“I implore you to reconsider.” Lord MacDermott couldn’t help the dribble of sweat running down his back under his bright red velour coat. Not only was the cottage he was standing in warm, but he was currently suffering under the glare of the old woman in front of him.

“I’ve made up my mind, and will not change it!” She snapped, her tone rising. There was a mad fire in her eyes, that threatened a mass destruction to all it came across. Even so, the courtier stood beseechingly, clutching his hat.

“Richard, I do not like who that man is becoming. I’ve said my piece.” Bertha Brady sat in her rocking chair, staring down the right-hand man to the Duke, wearing only her sleeping shift, and a cream colored crocheted shawl.

The small cottage had been her family’s for more than a century, and had been kept tidy for her visits home to her village. In truth, there wasn’t much to keep up in terms of maintenance. The cottage was a single room, for cooking, eating, and sleeping. It had a stone fireplace on the wall across from the door, a double bed in the corner, a long table under one of two windows, that had pots and pants hanging above it, a small round table with 2 chairs, and a rocking chair in front of the fireplace. Everything a lone old woman could need.

The only amenity that was not within the confines of the room was the outhouse, which was placed back in the trees away from the building. It wasn’t the main house Bertha and her family had grown up in, but it still felt like home to her regardless.

“Please Bertha, word has already spread this morning that he almost impaled one of his knights the morning when he found out you had left.”

“O’Farrell doesn’t miss by accident if her threw a blade. And it’s Ms. Brady now.” Bertha snapped narrowing her eyes at the Lord in front of her.

Outside of her servitude, Bertha was a strong woman, but still normally kind and polite to all. However, if someone was on her land trying to change her mind; they would do well to reconsider.

She had taken on the demure position at Sean O’Farrell’s keep, away from her family, and away from the freedom of being as crotchety as she would like, for one reason.

Sean O’Farrell, and his darn piercing blue eyes.

Very few courtiers knew her, somewhat difficult nature, but the serving staff at the O’Farrell keep had no doubts about Bertha Brady’s true self. It was one of the reasons she was so effective as a Head Maid.

Now in the sanctity of her home, she didn’t care to hold back any longer to anyone. Especially when it pertained to returning to the employ of Sean O’Farrell.

Any other peasant would be whipped, or imprisoned for such disrespectful behavior towards a Lord or Lady.

When it came to Bertha Brady however, Richard MacDermott knew that if anyone laid a hand on her, they could count their remaining days on one hand.

So, he was subjected to the rage of the elderly woman. Knowing that if he had admitted to spotting her in the woods on her way home, and he showed up empty handed back at the keep, there would be hell to pay.

“Head M-, Bertha, I-”

“Ms. Brady.”

“Ms. Brady, Lord O’Farrell went upstairs after his outburst to retrieve his bride that very night. He had every intention of making a public apology to her, that very night. I think in his older age his patience has become-”

“I could give a rat’s behind about what he was going to do. What he did was unacceptable, and cannot be taken back!”

A sudden realization crept up to Bertha, as she watched the panicked Lord in front of her turn his red velvet hat in his hands nervously.

“Wait a moment, you said; ‘had every intention of making a public apology to her’. Did he NOT apologize to Agnes Beatha?” Richard MacDermott winced, and gripped his hat.

“Erm, well, he did you see! He went there and… and apologized! Yes, Agnes Beatha and him are getting along quite well now. It seems his outburst quelled any further-”

“You tell one more lie, and I will brand you with my fire poker.” Bertha hissed leaning forward in her rocking chair. Lord MacDermott took a step back in fright.

“What has actually happened?”

“I… I cannot say! That is for you to ask Lord O’Farrell.” Lord MacDermott tried to steel himself to regain his composure. He hadn’t been treated this way since he was a lad under the care of a governess, and it was disconcerting to say the least.

Bertha Brady settled back in her rocking chair, still glaring at the man. She was clearly trying to guess at what had taken place the night of the first engagement dinner, but even she couldn’t fathom the reckless decision that Lady Agnes Beatha had made.

