned, studying the page's concentrated enthusiasm. "Hyperborea . . . how old are you?"

Hvergelmir nodded. "It's all pretty scary," she agreed, tweaking her response a little to glide it into another point entirely. Fourteen. A child, just like Degrasse. Just as easily killed as Degrasse, probably. "Every time you power up, you're in danger. Chaos's agents will try to kill you -- their monsters, too. And being so young, you'll have a bunch of other troubles. Policemen will want to know what you're doing out alone at night, security guards . . . anyone will question what you're doing there -- you'll be noticeable. And if you're planning on patrolling at all, like some people do, that can be difficult when you're underage and you have to find excuses to get away from family, or a school dorm matron, or things like that. You should -- think carefully about whether or not patrolling is something that makes the most sense for you. There are always other ways you can help out."

She tilted her head, wanting to offer something concrete. "There's a group called the Blackwatch, recently founded -- they're trying to do good work. I could put you in touch with someone, I'm sure he could use a good pair of hands, or find something that's a good fit for you."

Hyperborea's youth, her innocence, were almost searingly painful. It was impossible to forget all those Hvergelmir had lost, trying just as nobly to pursue just such simple goals. Protect the innocent. Defend the weak. Help our allies, wherever they may be.

"Being a knight means something different to each of us," she said. "We all had different roles in the past, and we have to discover for ourselves what those roles are going to be now. Your duty's what feels right to you. What you feel like you ought to do. Don't let other people dictate to you what that is."

She laughed softly at Hyperborea's suggestion that the Blackwatch sounded like some kind of cabal of sin. Hvergelmir couldn't help imagining poor Thraen's bemused face at hearing this, his stoic and noble countenance contorted perhaps with an undignifiedly furrowed brow or an uneven, puzzled frown. "Oh, no, the Blackwatch is much more like a charity -- like the Red Cross, kind of. They collect supplies and donations to help support our fellow sailor scouts and knights in need -- to make sure they don't starve or live on the streets or anything, and that they aren't alone. They organize patrol groups, research trips, things like that. It's people like us helping each other."