On this particular sunny morning, a couple walked together through the streets of the capital. Martin, his enthusiasm slightly dashed by several long, fruitless days of poring over newspapers, looking for the slightest hint of what befell his family, walked beside Boudica, her usually calm and observant demeanor frayed by worries of her brother in Brannloch, concerns about her husband’s behavior, and something else that Martin couldn’t quite suss out.

  Today was one of the rare occasions in which the two shared a day off. Each worked a six-day workweek with just a single day off. With Martin’s day off varying from week to week due to the needs of the dockyard shift rotation and Boudica’s changing due to high turnover of the other washerwomen, today was something to look forward to.

  Martin had suggested a trip to the market a few days ago, and Boudica, needing a few things that she didn’t quite trust Martin to correctly purchase if left to his own devices, agreed. And so they found themselves walking through the streets together on this bright morning. Their hands weren’t held and they spoke few words to each other, but something in the way they held themselves made it clear to any who looked at them that they were together. Only those with the ability to peer into the world of the Cosmic could even begin to guess the truth, that the real Martin lay dead in an alley and a Faceless Man now walked in his skin, leading his wife to the market.

  The couple hadn’t been walking long down one of the main streets when they heard a loud commotion from behind them. A couple of knights wearing the Imperial symbol and colors came riding down the street, clearing people out of the way. Automobiles, still a fairly new invention, were starting to push horses and carriages out of the streets as people quickly grew fond of the excitement of cars, along with the ease of maintenance and lack of excrement to have to take care of. However, the Imperial Family still maintained a well-trained regiment of guards whose primary means of transportation was still horseback. If the knights were out clearing the street, it could only mean a member of the royal family was nearby.

  Martin made eye contact with Boudica, and with a quick gesture of his head towards an open spot just off the street, ushered her out of the way to a safe place to watch the show. They didn’t have to wait long before a host of knights came riding leisurely down the street. The men were armed to the teeth, but rather than the alert posture one might expect from the royal guard, the men looked relaxed. The Queen had just finished a brief vacation and was now on her way back home to resume her duties. The men, confident in the reputation of their nation and aware of the Queen’s popularity among the people of the Empire, clearly did not expect much trouble as they returned to the capital. Still, there were a few that did not neglect their duty, and they rode at full alert, ready to intercept should anyone in the crowd think to act against their Queen.

  The Royal Carriage followed in the middle of the host of knights. Its opulent design and the regality of its passage were testaments to the Empire’s power and the Queen’s untouchable status. The driver sat with perfect posture, proud of the prestige of carrying one of the most powerful people in the world home and dressed in clothes worth Martin and Boudica’s yearly income combined.

  Boudica, usually aloof from interest in the royals and politics, leaned suddenly forward, gazing intently at the windows of the carriage in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the Queen herself. She did not show so much as a hand out the window in an effort to greet her subjects, and the carriage and its host of protecting knights made way quickly down the street and towards the castle at the center of the city.

  “I didn’t realize you were so interested in the Queen,” Martin remarked as the carriage passed and the road quieted down.

  “I’ve just never seen her is all,” Boudica said defensively, “only portraits, and those make her seem like the most beautiful woman on the planet.”

  “Think the royal portraitists aren’t being truthful with their use of ink?”

  “They must be taking artistic liberty. If I really looked like that I’d never ride in a covered carriage. I’d want all my subjects gazing at me in admiration at every opportunity.”

  They continued to chat in this fashion as they resumed their journey to the market. Martin found himself genuinely enjoying his time with Boudica, and soon without realizing it they found themselves passing in front of the church. They were on the opposite side of the street, and Martin turned to keep his eyes fixed on Boudica so as not to accidentally lock eyes with anyone he might know at the church. In his head the other day, Martin had thought that it would be wise to take a slightly more out-of-the-way route to avoid passing in front of the church, but between the excitement of the Queen’s passage and his relaxation with Boudica, the thought had completely escaped his head. Before he could think of a plausible reason to divert them, a familiar voice called out to him.

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  “Good morning, Martin. Are you coming to mass today?”

  Of course, Deacon Thomas had remembered his name and called out to welcome him as soon as he spotted him on the street. Martin waved back and felt compelled to cross the street to at least say his hellos. He was painfully aware of the surprise and disdain on Boudica’s face, but she did nothing but dutifully follow her husband across the road.

