“It doesn’t matter how late it is. If they’re paying for you to deliver the goods, then you’re going to deliver them,” the old man stood with his arms crossed, glaring down at a young farmhand who was lying in a pile of hay in the stables.

“But it’s almost nightfall,” Gawain complained obstinately. “Surely the royal family can wait until noontime tomorrow. Why the sudden rush?”

“They most certainly cannot wait,” the old man replied sternly. “The messenger said that they need the food tonight in order to prepare it for a banquet tomorrow.”

“They couldn’t have given us more of a warning?” Gawain mumbled. “It would have been nice to know about this banquet three days ago rather than the night before the event.”

“The king and queen have been busy,” the old man sighed. “They’ve had their hands full with those troublemaking witches. We’re not exactly a high priority on their list right now.” He shook his head and turned to walk out of the stables. “Just get up and go make the delivery. Everything is already bundled in the cart. The only thing you have to do is hitch up the horse and bring it to the palace.”

“Fine,” Gawain climbed to his feet. “I just hope the royal family gets rid of those witches soon. I hate making these late trips.” He stretched tiredly and opened the horse’s stall to bring the animal over to the cart that had been prepared outside. Once everything was properly arranged and the horse was in place, he set out.

--

Gawain tugged on the reins of his horse in an attempt to make it move faster as he walked down the road. He wanted to finish the job as quickly as possible so he could get back to his makeshift bed in the stables before the sun disappeared over the horizon. Unfortunately, however, the animal didn’t seem to share his desire. It trudged slowly along the road in complete disregard of the farmhand’s pestering. No matter what he did it refused to hasten its sluggish pace, so after a while he gave up and resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to be home before nightfall. He just hoped he wouldn’t run into any patrolling knights so he wouldn’t have to stop and explain why he was out so late.

When he reached the palace, Gawain was relieved to see that there was already a servant waiting outside to receive the delivery. At least now he didn’t have to worry about seeking someone out to take the cart. He approached the man and dripped his head in a curt greeting, “I was sent by Simon to deliver food for tomorrow’s banquet.”

The servant stepped over to peer inside the cart, “Everything seems to be in order.” He turned to Gawain and held out a pouch of coins, “Here is your payment.”

“Thank you,” Gawain took the money and handed the reins over to the man. “Just bring the horse and cart back as soon as you can.”

“I can have them both returned to you within three days,” the servant nodded. “Have a good night, sir.”

“The same to you,” Gawain dipped his head again and turned to walk down the road. With that, he was on his way back to the farm and, more importantly, to his bed.

"How much longer is it?" A voice sounded from the wandering group of women, the whiny sound getting on the nerves of Morgana. That question and variations of it had been asked far too much already, and the white haired witch that was leading the way let out a sigh.

"As I told you before, there's no way to tell. When we find a safe place to stay, we will know it, not before that." Morgana answered, a hint of annoyance being audible in her voice. Of course, she wanted to bring these women to safety, but sometimes they took more patience than she had.

"Can't we just take a break, than?" The same voice asked, followed by a sigh sounding just as annoyed as Morgana's previous words. "Fine, but not too long." The witch answered, stepping off the road and leaning against a closeby tree.

She watched quietly as the source of her annoyance, a witch with pitch black hair and deep blue eyes, sat down in the grass and let out a sigh of relief, pulling up the skirt of her dress a little bit, showing the wounded and injured legs hidden by it. The dried up blood made it appear much worse than it was, but it was still impressive that she managed to walk such distances with her legs hurt like that.

"Perhaps I can try to heal your legs." Another witch suggested, having a friendly and concerned look in her bright geen eyes.

"No." Morgana's answer was as short and clear as it could be, looking at the green eyed witch. "But Morgana, she's in pain!" The witch protested, unafraid to go against what Morgana had said.

"She will be in more pain if we burn at the stake because someone saw you using your healing magic." Morgana answered. "She can't keep walking around like this much longer, you're asking too much from her!" Another witch added, one with brown hair and hazel eyes.

