2nd day of the 4th month 650th year of the 8th era

Miake stretched and sat up in his bed. He nudged the women beside him, and she got up and pulled a silk dressing robe over her beautiful lean body.

“Same time tonight?” she asked, her voice husky.

“Maybe,” Miake said.

She pouted and held out her hand to him. Miake walked to his clothes that rested on the desk against the far wall and pulled out a large money pouch. He counted out three silver pieces and handed them to her. She smiled at him and opened the door, stepping over a basket and walking down the corridor.

Miake walked to the door to close it and noticed the basket. He bent down and picked it up. Inside, he noticed a bundle of clothes wrapped around a sleeping child. Tucked next to the child was a folded piece of parchment.

He pulled out the parchment and walked back into his room, laying the child and basket on the bed and inspecting the parchment. On it in a neat cramped handwriting was a short note.

Master Kaori, this is your son. I tried to look after him, but I can’t afford to do so.

I know that you can support him. Please be kind to him. He is four months old.

The note had no signature on the bottom.

Miake looked again at the basket and pulled back the cloth enfolding the child. The baby did look a lot like him and his father. The features did not betray the mother, but easily looked like him. It had the family high nose and narrow eyes and a thick mass of curly black hair was already visible. His heart ached; this was his own son. He needed to look after the child. He would need to find a wet nurse and a mother to look after him. No one he knew would look after a child this young without being paid. His employees did occasionally have children of their own—it was a hazard of the business that he ran—so finding a wet nurse wasn’t going to be difficult. He looked up at a tap on the door to see a short woman, wearing thick glasses upon her nose. She wore a knee-length skirt and a white blouse, and she held a stack of parchment in her hands against her chest.

“Good morning,” she said brightly, placing the parchment on the table.

“Good morning, Hollie,” Miake said absently. “I need you to find me a wet nurse.”

Hollie blinked and pushed her glasses up her nose before turning and facing Miake. “A wet nurse?” she asked. “Why?” She saw the baby resting on the bed. “Oh, right.”

“I think this is one of my bed warmers,” Miake continued. “Check the records and see if one of them hasn’t been active for the last … the baby is four months old, so maybe ten months.”

“Sure, I can do that,” Hollie said. She flicked through the records on the desk. “There are many that have taken time off, and that have also been your partners.”

Miake frowned. “Find me one of the girls that has just recently lost a baby,” Miake instructed. “She will make an excellent wet nurse.”

Hollie picked up the records and hurried out of the room.

***

Araki paced the tearoom, his hands clenching and unclenching. The sun had been up for more than several hours now and he was impatient to get started. Stella had still not woken up.

“Araki, darling,” Irrawella crooned. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Araki looked at her and warred with himself. He wanted revenge for the travesty of his aunt’s wedding.

“Your concern is charming,” Irrawella said, “but there is nothing you can do without Stella so you may as well have some tea and tell me about your two wives.”

Araki sat next to his grandmother who was reclining on a sofa. A lace dressing gown covered her wiry frame.

“What would you like to know?” Araki asked, looking at the door to the tearoom.

“Albert and Kai are watching over her. As soon as she is awake, they will bring her straight here.” “Which one do you like the best?” she asked, placing a hand on his leg.

“Hmm,” Araki said, tearing his eyes from the door and meeting his grandmother’s gaze. “I don’t really have a favourite.” His eyes snapped back to the door as the bronze handle turned and Albert slipped into the room with another tea-tray, a silver tray with a hot teapot inside a woollen cosy. Araki’s leg began to bounce as Albert cleared away the cold and empty teapot and replaced the steaming one.

“Is she still awake?” Araki asked.

“Yes,” Albert said without looking up, and exiting the room.

“How did you meet them?” Irrawella asked.

“I met Nanberry first and then, when I was announced chief of the Linjah, I met Moogera.”

“Wait,” Irrawella gasped, “you were announced chief of Linjah before Lawn?”

“Yes,” Araki said. “The elders from Lawn were actually very antagonistic towards me, especially after I was named a clan chief.” His leg stopped bouncing as he remembered the events. “I went over to Linjah because we thought they had stolen the Oath rod.”

“It got stolen?” Irrawella said, enraptured.

“I snuck over and accidently stepped into the council tent of Linjah and the Decius plate chose me as their clan leader. Then I was escorted by the Linjah council over to the clan leader’s tent and I met Moogera and her daughter Jage.”

