The light patter of rain, the continuous sound of hooves squelching into the muddied road and the silence from the three travellers around her had given Loldirr far too much time to think of events in the past and future.

For several days, Loldirr and her retinue had travelled south with just the bare essentials, eager to quickly make time but also to avoid any longing eyes determined to find out who they were.

A tear of water slipped from her hood, splashing effortlessly onto the saddle she sat on. Loldirr felt miserable, her mood dampened by the continuous rain that had dogged them since their second night of travel. Her travel companions were of no comfort. The Chevalier De Présage hardly spoke, while Sigurd Halfhand continued to incessantly yet they were both extremely unnerved by the spectre that rode behind them, the Death Wraith, Sir Gervais Vanderbilt.

Loldirr could feel his eyes on her constantly, he never slept, he never ate, he never spoke, he just watched, his endless white pupils staring underneath his black hood.

Her knowledge of the man, known to the world as the Widow Maker, was minimal. He was the spymaster of her mortal enemy, Arnaud III. Taking him with her on this quest across the breadth of Isovine must have appeared foolish. Yet with the knowledge and experience that those who questioned her had, none of them had ever experienced the bond that a Sorceress of the Elements, one able to manipulate the sphere of death, had with a Death Wraith.

She spun her head around, watching Sir Gervais' horse stride magnificently across the unpredictable terrain. He gave her a small nod, but there was no smile, no peace, just a turmoil that appeared to plague his heart endlessly.

Loldirr recalled the horrific memories of the other Death Wraith she encountered on her travels. The infamous Sir Wendon Pykeston, better known as the Shadow. He was the epitome of rage and while they did not share the bond that she did with the Widow Maker, she could feel his anger and existential hatred for her.

With Sir Gervais Vanderbilt, it was nothing but sorrow.

A drone could be heard in front of her, a familiar noise that had plagued their journey for several days, the drone of Sigurd Halfhand preparing to sing another one of his Fæordic tales of some famous warrior, lost maiden or the process of producing alcoholic beverages in the frozen wastelands of the north.

A huge sigh could be heard from atop of the horse behind him, "Enough!" the disgruntled Chevalier de Présage exclaimed, "You sound like oxen giving birth to a dozen screeching wyverns!"

A chuckle escaped the lips of Loldirr. It was the most the Ruvian knight had said on the entire journey since they left Ravenscourt, but for her, it was pleasant to hear a voice other than her thoughts.

"It speaks," Sigurd Halfhand retorted, "for I feared we were travelling with an eastern mute."

Yet as quickly as he had spoken, the Vicomte Jeffry Thibodeaux remained tight-lipped once again, the sound or lack of it appeared to frustrate Sigurd Halfhand.

"It appears, that perhaps I was not mistaken. How long must we endure this silence? A man needs sustenance to endure that torture that this journey is inflicting on me."

Loldirr wondered how she would tolerate this fractious party to Ruvia. She disliked Sigurd Halfhand immensely, ever since she had first met him in the Fæordic wasteland. He had continuously attempted to demean her at every opportunity at the althingy while attempting to unite the tribes of the Fæordic, something that she would always find hard to forget. Jeffry Thibodeaux was not a likeable man, he grunted and consistently looked like he had sat on a dagger his whole life. If he was not of noble blood, she could imagine that he would have been an enforcer for some criminal organisation like the Black Knife Syndicate, yet, instead, he was escorting her, a task by which he appeared incredibly agitated.

"We travel for a couple more hours," Loldirr eventually spoke, causing the animosity to briefly subside. "We rest at the Rose of White Road tonight, before travelling east in the morning."

The words of direction appeared to put both the Halfhand and the Chevalier De Présage at ease, yet it also appeared that the horse of the Widow Maker had slipped up alongside her without even making a sound.

Loldirr was startled causing her steed to briefly jolt before settling into a rhythm with the horse next to them.

"You plan to go through the Emerald Forest?" Sir Gervais Vanderbilt spoke, his accent feeling foreign and unnerving to the empress of Isovine.

"I do," Loldirr replied.

"The roads there are fraught with extreme danger, is it wise? People who enter, do not return."

"I spent eighteen winters living there, it is safe. Besides, we can travel two-thirds of the Empire without so much as a single soul seeing us. It is safer this way." Loldirr explained.

