~~~House Burgh, Ulster, Ireland. March 3, 1026~~~

The young knight had arrived at the house early in the morning with his entourage. There were still signs of battle around, but the castle had stood firm. Roland had arrived on that day to petition the masters of the house for aid at the king's behest. For now, though, he waited, with a small platoon of soldiers, for any response from the master or keepers of the house.

~~~The Irish Sea outside of Dublin, March 3rd, 1026~~~

The waves rock the ship back and forth as it cuts through the waters towards Dublin. As the sailors walk across deck a skinny young lad hangs over the side of the ship looking ready to add to the seas churning brew. Finnagin never was a fan of open waters, but he is certainly glad that this nightmare of a journey is about to come to an end as they crew gets ready to pull into port.

~~~House Burgh, Ulster, Ireland. March 3, 1026~~~

Alfric knelt in the church, his hands clasped in his early morning prayers. Praying not only for his father's soul who had only joined Him in heaven a week ago but also for the victory which He had so kindly granted them but two days before. Alfric's prayers however were cut short by a messenger running into the Church.

"Lord, an Englishman is at the gates. He has traveled from his motherland to meet with you."

"An Englishman? For what purpose would they seek a meeting with the Earl of Ulster? Is England troubled?"

"My Lord, I apologize, he does not say why he wishes to speak with you."

"Very well, it matters not. Open the gates, I shall meet them in the throne room at once."

The messenger ran off immediately, it would be rude to keep their guests waiting. Alfric took his leave of the church, he would need to change out of his night clothes to meet the English. As his servants helped him change Alfric could not help but wonder for what reason the English would meet with an Irish Earl so early in the morning and without prior arrangements.

"Could the alliance have..."

Alfric dared not consider the thought. He would meet the Englishman momentarily and they would sort this all out. Perhaps he had simply been passing by and wanted to pay respects.

Gandor was smiling he had entered Ireland a week ago and he now was in the lands around Ultser. He had little money but his attitude made it seem he was rich beyond compare as he walked the countryside heading towards the the town. He soon notice a battle seemed to have taken place. Gandor frowned, a rare occurrence, as he moved closer trying to see if anyone was still alive. "It will be just my luck everyone is dead and no one to entertain." He mumbled as he scanned for life though as he noticed movement at the castle he thought "why not check there? looks like something is going on." He then started moving towards the castle.

(hope this is ok)

~~~Meanwhile, in a wild forest of England...~~~

Adelaide crouched low into the brush, focusing her hearing on the rustling she heard nearby. She stared down the tip of her arrow, her nose pressed against the shaft as she focused. The shining red color of her bow cast eerie scarlet highlights in her ebony hair. The rustling intensified and Adelaide’s muscles went taught as she drew back the string of her bow, ready to take fire.

The sound of a heavy object falling to the ground could be heard from somewhere behind the huntress. This sound was quickly followed by rustling. There were a number of creatures of some variety behind her, and whatever they were, they were active.

Adel startled slightly and turned to face the louder sound. Adelaide felt her cover apt to be blown on the ground and decided to take a better vantage point instead. She grabbed the branch of a nearby tree that seemed sturdy enough to hold her weight and had enough foliage to offer another form of cover. With a quick swing, Adelaide was hidden up in the tree and drew back her bow once more. This time, she chanted quietly and the tip of her arrow was engulfed in flame, charged with one of her spells.

From her perch in the trees, Adel was able to see what looked to be a pale woman clad in white. Her hair seemed to shimmer as silver, and her eyes were closed. Four wolves surrounded her, the closest of which seemed ready to strike her at any moment.

Adelaide released the tension from her bow string and lowered her arm, the flame going out as she broke her concentration on it. She cocked her head to the side and watched the pale woman and her lupine companions with curiosity. Perhaps this friend of beast and animals could be a friend of hers… but she could also be an enemy.

“Who are you?” Adel called from her perch in the trees. She realized she’d just given away her location, but she was prepared to fight if she needed to.

