The weather had been changing as the seasons did. The warmth of summer was gone, and the briskness of fall. Bartholomew, the god of summer beer and bards, cantered his horse up to the gates of Swanlake. Gina, the human form of the darkweaver Clickic, was next to him, leading their pack horse.

The two of them had been on the road non-stop since Boulderhall and the meeting with Snidnaruss Caskpike. It had been hard riding to reach Swanlake as the nation it was in was currently at war. Which meant that most people were being stopped, and three horses tended to attract the attention of every quartermaster within a thousand miles.

Barth turned his horse slightly as they waited to enter the Capital city. “Do you think they will make a try for the horses at the gate or at the stable?”

Gina looked around briefly and then down, “My god, I expect them to demand them at the gate and try to force you into the guards. After all we are but two days march from the armies of the horde.”

Barth wiggled his nose and sighed. “I think that you’re right. You are starting to understand people and the world more now. So how are we keeping our horses when we get to the gate?”

Gina sighed. “With a lie. I am pledged to be a Maid of the Harvest. You are my guard until I am accepted and then you will be returning to the Chapter House of the Sickle.”

The god shook his head. “Gina it’s not a lie it’s a part. You are acting. You get to be someone you’re not for a while so that others believe the story. Then after the story is over they are left happy if you do a good job.”

Gina looked down at the ground. “Yes my god.”

“Fine, just do your role and we will talk more about this later. I don’t see how you have a problem with this.”

“I just want the fight. I don’t get why we are avoiding the fight all the fights. We haven’t had a good one in weeks.”

At that time, the guard called to them. “What’s ya business here?”

Gina took a deep breath. “I have been pledged to be a Maid of the Harvest. I have come to join at the temple of our goddess!”

The guards looked at her, and each took a slight step back. Then the one that spoke pointed in, and the others parted. The two rode into the city. As they passed through, a thin woman with a severe face moved to intercept them just out of the sight of the guard.

The woman dressed in a rough dark brown dress stepped in front of them. “Why have you come to Lady Winter’s city?”

Gina answered. “I have been pledged to be a Main of the Harvest.”

The woman laughed and grabbed Gina’s reins. “You are not pledged and we would never take one such as you.”

Bartholomew cut in before either of the women could make things worse. “I am here to see Winter. Gina is traveling with me. Please guide us to the temple and I will speak with her there.”

The woman snapped her head around to look at Bartholomew, and her eyes glowed green for a moment. Then she nodded slightly and turned. She waved to them to follow.

Barth looked over at Gina. “You did great back there. We just have to work on getting you into character a bit more. The Maids of the Harvest tend not to make guards pee themselves but you know whatever works.”

“I told you that I am bad at this.”

Bartholomew laughed. “No you are great we just have to find the roll that fits you!”

They made their way up through the city from the side gates. It was easy to tell that the city knew it would be under siege soon. They were used to it as every few years, a horde would bash themselves on their gates. It would last a few months, and then the horde would go back to wherever it came from.

Barth pointed to the lake. “Gina, The problem with trying to lay siege to Swanlake is the lake. It is huge one of the largest lakes practically a freshwater sea. It mean that unless you had navel support you aren’t going to choke off the city. The other problem that you would have is trying to encircle the city. It lays right on the edge of a mountain. You would have to ride two weeks to the closest pass and then three more to get around. Which means trying to have one army on both sides was almost impossible.”

Barth smiled and started to reach for his lute when he dropped his hand back. “Well we took the city that way for Winter and no one has made a decent go at it since. There’s a great song about that but well I better not sing it.”

They rode in silence for the next thirty minutes on their way to the temple. As they got close, they dismounted, and a stable hand took the horses away. Then the three of them started up the long stairs to the temple.

Barth muttered. “Winter was always pretentious.”

The guide looked over her shoulder at Barth, “What was that my lord?”

Barth laughed. “Nothing dear Maid. I was just thinking out loud how great it was to have four sets of stairs coming up to the temple.”

The guide nodded, “Yes, one for each of the seasons.”

Bartholomew was fighting to keep a straight face as he looked at the steps. Three sets were all the same, the fourth, while taking up the same amount of room, was trimmed with gold, and the risers were encrusted with gems. The bard just nodded and kept going up the ones in the middle.

Gina asked. “Why is that set on the far right golden and covered in gems?”

The guide stopped and pointed. “That is Winter’s way. The season that follows harvest which lets all the other seasons do well. Without winter none of the seasons would be as fruitful and the harvests would be small.”

