“A Lady once fair and pure

Did come to the North

She fled from her intended

Her mind fully bended

For love and for life.”

“They fled to the woods

Her Servicer astride-”

“The Lady parted with death

Agreeing not to meet again

Until she was ready”

“Long live the Lady Beatha,

Mistress of Death-”

“-Hero of the wronged.”

The North King slowly closed the carriage curtain as they passed the streets of the Settlement.

“I think the people have learned about what happened.” The North Prince pointed out casually as he stared out the window at the people surrounding the various bards and street performers.

“This is a problem, Arthur.” The King began rubbing his eyes wearily.

“We are now at war with the South, due to Lady Agnes.”

“It is because of everyone at the funeral that we are at war. Lady Beatha was just a pawn.” The Prince pointed out still refusing to look at his father.

“She sterilized Rafael, Arthur. That is grounds for a justified war from the Seouth, and her death.”

The Prince didn’t respond.

“We will try to take the keeps belonging to Count Ames and Baron Sussex who reside along the East and West border of the Kingdoms. Sean seemed back to his usual self and should be ready to ride shortly. He’s been prepared for war since before Lady Beatha’s escape.”

“How is it, that Sean was ready for war before Lady Agnes fled, and yet somehow this is her doing?” The Prince challenged levelly.

“How the people see this war can be easily twisted now. We had wanted to come at it from a moral high ground. Prior to her fleeing, we knew that the Southern Prince was conducting gross violations of decency to beings.” Arthur finally turned to stare at his father whose arms were crossed firmly in front of his chest.

“Lady Beatha was wrongfully imprisoned and put through varying degrees of torture, I have no doubt. However, when she sought justice on her own on our ground, it threw out all pretenses of doing things right. An act of vigilantism inspires others to think they can do the same, or it throws into question the moral compass of us as leaders. Both scenarios are bad. At this time, it would seem we are leaning towards the first option. The people are praising her a hero for seeking revenge on the South Prince.”

Arthur was silent then, the weight of his father’s words pressing heavily on him.

“Might I ask why you are so defensive of Lady Agnes?” The King asked after a moment.

Arthur stared down at his lap, a sad smile stretching across his face.

“In truth, I admire her. I ran from my duties because I loathed politics, but I didn’t try to become anything more, or to fight my way to something better, or different. She did though. Through adversity, and Gods know what else- she has risen.”

“Risen to ranks of thief and murderer.” His father reminded darkly.

“We do not know why she stole the journal, but I do know she saved me, and that for every man or beast she attacked and bested, she expressed regret. Save for the Prince, and I imagine the Captain. Though, quite frankly, I’m willing to let that one slide. He was a vile fellow. I am glad his offspring will not threaten the world.”

Arthur shrugged before continuing.

“She sought her own justice for what was done to her. I feel politics of the Kingdoms should remain separate from her activities.”

“So you believe we should let her go?”

“No. I think we need to find out why she stole the journal, retrieve it, and then accidentally leave her cell unlocked.”

The King shook his head and sighed feeling weary from what had already happened, and wondering if he had the strength to

He never would’ve imagined things becoming turned upside down from a lone young woman.

***

Lady Maude slowly and gracefully made her way around the room of courtiers as she curtsied and greeted them all. Arthur and his father had left in a rush to begin rallying their troops, and it was up to her to leave people soothed over the events of the past few days.

She was curtseying to a particularly pretty woman garbed in a fashionable periwinkle dress, when a slight touch on her shoulder made her turn.

“My Lady, I do not believe we have been introduced as of yet, and I fear I am going to leave within the hour. I am Duchess Elizabeth O’Donnell of the Southern Kingdom.” Maude looked up at the striking brunette woman’s lean face, and blinked several times as a result.

The Duchess would either tower over or rival most men in height. Her body long and lithe, her light brown hair flowing down in perfect waves, and her violet eyes such a unique color that it took Maude’s breath away.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” Maude quickly recovered and curtsied.

“Congratulations on your betrothal to the North Prince, I am sure you will make an excellent Queen.”

Maude frowned at the top of the Duchess’ head as she curtsied low to her, but when the Lady straightened again, her pleasant smile was once again in place.

“I appreciate your confidence in me Lady Elizabeth. We greatly appreciate the support you’ve shown in coming to Lady Beatha’s funeral. I hope the weather for your journey home is favorable.”

Elizabeth smiled good-naturedly at Maude, not taking the hint of dismissal from the petite blonde woman.

“Of course, though to be quite honest this was the most excitement I have been privy to in a long time.”

This time when Maude’s polite expression dimmed, she didn’t mask it.

