[Hayame has never seen Achamoth. The idea of her alone, of even everyone counted as a "Pleroma" being enough to invade a city or even make a targeted attack on such a powerful figure in a city they could not easily surveil or understand... It seems almost impossible to her, despite how much she wanted to put an arrow in the Regent's heart, to feel their dark armor crumple beneath her hooves. If she had to... She would even resort to the bestial actions of an Armless, and sink her teeth into their neck to rip out their throat.

But if they cannot easily enter that fortress...]

Perhaps that is what I will do...

[Her jaw tightens, her fingers quiver just slightly as she sheathes the blade on her harness, laying out the cloth from her saddle bag and moving the severed head onto it, beginning to tie it in a way that would enable her to carry the gruesome trophy with her from this place... until she could decide where it would end up.

She thinks of that dream she'd once had, before everything had gone wrong. Or rather, before she'd been forced to admit how wrong everything had always been. Thinks of the heads of criminal exposed along the riverbanks, the signs beside them laying out their crimes for anyone who might think to do the same.]

If I take enough to strike fear into the hearts of the Achamites... Perhaps we will have that chance.

[How many would that be? For the Regent, who treated the citizens of this world as disposable ways to send messages... how many heads would she have to take to make it worth their while?]