Liam slurped at the stew Sir Peter had provided, draining the dregs of the bowl. The communal pot of soup was delicious, and he thanked Mistress McDonnell for the food.

She shook her head and gestured to her husband. “Thank Peter, not I. He’s the cook.” She said, placing Lady Claire on a stool. Sir Peter’s wife had absconded with the young noble earlier in order to give her a hot bath and some fresh clothes and brushed her hair with long and practised strokes.

It turned out the young Lady’s family were regular guests at the Inn, and Liam wondered how the two families knew each other so well.

At least she’s distracted for a while. Liam thought. The girl had been through a lot and deserved some comfort and companionship, something which Mistress Agnes seemed determined to give. The wolfhound Romulus lay at her feet, belly up. His whines making it clear to everyone that after Lady Claire was done being pampered, it would be his turn.

It made Liam think of all the time’s he’d groomed Lady. While she was Duncan’s dog, he’d always felt a close connection to her, and caring for her had comforted him whenever he felt alone.

Looking over the table at Peter, Liam smiled. “Thank you.” He said, gesturing to the tavern. “For the welcome and the meal, I mean. It’s been a few… well… it’s been a while since I’ve been so well received.”

Sir Peter gave a snort of laughter. “It’s the least I can do to repay you for the service you’ve done for Lady FitzGerald and her family. Your thanks are kind, but unnecessary, Liam. Am I right to think you’ll be heading to reunite with your Liege?”

“I will, and I shall take the Fitzgeralds with me if the Lady is still seeking to travel. Lord FitzGerald and his kin have received serious wounds that are not healing well. While the Lord has the worst of it by far, even Lady Claire suffers from scars.”

“And you think to find a healer at the King's Court?”

“I have some hope that we might find other ways to heal them in Cardross, aye.” Liam said. “The King is ill, and the nation's best healers will gather there if anywhere. The coin you traded will allow me to hire any healer not occupied with the King. You’ve given me so much I could likely also buy some measure of comfort for their journey, as well as a mount for myself!”

Liam had conducted the exchange of bullion for coin quickly, not wanting to spend too much time haggling over prices with the old Knight.

After a brief discussion with his nephew Tom, Peter ended up settling on a price of thirteen gold per pound of bullion. It was that moment Liam realized the Tailor in the market square had significantly under-valued his gold.

The coin presented a problem for the young Page as he realized he needed a safe place to store it.

Within his storage ring, he still held a stack of 32 ingots. He’d only had 39 at the smithy when he’d hurriedly left the dungeon, and he’d just sold or traded five. He had one space to spare, but was loath to use it. If he overfilled the bag, he might destroy one of his more prized possessions, or worse, a stack of the precious Mythril or Aesium ingots. That single space free would prevent any mistakes in the future.

Remembering something, he thought about placing the Portal Bag’s opening in the town, but knew it was far too likely someone could stumble upon his hoard.

Liam was now in possession of nearly one hundred and thirty Scottish pounds, which, in terms of size, was not too much of an issue. The problem was, if he wandered around the town with a large pouch of coin at his hip, he’d attract the attention of every footpad and sneakthief in Glasgow. He knew he needed a more discreet way of carrying the hundred and thirty coins, but for now all he had was the pouch Peter provided.

Peter hadn’t explained how he’d come by such wealth, but Liam could judge that by the ease with which he spent it, he’d earned the money legitimately. His expression must have belied his curiosity, however, and Peter smiled.

“You’re wondering how a tavern keep with the name of a knight comes by such a hoard?”

Liam nodded. “It seemed odd.”

“I was once a knight in service to Lord FitzGerald.” He began, but was interrupted by Lady Claire.

“He wasn’t just a knight, Liam. He was the greatest knight in Scotland since William Wallace!”

Peter smiled at the girl. “Hush lass. It’s my story to tell.”

“The short of it is that the coins you see before you were from the ransom of Lord John of Norfolk. He was chief amongst the group of knights and barons we captured as we routed the English King from Bannockburn. It was that victory that caused King Robert to grant my lord the Keep of Cadzow.”