“So, I have an adopted granddaughter?” Irrawella squealed.

“Actually, you have seven adopted granddaughters and one adopted grandson,” Araki said, counting them off on his fingers.

Irrawella’s mouth was agape. She was sitting up straight now, the dressing gown hanging off her shoulders at immodest depths. She absently pulled one side closed.

Araki looked around the room quickly checking that they were alone.

“According to the combined clans, I have four wives, as both Stella and Aquillia are my wives back in Ashford. I haven’t told Mother because she is having a hard-enough time with me being married twice without her consent. So please don’t tell Mother.”

Irrawella’s mouth closed quickly. A smirk spread across her face; a secret was her favourite gossip, and this was a secret from her daughter-in-law.

“Does Jeemo know?” Irrawella said, eyes narrowing as she lowered her voice conspiratorially.

“Yeah, just Mother doesn’t know,” Araki whispered.

“I think Jeemo will tell her,” Irrawella said, leaning back to the arm of the sofa and tucking her legs in underneath her.

“I believe so, but I plan to be back in Ashford when Mother finds out, so I won’t have to face her wrath,” Araki explained.

“So, you do have a favourite?” Irrawella said.

Araki blushed as the door handle turned and Stella stepped into the room. Her hair was tied up behind her head and her face sparkled with water. She wore only a pair of velvet slippers on her feet. Behind her were both Kai, dressed the same, and Albert, in his black suit.

Irrawella watched her grandson and saw his reaction as Stella floated into the room and sat on the opposite sofa. A small smile appeared on her face.

“You are awake,” Araki said.

Stella nodded and picked up a pastry from the table and placed it into her mouth. She chewed and then gently swallowed.

“I am ready when you are,” Stella said, her voice soft and croaky in the early morning.

“Please take me to the last place you saw Miake Kaori. I have several words to say to him,” Araki declared, standing, his sword slapping against his right thigh. Stella stood with a smile and followed Araki out of the tearoom. Irrawella followed and escorted them to the entranceway. As Albert opened the door and Araki strode out, Irrawella caught Stella’s arm in an embrace.

“My grandson loves you,” she said softly. “Love him back.”

“I do,” Stella said. “That is why I look after his family.”

“If he hurts you,” Irrawella said, “I can protect you.”

Stella broke the hug and met Irrawella’s steely gaze, cocking her head.

“He hasn’t yet,” Stella said, before letting go and racing out of the door and catching up with Araki.

Araki stopped at the road and waited for Stella to come.

“What was that about?” he asked, presenting his left arm to her.

Stella smiled, blushed, and took his arm in hers. “She was informing me of something I already knew. I am glad that Aquillia will not be joining us. We haven’t had any time alone since we met.”

“What about all that time we shared a hammock?” Araki asked.

“It’s not the same,” Stella protested.

Araki cocked his head and smiled down at her. “Where do we need to go?”

“I tracked him down to a brothel,” Stella began.

“That much you told Iphy yesterday,” Araki said. They walked down the street. People in light silk gowns crisscrossed the streets.

“I did?” Stella looked confused as her gaze wandered to the women walking around the street. “Why are they wearing silks?”

“What?” Araki followed her gaze at the small groups of women in the fine silk dresses. The women wore light straps around that formed a cross over their chests, with light pleated silk skirts that only fell to their knees. “It looks like it’s the fashion,” Araki said.

“It’s ridiculous,” Stella said. “It seems that they are wearing light silk because of the sun; if they are worried about the sun, they should find a cool shady spot. If they are worried about the heat, they should discard their clothes altogether. Silk doesn’t react well to sweat.”

“I don’t think they are worried about either of those things,” Araki said. “I think they are out and about to be seen and they wear those clothes to be seen wearing those clothes.”

Stella’s brow knitted as she thought. “I could make a fortune here,” Stella said, “and, well it’s ridiculous. Nude is always better.”

“This coming from a dress maker’s apprentice,” Araki mocked.

“Hey, that was my mother’s choice,” Stella said. “Though a dressmaker would do very well here.”

“Especially if they have all these women as clients,” Araki commented.

“Do you really think only one person made all those outfits?”

“Yes,” Araki said. “Where was this brothel you saw Miake at?”

