The Northern Border

A cold wind sailed across the land. The few remaining leaves blew with the breeze, slowly descending to the stiff and frosty ground. A boot stepped lightly on the ground. A hooded figure stood by a lonely tree. Covered in cloth and leather from top to toe, only leaving its eyes uncovered, it stood there and waited. The young woman observed the land with a steady gaze. She closed her eyes and breathed in the refreshing air, nodding steadily to herself.

A distant sound stopped her moment of harmony, causing her to spin about on her heels rather quickly. Whilst narrowing her eyes, she scanned the abandoned landscape. Her eyes widened by the sight of another lonely figure. With a swift pace she made her way towards the wanderer.
As she neared him, she slowed down. The lonely figure was a fair height. A man, most likely in his late-forties, firmly struck his staff into the ground. He gracefully bowed down to greet the girl. She returned the gesture a bit hastily, pulling down the cloth covering her mouth.

“You’re worried.” The man calmly declared, inspecting the expression on her face. She nodded a few times. There was no reason to attempt to lie to him; he knew her far too well.

“Very well.” He started again. “Let us go then. No time to waste.”

The two set off in a solid walk towards the forest. It was empty. It wasn’t just a loss of animals, but colour. Eliana grimaced. She had never been fond of the sight of the dead forest. No leaves, no life, no nothing. Her teacher, Jonius turned his head, eyeing her. Without a word he simply returned to his careful walk. After many wordless minutes, they came to an end, an opening in the forest. The two stopped. Their eyes almost examined the horizon simultaneously. Long, endless marshlands waited ahead of them.

“Jonius.” Eliana whispered carefully. He looked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow before nodding steadily.

“It isn’t safe. The Northlands despises us. They have eyes and ears everywhere. They’ll know what we are the second we step inside a town. We’ll be dead before sunri-“ Eliana bursted out, almost shaking in her voice. But before she could continue, Jonius interrupted her.

“So will they. The north won’t hold out against the increasing attacks. The living is dying, and the dead is rising. The souls do not gain rest as they should.” Jonius looked towards the distance, spotting the top of a building. He straightened his back, and clasped his hands behind his back. “You feel it.” He proclaimed. “The souls, the injustice, the unrest, the hunger, the rage and the frustration. All of it.”

He turned around.

“You have nothing to fear, least of all death. You have already seen it. Our kind knows what’s beyond. They do not, that’s why they’re afraid. It isn’t of death, but of the unknown. We have to be the torch in the cave, you see? We have to lead the way for them. That cannot be if we do not travel into the heart of danger. They may not see it as we do, but nonetheless, we must do what we’re here for.” He took in a deep breath, and spun around again before she had a chance to speak a word.

“Come now. We have a long way ahead of us.”

The two trotted off into the distance, towards the town.

Later

The town was a fair size. Build with a smaller wall around the town; it kept the unwelcome at bay. Eliana held a firm grip on her wooden staff, doing her best to remain calm.
Next to both sides of the large gate, two tall watchtowers stood proud. A guardsman stood up, looking down at the two.

“State your names and your business!” he shouted.

Jonius stepped forward. “We seek rest and refugee before the cold night arrives! Me and my niece here are in need of shelter! We have coins to pay with!”

The guardsman leaned on the edge, before firmly shouting again.

“Your names!”

Eliana’s view shifted from the guardsman to Jonius. They weren’t known nor hunted, but rumours could spread faster than fire in a dry forest.

“Jonius and Eliana Baker!” he finally announced.

The gate opened up, as the guardsman wrote down the names of the two in a small book. The gate closed behind them. The young woman saw several banners in the town. All of the same colour and sigil. The elusive King Averheim.

Jonius scoffed.

“The King’s men are in town. Watch yourself.” He said as the two trudged down the streets. “Remember, your name is Baker.”

She nodded, but a shiver went down her spine. She was uneasy. The Northlands were new to her. And they had never stood with open arms to magi, or Walkers.
They headed towards a tavern. Mildy busy, the two snuck inside. Eliana pulled down her hood, running a hand through her hair. She peaked around in the room, letting out a sigh. No knights, no officials.

Eliana went ahead and found a pair of chairs. The mood was good. People were singing, drinking and dancing. But she still kept an open eye. Jonius had gone off to fetch them something to drink. Eliana looked towards the entrance, narrowing her eyes.
She shook her head. Nothing. She opened up her bag, searching around in it. She had always kept very her things in order. Jonius had taught her so. No time to be searching for all your things when you’re in a hurry, he’d say.
But again Eliana looked up. A sound of metallic boots could be heard outside the inn. She stiffened. They had not spotted any of the king’s men on the way in. Not yet, at least.

Miriam
Chapter 1: A girl and her dog

Miriam held the item up against the dim light of her torch. A brilliant ruby locked within a rustic, golden pendant. Stunningly beautiful but ultimately useless, she stuffed the item within her mud-crusted bag nonetheless and drew a weary sigh as she glanced around the room. Once, it had been a home for some nobleman or merchant-lord, now it was nothing but a breeding pit for filth and sorrow, and the only inhabitants were people like Miriam, hoping to find salvage within such graveyards of the past.

She tried not to imagine how the house had once looked, how this whole town could have looked, but found the depressing thought hard to erase. She stopped to glance out onto the streets from her vista on the top floor, the row of smaller houses encircled the ruins of the mansion, all faded replicas of torn, gray roofs over frost-touched streets. She drew her fur scarf tighter around her neck and left the depressing sight. Had to keep moving.

The corridors of the mansion weren't much prettier to look at, and even worse, they held even less loot. Miriam puckered her lips and gave off a sharp whistle that rang through the halls, after a moment of silence it was returned by a jolly bark and some scampering one floor down, now she knew where Leia was at least. Miriam walked with idle steps to the final room on the floor and twisted the knob on the door, unlocked, but the door wouldn't budge.
"Typical." The scavenger mumbled lowly to herself and for a moment set her bag down, from it she retrieved a small pick-axe and swung it into the door frame, she twisted it in and then pressed, forcing the door open by result. It was a movement she had practiced enough.

The dust and crust of time was easily wafted aside and Miriam stepped into the dark room, torch held before her to provide some light. She scrunched her nose and sneered, unlike the rest of the house, which smelled like damp wood and soggy cloth, this room had a much stronger and suffocating stank. The actual space was very wide, what was once a nice carpet lay spread out on the floor and in the center there was a large fireplace that led to the chimney. Miriam glanced around the area as her low light allowed, scanning it with idle boredom, she had given up on finding any food in here a long time ago, and anything else, while maybe worth something back in town, was useless to her out here.

Once she had gotten halfway around the room something began to appear out of the darkness at eye-level, Miriam squinted her gaze and focused in on it, taking a few steps forward. A face, staring down at her with unmoving, cold eyes. Miriam skipped half a step back and inhaled in sharp fright. She froze up in anticipation, torch held defensively in front of her. Waiting for something to pounce, but nothing came. Could it have been one of the dead, she had seen them before but had always had the availability to run, in here, she wasn't so sure she had the luxury. She felt her heart pound, eyes staring ahead into the darkness where she had seen the monster, there wasn't a sound aside from her breathing and the more she waited, the more she realized, nothing happened. She dared to inch forward and take a second look, which forced her to scoff irately at herself, it had only been a painting. Miriam examined the man in the picture with dour emotion, a lord, no doubt. With his velvet cloak and stupid, chubby face. Then, Miriam heard a shuffle behind her and made to turn, meeting her canine companion. "Leia-" Was as far as she got started before her eyes twitched upon the truth of the situation. Somehow she recognized the face of the lord, he was pale, sickly thin and entire face sunken and hollowed, completely opposite from the regal man in the picture. His maw opened and gave a chilling shriek while groping his arms forward in desperate flailing. Miriam fell back, she stumbled into the wall and gave off a yelp, dropping her torch in the process. The hollow remains of the lord pressed on after her, it took a stumbling step as it tried to sink its frail fingers into the scavenger. Miriam twisted aside by instinct and twitched her gaze about, her torch lit up the feet of the dabber dressed corpse but nothing else, she couldn't see her exit, or anything else for that matter. The dead man came shambling after her again, moaning incoherent words with his decayed throat. Miriam gulped, clenched the hilt of her pick-axe with a shock of fright and in the same movement swung it out vertically in frightful desperation.

As she opened her eyes again she tugged at her pick-axe, finding it stuck in something firm. She grimaced in disgust upon spotting what, its point had gone through the head of her undead opponent and appropriately stuck into the painting of the very same man. Miriam let out a "Blech" as she twisted the pick-axe out of the mushy skull and the corpse sagged unto the floor with half a jaw less. She coughed out and fought the urge to spew, scampering over to her torch and quickly making to leave the room behind.

Leia waited for her down the stairs, letting out a giddy yap at the sight and thumped her shaggy tail against the floor. Miriam passed the large dog speedily, patting at her own thigh to call it along. "Come on." She called, and Leia followed obediently. Miriam gathered the few things she had found and swung her bag around in short adjustment before leaving the estate, she looked up at the gray exterior and felt a chill down her spine - She shook it away and started off, if there was one of the dead here, there might be more, and Miriam did not intend to find out...

Chapter 1: The Black Marsh

It was a cloudy and cold evening, a strong breeze tore in every bush and dead tree. Only a few rays of the last sunlight slipped through the dark clouds from high above, settling upon the grim fields below. Grim. That was a mild word to use for this place, a dark bog with burned out trees and vegetation, a perpetual mist that hugged itself close to the ground, and the first frost of the winter encrusting the landscape all around. As with all other days, it was eerily silent in the bog. Not a cricket or chirp to be heard, not a living thing to be found. Only the howling wind and the laments of the dead. Hidden in the low mist were countless of bodies of both men and horses, banners carrying the seal of various lords and nations were stuck in the mud, their torn heraldry flying in the wind. For the southern marshes of the Northlands were a site of seemingly endless war, untold lives had been lost in a struggle that had gone nowhere. Except today. Today was quiet, the dead had been left at peace to rest within the dubbed Black Marsh until their bodies could be recovered and granted an honorable burial - at least that's how any man would wish it. Throughout the vast bog and mist men seemingly arose from where they lay, some with their weapons still in hand, others without. They were not organized, nor did they speak to one another. They did not regroup or support those that may have been worse off with their injuries. They were clad in various type of armour, some in plate and mail, others in boiled leathers. Some still carried a shield of which sigil professed their allegiance to a lord - once.