“You are still in service to the Lord FitzGerald?” Liam asked, wondering why he was running a tavern instead of protecting his lord.

“No longer. After the war, Agnes and I wanted to live out our lives the way we’d always wanted. One of safety, with plenty of ale. Lord Walter and his Lady had just welcomed Lady Claire, and the King was maintaining the peace. One night, Lord FitzGerald overheard my wish to build a tavern in Glasgow as the Burgh was rebuilt. He granted our wish by releasing us from his service.”

“The Lord of Cadzow would visit occasionally with young Lady Claire, and we’d talk of times past and of our hopes for the future.” He said with a smile, remembering better days.

Just then the sound of heavy booted feet thundered down the stairs and two men staggered into the common room. They both had the look of fighting men, their faces scruffy and hair tousled from sleep, beer and stew clearly stained each of their tabards. The taller of the two stretched his arms wide as he let loose a mighty yawn.

Sir Peter smiled as they approached. “Here are two fellows you may know from better times yourself, Page Lamberton.”

Liam turned in his seat and looked at the guards. They looked familiar, but he didn’t know them by name. “Are you the men Lord Douglas left to heal?” he asked.

The two nodded, frowning as they looked Liam over. “Aye, Sir. And if I may, who are you to be asking?”

“Page Liam Lamberton, in service to Lord James Douglas of Douglas.” Liam stood from his seat and reached out his hand. “I don’t believe we met after I was raised to the Lord’s court, but it’s good to see you both again.”

The first man Liam offered his hand to simply stared at him in shocked silence, while the other stepped back and put his hand to his dirk. “You don’t look like Liam.”

“And you don’t look like Douglas Men-at-Arms.” Liam said, gesturing to their unkempt appearance. “If Sir Keith saw you like this, he’d have you on muck duties for a week.”

The two men paused, looking him over. “He could be Liam, but he looks a lot older than he did.”

“Aye. But that could just be the system’s attributes taking effect. You remember what Squire Campbell looked like after his changes.”

“No, Fergus, he’s definitely older than Liam was. Look at the growth of his beard. That would take over two days to come in!”

“Aye, well maybe, Pat. But these Tribulations are doing strange things to folk. Lord Douglas looked a good ten years younger than he was.”

Sir Peter unhelpfully covered his face in his hand to avoid his snickering laughter from being heard as the two men argued point and counter-point.

Liam watched as the two debated his identity a while longer, until, amazed at how side-tracked the two had become, he focussed on the first two lines of his Statistics Vision and displayed them for all to see.

Titles: Page, Primus, Guest of Glitnir. Journeyman.

Name: Liam Lamberton

Levels: 36

11 (Race Tier 2: Human 10, Demi-Ascended 1)

5 (Harbinger Page)

10 (Magismithing)

10 (Archimancy)

Genetic Heritage: Davidic Scion

Combat Class: Harbinger Page (Davidic Order)

Crafting Classes: Magismithing, Archimancy

Age: 17

The two Douglas men looked at the vision and paused, staring from the vision to Liam and back.

They then looked at each other. “I don’t like it,” Fergus said, “But if the system says he is Page Lamberton, then we should take him to Cardross. The Lord can decide if he’s telling the truth or not.”

Pat, now convinced that Liam was who he claimed, nodded. “That’s fair. He looks the same though, and I have yet to see anything that allows someone to make the system tell a lie.”

The matter settled, Fergus turned once more to Liam. “So then, what happened to you after you rode away?”

Liam smiled at the obvious test and unhooked the Harp from his belt. “I don’t know how to ride a harp, Fergus, but after the Harp transported me by magic, I awakened in another realm.”

Fergus’ lips pursed as furiously thought of some other test, but Liam wasn’t about to drag this out any longer. “What happened there is a story longer than we have time for, but simply put, the Harp transported me from this realm to another for four years. I returned here to find that in this world only two days had passed.”

Pat visibly swallowed his fear. “That’s sounds like the stories folk tell of Standing Stones. There are tales of people being transported to the otherworld where the Fae folk can stop time or speed it up. When you finally return, you are no longer the same as when you left.”