“I will respect the privacy of the keep, but I have no interest in returning. Get on with your business Lord MacDermott. Leave this old woman to rest her bones, and die with them exactly where she wants.”

Lord MacDermott could think of nothing more to say. He turned and walked away, leaving the cottage with its painted green door, and finding his General standing outside waiting for him.

“General Forbes, we will resume our search now.” The Beast Awares with the furry snout, and tusks, stared at his Lord calmly. He wore 2 swords across his back, one was a broad sword, one was smaller, and had a deep curve. A small knife was in his boot, but no other daggers adorned his body. A helmet that had gold edges sat over his head, and he wore both his chainmail and tunic.

“Very well my Lord. My student, Sir Barra, should be joining us again tomorrow.”

Lord MacDermott nodded idly, and focused his attention on pulling on his black leather gloves, and placing his hat back on his head. The Beast Awares twitched his ears, and showed no sign that he had heard the exchange within the cottage.

General Forbes had a poker face that gamblers would envy. He had not been at all surprised that Bertha Brady had torn a strip out of the Lord.

When he had been first admitted into the household, he had quickly learned that she was not a woman to be bullied, or to try and goad into changing her mind. He remembered with great clarity, the day he had asked her for a refill on ale. He had been sitting drinking in the kitchens, late in the night with his comrades. He had carelessly sloshed her with the frothy remainder of his 7th drink, upon his request for more.

Presently, he absent-mindedly touched the scar on his right finger. She had been holding a kitchen knife at the time, and had been preparing a chicken for the group of knights after their successful hunting trip. It didn’t take much imagination to know what had happened.

No… she was not a woman to take injustice well.

General Forbes mounted his black horse, alongside Lord MacDermott’s steed, and they set off at a careful strolling pace.

Despite there being a young woman, most likely lost and starving in the woods, Lord MacDermott didn’t seem to be hurrying their search at all. The General had seen Lord MacDermott in times of emergency, and the decisive swift actions of the man in the past, did not match the relaxed, detour-taking one he was riding beside.

It raised questions for the Beast Awares. Many, many questions.

***

While Aggie hadn’t exactly gone unconscious, she did find herself fighting a flurry of colored and black dots that were closing in on her vision. She was mildly aware that Arlen was speaking, and could understand a few words that were being said.

“Why would you...”

“She didn’t want… idiot.”

“… Runaway… ”

That was the extent of the conversation she could glean, before she suddenly felt like sleeping, very, very badly.

She meant to fight it, she meant to force herself to rise again, and wave off whatever arguments would start, but all she brought herself to do was resign herself in thinking:

“Maybe just 5 more minutes…”

How the discussions Aggie had heard, actually went thusly:

“Why would you not let me know she was ill?!” Arlen was red in the face, and had a manic look in his eyes.

“Because we would’ve wasted time, and she probably would’ve argued with us about it.” Tork’s relaxed, casual tone was doing nothing to quell Arlen’s explosion.

“She can’t continue like this! She already has bugs in her hair, and now a fever rendering her unconscious. Why would she-”

“She didn’t want you being tempted to bring her back to Sean O’Farrell. That much is obvious. Idiot.” Tork said it flatly, not impressed with his group member’s hysterics.

“I’m loyal to her. Not Lord O’Farrell!”

“To be quite honest Arlen, I think she’s naïve for trusting you this much already.”

Arlen was too enraged to form words, and so Tork continued.

“Let me repeat how I’ve come to understand your meeting each other: You 2 met, and were immediately bonded. She woke up in her chamber, talked to you alone for the first time ever, and in that same meeting, entrusted you to take care of her when she ran away. Does none of that sound naively trusting?” While Tork spoke, Ora was crouched beside Aggie, dabbing her face with a cloth she had dampened with water from one of their waterskins.

“She should have trusted me like that! We can never betray our Master’s and Mistresses, and she should have continued to trust me! Everyone knows this about Servicers!” Arlen was fuming, and Tork wasn’t helping, but he seemed unfazed by Arlen’s anger. The Servicer didn’t know combat, and he and the Lady, needed the 2 Beast Awares. Tork decided he may as well be upfront in his thoughts, to help them both gain some wisdom.