Now they had no allegiance, no nationality. They shuffled and moved through the marsh in silence, some in groups, others alone. Some stood still and simply stared into the cloudy sky above, the rest swayed on the spot with their heads lowered toward the ground. There were hundreds of them, maybe thousands, and the mist kept them hidden, it showed no signs of dissipating.

A sharp clank echoed throughout the dead fields, but the risen soldiers gave it little attention. Another clank, loud but brief. Some of the dead had begun to twist on the spot to face the same direction. North. The sound of a rumbling thunder had finally caught their care. The clanks grew more frequent, closer, and soon voices were heard in the distance, but these were no voices of a greedy looter who exclaimed in joy upon finding something valuable. The thunder increased, but it did not come from above. It came from the north. Voices cried out again from the mist, and the voices turned into a unanimous warcry.

Emerging from the mist came a row of riders, sitting ontop of their destriers. They were clad in dark mail and steel, an ebon cloak flowing behind each man. Lances and swords were the weapons of choice, nearly every rider carried a grey heater shield along with a gilded rearing lion as a sigil. Some held in banners, their sigil and colour the same as the shields. For a marsh, the row of mounted troops rode forth with tremendous speed, and behind them came another row, and another behind them. Hundreds of men and horses erupted from seemingly thin air, riding in a wide rank formation, straight for the rising corpses. The undead, bereft of fear, turned to face the living and let out blood-chilling shrieks before they surged forward with the same speed as a living person. The clash that followed could've been made into a tale alone to frighten rowdy children during their bedtime. The warcry of the mounted host culminated as the first rank rode down the living dead with ease, limbs and weapons were separated from the bodies as a hail of swords came crashing down upon them. Lances were driven through skulls and some even broke upon impact, and horses trampled the corpses as if they were made of air.

"Kill the wretches! Ride them down!"

The mounted army continued on with little resistance, leaving a bloodbath and fresh corpses in their wake as they cut down the dead by the hundreds. At the front of the army rode a single man, clad in similar armor as the rest, other than his longsword and greathelm - nor did he carry a shield.

"Leave none standing!"

On the flanks, the riders broke off into two columns and steered away from the main host. They swiftly picked up the pace and gained distance from the rest of the army, disappearing off into the mist to hunt down any stragglers that they may have missed. The rest of the army proceeded forward, cutting down the few dozen of undead that still stood in their way before the rider at the front shouted out an order, and the formation started to dissipate. Riders branched off into various directions, most set off after the columns in their hunt for any remnants, while the rest sought themselves to higher ground further ahead. The rider who had been at the head of the army held in the reins to stop, and turned in the saddle to glance backwards. Silhouettes of men upon horses were visible all over. Some had dismounted and walked the marsh, executing any still living dead with a thrust to the skull with their steel swords.

The rider kept his longsword by his right side, the tip pointing downward. He wasn't sure how long he had stood and watched his comrades in arms searching the wetlands for surviving abominations, but the next thing he knew was that another rider stood a distance away from him.

"Sire! We have stripped the marsh clean of the undead. Not a single one remains."

He reached for his helmet to lift it off and tuck it under his left arm. He recognized the voice of the man who had addressed him.

"Very well, Sir Arthur. Give the order to have the dead collected and burned."

The knight replied with a firm nod and then pulled in the reins to turn his warhorse around, riding off to execute the order.

Leofric twitched a frown and let out a silent sigh. He had been king for a decade, but it never got any easier to put his own countrymen to the sword, even if they had been undead. He shakes his head to dismiss the thought and sheathes his sword. He heard incoherent yells from around the marsh and soon saw lights flicker to life, his men had begun to torch the corpses spread throughout the blood-soaked bog. The king nodded to himself and spurred his destrier onward, back toward the direction he had led the charge from.

The blonde woman sat passively and adjusted the strap on her leather glove. The leatherwork was rather neat. The glove was of dark leather, tightened and slightly reinforced by the knuckles. Nothing fancy, just a little toughened on the front. She nodded to herself, leaning back in the chair, scanning the inn for the Elder Walker. Three knightly looking men had entered the inn. All without their helmet on, but rather strapped to their waist. The first one stood tall, with short brown hair, ending just above his two ebony eyes. He rested his right hand lightly on the hilt of his longsword. Eliana kept her eyes locked on the man. She eyed him from top to toe, looking for a sigil. However, the knight interrupted her almost rude stare. He raised an eyebrow at her, giving her a rather neutral look. Eliana calmly turned her head to the guests. They stopped the dancing, turning around to the knights. A steady silence filled the room. The knights took heavy steps into the gathering, their eyes darting around the crowd. Jonius stood by the counter, looking over his shoulder, getting a good view at the knights.

Eliana crossed her legs, laying a hand in the other, and resting them in her lap. Despite her former nervous behaviour, she managed to stay rather calm. She simply observed the tincans, having a faint feeling of the reason of the sudden appearance. The large innkeeper shuffled out form the counter, wiping his hands and walking towards the three men. They exchanged a few words. As the smalltalk went on, the innkeeper’s face turned more and more pale. He nodded a single time, looking towards a man and a young boy in the crowd. The first knight jerked his head towards them. The two other knights swiftly went towards the man and his son, grabbing them by their arms and dragging them along. A panic spread in the inn. Eliana froze in her place, blinking at the event, as an unknown number of women started screaming. Several men tried to stop the men, shouting that it was a misunderstanding and cruel. The walking bulwarks shoved them away, roaring the peasants away. Eliana got up, walking in a swift pace towards Jonius. The sea of people flocked outside the inn. Rain poured down ruthlessly. Eliana stormed outside, squeezing through the gathering. The man and his boy had been forced to their knees.

The two knights had drawn a shortsword each. The tower of a man turned towards the crowd and scoffed. He shook his head and turned towards his companions.

“Bring them outside the gates, with the rest of the bodies. Get a bonfire going when the rain has settled.” He waved them away.

A girl stepped forward, her eyes red and her face covered in uncontrollable tears. She cried out at the knight, shouting incomprehensible swears and cursing, leaping towards the man and slamming away at his breastplate. She had already been covered in mud, her clothes being splashed and torn. The knight simply threw his backhand at her, easily hurling the small girl to the ground. He looked back at the crowd.

“Lerman Smith and his son had been found guilty of performing demonic arts in the very heart of our nation. In the name of the King Leofric and the Realm, they will be sentenced to the sword. That is a mild punishment for what they’d do with our own!” the knight shouted, keeping his voice at a calm level however. He gracefully cut a small rope by his waist, letting a small pouch drop to the mud with a metallic sound releasing from inside the leathery container.
A pathetic soul limped forward, picking up the coins and stuffing it in his pouch. With a nonchalant turn, the knight took his leave.
As soon as they had gathered, the crowd disbanded.
The cold air rushed through Eliana, leaving a cold sensation throughout her entire system. She took in a deep breath, stuffing her arms around herself. The price for being accused of magic was harsh, in the entire Realm. Not just the Northlands. She grabbed her wooden staff, planting it in the ground, before setting off, Jonius steadily walking behind her. Her staff was engraved with markings and symbols, whilst having a dark and brown colour to it. It was crafted from Elderwood, an incredibly sturdy and tough wood, found outside the Realm. Crafted by a weaponsmith within the Spiritwalkers, it was imbued with an ancient figure, placed in the wood itself.
Eliana sped up. She ran along the houses and buildings, keeping the two knights in sight. She looked over her shoulder for her teacher. However he was nowhere to be seen, whether or not this was intended, remained a mystery to her. She crossed the muddy ground in a light jog, stopping by a large wall on the other side. Quirking her head around a corner, she saw the four individuals heading into a court covered in the nightly shadow.

She took light steps along the wall, kneeling down before the opening of the courtyard. Once again forced to the ground, the father had now gone silent. The knights still had their swords out. The cold blade calmly connected with the lower chin of the father, lifting his chin slightly up. With a swift and cold thrust, the knight danced the blade through the throat of the man. Eliana quickly covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes widening up. A faint cloud of thin blood squirted out of the back of the man’s neck. The boy cried out, collapsing unto the ground. Though dragged up by one of the knights, his cries became desperate screams. The knight pulled out his sword, giving it a hard jerk, to wip some of the blood off of it. The boy was locked down.
Eliana rose to her full height, about to charge forward. But a hard force knocked her down, keeping her down and covering her mouth. Jonius, stared into her eyes, shaking his head.

She turned her head to the scene again, just in time to see the blade darting forward again, and releasing the familiar scarlet cloud.

Miriam
Chapter 2: The persecuted

Clouds. Dark, threatening and impending rain clouds. Miriam ran a hand through her raven hair while watching them hover closer towards her. Of course the forces of the sky weren't actually pursuing her, but sometimes she wondered if Mother Nature had something particular against her. Miriam tediously dragged her shoddy hood over her head and glanced back over her shoulder towards Leia.
"There's a storm coming." She declared idly. The dog returned a blank stare before settling down on her belly and noising a gruff of disapproval. "Fitting response for such lame conversation, I suppose." Miriam continued as she strolled back beneath the roof of their cover. Some old farmer's house off the main road, several miles from anything alive, which hopefully meant it was far away from anything dead, as well.

Miriam settled down cross-legged by the fireplace she had built in the center of the small house, she picked one of the items previously gathered and casually dumped it into the fire for kindling. A wooden statue of an owl, made for warding off evil presence or the likes. Miriam scoffed at the idea and leaned back, proclaiming to the area.
"Come one, come all, Evil spirits. Can't be worse company!" She nudged her notched boot against the resting dog and snickered. Leia only exhaled in a derisive snort which made her floppy ear flip over her face. Ignoring the blatantly insane human and her rambling.

Before too long the rain caught up with them, a single roll of thunder struck out above them and then the pouring started. The heavens opened and the drench swatted the muddy ground remorselessly. Miriam glanced up at the ceiling and listened to the rain pelt it, and for a moment she considered herself fortunate. Alas, the universe had a way of taking from Miriam and a sudden creak alerted her senses. Both Miriam and Leia twisted about from their sitting positions to face the noise, Miriam looked from the far end wall to Leia, then back at wall. She pursed her lips in anxious discontent and made ready to stand up when a voice spoke out from behind her, at the door.