Fergus nodded reluctantly, finally accepting that this was the same lad who disappeared only days before. “Hm… from the look of Liam’s levels, it seems he gained more than just time.”

“I did. Worse, I gained news. A demon army has arrived on our world and is marching on the kingdoms of man. I plan on leaving Glasgow today to reach the King. If he cannot unite the other Christian kings against this threat, we all may be lost.”

Fergus scowled, once more grabbing for his Dirk. “See, I told you this isn’t Liam. Liam would know the King is ill!”

“Hold your blade!” Liam ordered. His voice a thunder of anger. “If you insist on drawing that blade, I will ram it up your nose.”

The sudden outburst held Fergus in check for a moment, giving Liam time to act.

Liam pulled out the Monster Core of the Troll. “I also need to give the King this.”

Everyone presents inspected the item, and Fergus whistled, visibly calming. “Lord James told us all about these after you found that orb in the Harpy. That could cure the king by granting him a level!”

“Likely more than one level!” Liam confirmed. “I took this from the body of a troll in the other realm. It was at the same level as I am now.”

Sir Peter, who’d not heard of these before, looked at the orb in fascination. “Could this heal Lord FitzGerald too?” he asked.

Liam shook his head. “I don’t think so. A more complex injury afflicts the Lord of Cadzow. When you inspect him now, the system describes him as Soul Damaged. I think if we are to heal him fully, we will need to find someone with the ability to heal wounds to the spirit, not just the flesh.”

Pat and Fergus exchanged a glance. Pat spoke first. “The night after you disappeared, the Lady discovered an ability she had that could heal the spirit through song. It’s what caused our wounds to heal so rapidly.”

Fergus nodded. “Aye. Pat was on the brink of death when the Lady sang a song of healing. Well, we both were. The next morning, we were much better, almost to the point of riding out with the Lord. I overheard Lady Tatania call it ‘Spirit healing’.”

Sir Peter grinned at the news. “Agnes! We must pack. We’ll leave for Cardross with Liam!”

The sudden turn of events shocked Liam. “You will?”

Even Lady Claire seemed surprised by the news, but happily so. “Mama will be so happy to have you along again!” She said, running over to give Peter a hug, Mistress McDonnell calling out in dismay as the braid she’d been plaiting came loose.

He smiled at the girl, lifting her into his arms. “Well, we shouldn’t keep her waiting then.”

*********************

Liam walked up the road from the market square, leading his new gelding. This was his first warhorse, and the size of the animal was daunting, even to Liam’s six-and-a-half-foot frame. He was fully armoured, and the Armour of the Harbinger and his Silent Steps mail gleamed in the noonday light.

Beneath them, Bhethir’s Skin fit him like a glove. He’d taken the time to have an armourer clean his gear, and while they worked, he’d changed into his new gambeson and padded leggings. They made him confident that in any future encounter with a Vampyre or similar creature, he would be well protected.

Behind him, Pat and Fergus followed him up the cobbled road, leading their own mounts. They’d readied to travel before approaching the castle. Now they awaited the Ladies and Mistress Agnes to declare them ready to leave.

Arriving at the gate to the castle, they were halted briefly by the Bishop’s guard, who informed Liam that the Bishop wished to see him in the Keep’s hall as soon as possible. Liam nodded to the guard and entered the Bailey, thanking the man for relaying the message.

The Bishop's castle was far grander than the squat towers of Douglas Castle, but it was also much smaller in area. Whoever constructed the castle had built the Keep into the curtain wall, and only two towers existed on the walls surrounding the gate into the bailey. Whitewash had been applied to the entire structure to protect it from the weather.

This gave the castle an ethereal glow in the bright winter light that contrasted with the darker stone of the Cathedral across the road.

Liam turned about, looking at the structures in awe.

“If I wasn’t certain you’re Liam before, I am now.” Fergus said with a chuckle. “I remember you gaping just like that the first time you walked into the Bailey at Douglas with Lord James.”

Liam shook his head. “Will you give it up, Fergus? I rode in behind Lord James and Lady Tatania with two spare horses. And if I recall it right, the Lord sent you off with Squire Campbell to patrol the ambush site and arm the townsfolk shortly after.”

