Bertha Brady had been sitting in the village healer’s cottage, waiting for the salve for her arthritis, when they had been rudely interrupted. The local healer, Heather Brady (a great niece of Bertha’s), had nearly dropped the small glass jar in fright when her front door burst open exposing a wild looking woman, clutching the arm of a much younger woman who wore a white kerchief to tie her hair back. It was only after the young woman was half thrown in the room that the 2 young men could be seen loitering behind.

Bertha shared a knowing look with Heather.

Looked like some farmer’s daughter got knocked up again.

She began to reach in to her purse for her coins to get out of the way of such drama, when the older lady, that Bertha assumed was the mother, began shouting in a hurry.

“Please help my daughter! She’s possessed!”

“Mom I’m not possessed! There’s nothing wrong with wanting to go-”

“Why on Gods Earth would you want to travel to the mountains?!” The woman had dark circles under her eyes, and her black hair peppered with white streaks looked as though it hadn’t been combed in a week.

Bertha paused. She hadn’t anticipated that.

Ah well.

A mother and daughter fighting as the youngster was growing into her womanhood wasn’t that uncommon-

“Why is it you want to go there?” Heather had reached the same conclusion as Bertha, and was calmly trying to be the voice of reason.

“He’s calling me!” The young woman wrenched her arm from her mother’s grasp, and tried to leave, only to find that much to everyone’s surprise, Bertha Brady had grasped her shoulder stopping her.

“What did you say?” Bertha’s voice was barely a whisper as she waited for the young woman to finish her sigh and turn around slowly.

“I’m not crazy, I swear, but someone needs me! I can hear them calling for me…”

Bertha gripped the young woman’s shoulder so hard that the girl let out a small yelp.

“You two, why are you following her?” Bertha demanded, yanking the girl back into the cabin and fixing the 2 young farm lads behind her with a look that would’ve frightened a dragon.

Poor Heather wasn’t quite sure of what was happening, but knew better than to interfere when her great-aunt was determined.

“She said a man would need our help…” The one that spoke bore a resemblance to the girl in the color of his hair, and in the square shaping in his jaw, suggesting they were related.

Bertha now grabbed the young woman with both hands.

“Empty your pockets. NOW!” Her order rang throughout the tiny cabin making everyone jump.

“Empty my pockets? Why would I-” The girl had started fighting indignantly, but with surprising strength for her age, Bertha pinned the girls arms to her side and kept her still despite her struggling, before cocking her head towards the girl’s mother.

“You. Empty her damn pockets NOW!”

The poor woman was trembling, and wondered if she should have questioned the mad old woman more, but the request was harmless enough…

So, as her daughter shouted and pleaded, she searched the young woman’s apron pockets, until she had pulled out 5 coppers, a wilting wildflower, and a small glass orb with swirling mists inside.

It looked as though it were moonstone… and it really was quite pretty…

The mother began staring transfixed at the small pebble sized orb in her hand, but the trance was broken when Bertha flung the young girl into her niece, snatched it from the woman’s hand. With far more speed than she should’ve been capable of, Bertha rushed over to the pestle and mortar that sat on the herb preparation table, and picked up the heavy stone pestle swiftly.

Before anyone could get their bearings, Bertha smashed it to pieces in one well aimed blow, shattering the orb to a thousand pieces.

The moment she did so, a white mist rose from the glass pieces, leaving nothing of the remains but shattered clear glass.

Bertha’s hands were shaking, and when she whirled around to stare at the group of stupefied expressions, she frowned deeply.

“Child, what is your name?” Bertha nodded at the young girl who looked quite pale, and somewhat confused as she blinked and untangled herself from Heather’s arms.

“I-I’m Chloe.”

“Chloe my name is Bertha Brady, and I’m afraid I am going to need you to come with me immediately.”

“Where are you taking us?” Chloe’s mother stepped forward defiantly. She wasn’t going to be pried apart from her daughter so easily.

Bertha sighed. It’d be hard to travel with more people…

“I need to take Chloe to see Duke Sean O’Farrell immediately.”

***

Sean O’Farrell grumbled to himself from the King’s chamber, all the way to his own quarters. Richard MacDermott sat waiting in front of a round oak table where several maps lay in front of him, sensing the storm that was about to befall him as a dog would’ve.

As soon as Sean burst through the door, he looked up calmly.

The Duke hadn’t been in a good mood since before Agnes Beatha had entered his life, and Lord MacDermott wondered each and every day what the Duke would end up choosing to do with his runaway bride once he got his hands on her.

“That bloody woman just had to- Do you know she…” Sean threw up his hands and immediately began pacing.

A messenger pigeon had arrived that morning from the local magistrate of Rockfell, reporting back at the King’s request that the bounty hunter had arrived with Lady Beatha.

