Tork glowered at the pair in front of him that stood side by side. He hadn’t said anything since they had arrived in his private quarters, where he would take meetings and stored his maps, and seemed set on sitting in his favorite armchair as he allowed his guest's discomfort to grow. Aggie wasn’t sure if he was making them tense on purpose, or if he was trying to put the phrase; “Fucking humans” in a new, rage infused, way.

Despite the armchair normally having a magical relaxing effect, its tattered red cloth and comforting sagging of its cushion, did little to improve the tension Tork felt in his shoulders. He knew if he didn’t take time to compose himself he would explode in a fit of nonsensical ramblings.

“We need to leave today. I wasn’t lying about having a job to do. I need to go speak with whomever sent the summons for my services, and find out who or what I’m bringing back.” Tork could only manage small abrupt sentences as he held in the slew of synonyms for ‘idiot’.

“Of course Tork, I will go pack my Lady’s things.” Arlen dipped his head in farewell, and strode towards the closed door, leaving Aggie alone in Tork’s presence. To which she responded by giving his back a panicked look. As Arlen pulled open the door he finally turned, and shot her a mischievous smile before leaving the room.

Aggie’s nervous expression fell flat, and she turned her gaze to Tork, who seemed oblivious to this exchange.

“Lady Agnes Beatha.” Tork called her name, and sat up straighter in his chair.

“You have given us all plenty to worry about. I need your word that no matter what, you will not take off without a proper disguise, and letting people know where you are going. I know this is frustrating, but you are a wanted fugitive-”

“I know Tork, you’re right, and I am deeply sorry.” Aggie cut off his lecture that had been ascending in volume, and bowed her head in apology.

Tork grunted; he didn’t like his tangents being interrupted. When he spoke again, his tone was more controlled, but his frustration was abundantly evident.

“Aggie, the Fey are tricky bastards that you need to avoid at all costs. The best of them fuck everything that moves, and the worst have sparked wars and conflict every time they pop up. They do what they please, and take no responsibility for their actions.”

Aggie winced at the sharpness of Tork’s voice.

“Are they all bad?”

“Some of them aren’t pure evil if that’s what you’re asking. Most of the time they just will trick people into bed, or will fuck with a farmer’s crops if he has offended them.”

“Have you ever lain with a Fey?” Aggie asking wondering why Tork seemed to have a particularly bad impression of the fairer folk. Most people thought of them as nuisances, or as highly desireable, but few have begrudged them the way Tork did.

“I have not. My heritage has though. Obviously.” Tork gestured to himself as a Beast Awares. He snorted before continuing his spiel.

“The Fey started a whole goddamn race because their frigid women could barely birth children.”

Aggie stood up straighter.

“They can’t have kids?”

“Well they can… but it is a very rare occurrence. Despite them living hundreds of years, they’ll be lucky to have one pure Fey babe in all that time.”

Aggie nodded in understanding. The Fey had created a new species so as to ensure some form of continuation of their line.

“I wonder why they abandon their children in this world. If they want their offspring to last and carry on their heritage, it doesn’t make sense…”

“Don’t try to make sense of the Fey unless you want to be known as the settlement loony.” Tork ended the conversation by standing, and placing his hands on his hips.

Though he wasn’t the biggest Beast Awares Aggie had seen so far, he was still taller than the average man at about 6’5 feet in height, and his girth was powerful.

“Lady Beatha, I believe you should have the freedom to do as you please. Breed with whomever, but if you don’t want a life of misery for whatever offspring you have, don’t share blood with the Fey.”

Aggie turned as red as the chair Tork had previously sat on, and nodded speechlessly before ducking her head, and making a beeline for the door.

*

Arlen had packed up the meager belongings Aggie had brought with her from her former life, and everyone was waiting down in the courtyard for her. She had raced back into the house as everyone began discussing which weaponry they would be bringing, claiming that she needed to use the garderobes to relieve herself. Instead, she had dashed upstairs when she was certain all the servants were in the courtyard assisting everyone with their gear.