Fergus grunted and pursed his lips once more. Liam could almost hear the wind blowing the windmill that powered Fergus’s mind.

Pat, however, burst into laughter. “He got you there Fergus. I told you this was our Liam.”

Liam didn’t reply. He was distracted by a shadowed figure staring down at him from the top of the Keep. He couldn’t make out who it was, but its presence gave him an uneasy feeling.

“Do either of you know who that is?” Liam asked, jerking his chin in the figure's direction. Both Fergus and Pat looked up towards the top of the keep.

“Who?” Pat asked.

“There was someone there,” Fergus said. “But they moved out of sight before I could see them properly.”

Liam continued to ponder the stranger as the men tied their horses to a hitching post and moving towards the Keep.

A guard greeted them at the doors of the keep and guided them to the main hall, where they waited for the Bishop to appear. About halfway through their wait, Liam felt as though someone was watching from nearby.

Activating Magic Sight, he glanced around as casually as he could, finally spotting a hooded figure in a dark cloak in the shadows above.

“You there.” Liam said, his voice as loud and commanding as he could make it. “Show yourself now!”

The figure stepped forward, and Liam spied a cross hanging around his neck. The man wore priestly vestments too, and Liam frowned, trying to work out why a priest would bother spying on him and the two Douglas guardsmen.

It was then Liam recognized the man.

“Father Doreen!” He called out in surprise at seeing the Douglas Priest in Glasgow.

“You’re the sorcerer, aren’t you?” Doreen sneered, clearly not recognizing Liam. “I smelt the stench of your approach from the battlements.”

Fergus sniffed at Liam loudly, frowning when he smelled nothing but the scent of oil, fats and horses that rose from any man who spent time around horses and armour.

“I’m no sorcerer, but I can do some magic.” Liam admitted. “As to the smell, father, perhaps you need to wash your beard.”

“Heretic.” Doreen sneered. “You’ll burn in hell for that. I have already petitioned the Bishop for an Ecclesiastical court to hear the matter.”

Fergus gave a snort but kept silent.

“Do you plan on creating a court for everyone who has gained a level through the system? For that too is magic.” Liam inspected the Priest. It looked like he’d lost some weight over the last few days and gain four levels.

“What are you doing here, Father?” Liam asked. “Would it not be your duty to see to your flock in these times?”

Father Doreen’s face twisted into a sneer. “And what business is my flock to you, sorcerer?”

Fergus chose that moment to speak. “It’s the business of any man of Douglas to know why our Priest travels so far from the town. What brings you here, Father?”

Doreen’s eyes widened in surprise as he recognized Fergus and Pat. “What are you men doing here?” he demanded, ignoring Fergus’ question.

“Lord Douglas ordered us to remain here and wait for Page Lamberton’s arrival. He’d disappeared while on the road with us, and…”

Father Doreen let loose a cackle of derision. “Page Lamberton? That jumped up little peasant bastard. He got lost, did he?”

Liam had enough of this fool. “I did, and now I am returned to Scotland I shall travel to the King's Court. Now what business takes you from Douglas?”

“You!” Father Doreen’s eyes flew wide. “I knew you were a demon when I first set eyes on you. You’re the reason Douglas is besieged, and your sorcery is the reason I am here. The king will know of your heresy! Mark my words, he shall!”

Both Pat and Fergus looked just as stunned as Liam felt. “The Keep at Douglas was besieged? By Whom? What happened to Sir Keith and the townsfolk?” Liam asked.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. As to what happened to my poor flock? They’re probably in the Keep or fled.” He said, looking suddenly nervous. “Anyway. I have more important duties to attend.”

Liam glanced at the two Douglas armsmen and saw disgust writ large on their faces. “So how did you escape, Father? Did you see any banners?”

Father Doreen’s face went a beet red. “I shan’t have a mere page questioning me in the Lord Bishop’s hall.” He shouted.

“Then what about the Bishop questioning you in his own hall?” A voice rang out from the doorway into the hall. “Would you feel inclined to answer then, Father Doreen?”

Liam turned to see a slight man wearing the clothes of a simple cleric yet burdened with a heavy gold chain of office. The Bishop, flanked by a guard and a scribe, entered the room.