"Hi there!" Miriam turned, alarmed, to face the voice. Spotting the posture of the man and how much he clearly despised the rain, he was certainly no undead. Miriam did not resign her guard however, and grasped her pick-axe, while giving the man a scrutinizing gaze. He entered past the door, giving its frame a light tap for good fortune before raising his arms in peace. All very confident about himself.

"Ho' there, friend. I do hope I am not intruding in your home." It was an elderly fellow, his voice was grandfatherly and quite soothing, in a pipe-smoker sort of way. He was dressed in a large flanking cloak and soaked through and through, so Miriam couldn't quite pinpoint what he wore beneath. His face was covered by a hood but Miriam could distinguish a scraggly beard on his chin. "Though, I doubt this is your home, truly." The man continued, taking a few more steps into the house, he was approached by Leia who arched back and murmured a threatening growl.
"Who are you?" Miriam returned, she had met her share of brigands in the wilds, and knew better than to be naive.
"Ah!, yes. My name is Walter, and I am a scout for King Averheim's army!" The old man tutted proudly and seemed to strike a pose, though his eye was kept attentive on the wary pooch. Miriam scoffed, folding her arms up. A soldier true, or a lying bandit, Miriam wasn't sure which she preferred at this point. The man kept speaking, as Miriam did not. "Now, I realize you have little reason to trust me, young miss, though I ask humbly of your assistance. Or at the very least to share your shelter until this terrible storm passes?" Miriam clenched her lips in consideration and gave Leia a short glance while clutching her pick-axe...

Chapter 2: A letter

Leofric stepped out of his tent and tugged on the black leather gloves before lowering his hands to his sides, concealing them behind his ebon cloak draping down over his shoulder. Night had settled since a few hours passed and darkness now surrounded him on all sides. His tent had been raised on top of a small cliff and he stopped just by its edge to narrow his gaze to the northern horizon and the storm that was brewing. He saw frequent flashes light up the darkened clouds but the sound of thunder never reached his ears. He idly worked his jaw to either side in thought, though his attention was stolen by a hoarse laugh coming from below, followed by a collection of angry clamour. Hundreds of grey tents spanned out to the left and right at the bottom of the cliff, campfires and braziers had been lit up around the vast camp and men sat huddled around the fires, some occupied themselves with idle chatter and others had brought out dice and cards for a friendly set of games. The king smirked as a certain group of men stood out from the rest - the shouting that he had heard came from them, and what from he could gather it was related to money betting over a game of dice.

Still, he was pleased that they were able to entertain themselves after the bloody day that had passed. Not that they had reason to not celebrate in their own ways, they had not lost a single man when they rode down the undead horde earlier that day. Leofric turned his gaze south and stared out into the darkness, knowing that the Black Marsh was out there. He could see its mist, and a handful of dim, flickering lights within it, coming from the stubborn fires that were still burning the piled up corpses of the dead.

The sound of heavy footsteps and clattering armor sprung the king out of thought and he twisted slightly on the spot to look to his left. Sir Arthur, one of his officers, came trudging up a thin road leading to the top of the cliff. The knight walked up next to his liege and bowed respectfully. “Your Grace.”

“Sir Arthur.” Leofric replied, his gaze had shifted back to the camp below and the mirthful banter and conversations sounding from it. “They appear to be in good spirits.”

“Yes, Sire. Morale is high in the camp, the men rejoice over their decisive victory against the dead. Well, excluding a few, pale young lads, but they’ll come around. Told a few men to bring out the ale, see if that can’t get their humours up.” Arthur said with a grin, the knight was evidently in a good mood himself.

“Good. Just make sure they don’t fall into a drunken stupor, I need them ready at first light for our march northwards. Give the order, Sir Arthur.”

The knight bowed once again and spun on his heels, soon disappearing down the cliff. Leofric huffed out a breath of cold air and turned around to walk back into his tent. A table stood in the center with a small lantern by its edge, illuminating a map of the Northlands rolled out across it, as well as a small bundle of letters. A single chair clad in various pelts stood next to the table and Leofric circled around it to take a seat. He had not told Sir Arthur why they were to march back north. He could not risk telling anyone while in the field, not even his own trusted knights. He reached out for a specific letter and reclined into the back of his chair to look through it. It had been delivered by a rider in the night, and even though he had read it a few times already, a deep frown etched upon his features as he reviewed the message again.

The Town of Lowburg

A cold shiver crawled down Eliana’s body, as the crimson fluid streamed down the chest of the young boy. He collapsed again, but this time ever so lifeless. His eyes had stiffened, staring off into the horrible nothingness. The knight retracted his blade, wiping it once again. Jonius jolted his hand into the girl’s side, signalling for her to remain silent and be off. He did not wish for them to be noted, not like this. Interfering with the business of knights was a dangerous move, especially for anyone trying to blend into the crowd. It was common sense. The shadow of the courtyard had spread to the rest of the town. A storm had brewed up, along with the dawn of the night. A gloomy mist had snuck into the streets, emptying them on its way through. The pouring rain had wetted the young woman’s almost golden hair. A few strings of her hair had fallen unto her face, running over her eyes. The teacher had already gotten up, preparing to make his way out of the cloudy alley.
Eliana wiped away the hair, taking in a deep breath and making her way up. Her feet failed her horribly, when they refused to cope with the muddy ground. She slipped back unto the mud, slamming unto the ground. The brown mud splashed up on her clothes. One of the knights immediately turned his head towards the alleyway. He drew his sword, marching towards Eliana and Jonius.

Jonius turned around, running towards the girl, harshly grapping her arm and forcing her to her feet. He almost dragged her along, the knight closing in on the two, though his plated attire slowed his approach. A shot of adrenaline streamed into Eliana’s veins, quickening her heartbeat. She kept her gaze on the hooded runner in front of her, cutting out the shouting behind her. Luckily, the rain and the wind drowned most of the knight’s roaring. They turned at the corner, by the end of the alleyway. Jonius crossed the street, and then took a right. Eliana completely lost her sense of orientation, and struggled to see her surroundings. They had ended up in a back street, with limited space, due to the closely placed houses. Eliana stopped along a wall, leaning her head against it, trying to regain her breath. Her cold breath created an almost frosty cloud as it left her mouth. She turned around, looking down the dark and rainy pathway. She could hear a faint shouting in the distance, but it seemed they had outrun the knight. Eliana wrapped her cloak around her, trying to keep the cold wind away. But she was shivering. The cold were beginning to dig into her skin, as a thousand small and icy spikes.
“We need shelter. Follow me.” Jonius spoke out, wiping the water away from his forehead. Eliana had always been fascinated by his ability to keep his head cool. It wasn’t the first time they had been chased, but she was still trying to get used to it. As an Elder Walker, Jonius had learned the trait of being a nobody. It was all about being noticed as little as possible, but still being noticed. Though obvious, people would take note of someone causing trouble, but also someone being unusually ordinary.

Eliana peaked around a corner, leading back to the main street. The storm got worse. She nodded her head, before darting off. They searched around, trying to make sense of the hanging signs in the violent rain. A lonely shadow hid in the dark, observing the town, and the fools who dared to go outside in the night. A sly smirk crawled forth on his face, as he almost faded into the dark alleys. Eliana slammed up the door, and the innkeeper looked up, raising an eyebrow at the two. Jonius approached him sternly. He exchanged a few coins with him, before waving Eliana over. He took a few steps away from the innkeeper, leaning in to Eliana.

“Have him make something to drink. Second room on the right, I’ll take care of the ritual.” He whispered, before moving up the stairs. Eliana was barely able to nod, before moving to the innkeeper’s counter. The inn was almost empty. A few drunken souls sat by their own table, and a single man had entered since Eliana and Jonius had made their entrance. “A cup of tea, if you’d be so kind.” She smiled to the innkeeper, before continuing; “Oh and, for the room you just gave him. Second on the right.” She nodded, smiling at him and handing over a few coins of bronze material. Eliana went up the stairs, finding the mentioned room, the second on the right. She carefully entered, looking down at her teacher. Jonius sat down, on his knees, his palms rested on his lap. From his eyes, a waving line of some blue essence carefully withered away, and disappeared into the thin air. His eyes were completely blue, lighting slightly up. Eliana silently closed the door behind her, taking a seat on a chair. She observed him for a few minutes, until someone knocked on the door. She got up and opened the it only a little. The innkeeper handed her a cup, filled with a golden liquid, having a scent of honey and some berries she couldn’t quite make out. He wasn’t smiling, but seemed mostly interested in just getting his night sleep and perhaps a mug of ale. She quickly accepted the cup, closing the door afterwards.

Jonius was already on his feet again, and held out his hand for the cup, rubbing his forehead slightly.
“The boy was gone. I found the father, however. He got there safely. “ He sighed and took a sip of the tea, sitting down by the edge of the. Eliana crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. “He was gone? You couldn’t find him?” she asked, her voice being lowered and speaking in a careful tone. Jonius simply shook his head. “Might’ve run off to his old home or something. He was scared. I’ll try again tomorrow, you’ll come with me.” He nodded, taking a few more sips of the tea. Eliana sighed, moving to a bookshelf, scanning the titles. She raised an eyebrow. “Why keep books, when most of the common people can’t even read?” she pondered. “Is it just common courtesy?” She kept on looking at the books, muttering the titles for herself. Jonius was teaching her to read , though she struggled slightly with the words. “Jonius?” she asked, looking over her shoulder.

Her eyes enlarged. The cup dropped to the floor, smashing into a hundred pieces. Jonius slammed unto the wood, almost being caught by Eliana’s arms. She rushed to him, turning him around, desperately shaking him. From his eyes ran a green liquid, continuing down his cheeks. The skin around his mouth had swollen up, veins on the brink of popping out. His eyebrows twitched slightly, along with his hand. Eliana slapped her hand on his cheek, almost hyperventilating. A lone tear ran down her red cheek, as she started sniffling. She muttered his name, over and over. When she didn’t receive a response, she tried again, lifting him up. “Come on! … It’s just a bad dream. You’re-… You’re all right. I’ve got you. Don’t worry…” she whispered, stroking his hair. She begged, pleaded and almost shouted his name again and again. She felt the lifelessness overtake him, but not once did she stop rocking him, trying to control her breathing and wake him up.