“This way,” Stella said, shaking her head as she led Araki out of the walled quarter and through the gardens. They passed though the gnomes’ district with the gnomes flying overhead, their multifaceted filigree wings and their clothing changing constantly at whim. The same road led through the market district with its stone and brick construction with merchants and hawkers pushing all their wares on the thronging mass of people doing their shopping. The crowds thinned and the buildings changed from being neat and orderly with wide roads, to narrow streets with buildings towering over the paved roads.

“This is the one?” Stella said, pointing down an alleyway. At the end of the alleyway stood a red bricked establishment with a deep rich mahogany wooden door.

“How do you know it’s a brothel?” Araki asked. “Apart from being the middle of the brothel district.”

“Last night the plaza was filled with women dressed much like those who rushed through your aunt’s wedding,” Stella said. “I saw a few women and their clients making an exchange right against that wall.”

“You wait outside,” Araki instructed and marched up to the door, his hand going to his weapon.

Stella followed him to the door. As Araki pushed open the door, it swung easily and quietly. Behind the door was a room with thin silk dividers. The scent of heavy perfume made him gag. Araki stepped in, swallowing his gag reflex, and pushed aside the silk curtain. The room was gently lit with a few candles burning on a table beside a plump soft sofa. A woman approached him; a transparent blue silk scarf half-wrapped around her fragile, gaunt body. Her eyes were red and glassy. When Araki raised an eyebrow at this woman and stepped around her, she followed him half-heartily.

“Sir, did you want a tumble?” Her voice was feeble and distant. Araki ignored her and proceeded into the building. A single corridor exited this room and as he walked up the corridor, he noted there were several doors on either side, a dozen in total. He opened each in turn and saw all had the same contents: a large four-poster bed with either a couple lying entangled in each other’s arms asleep or a woman, sitting at the dressing table in the corner, applying make up for the upcoming clientele. With each room explored he discovered the stairs tucked around the bend at the end and ascended them. The second floor was a replica of the lower floor except one room was an empty communal kitchenette. The door at the end was more ornate than the others, and when he got to that room, he turned the handle and a lock resisted it.

“Hollie,” Miake called from the other side. “Let me open the door for you.”

Araki said nothing. The door clicked and then swung inward. Araki struck first with a blow to the nose of the smaller man. Miake’s nose bled as he fell to the floor.

“What—by all the divines—was that for?” Miake bellowed.

“Yesterday you sent a horde of prostitutes to ruin my aunt’s wedding,” Araki bellowed back.

Miake placed a hand to his nose and it came away with blood.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Araki pushed Miake into his room and slammed the door behind him.

“You must be one of those Rosethorns,” Miake spat. “Your family has destroyed mine. What we have we have built it up despite your efforts.”

“It looks like you did well for yourselves,” Araki said. “That still gives you no reason to ruin her wedding like that.”

“My grandfather grew up without his father because of your family,” Miake said, poking Araki in his chest with a finger. “If that wasn’t enough, Tunio took my father’s sword which should have gone to his eldest son.”

“My grandmother tells a different story,” Araki said, pushing away Miake’s finger. “She says that your father first stole the sword from grandfather.”

“He shouldn’t have had to steal it,” Miake demanded.

“If you want the sword,” Araki said, drawing Corvictus, “come take it from me.”

Araki pointed the sword at Miake’s bare chest.

“That is not my father’s sword,” Miake said. “Father described the sword as a large two-handed falchion.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Araki said. “This is my grandfather’s sword, the identifying inscription is right there.” Araki pointed with his right hand at the flat of the blade etched at the top of the blade were the words.

Honour and glory,

reveal the soul

remain true to your word

and see glory.

Araki turned the sword blade over and the other side had the beginning of the ballad.

A man’s heart is fickle,

true must a man’s heart be

to wield the spirit.

Miake looked at the words. “My father mentioned that the blade had the words inscribed on them, but he said that the blade was larger, so much so that Tunio had to wear it on his back.”

“If he was wrong about that,” Araki pressed, “what else was he wrong about?”

“I don’t want the sword now anyway,” Miake said. “I have been given the most precious of things.”

Just then the baby cried from the other side of the room. Bundled on the bed was a small child rolling amongst the bedsheets.

“I promise not to do anything more to hurt your family,” Miake promised, “on the life of my child.”

Araki nodded, sheathed his sword, punched Miake in the face, and then exited the room. He walked past the prostitutes who stood at their doors, huddled in small groups, watching him leave, their hair half-finished, and their makeup half-applied. Many had pulled on silk dressing gowns, many stood shamelessly nude, their vacant hookah-induced stupor looking at him walk past. Outside, Stella greeted him with a cheery smile.