Sir Gervais Vanderbilt grabbed a hold of the reign of his horse, causing it to casually turn away from the Loldirr, as his eyes glared back at her his last words brought a chill to her spine "Are you sure?"

Loldirr sighed, she was tired of this journey and yet it had only really begun.

***

There was a curious satisfaction as Loldirr sat precariously in the corner of the Rose of White Road, her hood raised over her luscious red hair, eager for the prying eyes to stray away from her beauty.

This was where her adventures had officially begun. On this very bench, she recalled sitting across from the enigmatic Ethelston. His questions determined to obtain information about the sword that now sat proudly in her scabbard. Loldirr couldn't recall the tiredness that plagued her that day or the desire that she felt to rid herself of the man that was now like a brother to her, but as she looked across at the lifeless Gervais who sat opposite her, she wondered if her relationship with the Death Wraith would develop similarly.

Loldirr hated what this place stood for, an establishment for men to perform and receive sexual acts from women for coin. The degrading nature of the men that entered the establishment brought a certain disdain for their character, yet as much as she wanted to judge them, Loldirr felt she was not in a position to do so.

No man had uncrossed her legs, though many had tried. The very act of sex intrigued her immensely, and how its irrational hold on men could make the most powerful into instant subordinates, with the right motivation. It was something she felt she needed to understand and manipulate to protect herself from those who meant her harm.

As Sigurd Halfhand sat next to her, with Jeffry Thibodeaux placing himself beside Gervais, she spotted a noble entering the establishment and before he could even react, a younger man, probably no older than Loldirr, grabbed a hold of his hand and lead him towards the stairs.

There was truly so much that Loldirr didn't understand about places like this or the men that entered them.

Even now, as inconspicuous as she wanted to be, the blue eyes of Sigurd Halfhand were darting around the establishment, lustfully gazing at the various women, like a child in a sweet shop. The irrational behaviour had taken a hold of him, and there was very little anyone could do to reach him until his lust had been satisfied.

It irritated Loldirr, how his thoughts were only on the blonde pigtailed woman who had picked up on his gaze, but at the same time, it fascinated her. The pigtailed woman was a nobody, a commoner that they had never met before, yet at this very moment, she was more powerful than a Fæordic warlord, twisting his perversions like a spider with a web, and as she carefully rubbed her fingers just above her breast, Sigurd was but a fly, trapped within it.

"Sigurd," Loldirr commented, his eyes not even flinching in her direction, "Sigurd!"

Eventually, his head slowly turned, half-heartedly interested in what Loldirr was about to say.

"Do what you must, but make sure not to draw attention," Loldirr instructed, almost encouraging him to instantly stand to his feet. He confidently strode up to her and grabbed ahold of her in his arms. As he attempted to kiss the pigtailed woman, she immediately cocked her head away from him. After a couple of words were spoken, a coin was raised, and Sigurd's desire for a kiss was passionately sated.

"The man is a savage," Jeffry said while staring at the tavern wall, "and to pay for the touch of a woman is a disgrace."

"To rape one is a disgrace far greater," Gervais commented as he looked toward the table causing Jeffry to fidget uncomfortably on his stool.

Loldirr was unsure what to make of the exchange but was fortunately distracted by a large bosomed lady who she vaguely remembered from her last visit to this establishment.

"What tickles your fancy?" she said, producing a deformed smile toward the Ruvian Chevalier.

"Your best wine, quickly," Jeffry reacted, refusing to lay eyes on her.

"Wine? What are you some kind of Ruvian?" she chuckled sarcastically.

As silence descended on the table, it wasn't until the calmed voice of Gervais spoke, that the uneasiness subsided, "three beers please," he said, placing a coin on the table.

The tavern lady didn't hesitate to reach across for the coin, her eyes fixed on the Ruvian Chevalier as it did, but as his eyes remained steadfastly focused on the wall, she immediately took her leave to obtain the beverages.

"Beer," Jeffry complained, "an unrefined drink for unrefined people. You needn't have ordered me such a distasteful drink."

Sir Gervais' white eyes span around to the Ruvian, his look causing the gruff knight to appear uneasy. "I do not need to drink, yet I have purchased myself one, why? Because our need for being incognito remains paramount. Do not pretend to act with honour or that you are better than the people in this establishment. We all have our vices that plague our existence."