Letting out another sigh, Morgana decided to just give in already. "Okay Willow, fine. You can heal her, but be quick." She said, after having made sure that there were no knights close.

Gawain looked up at the moon as he walked. It was late enough now that the white crescent was clearly visible against the dark blue sky. He frowned and dropped his gaze back to the road before him. He still had a ways to go before he made it back to the farm. That cursed slow horse had kept him out far longer than he had expected, and now he risked being spotted by a patrol of knights. The night guards had little patience for anyone wandering the city past curfew and they would make no exceptions for him, even if he was only completing a job for the royal family. So, as he had no desire to spend the night in a cell, the farmhand quickened his pace and prayed that he wouldn’t run into any knights on his way home.

Unfortunately it seemed that fate was not on his side, however, because just a mere instant after Gawain began moving with haste he caught sight of a group of armored men stepping onto the main road from an adjoining path. In his surprise, he stumbled to a halt and then turned to duck into a nearby alley where he stayed still with his back pressed to the wall, listening for any signs that the patrol had seen him. Everything stayed quiet, and he let out an inward sigh of relief. It seemed that the knights hadn’t noticed him after all. He was safe… but now he needed to find another way back to the farm. With the main road being guarded, he couldn’t use it without getting caught. He peered down the far end of the alleyway, which opened up to another, smaller path. Perhaps he could use it to get past the patrol.

Gawain cast one more furtive glance over his shoulder and then headed down the alley towards the other road. When he got close, however, he heard something that made him slow to a stop. It sounded like a number of feminine voices speaking in hushed tones. He knit his brow and crept forward just enough that he was able to look around the corner and find out who the voices belonged to. As he did this, he was able to see a small group of young women standing on the side of the road. His breath caught in his throat and he quickly moved deeper into the alley again when he recalled Simon’s warning about witches. If these girls were magic-users, they would be far more dangerous than the knights on the other side of the alley... Gawain paused as another thought crossed his mind.

If he reported the strange women to the knights, then maybe they would be too distracted to question why he was out so late. He could turn in a few probable witches and get back to the farm without a hassle. Besides, the royal family was offering a reward for the capture of any witches, so if the girls really were magic-users, he could earn a profit off of their imprisonment. His lip tugged upward in a smirk. The prospect was too tempting to resist.

Gawain turned around to go back through the alley and find the knights.

One of the witches, whom had remained silent while the others were arguing, noticed someone standing at a distance from them and suddenly spoke up. "Somebody saw us." Was all she said, causing her four companions to look up from what they were doing. Morgana had quickly spotted the man, and quickly crossed the distance between him and her. She doubted that a stranger would mean good news, and if needed, she would harm the man. As long as the young witches would be fine, she'd do anything.

She grabbed the man's collar, not saying a single word as she dragged him back towards the other witches, where he should be able to see them clearly. "Do those seem like the kind of embodiments of evil your kind is accusing us to be of?" She asked, looking at him with an expression that did nothing to show what the woman was feeling.

If he were to try to escape from Morgana's grip, the young man would find himself feeling as if he were nailed to the ground, unable to get away. It was a simple but effective spell, and for now, it worked.

"We are not causing trouble to anyone. Our friend happens to be injured by one of those murderers you are glorifying for slaughtering us, while we were simply on our way to find a safe place to stay, where people won't try to murder us, just because we exist." The woman said calmly, still keeping the spell active. She didn't want to hurt anyone or take anyone's life, so she hoped the man could be reasoned with. Though considering what other humans were like, she doubted it.

Gawain let out a startled yelp when he felt a hand catch hold of his shirt collar and tug him back down the alley away from the main road. He craned his neck to see who had caught him and found that it was one of the women he had observed by the side of the other road, and she didn’t look happy. She said nothing, but somehow her silence was more foreboding than any verbal threat. He pulled back against her grip in an attempt to break free, but suddenly remembered the possibility that she was a witch. Even if he got away, she could easily kill him with her magic. He swallowed and stopped struggling, deciding that it would be wiser to play along and hope that she would be merciful.