“Did you exact your revenge?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his, pressing her body against his.

“He gave up without much of a fight,” Araki said. “He has been presented with a newborn baby.”

“Oh,” Stella breathed, “wow.”

“I know I have children,” Araki continued. “I am not sure I will be prepared for someone to drop a young baby at my door stop.”

Stella nodded and walked with him, back to his family’s estate, her hand on her belly.

***

3rd day of the 4th month 650th year of the 8th era

Araki walked into the tearoom of his grandmother’s house. He was dressed green tunic and matching slacks. He wore the Decius plate, the Veritas belt and the Corvictus sword. Over his shoulder he carried a leather knapsack. Inside the room, Aquillia sat on the sofa in her traditional green skirt next to Stella. They were sitting close, heads pressed together, chatting away. Irrawella watched them both with a smirk of expectation, her fingers steepled. She stood as Araki entered the room.

“Grandson,” Irrawella said and she walked over to him and gave him a hug. “Where are your wives, Nanberry and Moogera?”

“They are still getting ready at Uncle Rolando’s,” Araki said, “I will collect them on the way to the ship. They are excited to be heading back to their children.”

“I can imagine,” Irrawella said, stepping back from the hug and adjusted her lace dressing gown. “I can’t imagine being separated from my children for as long as they have been at such a tender age.”

“Grandmother, could you give us the room? I would like to talk to Aquillia and Stella,” Araki asked. “I want to ask them if they want to return with me.”

Irrawella smiled at him. “They were just discussing their options with me,” Irrawella said and took a seat.

Araki looked down at his grandmother, sighed, and sat next to Aquillia and took her hand and outstretched his hand for Stella who quickly took it.

“I want to offer you both a place in my house,” Araki said, “permanently, as real wives. If you want a real wedding, I can arrange that.” He cast a look at his grandmother, who nodded.

“I would love to marry you,” Stella said, “but … I don’t want to have to share you. I can see an opportunity here for me and I would like to take advantage of it.”

“I also would like to stay,” Aquillia said. “The adventure was fun, but I feel I need to continue my own journey.”

A tear leaked from Araki’s eye and travelled down his cheek. “I will miss both of you,” he said.

“I will miss you too,” Stella said, tears gathering in her eyes. “I missed my blood this month so I hope I will have something to remember you by.”

“You’re with child!?” Araki asked, incredulous.

Stella nodded, her tears streaking down her face. “I am saddened it won’t get to meet you.”

“At least he will know his family,” Irrawella said. “If you are with his child then I will look after you.”

“Thank you,” Stella said as tears dropped from her chin.

“I will also stay and help her out,” she said. “I would like to try the domestic life.”

“How will you support yourself?” Araki asked.

“My mother was a tailor in Ishtaree, and was poor,” Stella said. “I think I can become very rich here.”

“I can help you get set up,” Irrawella said.

“My deepest thanks, again,” Stella said, the tears on her face drying and her face breaking into a smile.

“Then I will say my goodbyes and leave,” Araki said, standing. Aquillia and Stella stood and they hugged. Tears rolled down Aquillia’s face.

“I will miss you, young one,” Aquillia joked, a smile on her face.

Araki stepped out of the hug, collected his bag, and walked to the door. They followed him to the door and waved at him as he walked down the road. He continued to his Uncle Rolando’s house and turned in. When the butler opened the door for him, two knapsacks were resting in the entranceway.

“This way, sir,” the butler said in deep voice and led him down a corridor to the back of the house. His aunt and uncle were out back, resting in the shade of a gazebo several metres from the house proper. Jeemo wore a white, light knee-length lace dress and twirled a parasol over her left shoulder. Moogera wore a matching green lace dress that accentuated her dark complexion. Rolando was bare-chested, wearing a light pair of silk trousers. Nanberry was also bare-chested but wore a long red silk skirt that covered her feet. They all sat around a table in the middle of the gazebo that had a teapot and several cups and saucers resting on it. He strode across the manicured lawn and entered the gazebo.

“Nephew,” Jeemo drawled, “a pleasure to see you so soon. Where are Aquillia and Stella?”

“They have elected to remain here,” Araki said.

“And you just let them?” Jeemo asked.

“They weren’t really my wives,” Araki explained. “It was a ruse to appease the tribes.”