Miriam
Chapter 3: Cats and dogs

"Wake up." Miriam bumped her foot against the snoozing old man with dry humour. The soldier only turned in his rest, grumbling something hazy about retirement. Miriam afforded a heavy sigh and sagged her shoulders before speaking up more soundly. "Wake up, old man!"
And so with a startled twitch Walter threw his head up and bumbled his response.
"Wh'- Yessir, I'm quite alright!" Miriam rolled her eyes and turned around from the groggy man.

Miriam looked out through the door, the time was impossible to tell as the storm was still raging madly above them, there was another flash of lightning which lit up the endless vista of bogs before her. And then the thunder rolled around. Miriam turned back around to look at the stirring soldier, or whatever he was. Huddled in a thick cloak and yawning. At least someone had gotten some rest.
"Young miss?" Walter politely began as he was standing up.
"What?" Miriam retorted inhospitably, tucking her hands under her own cloak for warmth.
"I'm afraid I didn't catch your name.", he looked to Miriam with a mild smile under his gray beard. Idly adjusting pieces of his leather attire.

Miriam left the entrance behind in silence and returned to the center of the house, she sat next to the sleeping dog and busied herself by petting its head. Walter observed her uneasily before clearing his throat. "I don't meet many people in my work. Do you mind if I ask what you're doing out here all by yourself?"
"Yes."
"Pardon?"
"Yes, I do mind." Miriam nodded firmly.
"Oh. Well." Walter bristled his whiskers in a mumble before speaking more clearly again. "Alright, then. - It is only, such a rare sight, is all. But what about your name? It is only proper, since I gave you mine." Miriam groaned shortly and set her eyes on the bothersome old man.
"It's Miriam, and now that you've gotten your rest. You can be on your way." She nodded towards the door hastily.

Walter stroke a hand over his beard thoughtfully, nodding to himself.
"Miriam.." He then trailed her nod and looked outside. "Out there?" Walter chuckled heartily. "You'd sentence me to drown in that rain, miss Miriam."
"Frankly, I don't much care."
"Hrmph, you should. Abandoned lands such as these, it is the kingdom of the wights now." Another thoughtful stroke of his beard came along the warning.
"Wights?" Miriam cocked her eyebrow sarcastically and then scoffed. "Next you'll tell me about dragons and Pegasus." A moment of silence fell as Walter only returned a look of concern against Miriam's ambivalence. "-Listen, old man. There's nothing out here besides graves and mud. You can tell your king that." Walter perked up in confusion.
"Tell the king?"
"Yes? Since you're some scout..." Miriam suspiciously dragged on.
"Oh, yes." Walter chuckled nervously. "Indeed." A moody silence fell over the house. Walter cleared his throat and casually eyed the building, Miriam kept her eye on the man, more suspicious than before. "What breed is that?" The awkward silence was broken as Walter had set his eyes on Leia. Miriam canted her head, bemused.
"She's a dog?" Walter chuckled, shaking his head.
"I can see that, miss. What kind of dog?" Miriam's confusion was interrupted by another crack of thunder, as the house was lit up by a nearby strike of lightning. Once it had settled Walter continued, unaffected. "A winchester, must be my guess." He nodded to himself, pleased with his own answer. Miriam shook her head, looking down at the half-asleep dog by her side. Her constant companion, her best, if only friend. A winchester, whatever that meant. "I realize you will most likely not answer me, but might I ask where you will go next?" Walter queried, eventually. Miriam looked up at the old man and for a moment, she regretted her decision not to axe his face. She sighed and allowed a waft of the hand.
"West, probably."
"Is that so? We travel the same direction, then. It'd be best for both of us to travel together, no?"
"I don't rea-" Miriam started
"Miriam!" Walter bristled gruffly and suddenly. "I am not blind. Travel with me, and you may share my food. Take this offer now, girl, lest it becomes the last one you get." There was a flash of lightning which lit up the house, as the moody scavenger met the fierce gaze of the supposed soldier. As the flash subsided, the thunder came..

Chapter 3: March

"Mount up!" A voice shouted from down below the king's cliff. Leofric stood on the edge again and was in the process of buckling on his ebon cloak while eyeballing the commotion. The entire camp had been disassembled and a supply train of a few dozens of carts had been lined up on the flat expansion. His men were in a hurry to get into position, a three-man wide column was beginning to take shape next to the line of carts, separately looked after by near thirty men. The sound of horse neighs and shouts of men were near incessant, and had Leofric not watched them from above he'd near believe that they'd be under attack, or that a fire had broke out. Luckily it was neither of those.

The king finally reaches out for his delicate steel sword, stood resting against a stone. He throws the swordbelt around his waist and fastens it, then turning to descend the cliff. At its foot stood one of his men waiting, holding in the reins of Leofric's horse. The soldier bows his head as Leofric approaches and steps aside as the king heaves himself up into the saddle. Leofric collected the reins in his right hand and glanced over his shoulder briefly, ensuring that his men had formed up, and to his content they had. The cacophony from moments ago had silenced, and now only vague chatter and the clattering of equipment and armor was heard amongst the extending ranks. His gaze swept over to the carts and the horses that dragged them, they were to integrate into the rest of the force with steady intervals. A few men sat on top of the carts, whose tasks were to ensure nothing fell off.

Leofric turns his attention back to the front and spurs his horse into a trot. Behind him his men followed at a steady pace, their banners held high to display the royal sigil to signify them as an official force and deter any nay-well doers and possible brigands.

The road they followed led north, away from the Black Marsh and rocky landscape where they had made camp at. Above them the storm was relentlessly raging on, and the wind was viciously tearing in anything it crossed. The road was poorly maintained this far south, mainly because few dared to work so close to the wetlands, so pits in the road were common, and between those and the wind, the men upon the supply carts were struggling to keep the more loose items on, but so far nothing had come crashing down into the ground.

Theirs was a long march, but luckily the wind had begun to ease after an hour on the road. Occasionally they passed a lone house or mill, and Leofric figured that most of them were abandoned, judging by the lack of light and activity within them - or the residents were simply absent. He frowned. The few folks who still lived here had it rough and were forced to fend for themselves. Albeit often poor, they were prime targets for robbers and thieves. Few patrols ever came here, most were found around the forts in the Black Marsh or further north. He was going to make a change to that.

A few pedestrians came trudging around a bend in the road further ahead, hauling with them a covered wagon. Leofric counted up to ten and settled his gaze upon the cart as he and his men gradually approached closer. The smallfolks quickly shuffled to the side and bowed their heads as Leofric passed. He wasn't sure whether they did it out of respect, or if they recognized him. He did not carry a crown after all, not while in the field. He gave the commoners a nod in return and looked back ahead. Normally a search of the cart would have been conducted, but Leofric was not going to halt his army for a simple search, and instead concluded that the commoners had covered their cart to shelter its goods from the storm.

A sudden, cold breeze swept through the landscape, and a few moments after it began to rain. They had marched north-east for a few kilometers and the storm was still harassing them. Leofric shook his head and swept his cloak around him further. They ascended a long, but thankfully not too steep rise in the road, and a lonely, abandoned house raised itself up further ahead on the left side of the road. Leofric narrowed his eyes toward it with the wind beating in his face, and although he was positive the place had indeed been abandoned for long, he was certain that he saw a silhouette through one of the windows as he and his army got closer...

Lowburg

A faint smell had enveloped the room. There was a stench of some unknown, but horrifying liquid. Eliana sat with her back against the bed. Her dried, red and teary eyes stared blankly at the man on the floor. She had gently placed a pillow under his face, and closed his eyes. Her gaze hopelessly wandered to the shattered cup next to him. A single piece had stayed somewhat together, leaving a small portion of the so-called tea. But she didn’t do anything. She was numb, from top to toe. A certain feeling had overtaken her, a mixture of panic, disarray and fear. Fear of what would happen now, for one. But she was fearful, not only of the future, but also of the present. Someone had poisoned Jonius. And that someone was most likely still in the tavern. She clutched a satchel against her chest. It had belonged to him, containing letters, books, vials, maps, a set of small knives and the likes. It was valuable, and could potentially reveal the identities of a large amount of Spiritwalkers, and their last known destination. Eliana had made sure to remove all evidence, and stuff it into her own bag. She looked back down at the shattered cup. An opened notebook lay in her lap, with a finger marked on a certain name. Even though Eliana had struggled with reading it, she had managed to make out a few words.

The young woman put the book and satchel aside, opening her own and finding an empty vial. She leaned down to the cracked teacup, and carefully lifted the one shard containing a small pool of the tea. She delicately poured it into the vial, and stuffed a small cork into it. The moment she had put the filled vial back into her satchel, her hands rushed to support her head, which simply fell straight into her palms. Eliana did her best to contain herself, taking a few heavy and shaking breaths. An ache in her stomach had hit since he fell, and she was left to herself. She had to leave him behind. She couldn’t drag a dead man through the tavern, and out throughout the city, but she had to make sure they didn’t know who he was, if they didn’t already. She hated herself for having to think so practically, but that was at least a thing he had managed to teach her.

She carried her teacher unto the bed, laying him carefully there. The ruthless storm was still brewing outside in the dark. Suddenly, she froze. Not because of the flash outside the window, but from the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. She looked to the door, a complete panic striking into her. She grabbed her satchel, tossed it over her shoulder and tightened it. With a rushing pace she grabbed both of the staves, unsure of how she’d handle it. Though she hastily attempted to tie them to the satchel, she wasn’t used to carrying two. A harsh breeze and the sound of rain hit her, as she tore up the window. It was only a few empty lamps that lit up the streets. Eliana tossed her leg outside the window, sitting in the windowsill. She carefully placed her foot on a somewhat sturdy surface, whilst hearing the footsteps get closer. There were more now. With both her legs out, she carefully attempted the daring descend. But she froze again. Only keeping her hands in the windowsill, she peaked her head up, as the rain poured down outside. The door was slowly opened, with a creaking noise of old woodwork. A single thin metal blade entered the room first, but glowing orange with heat. She narrowed her eyes, only having seen that sight by a blacksmith, who was in the middle of forging a sword. She quickly started moving down, almost slipping on the first step. As she crawled down, she could hear the door being opened up further. The wood had gotten wet, and she struggled with keeping her hands and feet steady as she climbed. There wasn’t too long to the ground, maybe a person or two, she decided. The darkness had covered her, and the rain drowned her noise. A silhouette leaned out of the window, looking around. Eliana stopped, leaning against the tavern. The few seconds felt like an eternity. She did not hear the rain, only her pounding heart. A fearful shaking overcame her, and she struggled even more to hold on.