Doreen’s eyes went wide at his arrival, and he bowed low.

“I would, my Lord Bishop.” He reverted to form, pandering to authority, and sneering at those he deemed beneath him.

“Excellency, the Keep was besieged by an unknown force of men the day after Lord Douglas left the town. I expect that Sir Keith and the townsfolk hid in the Keep.”

He turned to Liam. “That is how sieges go, I hear. The brave stand outside the walls, while the elderly and infirm seek shelter.”

The insult to Sir Keith didn’t go unnoticed by Fergus and Patrick. Both men tensed, and Fergus spat in the priest's direction, before remembering where he stood and bowing an apology to the Lord Bishop. “Apology, Excellency.” He murmured.

The Bishop didn’t seem to mind the crass manner of the Douglas men, however. “Do you have other questions, Master Lamberton, or may we get on with things?”

“I do, Lord–have another question that is.” He said, turning once more to address Father Doreen. “Will you swear to god that you escaped, and did not know of who the enemy were?” The priest was never one to allow his own heroism to be left untold. That he was not tripping over himself to tell the tale in every detail made Doreen’s words smack of a lie.

The whole thing seemed strange to Liam, and he wanted the Lord Bishop to know it. If he could force the Priest to swear a false oath, the system might intervene.

As he’d expected, Father Doreen looked suddenly uncomfortable, as though I had caught him in his lies. He’d seen the oath of fealty bind Liam and Lord James, and he stammered. “I shall do no such thing. The gall of a mere boy demanding a Priest swear by God!”

Puzzled by the Priests' sudden defensive behaviour, The Lord Bishop once more addressed the nervous man. “Perhaps you should do so after all.” He raised an eyebrow up at the Priest. “Swear to your statements before god, Father.”

Douglas’ Priest took his time answering. “I don’t know how I escaped. I took the road north and saw no banners as I left Douglas. This I swear to God in heaven.” No glow suffused him, but neither did lightning strike him down.

Still, he something didn’t sit right with Liam. Everything about Father Doreen seemed calculated. While Liam was willing to overlook the Priests obvious dislike, he couldn’t quite bring himself to accept that Father Doreen spoke the whole truth.

The Bishop, however, seemed satisfied. “You may go, Father. I expect you will want to accompany the Page and Lord FitzGilbert?”

Father Doreen gave a nod.

“Then you’d best see about packing, Father. They will leave within the hour, or so Lady FitzGerald informs me.”

As the Priest scurried from the room, the Lord Bishop of Glasgow gestured for Liam and his men to be seated. They waited for the Lord-Bishop to take his place first and sat after he lowered himself into the large chair at the head of the table.

“Father Doreen is a dutiful servant of the church, but a deeply flawed man. The two are possible despite outward appearances to the contrary.”

He smiled at Liam indulgently. “I understand that you have had quite a number of exciting adventures, young man. You wield magic?”

Liam nodded. There was no point in denying it. “Aye my Lord. I can. As we gain levels, we also gain access to abilities and spells that use magic from the system to power them.”

The Bishop nodded. “And I suppose you disagree with Father Doreen’s position on the use of magic being heresy?”

“I do, Lord.” Liam said. He knew he trod dangerous and new ground here, but given the information he possessed, it would not be long before people would need to make hard decisions. I might as well get them over with sooner rather than later. He thought.

“If the system is sent by God—and from everything I have experienced and the beings I have encountered—it has, then He wishes us to use the tools the system grants us to defend his realms.”

The Lord Bishop smiled. “You make a good argument, young man. But what if there is doubt? We know from the Bible that God’s design is infallible. Why would God say one thing, then do another?”

“I cannot speak for Lord God, Excellency, but when Abraham was told by god to kill his own son, did he not try to do so, only for God to change his mind at the last moment?”

The Lord Bishop smiled at that. “You seem very well versed in scripture, young man. You are wrong, however. God did not change his mind, nor order him to kill Isaac. He ordered him to sacrifice a lamb. That Abraham misunderstood and was about to sacrifice his own son rather than a lamb is no fault of god. In fact, god sent an angel to stop him.”