Walking into a Irish pub somehow felt different than the English ones back home. He couldn't pinpoint why though so he ignored it and ordered some food and drink. After a few pints the music sounded great, and he forgot all his troubles about the sea.

'Sir, I'm going to have to ask that you pay before ordering anything else'

Finnagin coughed up the ale he was trying to drink and looked at the bartender "Aye, of course what was I thinking. Though it turns out I left me coffers at home. If you could just give me a moment Ill retrieve them and be back in no time!" and with this he ran out of the pub.

~~~~delete this~~~~~

~~~Dunbar, Scotland~~~

Morwyn stood on an outcropping of rock, poised and gripping the edges of a net that sunk into the sea below her. When her quarry unknowingly swam into the trap she heaved her arms upwards and pulled the unlucky fish out onto the rock, where it writhed and strained against the rope. She had been there a good long while, and though she could have hurried the process, she had always been adamantly opposed to the aid of magic when it came to hunting. Just didn't seem fair, she'd always said. And anyway, she quite enjoyed the quiet and the patience; to her, it was a type of meditation.

After she killed the thing she walked towards the cliff-side, where she hoped the tall and looming rocks would hide her fire from the townsfolk. She had gathered wood prior and stacked it, so she sat in the sand and drew the runes that were long burned into her mind: fire, catch, wood. The kindling easily took to flame and she hung the whole fish on a spit to cook, not caring enough to scale it. It was a spare thing, unfortunately. She would not have extras left tomorrow.

She sat back on her heels and considered the fire. Though these runes came easy to her, they were common, and she desired to know more of the nuances of the Ignis style. She was nearly in Perth now. Tomorrow she would pay for a ferry to cross the bay, then she would be in Fife. She thought she might stay there a while and ask around to get a feel for the place. After all, though she was not technically from Connaught, being Irish and being strongest in the Ventus style of magic would both be counts against her. Well, she thought, perhaps there is at least one open-minded master I could appeal to.

For now she let her thoughts wander. To save her money Morwyn did not opt to stay in an inn tonight, despite her heavy travelling and aching back. Instead she had paid to have her horse stabled, and would likely spend the same amount on a supply of grain from the locals.

As the sun set over the ocean Morwyn found it a profound sight. Here she was, near the heart of those who studied the great Fire element in depth, and it looked to her as if the sea itself were set ablaze.

~~~House Burgh, Ulster, Ireland.~~~

Alfric sat idle on his throne. He looks around at the ornate hall, waiting for the Englishman to be escorted in.

"Why is that damn messenger taking so long, does he intend to bore me to death?"

As Alfric spoke, the knight entered the throne room. "Lord Burgh," he said, bowing respectfully to the master of the house. "I apologize for my unannounced arrival, and for the delays in arriving from the gate. My name is Roland Pendragon, Knight of King Hordrick's court." The knight took a knee. "I was sent on the king's behalf to congratulate you for your victory over the foreign invaders two weeks past." He explained. "And to further ask for information on the details of the assault."

---

The woman looked up tiredly at Adelaide. Her eyes were golden, and had a mystical quality to them. The wolves, however, didn't seem to notice. "Excuse me," the woman spoke in a faint, yet clear voice. "But... Would you help me? These beasts... I'm worried they may kill me..." She said. Her tone seemed oddly unconcerned, in spite of the inherent danger of the situation she was in.

~~~House Burgh, Ulster, Ireland.~~~

"All is well, my English friend, there is no need for formalities between us. As I recall my mother and your father are of the same blood as only true brother and sister are."

Alfric motioned for Roland to rise before continuing.

"Although I fear, brave Roland that things are not so simple. As you surely saw around this castle are the corpses of those who love me or hate me. These men bear no coat of arms yet are Irish bred. Many are confirmed freelances, which brings into scope the intent of a malicious actor."

Alfric shifts slightly before continuing.

"Such a malicious actor whose face I must say I do not know. None in my court would be so brazenly assail me, if only out of respect for my recently departed father. Nor would any other Irish fife be so dishonest and strip their family crest from their shield and attack without a declaration of war. I have no evidence, only a suspicion. That suspicion is that this is the work of the Scots. They do not march openly, bearing their crests for they wish to cast doubt on the true actor."