The white-haired girl dragged him over to the rest of her friends and finally broke her silence with a question, “Do those seem like the kind of embodiments of evil your kind is accusing us to be of?”

“Um…” Gawain said blankly. He wasn’t focused on giving the woman an answer, as his mind was still lingering on the fact that she had just revealed that she and her companions were in fact witches. If they were as powerful as the royal family claimed they were, then he was in very real danger. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of calling out for help, but he knew that even if he tried, the women could shut him up before the knights had a chance to step foot in his direction. He was trapped.

“We are not causing trouble to anyone,” the white-haired witch went on. “Our friend happens to be injured by one of those murderers you are glorifying for slaughtering us, while we were simply on our way to find a safe place to stay, where people won’t try to murder us just because we exist.”

Gawain’s blue eyes flicked between the girls until he found one with a bloodied leg, verifying that there was indeed an injury among them. “That’s a lot of information to give a complete stranger,” he said, shifting his weight uneasily and looking back at the witch whom had grabbed him. He couldn’t imagine that she would tell him all of that and simply let him walk away, but he had to try to reason with her anyways. He didn’t want to die on some side road in the middle of the night. “Look, I don’t know what happened,” he went on, holding up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “I have no part in the royal family’s witch hunt. I just deliver their food from a nearby farm. That’s all, I swear. Now, if you would just let me go, I’ll walk away and pretend this never happened, alright? I’ll go back to the farm and you can go back to… whatever it is witches do, okay?”

"Maybe we can stay at your farm for a while?" Willow asked, causing the others to look at her. "If you are speaking the truth and would be willing to give shelter to some witches, than we have a safe place to stay, even if only for a while. And we could always do something in return as long as we are there." The young witch continued, looking at the farmhand. To her, it seemed like a good option, or at least it was better than walking around aimlessly until they stumbled upon some safe place out of stupid luck.

Morgana listened to the girl, before looking back at the man. The idea wasn't too bad, if the man really had nothing to do with the witch hunt, like he claimed. "How can we be certain that you aren't lying to us and won't betray us if we let you go or come with you to your farm?" She asked the man, obviously not stupid enough to believe everything he said right away. It wouldn't be the first time somebody lied to them.

"And if you truly have nothing to do with the ongoing witch hunt and would be willing to give us shelter, how would you like us to return the favoriete?" She asked afterwards. That was of course also an important thing to be discussed, and there were many things they could do for him in return, though any inappropiate suggestions would be a great dealbreaker to Morgana. There was no way she would let anyone treat those girls as wenches.

Gawain raised a brow at the witch whom suggested that he offer them shelter. What made her think he would want to do something like that? It was dangerous and foolhardy to harbor magic-users from the knights. He could get himself arrested if someone found out and reported him to the royal family, and he did not want to be burned at the stake with a bunch of crazy witches. He opened his mouth to explain this to the women, but the white-haired one spoke up first, her words making him pause. She was right in that they had no reason to trust him enough to let him go, so if he didn’t want to be killed, he would have to give them proof.

…But the problem was he would run to the knights if they let him walk away. Even if he made it back to the farm uninjured, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night until he knew the witches were captured. He had heard so many stories of men being burned alive by spontaneous flames, or getting mauled by fantastical creatures, or even getting turned into elk during the hunting season. So, of course he would try to find help if he had the chance. He would be lying if he said he didn’t plan to, but unfortunately an honest answer wouldn’t bode well for him in this situation.

“And if you truly have nothing to do with the ongoing witch hunt and would be willing to give us shelter, how would you like us to return the favor?” the white-haired witch went on, interrupting Gawain’s musings. He looked up at her curiously. The women must have been more desperate than he first thought if they were so quick to look to a complete stranger for shelter. They were even offering to pay him back for his help. He shifted his weight again, contemplating the proposal. He couldn’t deny that it was tempting, but he didn’t trust the witches any more than they trusted him.