“Lady Elizabeth, war is not entertaining in my mind. I am afraid I too must see to my packing now, if you will excuse me.” Maude was beginning to curtsey but the woman stopped her again.

“Oh my apologies! I did not mean to make light of our Kingdom’s plights- I merely meant it was refreshing to see one of own turn the tides.”

“One of our own?” Maude questioned with a small frown still etched between her eyebrows.

“Ladies of nobility, dear. It is nice to see the men get a run for their gold over a slip of a woman barely older than yourself.”

Maude forced her expression to become neutral then. There was something odd about this particular Lady. She was brazen without a doubt, but there was more to her. It almost felt as though she were feeling Maude out.

“I vaguely recall hearing that you had the courts in an uproar yourself not that long ago.”

Elizabeth laughed then. A delightful sound that turned many Lord’s heads.

“My Lady, are you comparing me to Lady Beatha whom ran away, and rose from the dead?”

Maude gave a subtle single shoulder shrug, not rising to the bait.

“No one can really compare to that, but it was the closest case I could think of.”

“Lady Maude, you are quite a pretty young woman, though I cannot recall ever seeing you at any court gatherings. I hear you are from the Northern Kingdom however, is that not correct?” The sudden change of topic, made Maude become all the more guarded.

“My father is Earl Layton. We own a small Keep not far form the Southern border.” She recited, then distinctly turned her toes away.

“It was pleasure to speak with you Lady Elizabeth. I will see you sometime in the future I am sure.” She curtsied hastily, dismissing the Lady once and for all as she strode away and headed back to her chambers.

There was a dull thudding in her temples and she felt incredibly weary from the day’s events, she wondered for the thousandth time why in the world the King had selected her to be her son’s bride. She came from insignificant land and wealth, and had only met the North Prince a handful of times prior to their engagement.

With a sigh, she entered her chamber, and silently thanked the Gods Servicer Vera was nowhere to be found.

The Servicer always gave her the horrible sensation that she secretly wished to clobber her, though Maude hadn’t the faintest idea as to why.

*

“Stop your pacing this instance.” Raphael barked closing his eyes as the Duke continued vent his anger about the shrew Agnes Beatha while wearing away the stones beneath his heels.

“My Liege this cannot stand. We have a wealth of opportunities while we are here to enact justice. The King need not know.” O’Sullivan muttered half to himself and half the Prince whom remained in bed, pale and nauseous.

“I already have my plans O’Sullivan. Now cease whining like a damn woman- otherwise I will force my current state upon you.” He paused to swallow the bile that rose in his mouth.

Raphael did not want to call for the physician again and have them ease the pain, and put him to sleep yet. Not when a meticulous plan forrevenge was necessary.

The Duke stilled and sighed, unwilling to look Raphael in the face.

“I want to set a trap for the bitch. I want to make her pay for what she has done to me.” Raphael said, his voice low as his hands fisted the covers.

“What did you have in mind? Lord Beatha has already left with Lady Farrah, and anymore direct harm done to that family could be-”

“I have many birds that must be struck down O’Sullivan, and only a select few stones. I have a better plan. Are you still in possession of your ships designated to the slave trades?”

“The ones Captain Murphy protected, yes. Though only 2 remain- after his death I sought to remove as much evidence as possible. Without his guardianship over them, I dare not trust anyone else.”

“Perfect. We will need to move quickly, so listen closely.”

***

“The Counsel has gathered, and we listen with open minds.” The tall slender Fey man stood before the crowd of ethereal beings peacefully, his long white hair as sleek as silk, his cold blue eyes sweeping over everyone regally.

As the Elder settled himself into the chair made out of the roots of the 2 willow trees he sat between, a pale dark haired Fey man stepped forward.

His eyes as wonderous as dark pools, he was dressed in a dark purple coat, with a matching vest that bore intricate silver design, black trousers, and a silk white tunic underneath.

“My Elders.” Chay bowed low before them, and slowly straightened himself, feeling every eye on him in the startling silent grove, where at least 200 Fey had gathered, and sat in a semi circle facing the counsel.

“I have come to inform you that I believe the time is near for the War of the Guardians.” His voice rang clearly, and while they all heard, none responded.

Chay continued.

“Most of you may remembered the Guardian named Ida, whom resided with us for a decade or so of the Earth’s time. I have met her son, and it is my understanding that soon, we will be called upon to harbor the Guardian Refugees.”

“I thought we had decided that it was a futile effort to aid the Guardians.” The Elder called out coolly, his face unforgivingly passive.

“We only halted our aid when the leaders of the resistance had to return permanently to the Earth.” Chay reminded calmly, despite the passion for the subject bright in his eyes.