Aggie rushed into the room, and dove to the side of the bed that had already been made neatly once again, as though she had never been there.

She reached under the bed frame, and felt the small bulge of the bell pressed between the mattress and wood where she had hidden it the night before.

Aggie withdrew the bell, its cool silver as beautiful as the first time she had seen it, and stowed it carefully in a small leather pouch that hung from her belt which held her mother’s pearls, and a small sphere no bigger than a pebble with white cloudy coloring.

The trinket looked like moonstone, and had caught Aggie's eye in the alleyway before Arlen had found her. Something about it seemed odd, yet striking with its white mists that seemed to swirl in the glass.

Aggie stood up quickly, she didn’t have time to marvel at her new possessions, as she was all too aware of the risks of being seen. She cinched the pouch closed tightly, then bolted back down to the courtyard.

Upon returning, Aggie saw that everyone except Ora and Quib, were sheathing their allotted weapons, and strapping them to their bodies. Arlen had a short sword strapped to his back, and a long dagger clipped to his belt.

Tork had his swords already on his back, and was in the process of attaching a small dagger to his own belt.

When he saw that Aggie was rejoining them, he picked up a hatchet, and the wooden training staff she had been using. Arlen was already holding a leather strap that had a holster for the head of the hatchet, and so Aggie stepped closer to him so that he could fit it to her back.

He did so with ease; cinching the strap so that it wouldn't move easily, but not so tightly that it would bite into her skin.

He then fitted the hatchet to its holder, and made sure that the hilt could be easily grasped if his Mistress lifted back her right arm.

Aggie was reaching over her shoulder to sense how far she would have to reach in order to grab her weapon, when Arlen then began tying a sheathed dagger to her belt, and Tork began tucking smaller knives in to her boot, and the small of her back. She began to feel like a Lady again when her servants used to dress her, except this time they were men. And they were arming her for physical attacks instead of boring dinners.

When they had finished, the two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, appraising their handy work, as Aggie stared at them confused.

“I knew I’d be getting a staff and a hatchet, but the knives and dagger?” She asked squirming at the feeling of the sheathed knife at her back.

“Yes. Tork and I discussed this while you were inside, you have an incredible aptitude for hatchet throwing, and knives could be another skill set for you to become proficient in. Especially for throwing.”

“I feel like that is… excessive. Why do you only have 2 bigger weapons, and I have 3 small ones and one big one?” Aggie shook the staff in her hand at them to enunciate her point.

“Because Arlen is strong enough to hold his own in direct combat. You are not. We need to play to your strengths.”

“Is the bow really necessary to carry everywhere…? Can’t we just keep using branches to train?” Aggie complained, as Arlen turned his attention to the cook handing him food.

Tork sighed, but stared at the level of weaponry Aggie now carried on her person.

“Fine. We can leave the staff. We will continue training with it though. No trainee of mine leaves my company being anything less than capable.”

As Tork talked, Aggie hurriedly put the staff back amongst the other weaponry that was being left behind. Reggie was already beginning to pack up the discarded weapons, and nodded to her as she carefully leaned the staff against the wall.

“Thank you for everything Reggie. It was wonderful to meet you.” Aggie smiled at the young Beast Awares, who appeared to be somewhat bashful at being the recipient of her rare smile.

“Don’t worry about it. Dad is always dragging new trainees in and out. Gives him more connections to tap into later on for tougher bounties. Makes him one of the best bounty hunters around.” Aggie nodded and glanced over at Tork who was loading his own pack up with food, as Arlen was tentatively petting Quib’s velvety snout.

“Why didn’t you become a bounty hunter?” Aggie turned to Reggie who had already been staring at her, watching her expressions.

“Oh, erm… I take after my ma more than my dad.” He suddenly looked uncomfortable as he lay a mace in the chest in front of him, and then straightened his shoulders awkwardly.

“How do you mean…?”