The window closed, and Eliana sighed heavily. And just within a seconds notice, she slipped. She had no idea how far the fall would be, and she barely managed to even think of it, before she slammed into the ground. A shrieking pain came through her, but even then, a force caused her to struggle back to her feet. She was wet, muddy, freezing, fearful and alone. The lone girl simply started walking, with a quick pace. She was going to get away, but she didn’t know where. Unaware whether or not it was the paranoia hitting her, but she thought she saw shadows and heard footsteps everywhere. Shelter. She needed shelter. She turned away from the main street, and into a smaller one, filled with houses. Most had a single light in the window, but she managed to find one that was completely dark. She took her chance, and tried shoving open the door. It easily went up, and she carefully snuck inside, closing the door behind her.

The room was dark, but she managed to take a look around. It seemed simple enough, a makeshift home for a wealthy person, or an average home for a poor one. She quickly forgot about it, and kept her eyes to the window. She kneeled down, peaking out. When she had sat there for a few minutes, trying to keep everything in her head, she thought she spotted a single shadow moving by. She crouched down, listening to her own quickened breathing. She took a deep breath, slowly rising up. Eliana took a last glance out the window, before turning around to see a single light in front of her. A piercing chock went through her, almost causing her heart to skip a beat.

“Who are you?” something whispered from the dark.

Miriam
Chapter 4: In harms way

Miriam glowered intently at Walter. Whom answered the stare with a saddened sigh.
"I am only trying to help you." The old man shook his head in pity. This was met by Miriam's usual ambivalence, she puffed a breath up at her raggedy bangs and watched Walter dubiously.
"I have done fine by myself for twenty years, alright? I do not need your help." Walter quirked a brow of curiosity, and for a moment inspected the woman obtusely. After an extended pause, he submitted.
"Why?" Miriam only scoffed dismissively. Then paused for a moment, she paced the room half a lap then thrust her arms out in an unknowing shrug of frustration.
"I don't know! It's just, what I do." The conversation met its end and Walter's concerned eye was set on Leia, as she barked out in alarm, facing the west-most window. Miriam quickly approached it, leaving any existential debate for later as she peeked out through the mostly shattered ruins of glass remains of the window. The rain had let up since last she looked, yet the storm was incessant, wind howling alongside the occasional roll of thunder.

"What now?" Walter mumbled as he joined Miriam's side, peering out through the window, they both stared at the incoming rows of gray inching closer along the dark path. Dotted among the gray lines were bits of light that swayed through the black, rainy abyss that was outside. Miriam and Walter stared dumbfounded until the one of the dots of light left the blob of gray rows, as it approached the house further, it was obviously a lantern on a pitch. Said lantern was accompanied by three men, the two who did not carry the light had drawn their swords, and they were approaching the door ahead of the other lights.
"Miriam." Walter began to say as he looked over to his side at the shifty woman. "Get the door, please." There was then a quick rapping on the barely hinged door and a voice spoke up from outside with shivering urgency.
"Hello?! We saw your fire, is anyone in there?!"

The men were drenched through, far worse than Walter had been just a few hours ago. Miriam held a hand on the door's edge as she eyed them like one would a broom salesman, that was how she hoped she appeared, at least.
"Can I help you?" She inquired with a false sing-song voice. This was met by a suspicious exchange of looks and one of the men spoke up, exclaiming their dues.
"We are the army, miss. Are you alone here?" As he spoke the actual army came into view behind them, the rows of cloaked soldiers, filed neatly and efficiently, trudged along the road behind them, some spared glances into the cover but most only kept walking. Miriam gave a content smile.
"No, actually. There is someone else here - Oh, Walter." The three soldiers trailed Miriam with their eyes as she turned to look across the room, she had expected the old man to be either pale with fear from his exposed lie, or smug, from having proved himself truthful. Instead, she didn't find the man, at all. He simply was not there. Miriam blinked, opening her mouth in surprise and confusion. She scanned the interior of the shack, and there was nothing to hide behind, no exit other than the door, and finally, no Walter. Only Leia sat in the center of the room, upon the four sets of eyes ending at her, the dog barked happily. "Walter?!" Miriam exclaimed, before looking back at the three soldiers with a blundering smile of apology. "He, was here, just a second ago..." The three exchanged another look of suspicious concern, they kept their swords at hand but remained generally nonthreatening, primarily to the fact that they much too soggy, and much too tired. The man holding the light eventually spoke, his voice concerned and slightly uncertain.
"You, had best come with us, miss."

Miriam looked back over her shoulder as the house faded out of view. She glanced around her immediate surroundings, unsure what was going on, still trying to puzzle out how Walter had left so abruptly and so quietly. She saw one of the soldiers from before, he was still keeping a hand on the pommel of his sword and a suspicious eye on Miriam. She passed her gaze onward, and saw another soldier, and then five more. They surrounded her and Leia in a semi-circle, all trudging forward down the muddy road, Miriam found herself keeping pace with them, walking out of instinct rather than will. She looked around again, and then voiced her question to the men around her.
"What's going on?" The soldiers looked from one another, before one responded dryly. "Just walk." Another soldier at Miriam's other side returned that comment with a frightful tone.
"Don't talk to her, Arwyth. She'll put a charm on you!" Some of the men grunted, most returned to a moody silence. Miriam blinked, hopelessly confused.
"... Okay. I didn't want to talk to you, anyway." She tutted out in an attempt to save some of her pride, which failed.

As Miriam looked around once more, she saw the same dots of light scattering the lines of gray warriors that marched both ahead and behind her. At her sides were the semi-circle of soldiers guarding her, Miriam found herself in the middle of the King's army, whom in addition believe her to be a witch. Miriam looked down to see Leia pattering onward, her usual jolly self. Miriam however, sighed and looked up at the rain clouds above her, she shut her eyes and whispered angrily.
"Screw you, Walter."

Chapter 4: Return

The march continued onwards at a steady pace, the rain had begun to ease and soon enough subsided as a whole. Leofric renewed his grip around the reins with his right hand and leered skywards at the dark and threatening clouds which rumbled still on frequent occasion. A drenched rider appeared at his side, a solid steel barbuta helmet upon his head with its visor up. "The men found a resident within the house, Your Grace. A woman. They say she spoke into thin air, calling for someone named Walter. They apprehended her under the assumption of witchcraft."

Leofric turned in the saddle to look over his shoulder down the ranks of men marching behind him. He briefly caught sight of the raggedy, upset looking woman standing out from her guarded escort. He twitched a frown and turned his gaze back to the road infront of them. He was well aware that some of his men were almost too paranoid when it came to witchcraft and sorcery, but most of them had reason to be. He shook his head to himself. "Very well. Keep an eye on her."

The soldier raised a clenched fist to his heart in salute and then turned his horse around to gallop back down the lines. Leofric dragged a gloved hand through his soaked hair and then dragged the black hood of his cloak over the head. He turned his attention to the east, gazing out over the expansion of a gloomy landscape with clusters of leafless trees. They were relatively far away from the Black Marsh now, but its darkness and inhospitality stretched much further away than just the bog itself, and they were still many miles away from the greener pastures of the central Northlands.

His mind fell back upon the letter that he had read and he silently resented each step his army took on their march to the north-east, but it was necessary. Their destination was Monarch's Rise, the capital. Once he was back in the city he would rally his council and inform them of what has happened, and damn what they all thought - he had already made up his mind on the matter.

Far in the distance he saw lights floating above ground. He studied them with an idle thought and blank expression. After all, he already knew what they were. The watchtowers dotted around Lowburg's walls kept a stern vigil on the lands around it. The people living there were of the rough stock and distrustful, at least toward foreigners and strangers. He frowned, recalling the grim task that he had assigned to a handful of knights dispatched to the town. They were to persecute any suspected magicians or walkers and carry out the ultimate punishment. Leofric wasn't certain how the people there would handle it. Executing the penalized in the middle of the street was bad for everyone, and Lowburg hardly required more reasons to dig themselves deeper into their unwelcoming and resentful nature - but the inhabitants were loyal, and he was positive the knights would carry out the deed on remote locations.

He could hear the angry muttering of men behind him, cursing the incessant storm above them. They were rapidly approaching the town and Leofric could just barely make out the silhouettes upon the walls and in the towers. From there it did not take long before the sound of a long horn blast echoed throughout the land, signalling the approaching army. A guardsman leans out over his post in a tower and cups a hand around his mouth.

"It's the king! The king is approaching! Open the gates!"

The light gleamed steadily. It wasn’t powerful enough to light up the figure. Within all her confusion and stressfulness, Eliana had barely realised something had spoken. Her steady breath was the only sound in the room. The figure moved. What seemed to be the silhouette of a hand rose up, with something in its hand. Eliana took a step backwards, holding up her hands in a swift move.

“I don’t-… I’m just taking shelter!” she bursted out, the mud dripping from her clothes. Footsteps came from upstairs, with a light following it. Eliana’s gaze flew straight to the stairs, fearing what might come down from them. A lantern came in sight, followed by a taller and more muscular figure. A tall man took heavy steps down the stairs, his chest being bare and revealing his well-trained muscles. The room was lit up, revealing the figure in front of Eliana. A young woman stood in front of her, donned in a silky nightgown. She seemed a few winters older than Eliana herself, but cleaner. The nightgown was exquisite and fine work. Her hair was only slightly curled, falling beneath her shoulders. She held a butter knife in her hand, seemingly expecting to use it for self-defence. The man stopped by the end of the stair, narrowing his furry eyebrows.

The both of them studied Eliana, unsure of how to react. The muscular bear repeated the woman’s earlier question, with a hoarse voice. “Why’re you here?” he continued, staring down at the messy girl.
“I’m-… I need shelter for the night.” Eliana nodded, lowering her hands steadily.
“So you broke in?” he scoffed, clenching his fist and opening it a few times, not taking his eyes off the girl.

The young woman in front of Eliana took a step forward, studying her further.