Liam thought for a moment about that, recalling what Bragi had said about the ascended being worshipped as gods and the Lord God having to intervene.

“Then what our understanding of the Apocalypse is similarly part of some wider misunderstanding?” Liam asked.

“What if John of Patmos was shown only part of God’s will for the future? What if the Apocalypse shall happen as God intends, just not in our realm?”

Before Liam could speak any more, he held up a hand. “Please, all of you, leave us to speak. This involves secrets of both the Church and the Kingdom.”

Pat and Fergus both stood and followed the Bishops’ retinue from the room, bowing to the Bishop as they did.

The Bishop smiled. “Now, what is it you know, and I don’t?” He asked.

Liam pondered the question for a moment before looking into the Bishop’s eyes. “What has Lady FitzGerald told you of my travels?”

“I have heard some of your story from the Lady Tatania, and more from Lady FitzGerald. While the Lord of Douglas was in a rush as he passed through, I felt it necessary to demand some answers before they left.”

“You disappeared to another realm of heaven.” The Bishop stated. “What was it like?”

Liam smiled. “Beautiful, but terrifying. I arrived as a thirteen-year-old boy in a world where ascended beings live. Even the lowliest enemies were nearly three times my level, and the Ascended... they held power I can barely describe.”

“The lands were vast, with seas of grass stretching over rolling green hills. There were lush forests, vast fjords and rivers, mighty plateaus, and wondrous creatures. Ascended beings lived there and had lived for thousands of years, some reaching back to the times when Lord God conquered their heavenly realm. And that was thousands of years before the times of Christ.”

The Bishop frowned at that. “What do you mean by that? Are you suggesting that God didn’t create the heavens?”

“From what I was told, he did. Well… for some realms, anyway. Some he conquered and converted or replaced the people, others he simply created from the same magic we can now use. Magic itself cannot therefore be evil, as it is the same thing God uses to create us.”

The Bishop pondered upon this idea for a moment, before nodding. “And how many realms does our God control?”

“There are Eight realms referred to by Bragi as the realms of Yggdrasil. The pagans who worshipped the ascended as gods knew of a ninth realm. Hel.”

“Bragi?” The Bishop asked. “Is that one of the false gods the pagans worshipped?”

Liam nodded. “He is no God, but he is real enough. While he is the same being as they refer to in the pagans' sagas, he explained to me how he and his tribe came to be worshipped as gods by men. They never sought nor claimed godhood. It was the ignorance of men who didn’t understand what they saw gave who them that status.”

“The Aesir know the Lord God is real, as is Christ, and accept him as their Lord and Saviour. From what I could find out, there are many tribes of ascended beings, and they all allowed men to worship them without correcting their mistake.”

“Things on earth shifted away from God’s plan because of the hubris of men. Eventually God felt it necessary to right the wrong, which is when he sent Christ to give us the truth.”

The bishop nodded. Liam could see he was having a hard time accepting the story, but Liam pressed on. “Our Lord God seeks to take over all the realms of Hell, but I don’t understand his purpose in doing so. From what I was told, God is planning to increase the number of heavenly realms by converting the worlds of the Damned and Demons to his cause.”

“And this Bragi, you feel he was telling the truth?” The Bishop asked.

“I do, but not merely because he spun a tale. Bragi said that our world will be the battleground upon which all of God’s and the Arch-Demon’s realms will be lost or won. Whoever wins here, wins it all.”

The Bishop’s eyes narrowed. “So, what is stopping the Ascended intervening on our behalf?”

“Bragi said that they couldn’t. It is supposed to be a part of the deal God made with the Arch-Demon. Only beings from the highest circle of Hell and lowest realm of heaven may fight. I have to say, I didn’t believe him fully when he first told me, but then I found this.”

Liam withdrew the Journal he’d found in the Troll’s horde. “It was almost four years later that I discovered this book in the horde of a Cave-Troll. A man from our world wrote a journal of events in his homeland. It speaks of battles against an army of the Damned from within the last two weeks.”

He turned to the last page and read.

The Bishops eyes went wide when he heard the number and scale of the invasion of Damned. He listened intently and when Liam was done, he called for his scribe.