Alfric once more shifted position.

"I have sent my brother, John, to Scotland. He will find us a casus belli that we need to march against the Scotts. But the question remains why the Scotts? The English wouldn't march against their own kin. They have nothing to gain and everything to lose. The Scotts however have everything to gain from allying with or controlling Ulster. They could sail uncontested deep into English terretory. This is a grand threat which in warfare must not be underestimated."

Alfric rose and approached the now standing knight.

"And that is why the Scotts will march on Ulster before the month is through. Under the banner of the English they will fight and lose so that we may join them after the battle is done."

Alfric chuckled to no one in particular.

"Or perhaps these are just the ramblings of a madman. I pray you can tell for surely I cannot. But have I answered your questions dear Roland? Is there anything else you ask of this mad Earl?"

~~~Dunbar, Scotland.~~~

"Oh John, please empty the sea with a thimble."

"Brother, please clean out the dog shit."

"John, couldn't you please go find evidence of a crazy Scottish conspiricy."

John grumbled to himself. Scotland's beauty was not lost on John but the shadow of a fool's errand darkened the entire endeavor. However, how in all of god's creation did Alfric expect him, with no leads whatsoever, to uncover a Scottish plot to frame England for an attack on the house of Ulster? It had been one day since John had arrived in Scotland and he had wasted it riding around the countryside. He even found a little town, Dunbar, or something like that. Alfric had even had him promise that he keep a low profile by staying away from villages and that he couldn't even visit an inn. Even though he had slept on the ground many times during hunting expeditions his familiarity with the ground made it no more inviting.

"At least I can go to the sea-cliffs, there ought to be some rocks or an overhang which will keep out the cold night winds."

As John approached the sea-cliffs the distinct ocean smell began to waft over him, yet something was out of place. An uncanny smell, that of smoke and burning wood. Finding these stranger(s) would save him the trouble of starting his own fire in the darkness. Prior to venturing down the sea-cliffs John tied his riding and pack horses to a convenient rock. They had his armor which bore his family crest, no one would dare steal from him during the night. With a bag of provisions in one hand and a freshly lit torch in the other John slowly walked along the sea-cliffs.

As the sun painstakingly fell into the ocean John's search for the strangers got more desperate. Starting a fire on his own in the middle of the night would not be an easy task. In his frustration John gave up the search and simply called out.

"STRANGERS, I KNOW YOU HAVE A FIRE. WOULD YOU NOT BREAK BREAD WITH A LONE TRAVELER AND SHARE YOUR FIRE'S WARMTH?"

It was not an unreasonable request, at least back in Ireland it was custom to offer hospitality to travelers even if all that meant was sharing a simple fire. Hopefully Scottish tradition wasn't too dissimilar.

Morwyn jerked her head up when she heard the call, and was shocked to find it distinctly Irish. She stood up and peered out from the edge of her hideout, and saw a man a little ways from her. He appeared to be alone, but she was cautious. What would an Irishman be doing all the way out here? Let alone with what appeared to only a sack for gear, and no horse. Someone could have watched her wander off after she stabled her horse, perhaps some scoundrel had seen her and wished her ill. Was this man bait to lead her out of her hiding place? She had no interest in being robbed tonight, or worse, so she hesitated.

Eventually she decided that she would rather indulge curiosity over caution. She had often shared fires with similar travelers, after all, but never before in such a foreign place as this. She stepped further out so he would see her, waved one arm, and called out loudly, "You there, did you say you were looking for a fire? I've got somewhat of one." She left it there, without a clear offer to share it just yet. Her left hand settled comfortably on the hilt of the dagger at her hip.

Gandor was traveling though the town when he saw a man run out of a pub with a man yelling for someone to stop him. Gandor smiled chuckling "Such misfortune." using his magic he formed a flaming whip though it wouldn't burn anything and shouted "GET OVER HERE!" and the next thing the runner knew he was on the ground and being pulled towards Gandor with the whip wrapped tightly around his legs. Once the runner was safely in the hands of the authorities, the whip dispersed and turned into flaming butterflies. Gandor smiled saying "Off you go now my friends" then he turned his attention to the runner. "I cant stand people like you eating and running away. your just like a traitor. The difference is traitor must be committed to their crimes they can not falter. You, however are a spineless coward traitor who commits to nothing. May heaven have mercy on you pathetic soul." Gandor spat on the ground then went into the pub the man ran out of "What is on the menu?" he asked the owner, showing he had money and was willing to pay for his meals. He took a seat wondering what he would be eating today.