“Beatha! Let’s go! We’ve burnt enough of the day with your nonsense.” Tork hollered as he joined Arlen and Ora near the tunnel that would lead them to the side street.

Aggie sighed, and gave an apologetic look to Reggie.

“I don’t know when or if I’ll see you again Lady Agnes, but I’ve enjoyed speaking with you.” Reggie smiled, and Aggie returned the sentiment as she gave a quick wave, and joined the group.

Once she was within arms reach, Ora reached over and tied up half of Aggie’s hair into a small bun, and Arlen began smudging her face with a combination of dirt and what smelled like black boot polish.

“Won’t people think it strange if I look like I crawled out from the underbrush, while you all look fresh as daisies?” She asked cringing away as Arlen went to smudge her face even more.

Arlen paused his handiwork, his outstretched blackened hand inches from Aggies face.

“Hmm, excellent point. I agree my Lady.”

Arlen proceeded to wipe the black polish under his eyes and on his eyelids. He looked rather intimidating with the small change, and Aggie wondered if she looked as threatening.

“We can say we are from a nomadic tribe that insists on anonymity. I believe there are at least 4 of these types of tribes on this continent. There are the Gypsies, but they are performers…” Arlen thought to himself as they began strolling down towards the sidestreet.

“Ah. I know, we shall be from the tribe known as the Minkies. They are thought of as savages, and wander the continent in bands no larger than 40 people. They tend to keep to the mountains, and most don’t even know how to speak English, so we’ll be excused from talking as well.”

“Glad to hear it! We’ll cover more ground if you two aren’t chit chatting the whole time.” Tork called over his shoulder as they exited the iron gate, and made their way down the quiet road, and onto the busy sunny street.

*

The group walked for over 30 minutes, until they came to a small inn that had begun sinking into the ground over the years, with a worn wooden roof, and a round window above the doorway. Unlike most of the buildings in the street, this establishment didn’t appear to have any stained glass windows, but did have moss growing out of its eaves and cobwebs in its corners.

A faded sign painted on a large tile attached to the wall declared its name to the world-, albeit meekly:

The Cottars Inn.

The building didn’t look entirely stable, and it seemed almost invisible to every other passerby on the street, but Tork seemed to know without question that this was the right place, as he pushed the soft wooden door open to reveal a dark musty room that was empty save for 3 patrons. A man with a long furry tale tipped in white who had his head resting on the bar in front of a tankard, a Beast Awares covered head to toe in brown fur sat with her toddler on her lap eating a surprisingly appetizing meal. The third patron was all too easy to miss, as he wore a black cloak with the hood drawn over his eyes, hunched in the back corner booth of the relatively small dining area.

A lone bartender who was backed by cast barrels that were stacked up to the ceiling, stood shaking his head at the man who was asleep on the bar.

It took the elderly man with his short white beard and twinkling blue eyes a moment to notice the group in his inn, but when he did, he lifted his chin in acknowledgment.

Tork nodded, and lead the group back to the stranger in the corner without any hesitation. Despite the inn fronting a busy street, it was remarkably quiet, and oddly dark given that it was daytime. Arlen assumed that was why they were meeting in that particular location. It was incredibly discreet, and ideal for someone whom did not want their business known.

As Tork stood in front of the man who sat with nothing in front of him, he grunted a greeting.

“Do you know who I am?” Tork asked when the man didn’t move.

Instead of responding, the man held out a lilywhite hand with his palm up. He had long elegant fingers, without a speck of hair or fur to be seen, and were it not for his lack of curves, Aggie would’ve wondered if the stranger was female.

Tork made a sound of annoyance as he procured a tattered wrinkled envelope from one of his many leather pouches, and dropped it over the man’s hand. With a twitch of his fingers, the cloaked figure caught the falling paper effortlessly, then turned it over to examine the wax seal.

He didn’t nod or speak as he slowly rose from the booth, and stood alongside the group.

The stranger gestured them all to follow him, and he lead them all behind the booth to a set of cellar doors. Aggie looked at the stranger as he pulled them open silently, despite the doors looking like they’d give no small amount of complaints at being disturbed.