“If she was a thief, she’d be the worst one I have ever come upon.” She said, with a soft voice, shaking her head. She turned around, and used the candle to light up a few other candles. Eliana wiped her forehead, sighing slightly. She knew her position most likely wasn’t better than before. She calmed herself down, before proceeding in a more civilised tone. “I promise you” she started. “I promise you I’m no scoundrel. I just need a bit of help.” Eliana mentally crossed her fingers, hoping with all her heart that she hadn’t run into two heartless people.

“And some clean clothes.” The woman added, turning around and crossing her arms. The man went to her side, still keeping a threatening stance. He looked down to his lower friend, receiving a nod from her. Then back to Eliana, placing the lantern on the table besides him. “Fine. I’ll believe you. It isn’t hard to believe you’d need help, but most people in this town does.” He snorted, placing his arms on the table behind him. The unnamed woman looked at Eliana, sitting down on the edge of the wooden table. She spoke in a firm voice, and it was still a little unclear to Eliana, whether or not she actually believed what she said.

“If I’m going to help you, you’re going to tell me why.” She demanded. Eliana grimaced. She wasn’t sure what she’d say. Something, certainly, but she had to watch her words. Most people supported the King, and the slightest hint of opposing him could potentially prove deadly for Eliana. But she spoke, either out of good will, or thirst for survival. “I was traveling… With a friend.” She nodded carefully, trying to stay calm. “He … He uh…” she mumbled, trying to find the words for it, without beginning to cry, or get teary again. “There was an accident. He’s… He died.” She managed to say, but had to take in a breath, feeling her voice shaking. The woman’s eyes widened slightly, followed by a slow nod.
“I ran. I was afraid they’d come after me too. So I … tried to find somewhere to hide.” She pointed around. “Sorry.”

The woman ran a hand through her brown hair, nodding again and waving her hand dismissively. “Don’t apologize. I understand.” She got up, and took a few slow steps towards Eliana. The woman was about the same height, perhaps a little taller. “Celvin, mind fetching some of my clothes for her? Perhaps a dress.” She examined Eliana, letting her gaze run from the Eliana’s toe, to her chest. “Mhm. They should fit you.” The woman looked out the window, eyeing the streets. But she turned back to Eliana, extending her hand, whilst the man called Celvin went back up.

“My name is Louisa.” She smiled. “Lady Louisa Averheim.”

Eliana extended her hand, but sort of stopped mid-motion. She could feel the name floating around in her mind, causing the panic to start again. Eliana’s mind went crazy, thinking and thinking if she could recall having heard of another Averheim. She eventually ended up stuttering the word out. “A-… Averheim?” she blinked, feeling the sweat beginning to roll. Louisa simply smiled, seemingly not minding the sudden panic attack.

“Yes, Averheim.” She repeated herself.

“The … The King?” Eliana attempted to keep calm.

“My cousin.” Louisa nodded. “And yourself?” she asked, expecting an answer fairly swiftly.

“Uh…” Eliana started. She was unsure of what to do. Jonius had said ‘Baker’, but there shouldn’t be more than a few people in the Realm who knew her surname. And she had a feeling Louisa could determine if she spoke the truth, nobleman and women usually could, with all the deception they put up with, Eliana thought to her self. “Eliana… Metilius.” She managed, curtseying down before the royalty in front of her. Louisa shook her hand, though wiping the mud off afterwards. She spun around, holding her hands together behind her back. “As I said, I have an offer… I am in need of a personal handmaiden, and it sounds like you need more than just a place to stay for the night. I’ll help you, if you promise me something.” Eliana could hear Louisa’s voice changing into a serious tone; along with the following look she gave Eliana, after she turned back around.
“You are not to tell a single soul that you met me here, or that you ever met him. Understood?” Louisa declared, staring into Eliana’s eyes. She simply nodded, not giving much thought to what she had just agreed to.

“I promise.” She said. Just as she had finished, Celvin came back down, now wearing a shirt and carrying some clothes along with him. The rain had settled down. But something else could be heard from the outside. A horn. Louisa reacted, looking to the window. “Get cleaned up.” She ordered.

Eliana had been given some clean clothes, certainly much fancier than she was used to. She had been given a cloak and a hood, to shield her self from the rain. Louisa had told her to leave her satchel and the two peculiar staves in the house; they’d return, she had said. Celvin had left without a word, as they had opened up the door. Louisa had instructed Eliana briefly on how to address her and anyone else of her status. Eliana still kept her guard up, incapable of believing the offer was just out of good will. They trudged through the town. The rain had calmed, though the ground still muddy. But the two managed to get out to the gate without too much mud hitting their shoes.

The large gates had opened up, allowing the horde of horses to ride in. Louisa took her place in front, lowering her hood and awaiting her cousin.

Eliana raised her hood, gawking at the giant army approaching. She was almost sure that she had made a bad choice, but it seemed like the only option she had had. Some help for a secret, whatever it meant to the Lady.

Miriam
Chapter 5: Lowburg

The gate made its grinding climb to let the army in, they marched into the walled town as neatly as they had across the miles of road just before. Miriam kept her head low, most of the town had come out to see the arrival of the elusive king Averheim, whom rode first into the plaza of the simple township. Miriam spied the noblemen coming up to greet the arrivals, she spied the simple folk flocking behind them, eager to watch. Some of the faces she knew, she had come through this town several times over the years, to trade and resupply, she hated them all. This wasn't to say that the people of Lowburg were bad people, which they admittedly were, but Miriam's sour feelings were more of a general dislike towards everyone.

Miriam couldn't observe for long, she was pushed along by one of her guards and further escorted by three swords to the side of the square. She stumbled along and was eventually faced with an unusually tall man, he was dressed in plate and wore a soaked tabard above, which bore the King's sigil. The man casually eyed over the mud-crusted Miriam and eventually folded his large arms. He spoke up in a simple greeting, calm and without prejudice.
"Witch." Miriam puffed out a breath of disbelief, she slumped her arms out which made her tattered cloak flap.
"I am not a witch! You idiots." The knight shook his head and sighed tiredly, while one of the soldiers who had escorted Miriam blurted out accusingly.
"Just what a witch would say!" Miriam turned to glare at the man.
"Just what everyone would say, moron." She turned back to the presumably more intelligent knight and adopted a somewhat sweeter voice. "I'm just a traveler. Honestly, I haven't done a thing wrong." The knight looked from Miriam to Leia at her side. He then sighed and waved one of the soldiers over, he scuttled towards the knight quickly, carrying Miriam's bag with him.
"We found some things." The knight started, as he opened the bag. From within he produced one of the animal totems Miriam hoarded. "- Like this." Miriam threw her hands up.
"I burn those! It's wood, man. Not magic."
"And these?" The knight had put the totem back, to instead retrieve a simple, leather bound book which he waved slightly. "You read?"
"What do you think?" Miriam folded her arms up defiantly, one of her dirty strings of long hair had fallen over her eye but she was too upset to correct it. "I'm not a witch, and those are just things." The knight had kept his cool throughout the interrogation and seemed in no rush to mob Miriam like the other soldiers had.
"She spoke with a ghost. She's mad, I tells ya." The guard from before spoke up, and earned another glare from Miriam, whom delightfully found he flinched away from it. "Tha's a threat, she threatened me!"
"Pipe down, Mallard." The large knight grumbled. "Explain this ghost, miss." He nodded back to Miriam impatiently. Miriam blinked and furiously shook her head.
"There wasn't a ghost! It was a man, his name was Walter and he said he was a scout from your army! Not a ghost."
"And what happened to this man?" The knight queried calmly. Miriam had had her time to mull on that one during the march here, and submitted the end of her own thoughts.
"I can't say for sure, he must have gone out through the window, just when I opened the door."
"We didn't see anyone, sir. We would've, tha' window wassint' big enough, no chance." The guard named Mallard blurted out. This time Miriam turned and wiggled the fingers of one hand at him, he ducked in a gasp of fright. Naturally, nothing happened, but it had earned Miriam a tiny chuckle. The large knight gave Miriam a look of indignation.
"Stop that." He began by saying. She returned a sly smile. "And to my knowledge, there is no scout named Walter. I will be sure to check with the Captain on that matter."
"I haven't done anything wrong. Are you going to call me a witch just because I have books and firewood?!" Miriam stomped her foot into the mud, it was hardly resounding but she felt the urge to hurt something and the ground below her was a strong enough target. The knight looked over Miriam's head and glanced to the bustling center and presumably his king, he grunted and looked back down at the rogue.
"Lock her up for now. Let her family come pick her up." The three soldiers clicked their heels together and nodded in unison, two came from either side to cease Miriam by the arms.
"Wh- Hey!" The began dragging her down the road. At first she didn't struggle, to avoid more trouble but at the sound of Leia's yelp Miriam turned and stopped. The third soldier had tightened a rope around the dog's neck and began to pull fiercely on it, to drag Leia the opposite direction. "Leia!" Miriam called, she pushed against one of the soldiers who held her but was forcefully kneed down, then dragged further. Leia howled in lament, grinding her paws through the mud in desperation. Miriam cried out again, trying and failing to claw her way past the two guards. "Don't take her, please! You can't!" Miriam grunted and reeled over in a flinch, jabbed in the stomach by a gauntlet. The men then kept hauling her down the road, with much less resistance. Miriam felt the dab of tears beneath her eyes, her heart lay heavily in her chest and with a stuttering breath she fought her urge to cry. In the distance the yaps and barks of her friend became fainter, until she did not hear them at all. "I'm sorry..."

Chapter 5: Family & Suspects

His boots hit the muddy ground with clattering armor, and a knight took the reins of the king's horse to lead it away. Leofric doffed his hood and swept his gaze along the gathering crowd of commoners, guardsmen and minor noblemen alike. Around him his men were in the process of dismounting as well, but several hundred still sat on horseback and tried to trot through the swarming locals. The king sighed and turned to one of his knights.

"Have the men set up camp outside the town, I don't want us overcrowding this place. Leave a few men here. The knights stay with me."

The soldier bowed his head and marched off. Leofric could hear a hollering command and the vast majority of his army turned to march out of the gates to raise their camp outside the town walls. As ordered, only the knights and a handful of soldiers remained - thirty or so men, all dismounted and grouped together not far from their king, their eyes were turned to the locals and adjacent rooftops. It was in their nature to remain vigilant, regardless of where they were. People were still flooding toward the crowd and Leofric put on a thin smile, his right hand raising to greet the excited commoners.