“Why should we interfere in their affairs?”

A voice called from the gathering behind Chay, and he turned to face the crowd swiftly, his expression unreadable.

“Because this may be the cure to our deadened virility.”

The rush of gasps and murmurs disquieted the grove in a most startling manner, bringing the Elder to slowly stand once more.

“The Guardian named Ida informed us that the Fey of the East Kingdom have not suffered as we have with fertility. She believed that our disconnect from Earth lead to our disconnect from our own capabilities in producing pure Fey.”

“How could this possibly be remedied by aiding a War?!” A Fey woman whom wore her hair shorter than the norm stood. She had dark hair, eyes as dark as coals, with a powerful stature, there was no disillusionment to the element she was aligned with. The burning of her expression illuminated the power of fire.

“We cannot know ahead of time. We must simply follow as destiny determines.” Chay replied clearly, sounding far more confident than he felt.

“What a poor argument.” The Fey woman spat. She glared at Chay, and crossed her bronzed arms across her chest.

“You have only the word of a lone Guardian- at least that is what she says they are to be called. They are known more commonly as Servicers, are they not? Known to murder and trick at the whim of their Masters.”

“That is not what they were destined for. If you all will recall the methods which Duke O’Sullivan resorted to to usurp the Fey’s powers when he captured our kind, you would-”

“Enough.” The Elder’s soft voice was as effective as a shout at silencing everyone.

“We will consult with the wisdom of Tara, and come to you with our position in a fortnight. Eyes of the Portals, Chay. While we know your brother itches to resume the glory of battle, we ask that you reflect upon your words during this time of decision.”

Chay hid his grimace as he bowed before the Elder once more, and gracefully strolled away from the raised grassy stage not sparing any of the audience a second glance.

*

Chay walked through the forest, surrounded by painfully healthy growths of moss, flowers, and trees. He was both angry and concerned at the response his announcement had raised, when a small hiss of flame darted by his left ear.

He raised his right hand lazily, and didn’t even bother to watch as water droplets wound around the angry orange fire, and quickly dissipitated the dart into steam.

“What is it brother?” Chay demanded trying to remain in control of his emotions.

Canicus strolled towards him, his bright red robes flowing around him, as his pale blue eyes, unnaturally sober for once, fixed upon his younger brother.

“I was present for the gathering. You were advised to seek my counsel brother.” He reminded his voice both firm and casual.

“You showed up to a gathering? Is that the first time in one, or two centuries? I cannot recall.”

“Brother, you know to involve ourselves in Earth is a great risk to our peaceful state and people. Tara has been rare to show leniency in succumbing to violent tendencies, and could strip our kind of their abilities.”

“Yet you have been the War Lord of at least 3 different conflicts. You still are welcome here in Tara despite your tendencies.” Chay was struggling to keep the acid from his voice.

“What about these Guardians has you so… ambitious?” Canicus demanded, rounding on his brother, his hands residing in the oversized sleeves of his robes.

“I heard the plight of people whose honor had been stolen, and once I learned they had been so brutally dominated, and their dignity stolen, I could not turn away. She knew of our difficulties in siring pure blooded Fey, and provided information that could change everything.” Chay pointed out frustratedly. He was not one to lose his composure, but whenever it came to his brother, he was always suceptible to a loss of control.

“Tara functions based on th balance of wholeness. All things must abide by this holiness.”

“Chay, I will always agree to a War-”

“-But never to preventing one.” The younger brother snapped angrily.

The 2 stared at one another.

One a War hero, the other the Eyes of portals- a Guardian in his own right.

“What good can come of the Fey’s interference?” Canicus asked levelly.

“We could reproduce without needing to seduce other species?” Chay bit back vehemenetly.

“And what bad could come from this interference?”

“We have no proof it wouldn’t work, and nothing our kind has done thus far has remedied the matter. Ida has been right about everything else thus far!” Chay gestured in a large sweep of his hand, still wrestling with controlling the rage his brother consistently inspired, and ignoring his last question.

Canicus tilted his head and sighed.

“I sense we are at an impasse brother. Would you care to join me in my glen for some wine and-”

Chay didn’t dignify the invitation with a response, as he turned and strode further into the thick woods of Tara.

With or without the counsel, he was going to bring the enslaved Guardians to Tara. The Fey wouldn’t be able to forcibly eject people in need.

With a steadying sigh, Chay finally halted his rushed stride. His power hadn’t fully returned, but he hoped that it would not be much longer.

He could sense the time was drawing near to once again see Arlen and the Lady Beatha, and he was finding it rather hard to be patient while he waited