They finished their long climb up to the temple to Winter, the goddess of almanacs and sickles. As they came into the grand halls, Bartholomew’s eyes grazed across the symbols for the seasons and for harvest. Max’s domains were very present but in such a way that if you didn’t know the history, you might not understand what was being shown.

The whole temple was dedicated to a god that never showed the girl any love. It wasn’t even that he led her on. He was always forthright in telling her that he had no feelings for her. Yet she just made herself useful in hopes that he would show her feeling.

The guide stopped before another lady who was dressed in the robes of the priestess. The guide bowed deeply before turning and heading back toward the gates. The priestess motioned for them to follow, and so they kept moving, not stopping for anyone as they wove their way deeper into the building.

Soon they came to two doors over 100 feet tall. The priestess turned and bowed and motioned to the doors. Then she bowed to the doors and left them standing before the giant doors.

Gina asked. “Do we knock?”

Barth grinned and rapped his knucks on the metal frame. “Let’s!”

The doors groaned and slowly opened. A faint smoke wisped out through the crack. Soon there was enough room that they could see a dimly lit room with pillars every thirty feet or so rising up into the darkness.

Barth went to take a step in when Gina put her hand on his shoulder. “It could be trap.”

He shook his head. “It’s not a trap for us its a statement and one poorly done at that.”

Barth stepped in, and a voice echoed through the room. “Who dares come to the throne of Winter?”

Barth grinned and yelled. “Oh great, Mistress of the Almanacs, Blesser of the Sickle, Maiden of the Harvest!” Barth dropped some powder on the floor, and it lit up in a blue flame. “Keeper of the Swan Lake, healer of the armies of gods so old their names cannot be spoken. Wooer of the heart of the harvest!”

The booming voice went shrill. “Oh shut up Bartholomew! I should have known it was you when I was told a handsome man had come to my door! What is it that you want?”

The dimness of the room was slowly replaced with a bright, cheerful light. Winter approached them. Her hair was white with a crisp blue tone, as her name would suggest. She wore a silver dress that’s threads were some of the finest mithril. She held lightly in her hand a scepter that’s top was a glassy ball showing snow falling on her temple.

Bartholomew bowed deeply with a devil-may-care grin. “Winter, always lovely to see you. I was hoping that I might could ask a favor of you my old friend.”

“Oh and what favor could I grant my friend who I haven’t seen in centuries?”

“Well as you know I road in today. Its so that I couldn’t be tracked no need for people to think that you might not be loyal.”

Winter’s face went from placid to a snarl. “How dare you! You know I am loyal and I always have been!”

Barth stuck out his hands. “Be calm I know who you are loyal to and if those who threw him out knew it you would be out as well. I come to ask for one of your Sickles to help the one I drew through the Gate of Seasons.”

She took a deep breath. “Why one of my Sickles? Would my champion no be better suited for this task or even a troop from the Brothers of the Sickle?”

Bartholomew shook his head. “No right now there’s lots of attention on him. A single Sickle will help him more than anything else I think.”

Winter eyed the bard. “What do I get from you for this?”

Barth laughed. “Well first it was Max’s last plan I am working on. Second what do you want?”

Winter nodded and thought. “I would normally just do it for Max even though he isn’t here anymore. This horde is larger than others and they are trying to circle around. They want the city and they might get it this time.”

Barth sighed. “Is it really that bad? They have been running into the walls for almost as long as you have had the city.”

Winter nodded. “It is that bad. I fear that not only do I have the orcs to deal with but that war has arrayed himself against me. Many of our fleets have gone missing. I could use your aid.”

Barth pressed his lips together and paced back and forth. His hand dropped down to rest on his sword. He thought through the things that he still needed to do. Winter was the first on his list of aid for Arn. If he placed himself here, then the other gods would know where he was, and he wouldn’t be able to get everything else moving.

“If I get involved here I can’t push everything else. There are parts that need to move and that need to move at the right time. If I make too much noise here then they might think that there is something going on. However, war was never the smartest.”

Winter looked at the top of her scepter. “What are you thinking my friend?”

“Well the pass that the horde has to take to encircle you has never been a wide one. I think that a few dozen darkweavers could change the pass.”

Gina started to laugh. “You are going to ask mother to send her daughters to a pass to fight orcs?”

Barth laughed, “No the three of us are going to act like we are a few dozen darkweavers.”

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