According to the missive, within 2 days she was apart of breaking up an illegal Amanita supplier, and had been present to the grisly deaths of multiple people. Her involvement in the violent crimes was not made clear by the letter, and Sean found himself truly beginning to worry.

“That blasted child has landed herself in unbelievably dangerous situations! Last night she witnessed 3 murders!” Sean was waving his hands around his head as though fanning away birds from nesting on his bald head.

Lord MacDermott’s eyebrows shot up.

“She what?! Is she alright? Are you going to retrieve her-” Richard MacDermott was on his feet immediately upon hearing the news.

It seemed Lady Beatha’s running away had gone from a tad annoying game of chase, to genuine risk to her well-being. Lord MacDermott couldn’t help but kick himself over not taking it so seriously. He should’ve realized that things were getting out of hand when he heard that she was apprenticing with a bounty hunter…

“We will meet them halfway. It is on our way to the Kelly household anyway. We will simply have to ensure we have proper wear for her so as not to raise any suspicion. At this time, no one is any the wiser back at the keep, and we will have to think of a convincing story on how she magically appeared at my side.” Sean stopped his frantic pacing, and turned to face Richard MacDermott who was listening carefully.

“Please have them ready our things and be ready to leave by tomorrow morning. I will inform the King our visit will be cut short.”

Richard MacDermott nodded hastily, and fled from the room. He couldn’t stand the idea that the young kind Lady Beatha had fallen into such a situation. Despite it being her own doing, Lord MacDermott had a hard time faulting her for it. Sean truly had been awful to her.

Meanwhile, Sean seated himself at the round table and let out a long breath.

His guilt was nearly crushing his lungs entirely, and he felt weary to his bones.

All he could think about was the young woman he had frightened away from himself.

“What in the world has happened to Lady Agnes Beatha?”

***

Aggie didn’t sleep well at all the night after they turned in the barmaid. Her name as it turned out, was Pauline, and the young woman shakily gave her full confession of how Gus had been forcing some of his intoxicated patrons to imbibe Amanita.

The strange mushroom and Fey flower mix made those under its effects see all ranges of different hallucinations from; happy childhood memories, to secret desires. Allowing the affected to drift further and further away from themselves, and whatever pain that came with their former lives.

While Tork had delivered the key witness and the fungi and petals himself, he failed to mention that he had found this operation while uncovering the whereabouts of the crown prince. Tork wanted to confer with the King before letting such news slip into the public.

It had been just after midnight when they had trudged over to the Red Dawn Inn, where Pauline had apparently been working for years as a spy for Gus, to let him know wealthy clientele that came through that could be prime targets for their business.

Debriefing the magistrate had been a very long affair, and Aggie wished she could’ve found awe, or amazement in the story of such treachery. She couldn’t even feel like they had done any great service to the city, as the magistrate suggested. All she felt was empty.

The memory of the Beast Awares seething hatred as she bled to death in front of Aggie haunted her, and the smell of blood seemed to be stuck to her skin despite multiple washings. The metallic sticky scent seemed to remain a gentle sniff away.

They had gone to a reputable doctor before the magistrate, and had paid him handsomely to retrieve the crowned Prince before the guards could come clean out the establishment. They were to retrieve him after a full day of rest, and leave the following morning, and travel back to the North King’s Settlement by noon hour.

It was barely noon, the day following Aggie’s killings, and so she sat in the pub of the Red Dawn Inn, and sipped on a tankard of ale. Arlen sat beside her doing the same, respecting her need for silence.

Tork was finishing up his report with the magistrate-, a serious dignified man who quite obviously held Tork in high esteem. He even requested Tork’s opinion on a few other city matters with local thievery and gangs given that they were not due to leave for another full day.

Aggie knew she should’ve gone with him. Knew she could have benefited from hearing what he had to say, but she didn’t have the will to follow him out the door that morning.

Ora had stayed behind as well, and had brushed and played with Aggie’s hair for at least an hour, before finally leaving her alone to take Quib for a walk.

It was when Aggie ordered her second tankard, and Arlen could see the unmistakable pink in her cheeks that he turned to her.

“You made the right choice. It wasn’t an easy choice, but thank you. If you hadn’t, those 2 Beast Awares would’ve kept coming at me and Pauline.” Arlen’s own speech was somewhat slurred as he finished his own ale, and waved to the elderly barkeep who scowled at them. She clearly wasn’t pleased to have lost Pauline’s help.

Aggie didn’t say anything as she slowly lowered her head to her forearm and sighed. She could feel tears falling from her eyes, but didn’t know that she was feeling any particular sadness. She wasn’t sure what she felt and then…

A gentle weight over her shoulders changed that.

He didn’t make any soothing motions, but the weight of his arm finally pushed through the wall of nothingness she had been feeling.

Aggie sobbed, and leaned into Arlen, as she let it all wash out.

