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[Arcana]

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"Ah, sweet Britannia! It's good to be home," Arcana said aloud, taking a deep breath of the crisp air as she stepped from the gangway to the dock.

Fortunately for her, it was winter and the Vesper canals lacked the less pleasant fragrance of high summer. She traveled the familliar road from the docks to her home, with her young daughter riding piggy-back on her shoulders.

They'd been gone a long time. For much of it, she'd wandered, and really couldn't place what she'd done with her time if you'd asked her. Yet, it had been most refreshing. For the rest of her travels, she'd had more than a few adventures in a far off realm called Morrowind. But that was neither here nor there in Britannia.

Her travels had changed her, and so had motherhood. Her hair was darker than it used to be, and she suspected her weapons skills were more than a little rusty... like her sword, she reflected, knocking the orange-brown flakes from a blade in her equipment chest. Also, it appeared that Britannia had changed in her absence - she saw hardly a sign of her old guildmates in Trinsic and the dust on the bar at the Drunken Dragon was a good inch deep.

The silence in Trinsic didn't bother her as much as she'd thought it would. Maybe she'd tell Robert she wasn't coming back to Trinsic after all... that probably made her a bad wife and a worse mother, but she thought he might understand eventually. The only part of her heart that lived in Trinsic belonged to him, not the city or its paladins. On a sudden impulse, she dug through the chest and came up with a travel-worn green cloak. In its folds there lay a small silver pin, heavily tarnished, but unmistakably in the shape of a maple leaf.

She buffed the silver pin with her sleeve and its soft gleam was quickly restored. Arcana tucked the pin into her pouch. No need to make a decision now. She looked around at her home, filled with the symbols of her old life, neatly preserved. She hardly knew that life anymore... plate armor, the House Arryn sword, people bowing and calling her "Your Grace" every time she turned around... abruptly, she handed her toddling daughter off to her sister and shouldered a quiver of arrows and an old longbow, both relics of her younger days.

"Keep an eye on Morri for me, Isis. I could use a little practice with this bow before I get too involved with anything else."