“And how do I know that you’re not lying to me?” Gawain asked, meeting the white-haired witch’s gaze challengingly. “You could just be using me until you feel safe again, and then you’ll just kill me off so there are no witnesses.” He paused, his eyes flicking to the faces of the other women as he tried to think of a way to make himself appear less disposable. “I hope you know that if you kill me, you’ll have the royal family breathing down your necks. I hand deliver their food. They’ll notice if I go missing and send their knights after you. Then you’ll have to deal with both the bounty hunters and the city guards.” In reality, he doubted that the royal family even knew who he was. They always sent servants out to meet him in front of the palace—but the witches wouldn’t know that. He just hoped his bluff was convincing enough that they would buy it.

“So,” Gawain went on, tilting his chin up slightly with an air of confidence. “It would be in your best interest to let me go now and pretend this meeting never happened.”

Morgana listened to what the man had to say and let out a chuckle at his confidence. "All we do, is keeping ourselves safe. If we had bad intentions, we could've robbed and killed you already, but I would consider my companions and me to be the friendly kind of witches." She started, pausing for a moment and giving the blonde witch a brief nod.

At that, Ambrosia drew the sword she was carrying with her and pressed the point against the man's chest, still as quiet as she had been before. "Though as much as I hate it, witches are having a difficult time right now, so some measures must be taken to keep ourselves safe. My friend here could make your death look like nothing more than an ordinary murder with just one swing of her blade, and the knights you give so much praise will have no clue that it was the doing of a witch. So, if you decide to become a threat of any kind to us, we will do what is needed, but if you treat us in a just way, you have nothing to fear." Morgana continued. When she was done speaking, the blonde witch put her sword back in it sheathe again, seeming to currently have no intention of causing any harm to the man.

While the others were busy negotiating with the farmhand, if it could be called that, Willow had turned her attention back to her hurt companion, using a spell to take care of her legs. Regardless of how all of this would end, the witch would have to be able to walk decently again. And as long as the other three were busy with the man, she had the time to do the exact thing she had planned to do before this stranger stumbled upon them.

As one of the witches drew a sword, Gawain took an uneasy step back and silently cursed himself. He should have known that the women had a plan that didn’t involve magic. So much for his bluff. Now it made no difference whether the royal family cared about his life. They could easily kill him with a blade, and anyone who found his body would be none the wiser. Fortunately, however, it seemed that the witches’ desire for protection outweighed their desire to run him through, as the blonde girl sheathed her sword when her apparent leader finished speaking, leaving him to make the choice to help them or not.

Gawain hesitated, weighing his options. If he didn’t offer the women shelter, they had no reason not to kill him on the spot. By refusing to help he would be practically begging to die, but, on the other hand, taking them in would be just as reckless. If Simon found out his farmhand was harboring witches, he would waste no time reporting him to the knights. The old man was just as familiar with the bounty on the magic-users’ heads as Gawain was, and he was much greedier. The farmhand glanced down at the blonde witch’s sword again. At least he had a chance with Simon; these women were poised to kill him the instant he declined their proposition. It seemed like he only had one choice.

“Fine,” Gawain sighed. “You win. I’ll let you stay on the farm.” He looked up to meet the white-haired witch’s gaze once more. “Just try not to do anything stupid—and by stupid, I mean anything magical that will get you and me caught.” He turned and waved a hand for the women to follow him. “Come on, it’s this way.”

"You still need to tell me how you want us to return the favour." Morgana said, following after the man. She was no beggar, they could repay the favour, so they would. "My companions and me have various things to offer. We can make your vegetables grow better and bigger, make you a love option for that one special woman, heal the injuries of any hurt animals, give you a magical pendant... You name it, we can do it, as long it's not against our rules." Morgana continued.