Whispering furiously to the man, he dismissed him and turned to Liam.

Liam watched as the clerk sprinted away, only to return moments later with a large scroll tucked under his arm.

Unfurling it, Liam saw it was a map. The drawings covering it were like nothing he’d ever seen before. “What is this a map of, Lord Bishop?” He asked.

“It’s a map of the known world.” Was the distracted reply.

The Bishop jabbed his finger down on one part of the map and began tracing it gently over the parchment, searching for something.

“There.” He announced proudly. “That is where the enemies of God are.”

Liam looked closely at the map and saw the town of Isfahan. He joined the Bishop in trying to discover how far away the Demon horde lay.

Liam turned to discover the Bishop had gone sheet white. “Look there!” he said, his voice trembling with fear. And Liam looked.

Just under the Bishops fingernail, and near the Eastern coast of a great ocean lay a name Liam was familiar with. Jerusalem.

The Bishop turned to him, his tone stern and his voice suddenly steady. “We must inform the King of the danger to Christendom. I shall depart for Avignon with the day to bring word to the Pope. You will carry a letter for me to the King. Deliver it at all costs!”

Liam nodded, surprised by the sudden shifts in emotion displayed by the Bishop. “I must take this book with me Liam.” He said. “I know it provides proof of who you are and what you’ve been through, but my letter of introduction will have to be enough. At least for now. It shall take two weeks at least to reach the Papal court, so I may return in as short a time as one month.”

“Whatever happens Liam, protect the King. His son is too young to rule, and with Balliol rising in the South, Scotland and Christendom requires his strength once more.”

Liam nodded and stood to bow to the Lord Bishop as the older man rose from his seat. “I believe the Lady is nearly ready to leave. May God be with you Liam Lamberton, as he was with your father.”

Before he could turn to leave, Liam stopped him. “There is something else, Milord. I know you are the Lord of Glasgow and the surrounding lands, but have you taken the time to look into the upgrades for your Fief?”

The Lord Bishop nodded. “I have, but the cost is far beyond what Lord Douglas said it would be. It may be because of my greater holdings, but I don’t have the credits to spend on upgrading the lands just yet. My guards and the Militia are working on it, but with me leaving, I doubt we shall make any progress this month.”

Liam smiled at that. “How many more do you need?”

“Two thousand. We have seven hundred already, but the lands are nearly four times the size of those surrounding Douglas. I worry the smallfolk will be hard pressed to eat if this winter doesn’t let up.”

The Bishop was clearly a good man, and his ready acceptance of Liam’s tale had simply reinforced to him that the man could be trusted to provide for his people. His concerns so far had been entirely for others.

Liam withdrew the required sum onto the table, along with another five hundred coins for good measure.

The clatter of coins rolling across the wood echoed throughout the chamber. “This should allow you to upgrade what you need.” He said. “It’s a bit more than two thousand, but I’m not sure what else you can upgrade.”

“Where in God’s name…” The Bishop started. “I cannot repay you now, Liam, but be assured that whatever you need you shall receive.”

“It’s not a loan, Excellency. You have need and I have funds. While I can’t say that I came by the credits easily, I don’t think my father's estates were so great I shall need so much.”

His generosity stunned the Prelate. With tears filling his eyes, the old man raised one hand. Reaching up to Liam’s forehead, he made the sign of the cross with his thumb. “In nomine Patris, et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.”

Liam, surprised by the benediction, answered automatically with the refrain, “Amen”.

The Bishop closed his eyes, placing his right hand on Liam’s brow. “May you always walk with the Love of God Liam Lamberton, and may he protect you from evil and from loss. May your power be that of Heaven and dismay the wicked and the demon. May you find peace and love, as you carry the peace and love of our saviour with you. In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, Amen.”

Liam felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders as the blessing concluded, yet that was not all that happened. As the Lord Bishop of Glasgow shone with the light of a level, a vision appeared before Liam.

You have received the Blessing of the Bishop of Glasgow. While within the bounds of the burgh, or in any lands controlled by the Diocese of Glasgow, you receive:

+10 Faith.

