On the “road”, The Western Wilds.

29th of Kusha, The month of Harvest.

2138 years since the new gods came.

I had forgotten how much of a pain in the ass knights were to ride with. Cautious to a fault, especially when guarding someone important. There wasn't a long tuft of grass or copse of trees that they didn't investigate... Okay, I'm just pissy, it wasn't that bad. Mostly.

*-*-*

“Master Smith, are you sure this...path is safe?” Sir Reginald asked.

“Nothing in this world is 'safe', Reggie.” Maxwell replied, annoyance finally starting to surface. “Keep asking me stupid questions, and I'm going to start giving you stupid answers.”

“Master Smith! I am merely asking to make sure---” Sir Reginald was interrupted.

“Look, Reggie, I know you're worried about Mike's safety. I get it, I really do.” Max took a breath and exhaled, “BUT, you can't keep coddling the boy. He's almost 20. Let him live a little.” Max couldn't see Sir Reginald's face behind his visor, but saw his shoulders slump. “Look, this is as much a vacation for you as it is for him. The worst thing we are going to see is a bunch of deer, and maybe a bear.”

“As you wish, Master Smith.”

“And call me Max!”

“As you wish, Master Smith.”

*-*-*

31st of Kusha,

Travel is a bit faster. The leaves are turning beautiful colors. The grass is drying out a bit. About halfway home. The knights have picked up the pace. Saw a herd of deer. Venison for supper.

35th of Kusha,

Made it home today around noon. Brandywine saw us a while out, so Ivan had food prepared. Goddess Sarah stopped by while I was out. We now have bunkhouses for around 200 people. I appreciate the help, but can't help feeling nervous.

I think the knights and Mike will unwind a bit in the next week or so, as long as Brandy doesn't do anything too bad to annoy them.

40th of Kusha.

The knights have 'let their hair down', as it were. Fishing, boating, and hunting look to be the focus for the next few weeks. They were warned not to harass the bear. Brandy was very firm on the subject.

*-*-*

“...And if I find that any of you have even annoyed Mr. Bear, you will find out what it's like to never leave your armor ever again.” Brandywine was floating about 15' in the air, in front of the knights, cuddling a rather large and confused bear around his middle. “DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!?”

Everyone present nodded, including the bear. Brand put the bear down, and made a shooing motion. “Don't worry buddy, they will leave you alone.” The rather embarrassed bear ran away.

*-*-*

51st of Kusha,

I think that damned goddess made the Dell bigger. It's still a quarter to half mile wide, but it's now three miles long. Meh. Gods.

53rd of Kusha,

First snow today. OUTSIDE of the Dell. Nothing falling in the Dell. Weird.

*-*-*

Gilip, capital city of the Kingdom of Demonia

53rd of Kusha

2138 years since the new gods came.

Willa Glassblower awoke from the nightmare, screaming this time. It had been happening for most of the week, slowly getting worse. First it was just a bad feeling, and a lush valley in the west. Then the almost overpowering sense of fear. Now it was all that, plus things. Things crawling over her, biting her, crawling into her mouth, eating her from the inside.

Her husband held her, talked her through it. Calmed her with hugs, and comfort food. In the morning they went to the church. It was small, old, and not well maintained. The church to the small god of prophecy.

The old priest quietly sat, wearing his robes and hood of office, with a small, respectful smile on what could be seen of his face. When she was done retelling her tale, he stood. “We must go to the council. They'll all be there in two hours. You must relay this information to them.” She fidgeted with the golden heretic she wore on her necklace, then nodded.

-

They waited at the council building for only a few minutes, before being granted access. The old priest, still wearing his hooded robes stood the entire time, with his cane tapping the marble floor. Upon their entrance, the chamber fell into a sudden silence, then the ruler of Demonia stood and bowed, “Elder, what brings us your guidance today?”

The old priest of Prophesy pushed back his hood, revealing both the ancient horns that grew from his scalp, and the ritualized scaring where his eyes used to be. He spoke. “You will listen to this young woman's dreams, and judge them. Then you will take action.”

Shaking, as though being in a trance, Willa retold the dreams of terror, the sights and sounds, the location. Then she pointed to the only piece of art decorating the chamber, a stylized painting of a human man working on an anvil, a man she knew and loved. “Him. He, was there.”

-

The Order of the Puppies stood at full attention. Standards flying high and proud, featuring a different breed of dog on each. At a full battalion in strength, the thousand plus men and women were waiting. War. War for the Heretic.

The Order of Kittens, not nearly so large at a full Company of 250, were waiting at the side of the field. Their parade rest 'needed' work by any military standard, but no one batted an eye. Darkened full plate covered in spikes and claws, greatswords, and riding large destriers, they were the shock troops that any foe would fear. Their record was nigh unto spotless, with 243 engagements won, and one lost due to weather. Only those with a kill count of over fifty were admitted. And unlike the Puppies, they drew from every class, not just the aristocracy.

Eventually speeches were made and finished. By noon, the combined forces and support staff were out of the parade grounds, and on the road north. They knew it would be dangerous. They knew it would be demanding on the body and mind. And yet, for a single man they had never met, they went willingly into the cold winter's night.