  “Good morning, Deacon. I can’t attend today I’m afraid, I’ve got a few things to take care of in town.”

  “Ah, I see.” Deacon Thomas made eye contact with Boudica and either not recognizing the hatred in her eyes or used to the looks of the faithless proceeded to introduce himself. “You must be Martin’s wife. My name is Thomas.”

  He offered his hand in greeting.

  “Not as far as your church is concerned.” She took the Deacon’s hand perfunctorily and let go quickly. “My name is Boudica.”

  Thomas glanced at Martin briefly but didn’t push the matter.

  “A pleasure Boudica, Martin. I won’t hold you any longer. May the Creator bless you.”

  He saw the two on their way and turned to greet the other arriving churchgoers. Martin and Boudica walked in silence away from the church. Martin braced himself for the worst and relaxed only slightly as they got away from the church, as at least they would now be out of earshot.

  Boudica began her attack softly. “So, friends with the Deacon are we?”

  “I’ve… met him at mass a few times.”

  “Oh, have you now? I was wondering what you had been doing on your days off. Now I know you’ve swapped boozing for prayer.”

  “It’s not like that…”

  “Then what is it like, love?”

  “I nearly died. I needed some help, and Thomas is a good man, regardless of your feelings on the church.”

  Boudica lapsed into silence. Martin knew she had more to say, but wasn’t one to have it out in the middle of the streets for all to hear. The last thing he wanted, however, was for her to simmer on it for the rest of the day. He stopped and looked at her.

  “Listen, I’ll give you an explanation someday, but please don’t waste your day thinking about it.”

  Boudica stared at him blankly for a moment, before finally asking, “another secret from the colonies? I won’t have to hide at Ms Alder’s from the terrifying deacon?”

  “Something like that, and no, you won’t. Not from Thomas. Come on, let’s get to the market.”

  “Will we run into any more familiar faces there? I don’t suppose you know the Grey Man?”

  “Boudica, I wish I could share almost all the faces from my past with you, but I can’t. I can only hope that day comes soon.”

  Without thinking, he offered her his hand, and to his surprise, she took it. Together they walked into the market. This was the first real contact the Faceless Man had with Boudica since taking over Martin’s body, and truly the first human contact he had since before he could remember.

  Hands locked, they made their way through the crowded market. Martin kept his head on a swivel in case any other familiar faces turned up, but if they were there they didn’t interrupt. He didn’t let go of Boudica’s hand until they made it to their first stop, a cloth merchant Boudica had known since she was a little girl. Boudica purchased enough yarn to last her for a couple of orders, agonizing over the shades of greens and blues and haggling for a cheaper bargain for the daughter of an old friend. Eventually, they left the shop, several large bundles of yarn under Martin’s arm.

  From there, they stopped at a liquor shop and Boudica, not much of a drinker herself, picked out a bottle of wine much finer than she would usually drink. When Martin tried to ask her what the occasion was, she shot him a look and refused to answer. He had a feeling he would be paying for that later. Their civil marriage was recorded on official records that Jacques had one of his agents check, and Martin was fairly certain the date wasn’t for another couple of months. If there was another anniversary or event soon, it was one that he and Boudica must share in secret. He decided it might be best to stay home a bit more for the next few days in case he missed anything.

  Finally, they made their way to the butcher shop and picked up some meat for their evening meal. Martin had pitched the idea of sitting down somewhere to eat, but Boudica had spent a bit more on the cloth than she had planned and wanted to save money. They didn’t buy fresh meat so often so they split the difference by buying a hunk of beef. As they entered the shop, Martin couldn’t help but notice a fresh sign saying all of their beef was sourced from the South. He had a feeling he knew what that was about but didn’t say anything to avoid upsetting Boudica. If she noticed it, she didn’t say anything and dealt with the butcher with her usual smile even as he praised the quality and safety of Southern beef and rebuffed her efforts for a better deal. However, Martin, growing increasingly accustomed to her moods over the past few weeks, noticed her smile fade imperceptibly after the deal was done and the door closed behind them.

  So, with smiles on their faces and turmoil underneath, the married couple made their way home like a pair of seasoned actors, waiting to put down their burdens and take off their masks, hoping for the day they can finally show the other person what’s underneath.