+10 Vitality.

+100% to experience gain.

+50% speed of learning new skills.

The Bishop looked just as stunned as Liam felt. “Did you just gain a level, Lord Bishop?” Liam asked.

The prelate nodded. “I did!” He looked at his hands and watched as youth and strength seemed to return to them. “I have not had cause to bless anyone who so richly deserved one for years. I had no idea that by granting a blessing, I would use the system! If this doesn’t prove the system comes from the power of God, I don’t know what will.”

“Perhaps before you leave, you may wish to seek some worthy souls within the town and deliver a blessing to them also?” Liam suggested. “From what I can tell, simply repeating a task grants far less experience than actively seeking new situations where you learn.”

“I will that Liam. For now, I have much to attend to. Thanks to you, Glasgow has a chance to survive again. We may even grow enough over the next months to provide for much of Scotland. You have done much more than you know today, Liam.” With a final smile, the Bishop walked out of the room at speed, already calling for his scribe and leaving Liam to contemplate his words.

Leaving the hall, Liam walked back out to the horses and found Fergus and Pat waiting for him. They passed the time chatting about their experiences on the road, and Liam regaled them with his story of Skeidbrimir.

“An eight-legged horse?” Fergus laughed. “You ever heard of something so daft?”

Pat shook his head. “Next, he’ll be telling tales of the Green Dog of the Fae.”

“Believe me or not, I swear to god I’m telling the truth.” He glowed briefly for a moment and wondered why the same hadn’t happened for Father Doreen. He wasn’t willing to try telling a lie to see what happened, though. Colm had always said oaths were important, and that was truer now than ever because of the consequences of breaking your word before God.

Liam still wasn’t exactly sure what those consequences would be, but he was certain they would be dire.

On the other side of the Bailey, several of the Bishops’ servants were busy packing the wagon Liam had bought for the Fitzgeralds with supplies. One approached Liam and bowed, handing him a small parcel of loose pages, sealed with a large glob of red sealing wax.

“My Lord wished me to give you this. He wanted you to know it is the letter of reference and his words for the King.”

Liam thanked the man and tucked the letter into his saddle-bag. He didn’t have to wait long before he spotted Sir Peter carrying Lord FitzGilbert from the Keep. The Soul-Damaged man moaned as he was moved, and Liam could see a range of emotions playing across Sir Peter’s face.

He couldn’t imagine how he would feel if this happened to his friends.

Moments later, Lady Mary came out with her daughter close behind, and they climbed into the wagon. Lady Claire gave him a cheerful wave as she gathered her skirts to climb, only to give a shriek of surprise when Sir Peter lifted her under the arms and placed her on the wagon bed.

Ready to leave, Sir Peter approached Liam and the two Douglas men.

“It should only take a day or so for us to reach Cardross,” He said. “You’re all ready to depart?”

A worried voice sounded from the direction of the stables, and Father Doreen wobbled out atop a small pony. The hawing of the animal as it laboured under the obese clergyman, drawing all eyes.

“I feel bad for that pony. It’s a bit top heavy!” Pat remarked, grinning at Liam.

Liam struggled to suppress his mirth as the pompous man jounced past.

Doreen didn’t seem to know how foolish he looked, and turned in his seat to berate Liam and the other Douglas men. “Well, are you coming?” He demanded.

Sir Peter got the wagon moving, and Liam, with the two Douglas armsmen, fell in behind. Exiting the protection of the castle’s walls, Liam gave the cathedral one last look as they rode the short distance to the market square and turned past the tavern.

As the clatter of hooves on stone turned to the thud of hard packed, the small group left the Trongate to the west of the burgh. Already Liam could see signs of a coming thaw, and he smiled, knowing the Bishop had spent the credits wisely. The ride gave Liam time to think, and he slowly sank into a meditation on all the events that had occurred since he’d arrived back in Scotland.

His thoughts soon turned to what he could expect in Cardross, and out of habit, checked to ensure the letter was still secure in his saddle-bag.

Seeing it safely nestled away, he wondered what his friends would think of his return, and how he’d be received. He was still pondering that question as dusk fell. and the party rode north-west, towards its dying light.