~~~Dunbar, Scotland.~~~

John immediately let out a hearty cry, all the way out in Scotland he had happened upon an Irishlady? Perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks on him but either way the woman clearly didn't mind sharing her fire. John quickly made his way to what looked like a little hideout. It was quite well hidden, had he not happened to ride directly above it and smelled the smoke he never would have thought to look anywhere near the solid mass of rock. He quickly made his way across the sea cliffs, mostly looking down to make sure he didn't step on a particularly slick area but occasionally glancing up at the woman who had called to him.

She seemed unnaturally short, if not for the circumstances he would have almost thought she was a little girl. Her form was hidden in unusually baggy clothing. As he got closer he could make out a wisp of brown hair underneath her hood. She seemed a bit cautious as he approached as would be natural of a woman traveling alone. He came to a stop about three arm's lengths away from the woman.

"Thanks for the fire, want anything?"

John gestured with the bag.

"It's got smoked and salted meats, bread, I think there might even be a little cheese left over."

~~~Dunbar, Scotland.~~~

Morwyn considered the man as he picked his way among the rocks towards her. She saw no signs of companions, no shadows, no sounds of footfalls or clanking or shifting clothing beyond what noise the man made. Satisfied that it wasn't some sort of trap, she relaxed, and perked up upon hearing his offer. "Cheese, did you say? Well in that case come and warm yourself," she said, walking the short distance back to her fire. "Funny the two of us meeting eh? Hailing from the same country and all." Morwyn idly tossed a branch on the waning fire, noticed the runes she had used earlier were still scratched into the sand, and so casually kicked them until they were gone. It was just bad practice to leave those sorts of things written down if you were done using them. She wondered how she could have honestly forgotten to get rid of them in the first place. Normally, she was very mindful about that sort of thing.

Shrugging off her carelessness she leaned against the cliff-rock. "What's a lone Irishman doing on this side of Scotland anyway? I thought I was the only one crazy enough to venture all the way out here, and then here you show up in the exact same place, most likely thinking the same thing of me."

~~~Dunbar, Scotland.~~~

John joined the woman in the fire sat down by the fire and began to warm his hands as he stared into it's warm glow, leaving the bag on the ground where . He paused for a moment and this woman's questions. Alfric's errand was stupid anyway and she was a countryman. Surely it couldn't hurt to tell her about her brother's crazed scheme.

"Crazy is the right word. My brother, Alfric, just became Earl of Ulster. Had a few dissidents show up to his castle swinging swords and now he thinks it's a Scottish conspiracy where they are trying to taint our vital bodily fluids or some other nonsense."

John looked up at the woman and continued.

"As for why I'm here, Alfric wanted someone to go find evidence to support his delusions and I figured that I might as well get a nice sight-seeing trip out of the deal."

John leaned back and glanced around the cave.

"I sailed into Edinburgh early this morning and I have yet to have any idea where to go. I just decided to pick a path and follow it and ended up here. I thought it would be best to avoid the town as Alfric warned me to keep a low profile and is the type to send a spy after his own brother to make sure instructions are followed."

John once more sat up and looked over at the woman.

"And what about you? An Irish lady all the way out here in Scotland by herself? I even saw you kicking up the sand right after I walked in like you were trying to erase something."

After an unnaturally long pause John continued in a slightly quieter tone.

"You can write can't you? Didn't want anyone finding out you might have a rich father, did ya?"