“Arlen, she took what Sean O’Farrell said to her at face value. She had never heard of Servicer’s before, and she didn’t even wait ensure you were trustworthy.”

“She couldn’t wait! The wedding was in less than 2 weeks!”

“She could’ve run away on her own. She’s a smart girl.” Tork paused, but then continued. “To be quite honest you both are quite naïve. For your race being so ‘knowledgable’, you keep trusting random strangers with your identity when you are on the run, and hiding. You’ve both been beyond lucky that it was Declan and us that you met. I can think of very few individuals who wouldn’t report your whereabouts to Sean O'Farrell!”

Arlen continued to rage, but when Tork spoke again, he did so more gently.

“Arlen, she trusted you out of necessity before. Give her time to trust you fully, and don’t expect us to get dragged into it. I doubt she will respond well if you explode at her like a worried parent. Now stop being a horse’s ass, and start taking care of her.” Tork plunked himself down on the ground. “This sickness came on pretty quickly. Odd’s are it will leave quickly as well.”

Arlen dropped to his knees after giving Tork a final glare, and began helping Ora give Aggie a small sponge bath to help cool the fever.

His anger didn’t fade until he lifted her tunic fractionally, aiding Ora in cleaning under Aggie’s arms, and then he saw the large bruise on her side.

His expression turned dark, and then all at once, it caved in on itself.

He needed to talk with her as soon as she was better.

Arlen let out a sigh, and helped Ora finish drying her off. After that, they all sat, and waited. All of them were wondering if this was how, and where, they would get caught. Despite the risk, none of them disturbed Aggie as she slept deeply.

***

Bertha rocked back and forth in her chair. Her hair was free, and untidily down past her shoulders, acting like a second shawl, combating any drafts.

As she closed her eyes in the peace, and listened to the fire crackle beside her, her mind began to drift. The 2-day journey had taken much out of her.

She had enough on her mind, without already being begged to return to the keep. Though, while she had anticipated Sean tearing himself away from his duties after a few days, she had not been ready for his right-hand man to be hammering at her door.

Bertha let out another puff of breath. She liked Richard MacDermott, and knew he was only trying to keep the peace, but he did not hold Sean accountable. He was part of the problem of her beloved becoming someone she could no longer be around.

Bertha continued rocking back and forth, and closed her eyes.

The moment she did, she saw Sean O’Farrell’s face in front of her. Not the sour old man he had grown to be, but the handsome young man she had fallen for. The young man with his chestnut brown hair, beautiful blue eyes, and best of all, his devilish smile.

It wasn’t long before Bertha was asleep, and dreaming of a time years ago, in another life.

She wiped the sweat from her brow under the May sun, after she plunked the buckets of water down in front of her parents home. Her 3 younger brothers were scampering around the yard, forgetting that they were supposed to be helping their mother peel potatoes. She sighed as she watched them roughing each other up, and testing out battle cries.

“You 3, don’t make me wallop you before the Festival!” Bertha raised her calloused hands to mimic striking them as they all stared nervously at her. Stopping their boyish scuffle.

“Beeeertie! Come one! It’s the May Day Festival. All the other kids are having fun!” James whined. He was the oldest boy, but still 12 years younger than Bertha. Her own mother had passed away after giving birth to her sister, Mamie, and so there was a healthy age gap between her and the boys.

“So your mother should do all the work? How is that fair? If you don’t enjoy everything together than it isn’t right. Get inside!” She lunged at them, mostly in jest, and watched as they all yelped, and bolted back into the house.

She grinned at their backs. She loved her family with all her heart, but they made her crazy.

Bertha turned, and stared up at the fine house her father had built for her mother in a time before she was born. It was a stone house, with 3 rooms: A large room for the kitchen and sitting area, a bedroom for her parents, and a bedroom for the children. It was a tight fit at bedtime, but the rest of the time they had the world around them to roam, and to work.

Bertha was rubbing her shoulders after hauling the buckets over from the village well, when she felt a cup of water be doused over her head.

She shrieked, and whirled around to see a smiling young man laughing already at her expression.