Ambrosia and Lenore didn't hesitate to follow Morgana, and Willow and Minerva also quickly got up, once the sounds of the latter were healed properly. They didn't say anything, though Willow made sure to check if she had done the spell correctly and Minerva's leg was really fully healed.

"I suppose it might be kind to introduce ourselves. My name is Morgana Blackwood, and my companions are Willow Blackwood, Minerva Kindley, Lenore Coventry and Ambrosia Wicker." Morgana said, pointing out the witches as she introduced each of them to the farmhand. If they were going to stay at the farm for a while, it would be helpful for him to at the very least know their names. If he wanted to know anything else, he could always ask, but she felt no need to tell him more at the moment, though he may think differently.

Gawain thought about the witch’s offer. By what she said, it sounded like he could have almost anything he wanted from them. If all he had to give in return was a roof and some food, it wasn’t a bad deal, but he wondered if he wouldn’t be getting in over his head. The less connection he made with the witches, the better. He wanted to leave no sign that he had anything to do with them, so if a knight happened to search the farm and find the women he could always claim that he had no clue they were there or that they forced him to harbor them—although the latter wasn’t entirely untrue. If he accepted the witch’s deal and took some magic artifact from them, however, the knights could easily pin him as an accomplice and lead him to the gallows without question.

“No, no,” Gawain shook his head and held up his hands. “My life is good; I want for nothing.” He glanced at the white-haired witch again. “If it makes you feel better, you can think of this as a gesture of goodwill.” Even though you forced me to help you in the first place, he wanted to add, though he held his tongue and went on diplomatically, “If you truly want to return my ‘kindness,’ you can promise to leave my farm at the soonest opportunity. That is the only thing I desire in return for my troubles.”

“I suppose it might be kind to introduce ourselves,” the white-haired witch said. “My name is Morgana Blackwood, and my companions are Willow Blackwood, Minerva Kindley, Lenore Coventry and Ambrosia Wicker.”

Gawain eyed the witch, Morgana, curiously. By sharing their names, she was putting an unusual amount of trust in a stranger. He could easily give the names to a knight and the women would never find sanctuary again. He wondered if they had some sort of plan that they just hadn’t told him about yet. If so, he decided that he might as well play along in the hopes that such a plan didn’t involve his untimely death.

“My name is Gawain Collins,” he said. “And it seems that we’ve arrived.” He waved a hand to indicate the farm as they rounded the final corner. Whether for better or for worse, they had somehow managed to avoid meeting any patrols along the way. He sighed inwardly. Well, if his dumb luck continued to hold out, maybe he could at least be rid of these witches before any knights decided to search Simon’s farm.

Morgana looked at the farm. Although it was far from a perfect place for them to stay, it was just good to stay there for a little while, and that was exactly what she planned to do. They weren't going to stay here permanently, just long enough to learn the young witches enough to be capable of defending themselves while on their journey and to decide where they were exactly going. They had no destination set other than 'out of the country', but they couldn't just walk around aimlessly.

"My companions are quite tired now, where can they rest?" Morgana asked, looking at Gawain. Of course she needed her rest too, just like the others. Still, that didn't mean that she was going to sleep as well. Even though this complete stranger allowed them to stay at this farm, there was no way to know for sure that he just wouldn't kill them in their sleep, bring their bodies to a guard and claim his reward for the brave act of getting rid of them. And not just one, but five witches, not to mention. Even if that wouldn't make him rich, it would make him famous. It had to sound tempting to many humans, and that was the exact reason why Morgana was not going to sleep that night, but stay up to kill the farmhand if he tried anything dumb.

She looked at the other witches for a brief moment. They were all looking fine, even though they were exhausted. Well, all of them, except Minerva. She still seemed to be in somewhat of a shock after what had happened. Which was really no surprise, she saw how her family got murdered in front of her just a few hours ago. Morgana doubted if she would be getting any sleep, despite how much she'd try.