A group of people stood out from the rest. They were dressed in more delicate garments, for Lowburn standards, and Leofric quickly registered them as the local nobility, amongst them the town mayor. At the head of the group was a familiar face, and Leofric set his feet into motion to make his way over. The commoners behind the highborn immediately bowed their heads as soon they saw the king walk their way, and the nobility soon after followed suit. Leofric stopped infront of a woman and extended a hand within her view, gesturing for her to raise her head, which she obediently did - the rest of the people soon did the same.

"Sire." Louisa finally spoke up in a formal address and displayed a smile that Leofric had seen a hundred times before, and he was still convinced that it was false. Regardless, he returned the gesture and gave his cousin a brief hug, as was their way of greeting one another.

"Cousin. All is well, I hope?" Leofric finally inquired.

"Perfectly so." Louisa replied concisely, her smile widening. "And you, Your Grace?"

Leofric delayed with his response, his eyes trailed past Louisa to study each of the people around her, though they linger upon a young woman standing close behind her - close enough to be a servant or relative, but Leofric would have recognized her if that was the case, and Louisa was the only in Lowburg. A servant then, he concluded. Though he wasn't sure what she required a servant for. She's never had one before. His gaze falls back upon his cousin, nodding.

"Of course. I'll have to make this short though, I have matters to attend to. It's good to see you again, cousin."

Louisa bows her head again and then turns on her heels to depart along with the noblemen and her servant. The local guardsmen also spring back to life and exhorts the smallfolk to return to their work and daily doings, and the people begin to scatter, many were occupied with intensive conversations about the event they just witnessed and Leofric found the cacophony near unbearable. A woman's yelling and a dog's barking and whining reached his ears and he twisted around vaguely to get a glimpse of where it came from, if anything it was a welcoming distraction from the enthusiastic peasantry. A few lingering soldiers near the gate were occupied with dragging away a woman, crying out for her faithful companion, forcefully being tugged away by another of his men. He witnessed as the female took a gauntlet to her stomach and he shook his head, trudging through the mud toward one of his knights.

"Sir Arthur. What are those men doing?"

The knight kicks to attention and then looks over to the commotion. "That's the accused witch, sire. Not sure why they're separating her from her dog, though."

"Beat some sense into them and give her back the dog, then keep her under your guard. Find out if she truly is a witch." Leofric commanded and then waved the knight off. Sir Arthur bowed his head and marched off with brisk steps to resolve the commotion. Leofric trailed the knight with his gaze for a short moment before spinning on his heels to march down one of the streets, flanked by the remaining knights.

The soldiers slowly rode into the town, though most of the turned about, after the leading rider had turned his head and spoken to another man. The king approached, after he had raised his hand to the crowd. The night had begun to fall upon the town, enveloping it in twilight. The most elusive man in the Northlands approached, exchanging a few words with Louisa, followed by a hug. The King eyed the people besides Louisa, but stopped his gaze at Eliana. She got a lump in her throat, briefly meeting the man’s gaze. But she looked away, lowering her sight. She had bowed her head along with the others around her, trying to follow the motions. As Louisa turned around, Eliana heard a series of screaming coming from a young woman, like herself. She turned her head to see some girl being dragged off by a couple of soldiers, and a dog being taken from her. Though it struck a knife to Eliana’s heart, she had to remain incognito. Louisa did not turn her head, or walk the same way her and Eliana had come from. The other noblemen either walked another path, or passively followed along. Eliana turned her head around, studying the crowds. She picked up her pace slightly, being right behind the Lady.
“Lou-…” She corrected herself. “My Lady, might I ask where we are headed? It certainly isn’t the road to the house, that we came from…?” she inquired, watching Louisa turn her head to Eliana.
“What house? We are heading to the Lowburg Mansion, silly. It is where the highest of the nobility and the king resides, whilst he is in town.” She gracefully walked along, before adding to her statement. “When he wishes to be, that is.” Louisa kept a simple expression, greeting the people on their way. Most knew who she was, it seemed.
Eliana blinked, raising an eyebrow. She decided not to ask again, assuming Louisa had a reason for acting so unaware. As they went further into the town, a larger building came in sight. The large mansion been placed in an open plaza, with withered grass around it, leaving it quite a bit more open than the other buildings in the town. As they approached it, two guards opened up the large door. The house was mostly grey and black, blending in with the surroundings. Eliana looked up at the ceiling, amazed by the decoration inside. But she quickly looked back down again, remembering why she was even able to stand inside this mansion. Louisa guided her up the stairs, and down the halls, to one of the main rooms. Eliana carefully closed the door behind her, pulling down her hood. She could now feel herself shaking, which had most likely been the case throughout the entire scenario. Her mind fell to the thought of the tavern, how she had left Jonius behind. Her body shook by the thought, which Louisa seemed to notice. The noblewoman stepped forward, handing over a necklace. The chain was of some silver, finer than Eliana had seen before. It had a sigil as a pendant, which Eliana quickly recognised.
“If anyone asks you, you’ll show them this. You’d be surprised how many people will back off if you show them our sigil.” Louisa smirked to herself, as she placed the necklace in Eliana’s hand. She gestured for Eliana to put it on, which she quickly did. She put it around her neck, stuffing the pendant under her newly granted dress. “Now.” Louisa started, turning around and attending her Lady-like business. “The room we passed – the one with the weapon adornments on it – it’s the king’s. He’ll most likely be arriving soon, and I know it isn’t exciting work, but I’d ask you to prepare it for him.” She looked over her shoulder to her new handmaiden.
“Don’t you have servants for that?” Eliana quickly blurted out, resulting in Louisa raising her eyebrow, slowly nodding towards Eliana. “We do, honey. That’s you.”
Eliana coughed, nodding in embarrassment, opening the door behind her. “Right… Sorry. My lady.” She said before rushing out, leaving Louisa with a smirk on her face, shaking her head.
Eliana walked down the enormous halls, the sound of people from somewhere in the mansion. She made her way to the mentioned room. After a few minutes of feeling only a little lost, she stumbled upon the mentioned room. It had two doors, with the mentioned adornment. Two swords were crossed over a shield, with the same sigil as the necklace she was given by Louisa. Eliana carefully opened up the door. She entered a big room, having a desk and other useful furniture. Though it was neat looking, it seemed like the room had not been used for a while. The big bed was messy, the desk filled with different scrolls and the like. She signed, simply starting to organize everything, expecting herself to have plenty of time.

Miriam
Chapter 6: The Caged Nightingale

The bars of the cell were made out of wood. It was the third one down the corridor of holding cells, crampt enough to feel claustrophobic while still being wide enough to pace impatiently in. Miriam sat in one corner against the wall, staring dryly out from beneath her messy drapes of damp hair. She had an ache in her stomach and a hollowing sensation in her chest. She thudded her forehead against her propped up knees and groaned in frustration. So far, isolation had not helped with her dampened spirits. Suddenly, she heard a voice from her left, from one of the cells she had passed on the way in.
"Well. That could have gone better." Miriam raised her head and peered towards the voice. A face smiled through the bars, looking back at her with anticipated recognition. Miriam blinked in a short moment of surprise, but responded with a tired sigh. Silence fell as Miriam did not respond, instead, she burrowed her face against her legs again and ignored the voice completely. There was no need for it, however, as it said nothing more.

Miriam did not count her wallowing time in the cell, it could have been nothing more than an hour so far. But to her it felt as if she was drowning for eternity. Eventually the doors of the holding opened and the metal clanking of boots could be heard walking down the corridor. Before long it stopped and a new voice spoke up, from outside Miriam's cell.
"Good evening." Miriam looked up and saw the outline of a man outside of her cage. He was blocking the source of light so his face was hidden in shadow. The man cleared his throat and sat down on the bench on the other side of the narrow corridor, he adjusted his sword and placed it on his right.
"My name is Arthur." He said, as an invitation to the conversation. With the light unblocked Miriam could see his face. It was rough and weathered, the man's eyes spoke of loss and sorrow but his mouth held an indifferent smile.
"Well. Screw you, Arthur." Miriam mumbled back, not moving from her spot in the corner. This bought another moment of silence. Until Arthur spoke again.
"And you're Miriam. No?" Miriam flicked her gaze up more alert now. She hadn't shared her name with anyone but Walter. She glanced briefly to her left into the other cell but there was nothing there but darkness to be seen. Miriam looked back at Arthur and pursed her lips firmly. The less she said, the better.
"It says so here, at least." Arthur had gotten up from the bench, and from a pocket he produced a small leather bound book. "Journal of Miriam's marsh?" He read off the title. "Interesting read." Arthur did not seem ironic, the man had squatted next to the cell and now looked at Miriam. "What were you doing out there, Miriam?" He inquired calmly. Miriam sighed in defeat. He could get the information from out of that book, anyway.
"I gather things from the wilds and I sell them to people, and I was only in that cabin to avoid the storm. Really, that's all there is to it." Miriam looked at Arthur as she spoke. "What did they do with Leia?" She added glumly. The knight quirked a smile and made some sort of gesture towards the entryway. There was the creaking of a door opening and then the familiar scampering of rushed paws. Miriam dragged herself to the bars of the cells and arrived at the same time as her shaggy companion. "Leia!" She burst out, stretching her arms out through the gaps of her wooden bars to embrace the dog's head lovingly. It was met by a jolly bark and unrelenting face licking as the dog could not find its way into the cell. Miriam pressed her face against the fur of her friend and murmured her thanks to the universe.

Later; Arthur had resumed his spot on the bench, Leia sat next to him, enjoying the casual pet from the knight. He looked to Miriam where she sat inside of her cell, her journal lay on his lap, open to the middle pages.
"Who taught you to read, Miriam? To write?" He inquired conversationally.
"I taught myself?" Miriam retorted with a poor bluff.
"I sincerely doubt that."
"Does it matter?" Miriam knew the answer already.
"It does. Was it this ghost I've been told so much about? He... teaches you?" Miriam crossed her arms and huffed a breath at her hair. "No. And I will tell you the same as the others. There wasn't a ghost. Some guy that said he was a scout, he went away before you arrived at the house. Just some guy." She looked towards the dark cell to her left in a moment of forethought, Arthur caught the glance and trailed it, before looking back at Miriam.
"Walter?" Arthur rose an eyebrow.
"Yes. Walter."
"You'll admit, this all seems a bit odd, right?"
"Fine. It does, but it hardly means I'm a witch." Arthur scratched Leia behind the ear calmly while humming mutely in thought. "No, it really does not. The men can get... superstitious, at times."
"So, are you going to let me out?" Miriam perked her head up alongside her hopes.
"You are a very peculiar young woman, Miriam." Arthur said as he tossed the book into the cell casually. "But you're not a witch."