“You looked like you needed to cool down!” Aggie went to kick Sean as he laughed again, and leapt out of the way.

“Sean Finnegan I will beat you until you wash my handkerchief!” She cursed at him as she chased him away from her house. They were the same height, and so it didn’t take long for her to catch up to him after a small chase.

When she caught up to him, he was laughing so hard that she had no trouble in taking her time, stripping the soaking wet blue handkerchief off of her head, and hitting him with it.

“Alright, alright!” He held up both of his hands in defeat. He took the handkerchief, and plopped down on the grass, while Aggie continued eyeing him.

“You’re much too serious, you know that?” He asked grinning up at her with all of his boyish charms. At the age of 17, that was his greatest weapon, and as Bertha stared into his eye,s that were practically shimmering in the sunlight, she acquiesced and sat down next to him with a smile.

“Excited for the Festival?” She asked leaning back into the grass with him, the sweat on her back made her feel the grass beneath them all the more itchy. Bertha squirmed, forgetting momentarily that she had asked a question.

“Absolutely. More than ever.”

“Because of the food?”

“Because of the food!” He exclaimed excitedly. A gentle breeze tossed Bertha’s long wavy brown hair that had streaks of sun-kissed caramel in it. She raised herself up onto her elbows, and stared at Sean. He had his eyes closed, and a goofy smile on his face, and she couldn’t help feel her small smile get a little wider before she managed to look away. Her deep blue eyes, surveyed the green fields and forest around them. The clear skies, the warm sun, and gentle breeze, made it the perfect picture of peace.

“I do happen to have another reason to be excited.” Sean declared suddenly, sitting upright with a sudden burst of energy.

“Oh? Is your mother actually going to let you go for a night ride this year?”

“Oh not a chance. She’s still worried a lone Fey woman will steal me away.” Bertha grimaced. As lovely as Aileen Finnegan was, she tended to have a lot of fears about the world.

“No, I’m excited because tonight; I’m going to ask you to marry me.”

Bertha’s jaw dropped, and she whipped her head back around to stare at Sean.

“Wh-Why don’t you just ask me now you dolt!”

“Well because I have a plan.” He answered conversationally.

Bertha couldn’t get another word out, before Sean sprung up onto his feet, and grinned at her again.

“Just you wait Bertha Brady, I’m going t convince you to be my wife, even if it means it’ll take my whole life.”

Bertha jerked herself awake, and was not at all surprised to feel tears on her face, or that her hands were shaking.

She found herself missing someone, she was quite certain, she would never see again.

***

His wrinkled hand clutched his victim’s face, and sneered yellow teeth as the man gasped and cried out. He took great pleasure in watching the light in their eyes grow dimmer, and dimmer. Watching them fall away to his grasp.

When he could feel the heavy weight of nothing in the distressed body, he tossed the being next to the others, and turned his face to the entrance of his abode.

High up in the mountains, in his well-hidden cave, he glowered down at the only tower of the North King’s castle that he could see. The turret was one of many, but its flag of bright yellow and green, flapping leisurely in the wind, was enough to fuel his hate.

It was the same sight he had seen for decades, and the one that drove him onwards. The flag of the North King; Conroy Hayes. The fool.

The elderly man stroked his beard once, and turned away. Fool or not. He would make them pure again. He would make them powerful. He would do whatever it took.

He turned back to his cave, his gray cloak trailing on the ground behind his hunched body. He walked passed the pile of bodies, surrounded by an energetic field that crackled as he passed.

Further into the cave, he sat down on a rock, where a glowing misty white orb sat waiting for him on a small stone table. He ticked its cool glass surface with one of his long pointed nails.

“Who did our new friend happen to know, hmm?” From the point of his nail, a stream of white smoke spiraled down into the glass orb, and suddenly new faces appeared before him.

“What a wonderful village this is… They should bring the True Race its final numbers.” He murmured as the images flitted in front of him.

"Then... it can finally begin." He stood, and faced the rows of piles made of human bodies.

“I suppose I better send an invitation.” He smiled, but no one was there to see it. Or rather; plenty of people were there to see it, but no one could.