“Oh,” gasped Jeemo.

“Stella was the daughter of a dressmaker,” continued Araki, “and she wants to stay here. She believes she will live a comfortable life here.” A tear trickled down his face and he wiped it away absently.

“Then why are you sad?” Moogera asked.

“Stella,” Araki took a breath, “believes she is with child.”

“Wow, and she still wants to remain?” Rolando asked.

“It is not uncommon,” Jeemo said. “I heard that a woman can sometimes leave a man when she feels she is with child to go and prepare a place for her and the new baby. I heard the same thing happened to my grandfather.”

“Would that be the Kaori family?” Araki asked.

“Yes, I believe so,” Jeemo said. “Grandfather had a way with the ladies that you seem to have inherited.”

“So, there was some truth to the story,” Araki said. “I tracked down Miake Kaori and confronted him about it. He blames Great-grandfather for abandoning his father and his grandmother.”

“The way that Aquillia tells the story,” Jeemo explained, “is that Mayu was pregnant with the late Anatoli Kaori while working up at Fort Northern Wiles and was deported back here. She never informed grandfather that she was pregnant.”

“How often does this happen?” Araki asked.

Jeemo shrugged. “When you make love to a man before you are married you take the risks and if it bears fruit you have one of two options: either tell the father and marry him or go and settle down and raise the child yourself. I was very lucky that never happened to me,” Jeemo said, stroking her belly.

“Are you with child?” Araki asked.

Jeemo nodded, a grin on her face.

Araki ginned and spread his arms. Jeemo stood and stepped into the awaiting hug. “Congratulations,” Araki said into her ear. “You will have to come visit when the child is older.”

“Of course,” Jeemo said, sitting down again. “I will want to meet your children.”

“I am sure you will meet them in due course,” Araki said. “Speaking of my children, we should get going so we can re-join them.”

“You haven’t told him yet?” Jeemo said to Moogera and Nanberry.

“Not yet,” Nanberry said, standing.

Araki looked at Nanberry, a quizzical expression on his face.

“Moogera and I have some good news,” Nanberry said, pulling Moogera up. “We are both expecting a child from you.”

Tears ran down his face. Araki gathered his two wives into his arms and hugged them fiercely. “I am so happy right now,” he said to them. “These children will bring the clan closer together.”

The back door opened and a gnome on filigree wings burst out.

“Mother!” exclaimed Araki. The door opened again and his short father strode out of the house, the old butler puffing behind them.

“I am sorry, Master,” he puffed, breathing in deeply to catch his breath, “they pushed right past me.”

“It’s alright,” Rolando said with the wave of his hand, “they are my new family.”

The butler bowed and returned inside.

“I need to get him some help,” muttered Rolando. “When it was just me, he was okay, but with you also, I think he needs help.”

Lady Clovea flew straight at Araki and wrapped him in a big hug. “I am glad you have a place of your own,” she said.

“Mother,” Araki said, disengaging the hug. “I have big news. My wives are both with child. You will be a grandmother … again.”

Lady Clovea squealed in delight and flew to her daughters-in-law and hugged them fiercely.

“Are you sure you can’t stay longer?” she asked. “I would love to see my new grandchildren.”

“We must head back, Mother,” Araki said sadly, “We have other children we need to take care of, and we must return to our duties. You will always be welcome to join us.”

“Yes of course,” Lady Clovea said. “I am happy you have your own place now; you have become a man I can be proud of.”

Moogera and Nanberry said their farewells and followed Araki back through the house, collecting their knapsacks, and following him out to the street. Waving goodbye, they walked back along the coastal road between the towering cliffs and the wall of the rich district and through the ordered royal dockyard to the busier merchants’ dock.

A large ship, the Marianne Grandis, was docked at port. Araki booked a berth for them and they were soon stowed below deck in the officers’ quarters.

***

That night, Araki sat on his bed. Moogera and Nanberry were lying asleep beside him. The ship creaked and groaned on the gentle waves as it moved through the waters and a stream of silvery light came in though the open porthole. A bell rang three times in the clear night. He lay his head back to the pillow and soon drifted off to sleep.

He stood naked around a fire. Before him stood a large bronzed and imposing muscled man. On a log between them sat a slight thin man.

“Welcome,” Veritas said, breaking into a smile. “It seems that you have the strength to stand before us.”