Adelaide didn't completely trust this woman, but her strange eye color piqued her interest... maybe she was monster-born as well. Curiosity overcame mistrust and Adelaide once again pulled her bow taught. She sought not to harm a natural beast with out just cause, but knew that the wolves would fear fire. With a quick word, the arrow's tip was aflame once more. Adelaide let the arrow fly and it struck the dry grass just to the right of the wolves ablaze. The sudden conflagration was enough to scatter the wolves away from the woman, thinking a forest fire was soon to run amuck. Being able to use the water element as well was comfort enough for Adelaide to know that no real damage was to be done. She jumped down from the tree and shook out her feathered ebony hair before speaking "It is done... your name?" She asked as the flames crackled around them.

"Ah..." The woman spoke, breathing a sigh of relief. She stood up, revealing a waifish, yet tall frame, revealing herself to be an inch or two taller than the other woman, which was impressive considering her own height. "I thank you from the bottom of my heart, friend," she spoke. Her words were odd. There was a certain disconnect in her tone, yet it was full of warmth and honesty. "My name is Meruin," she explained. "I was traveling to London, but I am afraid I got lost along the way..." She said, looking off into the distance. "A battle is coming... One that will ravage all of Britain... I need to meet one of the king's knights... Before that begins." She explained in a soft voice. She walked up to Adelaide, standing in her personal space. "You seem reliable," she spoke. Close as she was, her irises seemed to glow, the gold in them seeming to spiral around her pupils. "Would you be able to help me find my knight?" She asked.

---

Roland shook his head. "I was sent to assess the condition of your lands, ser." He explained. "I can see that you are quite safe for the time. That I have seen that, it is all I would ask that you be willing to provide your military forces in the case that Queen Mary does decide to attack... The king has no wish for bloodshed, but he fears it to be inevitable... Having as much aid as possible would minimize that." He explained.

~~~Dunbar, Scotland.~~~

Morwyn stared slack-jawed at the man while he ranted, not making a peep. When he was finished she spoke up. "Sorry, are you saying that you're a son of Richard Burgh? And that he's dead?" Though listening into conversations that she had no business listening to was a favorite pastime for Morwyn, unfortunately she had very little care for politics and the like. If anyone ever brought up so much as a word about any of it, she was likely to tune them out completely. If word had come of the recent changes to Ulster, she hadn't heard of it. Her interests typically lied elsewhere, but she did make an exception when it concerned her own country.

Morwyn was tempted to believe him mad, if she hadn't been aware of the previous Earl's failing health. And if the man himself hadn't sounded so frustrated over the tale.

But that last line had rubbed her the wrong way, so regardless of whatever status he had -- Morwyn wasn't actually sure how you were supposed to treat the supposed brother of an Earl -- she retorted quickly. "Are you daft? Those were..." but she trailed off, hesitating. She was quite familiar with Ulster and even more familiar with the general distrust of sorcery in that area. It was rampant, even, at least it felt that way to her when she'd last been there. She doubted that she was in any actual danger, but still had no desire to put him off. Especially if he was so eager to babble all these secrets to her.

"Oh, ah, what was I saying? Er, the name's Morwyn by the way. I didn't catch yours?" She asked, fumbling quite badly with her words, quickly trying to work out some lie about why she'd be wandering alone all the way out here.

~~~Dunbar, Scotland.~~~

John listened to the woman speak, how in god's name so many questions managed to fit into the little creature he didn't know. Surely when someone has that many questions inside they must simply explode. The fact that she had attempted to dodge all of his questions only made her that much more of a conundrum. Forcing her to directly answer his questions was likely to just piss her off, something he didn't really feel up to after she had shared his fire and all. On one hand he wanted to just shut her up and get to sleep. On the other he couldn't help but wonder about this increasingly odd stranger.

John stood up, turned to Morwyn and bowed.

"Yes, I am the son of Richard Burgh, Earl of Ulster. My name is John Burgh, Viscount of Ulster."

John returned to his previous position by the fire.

"So, Morwyn, tell me, who is your father? and how did you learn to write? I know of no noble daughter who goes by Morwyn and I would love to hear how a common Irish woman learns the art of writing."