Normally a young woman of her station, on Derva, would never allow herself to become embroiled in the intricacies of business and making money. There were, of course, exceptions, but Saanvi was not one of them. Her station as the daughter of a Rajah meant that she was afforded some perks of royalty, but those perks came with expectations, along with provincial outdated morals that a beloved daughter would be required to adhere to.

How these young women leveled, I still hadn't figured out. They were constrained from doing business and fighting; they were more decoration; they existed as reflections of their father, brother, or husband. As far as I could tell, her only duties consisted of raising her children and running her household. Even in that area she only filled a management position, the real work was done by staff and cooks.

They were educated, but mostly in subjects that included literature, art, and music. Their education allowed them to maintain and balance household finances, train staff, and speak knowledgeably about current events, both social and political. Perhaps that was how they leveled, they gained experience by running a home and acting as an adjutant, their actions considered by System a support role.

As a Vaidya, her husband was equivalent in Rank to a Sidhe Knight. Farhan was respected, but not trusted or powerful enough to be awarded a fiefdom. A Vaidya belonged to the Swami Caste, but while both were proponents of the Vedic system, Swami focused more on the spiritual, while Vaidya concentrated more on the physical. In matters of medicine, scholarship, and bureaucracy, they excelled.

Saanvi had cremated her husband and observed the thirteen days of mourning as proscribed by her faith before she began taking the first steps to rebuild her life. Her devotion to the Hindu Pantheon was firm, even in her grief she never once publically railed against the injustice. I had to wonder that that faith was strong enough to withstand the machinations of envy from a Rajah that coveted her property and body.

Where was the anger and grief she felt when she was stripped of her husband's protection?

Was her faith any comfort as she was forced to make the hard choices that would see her children safe?

I thought it likely that she felt betrayed on all fronts. Ignored and cast aside by family, religion, and government. They had all failed her, even as she had remained devoted. Her plight was ignored, with no offer of protection or homecoming from a brother content to betray her for wealth, his betrayal extending to her children as he offered no sanctuary for the children of Farhan. She was treated with sympathy from her husband's peers, but no action. And she was discounted as expendable by the Royal family, a pawn between Royal factions.

As I walked to the entrance of her house, I felt the eyes of neighbors, naturally curious, following my every movement. I also felt the eyes of Indrajit's spies upon my back, more than interested in my progress, they broadcast their displeasure. The hostility and killing intent easily discernible, but also easily ignored as I rang the doorbell.

I knew that they would be reporting my presence to their benefactor. It was another reason I decided not to use an illusion as I approached the young widower. As an Ambassador's attaché, I was protected by diplomatic immunity, let them speak of the strange man, a Sidhe visiting the Patel home. It might give them pause, at the very least, I was certain the questions about this visit would confound the young suitor as well as the Royal family.

If Rajah Indrajit was willing to risk an attack on the Tuatha de Danaan or conspire against me, I would be happy to educate him on the ramifications of his ignorance. If he was so certain that he could act without consequence, that the laws and treaties his world was signatories too could be ignored with impunity, he would find I would hold his actions against him, even if no one else would.

King Teigh had sent me here to reconnect, to find my center and ideals that had made me strive to become a Peacemaker, but that didn't mean I would ignore honor. The more Tadeus had dug into Saanvi's circumstances, the more I found the treatment of the young woman reprehensible. The Rajah's actions were something that would be expected in Mab's court. And anything that was related to that vile pustule of morality needed to be lanced.

The woman who answered the door was not Saanvi Patel, this woman was much older. Knight Tadeus hadn't mentioned anyone living here besides the family in his briefing, but from the way she was dressed, and her age, I had to assume she was staff, someone from the Shudra caste, probably an old family retainer. A woman that had refused to leave when circumstances got hard for her mistress.

"My apologies. If possible, I would speak with Saanvi Patel," I said bowing slightly, knowing that a person of her station would not normally be afforded that small courtesy.

"I know that this is rather forward, but I have heard the gossiping and whispers that concern the Patel family. Although I am a new arrival to Derva, part of the Tuatha de Danaan embassy, if she can spare a few moments of her time to discuss business, I believe I may have a solution to her problems."

My words had an immediate effect on those neighbors and spies that were listening, and on the woman guarding the door. I could tell she wasn't pleased with my request. Although no emotion crossed her face, nor was there a change in posture, still, there was a small fluctuation in the aether that radiated with her displeasure. I could feel a small change in her aura, something about her magic that triggered the smallest danger warning to my perception.

"Please," she said after a moment of reflection, trying to ascertain my motivation and what my words might mean. Whatever magic she had used, she must have been satisfied as she opened the door wide enough for me to enter.

I stepped into the home and waited for her to close the door before following her. The room she showed me into was not far from the entrance, what must have been Vaidya Farhan's waiting room for his patients. The reception desk and patient chairs lined up along the walls were sure signs that Farhan practiced his medical skills out of the front of his home.

"I will inform the Lady that you have requested the gift of her time," the servant informed me, stressing the word gift to make sure I understood that my intrusion into this home, without an appointment, was a burden that the house was forced to accept.

The wait wasn't long before a much more subdued servant came to collect me. She must have been reminded of her duties to guests, even an unexpected one.

"The Lady would like you to join her in the back garden for tea," she informed me contritely. I offered no words of conciliation as I followed her. I had not been bothered by her distrust and treatment, I thought it spoke well of her and her mistress that she was so protective.

The trip this time took a bit longer and allowed me to pass through the private areas of their home. It was as Tadeus had informed me, the home stark as pieces of furniture and artwork had been sold off, leaving behind an emptiness that hinted at past days of glory. There was an echoing loneliness to the home, a home that had obviously been well-loved.

Saanvi, when I finally was introduced, had that wholesome beauty that only a few mortals could enjoy. She didn't need to rely on embellishment or subterfuge to enhance the fresh and unspoiled beauty she had been gifted. She was dressed in a Sari made of a rare banarasi silk, red with accents of gold as an overlay. Her blouse gold with accents of emerald green. The Matha-Pati headpiece she wore was simple, a child's attempt at weaving a headpiece. It was, perhaps, much loved, but its simplicity was an obvious sign of how far the family's fortunes had fallen.

Any jewelry or headpiece that she owned had been sacrificed for survival. The simple device made of woven silk suited her, drawing attention to her eyes. Eyes that shone with wariness, desperation, and hope in this moment. The dichotomy between those three emotions was hard to produce, something a Sidhe might accomplish with their three-ringed pupils and illusion magic.

Hinduism overflowed with an abundance of gods, but Saanvi had not leveled high enough to be considered one of the 33 million minor gods for Derva. Not as powerful as the principle Gods, the ascension as a minor deity was the only way for a Hindu to attain immortality.

Until then, those of Caste, even the Brahmins, those at the highest Caste were fated to die and reincarnate. Saanvi was still young, barely past a hundred, but if she was unable to level and claim one of the domains for these lesser gods, she could only expect to live for a few hundred years.

"Namaste," she said, rising and greeting me, palms joined together and head bowing elegantly as I arrived at the small garden nook that she had been seated at. Her actions were graceful, her voice dulcet and pleasing, and I understood why Rajah Indrajit coveted this young woman.

It only made me more determined to save her. She and her small family reminded me of the Sidhe that became embroiled in politics and events beyond their control.

Those people victims of fate.