“It is not his power that allows us to talk,” came a voice from the darkness. Out of the darkness stepped the hulking mass of muscles that was Decius. “It is mine.”

“So, you approve of him?” Corvictus said as he stood.

“He has shown understanding and gentleness in the face of those weaker than himself,” Decius explained. “He sought justice and was willing to allow a change of heart to be accommodated and he granted mercy and compassion.”

“I did all that?” Araki asked. “When?”

Veritas stood aside as the hulking mass of Decius joined them at the fire.

“When you confronted Miake,” Decius said. “You showed forgiveness by letting go of your need for judgement that allowed your own good fortune to come to light.”

“He has planted the seed of four children,” Veritas said.

“Four?” Araki asked. “I thought I only had three.”

“You forget the elf,” Corvictus mentioned. “Though I only see tragedy for her.”

“What do you mean?” Araki asked.

“The child,” Corvictus explained, “has unbalanced blood. The chances that seed will carry a real branch is slight. Though not impossible.”

“What happens when the blood is unbalanced?” Araki asked.

“The child suffers from a serious affliction if it is born,” Decius said. “Your father and aunt are such examples.”

“Their deformity,” Araki gasped.

“Yes,” Corvictus said. “Your blood is balanced so your children will be fine with the humans but the offspring with the elf could be hard. This will be her second child with a complication.”

“What was wrong with her first?” Araki asked.

“The child was barren,” Veritas said.

“Your father and aunt are lucky,” Decius said. “They have found partners that have accepted them for what they are. Your father even more so because he married a woman who brought his offspring’s blood back into balance.”

“The child of your aunt is viable, but we can’t see what her child will be afflicted with as it will be a second generation with unbalanced blood.”

Araki sat on the log near the fire. He thought he had left joy in his wake but the predictions of these three powerful artefacts had robbed him of that peace. At least Stella had a bundle of hope in her. He prayed to Peri and Marica, the deities of mercy, and to Krite, the essence of healing, that Aunt Jeemo’s child would grow up healthy and live a full life, and that Aquillia’s second child would still bring her joy and not eventually pain and suffering like her first child.

***

3rd day of the 4th month 665th year of the 8th era

Araki sat in the saddle upon his favourite mount, a gentle but fast black stallion. The wind of the grassland whipped his brown tunic as he looked out over the green grass. To his left, was Windal, his first-born son and heir apparent, black curly locks and his bronzed skin. The child’s mother Nanberry had grown smug in her production of a son while Moogera produced a girl. A girl Araki had promised to the son of Cale. They had matching temperaments that spoke of a great love budding between the two. Windal and Araki looked out over the endless grasses of the howling plains.

“Father, the elders said that the water sources out here are trickier to find but the grazing land will be sufficient for the clan,” Windal said.

Araki shaded his eyes from the blazing sun, surveyed the horizon and saw smoke.

“We should check out that smoke,” Araki instructed. He nudged his horse forward, indicating that the others should follow. Behind them, several men in black held lances at the ready and trotted after their chieftain. The smoke became larger as they approached, and at the base of the billowing cloud of smoke rising from the ground was a large contingent of centaurs in heavy plate metal. As Araki and his small contingent approached, the heavily armoured centaurs wheeled and charged them. The ground rumbled as the sound resonated across the grassland. Araki wheeled his own horse and whipped it to go faster but the well-experienced more powerful centaur knights outpaced them and soon had run them to the ground. Araki was impaled from behind by a lance. Windal dodged but fell off his horse as the centaur swung the lance like a club, dismounting the young boy. As Windal fell to the ground and the air rushed out of him, he gasped for breath.

The knight stopped, pulled a rope off his flank and tied Windal up.

“You have trespassed in the land of the Horse Lords,” the knight boomed. “You will be made into a slave for the remainder of your life.” Windal was pulled to his feet and he looked over and saw the broken body of his father and the members of the chieftain’s guard bloody and scattered all over the area.

***

The seal room wall had been cleaned and remade. Prayers rose up from several sisters sitting on the floor in front of the seals. The light on the Seal of Evil flared and then dimmed as the room went quiet. The matrons cast glances at each other and the prayer for that day changed to include the protection against the impending loss of purity and hope. The third seal had fallen twenty-five years after the second. The timeline was shrinking. They were losing the race against time. More would be needed of them; missionaries would now be need to be sent to foreign countries. In this, their most desperate hour yet, worse was yet to come.