Aggie glanced down at Quib, who’s nose was twitching rapidly, his beady eyes glinting at the stairwell that appeared before them, descending into nothing.

The man stepped down the stairs smoothly, and one by one, they all followed. Tork went first, Ora and Quib second, Aggie third, and Arlen last.

Aggie padded down the first 2 stone steps quietly, feeling comforted knowing that Arlen was behind her.

Though she was descending into darkness, what little light there had been in the inn behind them was giving her some idea of her surroundings, which she was incredibly grateful for.

That is until the doors shut behind them.

Aggie’s skin broke out in goosebumps as complete darkness surrounded her. Despite knowing the company around her, she couldn’t help but start to tremble at her complete lack of sight. She stopped her descent, and Arlen accidentally bumped into her, unaware that she had halted.

The passageway smelled like wet Earth and stale water, which inspired Aggie to wonder about what kind of animals and bugs were living. As her mind spiraled down on such topics, a pair of glowing yellow orange eyes turned towards her, making Aggie nearly jump out of her skin.

“Oyy, hold up. My associates don’t have great sight in the dark.” Tork called to the mysterious figure.

In that moment, Aggie could’ve kissed Tork. The Beast Awares seemed completely cavalier about meeting a stranger in a desolate inn, and following him down a creepy underground tunnel.

Suddenly flint was struck, and a lone torch far ahead appeared before Aggie. She breathed a sigh of relief, and caught up as quickly as possible to Ora who stood patiently waiting for the Lady and her Servicer.

It was then that Aggie noticed Quib was eating what looked like a very large rat, and nearly let out a scream. Blood smeared the small beast’s mouth, and the innards of the rat were spewed on the stone steps.

Arlen grabbed her arm, and applied pressure- reminding her to keep quiet as he too noted Quib’s kill. The group ventured on, until the stairs ended, and a level corridor began.

As they trodded on the Earthen floor, their path wound its way ahead veering left and right, and around narrow bends.

It wasn’t until her fear had subsided slightly, that Aggie began to realize that they were maneuvering around the entire city through the underground passageway. She couldn’t tell what direction they were heading, only that they passed several other tunnel entrances as they went.

As she felt herself growing dizzy from the multiple unpredictable turns they were making, Aggie soberly came to the conclusion that, without a guide, she would never be able to figure out where she was. If left alone in the web of corridors and darkness, she would die after days of starvation. The thought made her huddle closer to Ora, who didn’t seem to have any problem being enclosed underground. In fact, everyone but Aggie seemed perfectly comfortable being down in the shadows. Yet everything about the place felt eerie to her…

After what felt like hours, but was properly only another hour at the most, Aggie could see light from a source other than the torch up ahead. It wasn’t firelight either, it was pure daylight, and she had to fight the urge to run to it.

Stairs appeared before Aggie again, but these stone steps looked to be made of marble as opposed to the gray stone of the inn’s. They ascended in a matter of minutes, and at long last, they exited into their destination. It took Aggie only a moment of blinking in the pale afternoon light, for her eyes to adjust and be able to take note of the stone floors, and the tapestries on the walls. The room was gigantic, with 12 peaked narrow windows that were 6 feet in height, lining the wall they faced, and were walking towards.

Aggie walked 10 paces behind Tork and Ora to the middle of the room, their cloaked guide had mysteriously disappeared, she realized dully.

Once Arlen had joined them in the middle of the room, leaving the gaping doorway to the tunnels in the wall wide open with no obvious door to close, they turned to stare at a man who was watching them. He was in his 40’s, with light brown hair, gray in his beard, bright green eyes, and a golden crown on his head. He also happened to be sitting on a golden throne.

“What… the fuck.” Were the only words the young woman's mind managed to form.

Aggie’s slowly opened, as she disconnectedly realized she was in the throne room of none other than Aidan Bainbridge Sagan O’Malley.

The North King.