Chapter 6: Undesirable news

The streets of Lowburg branched out in various directions, nooks and crannies, both dark and filthy. In addition to his king's guard, the town guard had filed in on the left and right of Leofric. An elderly guardsman with greying hair led the way through the streets, waving aside the townsfolk as they passed. The knights kept themselves close to Leofric, they had formed up in two columns of five each on his either side, their hands resting upon the grip of their weaponry. Leofric trudged on behind the lead guardsman - they were to make their way to the Lowburn mansion, and even though he knew the way himself, it was standard routine for the guard to escort him to its premises.

They arrive at the plaza after a few minutes of navigating around the streets. The guardsmen steered their lines away to reform into a rank a distance away from the mansion as soon the king and his men had passed. They then turned on their heels to face outwards, keeping a wary eye for any who would try to trespass into its grounds. Leofric gestures with a hand as they approach the main entrance of the building, a gesture that the knights were well aware of. Five of the knights break off, with three disappearing around a corner to keep an all-around vigil, and the final two take up position on either side of the doors. They bow as Leofric push open the mansion doors and steps inside with the remaining men.

A staff member of the mansion hurries forth to greet the royal visitor, a middle-aged woman which respectfully curtsies. "Your Grace. They have prepared your chambers." she speaks up, with a well-practised tone. Leofric gave her a quick nod and proceeded toward the stairs leading up and to the halls, followed by the knights. It did not take long until he stood by the doors leading into his personal room. He nods to his knights, which steps aside and begins to take up various posts nearby, before he push open the doors and steps inside. He tugs off his leather gloves and leers around the room, it had been prepared for his arrival, just as the servant had said. He makes his way over to a delicate wooden desk and takes a seat into an equally exquisite chair. A window behind him let in the dim light from the outside and he could hear the suppressed sound from the life within town. He prefered it that way - he was not fond of complete silence, the Black Marsh was enough for that.

He lays down his gloves on the table and buckles off his cloak to hang over the back of the chair. Concealed behind the cloak he had carried a leather cylinder hanging down across his back, used for safekeeping various documents and letters of delicate secrecy. He only kept one letter inside it now, and he opened up the cylinder to retrieve it. He adjusts in his seat and then folds out the letter infront of him on the table. The message was brief.

'They are mustering again. They have assembled near seven thousand men, and with their current preparations I suspect they will march within a week.'

Walter
Chapter 1: The end of an age

Walter pressed his head against the wood. He was surrounded by a cluster of golden hay which nestled its way into his sleeves and caused severe itches across his face. The cart bumped for a moment as the mule that dragged it brought it over a larger rock. Walter peered next to him where Olive lay, the woman attempted a smile but it came across as anxious and pale. They had been hiding like this for hours, he had kept count.
”How much farther?” She whispered over carefully.
”I'll check.” Walter nodded his head against the planks and then brushed his way out of the hay, to peek his head out through the top. He looked to the cart's driver, the man whom he had paid his last sovreigns and for a moment considered what exactly he might say to him. The driver spoke first, however.
”Nobody's out here, son.” The driver gestured his free hand across the green landscape and its many dots of ripe farmland. Walter looked around, canvasing the area. In the far distance he could see the dark blot that was Monarch's rise, standing out as a beacon of luxurious civility in the otherwise simple, yet beautiful landscape.
”You and your missus can come out.” The driver continued, grabbing the reins of his mule again as he spared a glance back at Walter.
”Oh! We're not...” Walter felt a blush strike his face, he cleared his throat and stroke a hand across his lightly bearded cheek, Olive appeared next to him, her usually smooth hair was cloven and tangled in strings of both hay and wild brown curls. She gazed around the landscape before smiling timidly over towards Walter. Whom was caught without something to say. He stuttered for a moment, touching at his own hair, jet black and also unusually untamed.
”You eh, got some...” He mumbled. She trailed his hand with an emerald eye, then touched her hair, finding the bother. To which she only giggled delightfully and ignored. She moved her gaze to the front of the cart and then climbed over the railing which held the bundle of hay in place. She sat herself next to the driver and went on to excitedly thank him for his help. Walter watched their conversation without listening, he found himself smiling as he was staring at Olive, her simple sweater and ankle-low skirt were scrunched and fit well with the poor state of her hair. She had never been so beautiful. Walter caught himself smiling and abruptly shook it off. He couldn't think about that, not after everything that had happened. There were still so many things to do and the future had no place for his feelings. He sighed in mute insecurity and looked back down the road they had traveled, he had never been one to look back but Walter felt that this would haunt him forever.

They were far away from the capital now, off the main road and on their way to safety. The landscape was slowly changing and trees started to pop up around them, eventually becoming a surrounding, green forest. Walter looked back from his nature gazing with a snap as he heard Olive say his name.
”Huh? Yes?” He exchanged his brooding stare with a kind look. Olive giggled and smiled effortlessly in return. It seemed she was unbothered. Walter could only give her a flawed smile and spare her of the harsher truth as best he could.
”I said... Where are we going now?” Olive smiled, leaning her arms over the railing to peer at Walter. He sighed out of his mouth and looked past both Olive and their paid off driver, down the forest road they were travelling.
”We're going home."

Eliana sighed. She ruffled her hair and placed a hand on her hip, glancing over the tidy room. She quickly looked herself in the mirror, outlined with a golden metal. After quickly rushing out of the room, she quickly spotted the king down in the entrance. She walked in a swift pace towards Louisa’s chambers, which she hailed from, and finally found her way there. Without knocking, Eliana entered and closed the door behind her. The room was empty. The lights had been blown out, leaving the room in a dark picture. Eliana took a few baby steps forward, looking around and studying the room. It was the same as earlier, she stupidly concluded, whilst glancing at the fine ornaments. For a moment reality hit her again. She looked out through the window. The horizon of small houses filled her mind. She grimaced, wiping her eye with the sleeve of the dress, covering her entire hand. A cold shiver rolled down her spine, causing a slight whimper. For a moment, she had thought she was alone.

“Eliana?” a soft voice whispered from behind. Eliana almost jumped up, turning around and looking in around the room. She blinked. Nothing was there. She shook her head violently, messaging her temples. As she muttered something to herself, the door went up. Louisa stepped in, stopping abruptly by the sight of Eliana. She raised an eyebrow, closing the door behind her.

“Well he arrived and the room was ready. Well done. And also-“ she paused, walking to her desk and finding out a key with a number engraved. She extended her hand for Eliana, smiling. “You’ll need a room. Go grab your things at the house when you need them, and settle there for the moment.” She nodded, and Eliana simply attempted a curtsey and thus quickly rushed out the door, a little red from embarrassment of trespassing, if that could be called that. Eliana walked down the hallway, and down the stairs. She finally made her way to a door, matching the number on the key. She walked inside, being greeted by a fairly neat room. Much better and bigger than the one at the tavern, though it was still fairly small. The room was outfitted with what she needed. A desk, a couple of windows, a closet, a mirror and of course a bed. Though it had a few other things, it was really the bed that called most for her.

Eliana’s eyes slowly went up. She yawned, looking around. It was still night, and she was fully dressed. Apparently she had fallen to the temptation of the bed. After a couple of moments of grunting, she got up. The window was open, and the trees were dancing in the distance. Though there was no breeze coming in. She narrowed her eyebrows at the darkened town. Something caused her to look away though, back into the room. She wrapped her arms around herself, walking with light steps. The wooden floor did not make a sound beneath her bare feet, and the door barely moved as she lightly opened it. Her head peaked outside. The lights in the hallways had gone out. It was empty. Something drew her out. Eliana looked around herself constantly. But the emptiness continued. The mansion seemed empty, though it laid in darkness. Had they all left? In the middle of the night? Eliana shook her head – they were here somewhere, she was sure.

The plants by the big stairwell had withered. The former colourful beings had turned into dead and dull excuses for life. No light, no sound. There was an awful silence. Eliana carefully moved up the stairs, trying to find Louisa’s room. Through the dim halls she walked. Though she felt like she knew the walls, something wasn’t familiar. The paintings weren’t as joyful either. They were empty. No life was drawn on them, just plain withered fields. Bones lay in piles, tools stabbed into the ground. Eliana felt an ache in her stomach, and quickly moved on.

Louisa’s door looked like it used to. But as Eliana leaned closer, a few cuts in the wood came to light. Something had been drawn across it, either with … claws? Or knives?

Eliana carefully put her hand on the doorhandle, feeling a cold sensation rush through her. She opened up the door, and was greeted with yet another darkened room. Just as it had looked like earlier. The desk stood under the window. It was opened, just as the window in Eliana’s room. She walked towards it, looking down at it. A single item lay on it, torn to pieces. She examined it, and it became clearer and clearer as she put together the pieces. It was a necklace, a necklace with a torn sigil hanging from it, and as she looked closer at it. She dropped it as she saw it, shattering it again. With rushed movements, she reached under her dress, finding out her own necklace. She cursed out as she grabbed it, her hands being met by sharp edges of the torn sigil.

“Eliana?” a soft voice whispered from behind. She froze, slowly turning around in fright of what would stand before her, if anything.

A figure stood in front of her. Donned in dark clothes, and not too tall. The head hang loosely on the body, looking into the ground. She couldn’t see. Couldn’t see who it was – what it was. The head slowly rose up, revealing the black pupils and the neck. Oh the neck, the neck with the flesh torn out from the middle leaving strings of flesh and blood dripping down. The thing walked towards her, reaching out his hand for her, and revealing his broken teeth.

Eliana fell unto the floor, slamming her head into the wood. She panicked, sitting up and looking around. She sensed a few bits of blue essence drifting into the nothingness. As her breath calmed, she looked around in the room. She was back, and the window was closed. It all seemed far more familiar now. The woman pushed her self to her feet, wiping sweat off her forehead. On her desk stood a mug of water, a mug she did not hesitate to take a large sip from. Afterwards, she leaned her head in her hands, and rested her elbows on the desk. With a shaking voice she muttered to herself.

“Just a bad dream… Just a bad dream.”