“You need a place to rest?” Gawain mused, looking over the farm from where he stood on the border. There weren’t very many places to hide a posse of witches, as there were a small number of buildings to begin with. Of course, Simon’s house was out of the question. The old man rarely even let him take shelter beneath the roof unless there was a storm out; he would never allow magic-users inside. If Gawain tried to hide the women there, Simon would have him strung up the instant he stepped through the door. So, with the house ruled out, it seemed that he would have to bring the witches to the only other reasonably safe building on the farm.

“Follow me,” Gawain said to Morgana. He glanced furtively over his shoulder to make sure that there were still no knights in the area and then led the witches across the field. Even though he hadn’t seen any guards, he still moved quickly. As long as they were standing on the open ground among the crops, he knew that there was still a chance that someone might spot them, and that thought alone was enough to bring swiftness to his steps until they reached cover on the other side.

Once there, Gawain directed the witches over to the stables where Simon kept his horses and cows… and his farmhand. Since the old man owned a small house that lacked a guest room, Gawain had been living with the animals as long as he had been on the farm. He never minded much—though the smell had taken some time to get used to—and even found it to be enjoyable at times. In a way, the stables had become his own private place where he could get away from the stresses of work and life in general, and it was for this reason that he wasn’t very keen on having the witches move in with him.

Nevertheless, Gawain unlatched the door and held it aside for the women to enter first, “I warn you, the animals don’t have the nicest fragrance, but then again I suppose you can’t be picky when you’re on the run.” He stepped inside the stables after the witches, latched the door behind him, and then crossed over to sit down in the clean pile of hay, his makeshift bed, where he had been resting before the whole ordeal began. He settled down and leaned back, propping his head up on his arms so he could watch the witches as they moved about.

“So,” Gawain said. “I’ve given you what you want. I take it that means I can rest easy and not have to worry about being murdered in my sleep?” His tone dripped with sarcasm, as he was tired and irritable about having to harbor the women in his own, personal sanctuary. In the rational part of his mind, he knew that they could still kill him, but at this point he didn’t care much. He just wanted to be rid of them as soon as possible. And besides, who knew? Perhaps he would get lucky again and his bitter words would drive the magic-users away. He let out his breath in a quiet sigh. If only it were that simple.

Morgana watched as the witches made themselves comfortable, before sitting down herself as well. When she heard Gawain's sarcastic and mean question, she glared at him in silence for a moment. Saying such a thing was nothing but uncalled for.

"Now that you mention it, you'll be a nice toy in case I get bored." She answered, her voice just as cold as before and making it difficult to figure out if she meant what she said or not. Of course, she wouldn't really kill the man, but if he was going to be this hateful, Morgana wouldn't hesitate to return the favour to him.

Meanwhile the other witches had lied down in the hay and were soon asleep, with Morgana and just one more woman being the exception to that. Morgana noticed her and looked at the witch.

"You can't sleep?" She asked, at which Minerva shook her head. "I keep thinking about what happened." She said, at which Morgana gestured her to come over and she did so, taking place next to the other witch. "What they did to them, it was horrible... they didn't even have the mercy to give them a swift and painless death." Minerva said while tears started to well up in the corners of her eyes and with a trembling voice. Morgana looked at her with a sympathetic look. Even if nobody she loved had been killed because they were helping her, it wasn't difficult to imagine how awful that had to be.

"And it's all my fault that they're dead. If it hadn't been for me they-" Minerva started, but she was interrupted by Morgana.
"Minerva, you did nothing wrong. Your family knew what you were and what the consequences were of protecting you, yet they did it and paid the price for it, that's not your fault. They did it because they cared for you. Yes, you caused them trouble, but the good memories and how you loved each other made that worth it all. If that weren't the truth, they wouldn't have risked their lives for you." She said. The witch was crying now, and not just quietly, but complete with gasps and loud sobbing.

"If that's what happens to the people I love, than I won't love anyone anymore."

Upon hearing Minerva's words, Morgana did something exceptional and unlike her, and pulled the crying woman into a hug. "Please don't be that cruel to yourself." She said softly.