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The people of Vulcan were raucous and cheerful, as used to visitors as they were the rumblings of the volcanoes that marked the hull of her planet like a pox. Established by a priestess at a time in history that was referred to as The Dawn, the capital city of Almas was cut out of the side of a mountain cliff. Visible in the distance, beyond the spires of clay and stone, the Mother volcano loomed like a spectre out of a mass of jungle so tangled that only the bravest of Vulcan's hunters dared venture inside. When it was not necessary to eat, there was only one reason, every decade, to leave the city- and that was to visit Mother, for the Passing of the Sons.

If Verona drew eyes, it was not because she was a stranger, but because she was a Knight. Most of the people knew why she had come. News of the Lady Vulcan's pregnancy, and what it might mean for the future of their people, had spread throughout the city like lava in an otherwise empty pool. Vulcan had a reputation for creating some of the finest weapons in the galaxy. Her stores were bursting with precious gems, mined from the depths of the mountains, and metal culled laboriously in the heat of the volcanoes. It was good of Cosmos, to send them a guardian.

Alethes was less enthused.

Unhappy about having a watcher, but too much of a diplomat to make Verona feel unwanted, she forced a smile when the knight approached. And then Verona was kneeling, hand clenched against her heart, and Alethes found her expression softening. She stood before Verona in an elegant wrap of white fabric- so thin it was almost sheer. Designed for the heat and not for modesty, it left little to the imagination.

"Welcome, Verona," Alethes said. She smoothed a hand over her belly, which was just slightly more swollen today than it had been on the eve of Aegir's last visit. "Please stand. We are a casual people here."

Verona was somewhat of a curiosity on Vulcan in her heavy armour. Emissaries from neighbouring planets often commissioned similar designs for their soldiers, but that was work for the blacksmiths in the forges. Almas was, first and foremost, a city of trade. The common people were used to strange visitors from foreign worlds, but few had actually seen someone wearing so much armour before. And most had only heard stories about the Lady Cosmos, and the knights that made up her loyal guard.

Like the people that stood around them, peering over shoulders to get a better look, Alethes could not help being impressed by the woman who stood before her. She was not pleased about being assigned a handler, but Verona cut an intimidating profile against the backdrop of the marketplace; looking down at her from an angle, expression impenetetrable, and Alethes found herself... intrigued.

"Almost three months," she said, because it had been that long since she and Aegir had exchanged goodbyes.

"You will be staying in my home, yes." Alethes smiled. "I have had a space prepared for you. I hope that you will find it to your liking."

A man with golden hair and caramel skin, clad in a similar sheer wrap, approached Alethes from behind and murmured something in her ear. She listened attentively, the smile on her lips never failing.

"Faris reminds me that there is going to be a party tonight. In your honour. Everyone is so happy that you are here."

Well. Not quite everyone, but Vulcan was resigned to the reality of her situation- knew that it was wiser, and safer, to accept the help of this beautiful stranger. The people of Vulcan deserved every protection. Because she could not take care of them in the capacity that she wanted to, it was only right for Verona to be there.

"My name," she added, "is Alethes."

An afterthought.

The people of Vulcan enjoyed a familiarity with one another that meant Alethes was neither surprised nor uncomfortable when Verona closed the distance between them- though she was little more than a stranger. She listened thoughtfully, head tilted to the side, and understood.

Isidora was shy.

Alethes hesitated. She was torn between insisting that the Knight join them for a party, and her own displeasure over beind assigned a guardian. It was only right for Isidora to attend, when the Vulcan people had never entertained such an illustrious guest before, and they were so looking forward to giving her the welcome that she deserved. There would be presents. And dancing. And wine.

"If you are to be my shadow, then you will stand by my side at the festival tonight."

Her tone was firm, but not unkind. There was a smile on her lips.

"Come," she beckoned Isidora forwards with a wave of her arm, "I will show you to your rooms."

A procession of young men and women, wrapped in sheer cloth and bearing trays of fruit, followed Alethes when she turned. The marketplace was alive with the sounds of trade; vendors calling attention to the quality of their wares in half a dozen different languages. One of them tried to get Isidora's attention, waved his hand at a silver shawl that his wife had spun out of spider's silk. Alethes asked him how his mother fared, and then said that she was glad, when he reported that the woman was in good health.

'If that is what you command.'

A smile, in the wake of Isidora's amenability. Alethes shook her head.

"You may wear whatever you like." She touched the hands of children that reached out to her as they passed by, stopped to murmur at them in their native tongue. A little girl passed Alethes a doll made out of straw. She held it to her heart, bright eyes widening with delight for the child's benefit.

A glance back over her shoulder, hair flowing like dark fire over her shoulders in wild curls. Alethes appraised Isidora's attire without judgment, twinkled at her.

"Clothing is not a necessity, here. The heat makes it unbearable sometimes."

Most of Vulcan's people wore just enough fabric to cover the essentials, but not much more than that.

She led the way from the market to a path of red dirt that disappeared into the cliffs, where a series of caves marked the entrance to the city within the city. Almas had started out as a little village community inside of the mountain, and sprawled outwards as time passed and its population increased. The Outer City was carved out of stone and clay, homes piled upon one another in a haphazard non-pattern that mirrored the mess of cave structures leading the way inside.

"Stay close," Alethes said to Isidora, "it is easy to get lost down here, if you do not know the way."

The path was lit by bowls of fire that sat in sills cut out of the stone.

Her procession followed them closely, laughing amongst one another.

"These caves go deep into the mountain. They are older than Almas. Older than the senshi."

"This is Almas," Alethes gestured at the stone around them, turning her head to gaze at Verona over one bare, caramel-coloured shoulder. The smile on her face was kind. When she spoke, her voice hummed with affection and pride for the city of her birth. "Forgive me. I do not mean to be vague."

The network of caves through which they passed were dimly lit, some narrower than others, but Alethes stepped with confidence. Her procession followed close behind them, whispering behind their hands and laughing amongst one another. Vulcan encouraged their play, and hoped that Verona did not feel too much out of place.

"Almas is my home."

The journey was long, but the traffic through the entrance to the heart of the mountain was such that the paths were worn smooth.

"It is the city inside the mountain, and the city outside the mountain. Do not worry about the caves-- you will learn your way, and my people will be glad to show you around. The children say that you're very beautiful. Everyone is so eager to meet you."

The caves stopped suddenly, and then there was light. So much light. The sun beat down on them from an opening in the mountain. Once the site of an active volcano, it gaped out onto the sky like a mouth. Great vines crawled over the lips, wound their way along the inside of the stone. It was hotter inside the mountain than it had been in the caves, and there were more people here. There were more buildings. Carved out of clay and mud, they climbed to the sky like fingers.

At the center of the city, just visible at the end of a busy street with vendors selling everything from exotic pelts to dinosaur eggs, the castle Vega glistened like a diamond. Carved out of stone, built upon centuries of Vulcan pride, it was a monolith both to the passage of time and the love of a people who would have died for their senshi.

"I hope that you will be comfortable here," Vulcan said. "Will you tell me about your home? About the Princess Cosmos?"

Unhappy as she was about having a babysitter, Vulcan was as intrigued by the business of Cosmos as her people were. It was an honour, she knew, that the Princess had cared enough to send her an escort-- no matter how confident she was that she could take care of herself, and her people, with child or not.