No one bothered them, and even the elderly barmaid looked less angry when she delivered their drinks.

Aggie knew that had she not had the ale, she wouldn’t have cried. She would’ve held it down for as long as possible before letting any emotion pass, but somehow, the gentle spinning of the room had lulled her into letting go.

When she had finished with the worst of her sobs, Aggie sat up straight again and pulled herself back from Arlen, then wiped her face on her increasingly dirty sleeve.

“Might be time for new clothes…” Arlen thought to himself sadly. His chest ached at the sight of Aggie so vulnerable.

In all his time of knowing her, she had not for one moment let anything get her down. She still had some scabbing on her right arm where the Cockatrice had bit her, and even when they realized she would most likely have faint scaring from the wound, she had simply shrugged and continued eating her apple.

After Aggie gulped down the first taste of her second tankard, she turned to face Arlen. Her eyes were rimmed in red, but there weren’t anymore tears.

“Have you ever killed someone before?” She asked fiercely. Arlen was at first taken aback by the intensity of the question, but chalked it up to the alcohol.

“Yes, I have.”

Aggie’s eyes widened momentarily, and then she took another drink from her ale.

“Who?” Her glassy eyes were having trouble focusing on Arlen’s face.

“Criminals sentenced to death. Some miscreants are condemned to be used for us to practice our understanding of poisons.”

Aggie’s jaw dropped.

“W-What kind of criminals?! Who sanctions this?!” Aggie’s hand slapped the bar, causing only a couple heads to turn. Most of the patrons had resigned themselves to they very drunk, loud, Minkies woman.

“Both Kingdoms sanction it. Men and women who’ve murdered countless lives, hurt children, raped… I wouldn’t recommend thinking about it Mistress.” Arlen was beginning to slur his speech, and tried to cover it up by drinking more.

His training had been very strict on prohibiting the consumption of all alcohol.

He had therefore only ever imbibed when trying to suss out which goblet held a poison, and even then it was only a small sip.

Arlen recalled the varied flavors of harmful substances and shuddered.

He had only eve been wrong once, and that was the most painful 3 weeks of recovery in his life.

It was with no great surprise to him that as a result of his lifelong sobriety, when he stood up the room swam in front of his eyes.

It also meant that by the time Aggie needed to stumble outside to be sick, Arlen struggled to guide her in a straight line.

With great effort on both their parts, Arlen helped Aggie to the front of the Red Dawn Inn where the lunch crowd was making a clear path for them.

There was a particularly lush grouping of hemlock bushes in the front garden of the establishment, and that was where Aggie upchucked the rest of her misery.

Arlen patted her clumsily on the back, before clutching her shoulders, and leading her back into the inn.

With difficulty, the Servicer and his Mistress made their way up to Aggie and Ora’s room, where Arlen helped Aggie lay down in the large bed, and poured her a glass of water from a nearby jug. After leaving the full glass on her bedside, Arlen himself downed 3 glasses of water.

“Am I going to have to kill more people?” Aggie’s weak acid burned throat rasped at Arlen’s back, as he set down the empty glass and slowly turned around to face her. She had managed to prop herself up to a sitting position, and her face was still rather pale, but he could tell she needed him to tell her the truth.

Arlen grabbed one of the white linen towels, and slowly made his way back to Aggie’s bedside, where he sat, and began wiping off the shoe polish from her face. It wasn’t good for the skin to leave it on all the time.

“You will most likely need to kill again, yes.” Arlen gave her a tightlipped smile, and Aggie continued to stare sadly at him.

“Will I always feel this bad afterwards?”

“To be fair my Lady, I think the ale is responsible for at least a quarter of your feelings right now.”

It was a gentle tease, that came with Arlen’s rare small smiles, and for some reason; it made Aggie laugh.

Everything seemed ridiculous when she thought about it.

Aggie had escaped from Sean O’Farrell’s wedding bed, and dropped into a life riddled with uncertainty, adventure, and the occasional murdering in self-defense.

Most people at her point would’ve dreamed of never having to be frightened for their lives again, or to never worry about their next meal.

Yet somehow… looking at how far she had come, made knowing that she had an even longer road ahead easier to face.

Overall, Aggie felt stronger than she ever had.

She was becoming more capable, and she was becoming more self-sufficient every day she was free.

Aggie turned, and smiled at Arlen blearily.

“If I only have to hurt people in self-defense until I find my new life, then hopefully it won’t be too often.” Aggie sighed trying to comfort herself. She was having a hard time sifting through her many emotions, and as a result, didn’t notice Arlen’s look of sadness.

He knew she hoped for too much.

In fact, Arlen knew Aggie would have to kill several times again to get where she was meant to be. If The Ruling Family were right, Aggie would have to become accustomed to all manner of sins.

After all…

She was supposed to rule the entire continent one day.