Jeffry looked toward the Death Wraith, his anger plain to see, but instead of reacting, he stood to his feet and headed toward the exit.

A small smile appeared on Loldirr's face after the exchange, "You wounded his pride."

"And were I any other man, he would have killed me for it," Gervais responded.

As the tankards were slammed onto the table, Loldirr grabbed a hold of hers and instantly took a large gulp from it. She couldn't believe how a few months ago, she would have instantly spat the alcoholic beverage from her mouth.

"Men fear and respect you," Loldirr commented.

"You can not have respect and fear at the same time. Those who know me, respect me, those that don't, fear me. A reputation that I deserve, but do not embrace."

"You don't want people's respect?" Loldirr asked.

Gervais looked toward the tankard by his hand, the desire to pick it up and drink was great, but the need for the sustenance was unfounded. "My deeds never demanded respect, they demanded awe and they demanded fear. Every honourable man desires respect, yet the deeds I was tasked to achieve were far less than honourable."

"If you considered them dishonourable, then why do them?" Loldirr asked.

"I like you Wraithslayer," Sir Gervais said, a scarred smile focused its attention on Loldirr, "but you are naive."

Loldirr quickly took another swig from her tankard, eager to hide the displeasure from the insult.

"A man who believes in honour will do what he must for the realm, though when the realm becomes corrupt, so is that man's honour. Do you understand?"

Loldirr nodded.

"As for your honour, the decision that plagues you, the man who you sent to the oubliette, do you believe it dishonourable?" Sir Gervais asked.

Loldirr appeared to slump into her chair as the screams of Kirken were restored in her mind. "What he did, to me, to Ethelston, to Ravenscourt, they are unforgivable, yet I wonder if I acted too hastily if my emotion took over from reason?"

Sir Gervais smiled once again, his eyes darting back to the tankard touching his wrist. "A man without honour, would not hesitate to do what you did again. Our decisions define us, yet it's how we respond to those decisions that shape our future. You are right to question, and only you can find the answer; for when you stop searching for yourself, that is when you become truly lost."

"What would you have done?" Loldirr asked.

"I would have done what my leige commanded," Gervais responded abruptly.

"But if it was Nimue who you had the power of life and death over, what would you do?"

Sir Gervais turned toward Loldirr, his facial expression bitter and twisted at the name that escaped Loldirr's lips, "I would find a way that I could inflict as much misery and pain on her as possible, and then when she breathed her last, I would find a way to make her live again so that I could repeat her last moments once more."

Loldirr had seen the anger of men, even the rage and bitterness of the corrupted, distorted features of Sir Wendon Pykeston, but never had she felt as much trepidation as sitting across from the Widow Maker right now.

"Why do you have so much hatred for her?" Loldirr asked.

Just as Gervais was to answer, there was a loud, disruptive crash causing all of the patrons to immediately look in the direction of the stairs. As the crashing thump thundered down the stairs, the pale-skinned stark naked body of Sigurd Halfhand could be seen crumpled on the floor. Standing to his feet, rubbing the back of his head, he did not seem to care that his toned buttocks and masculine physique were on display to all within the tavern.

"But you said your name was Back-Door Betty?" he shouted toward the top of the stairs.

As his clothes were thrown down from the top of the stairs, his axe clattering the wooden floor, the woman who threw them, shouted angrily at him, "No, means no, you savage!"

Loldirr looked on at the ruckus as Jeffry appeared, once again, drawn to the commotion. "So much for keeping a low profile!" she commented, frustrated by the events. Immediately the patrons appeared to stand aggressively at the naked Fæordic warlord, some reaching for the small concealed daggers within their clothes.

"Now might be a good time to leave," Jeffry commented, encouraging Loldirr to look away from the commotion.

She watched, as Sigurd gingerly walked into the room, his clothes bundled together in his arms. As Sigurd looked around toward the angry patrons, he could see the glint of steel in their hands.

"We leave no man, even one as stupid as Sigurd," Loldirr reacted, her face displaying an irritation toward Jeffry's suggestion.

Loldirr immediately stood to her feet, causing Gervais to do the same. As both of them ensured that their hoods completely covered their faces, they began their walk to the side of the foolish Fæordic Warlord.

"Let me do the talking," Gervais reacted, "they must not know who you are."

With a slight nod, they both stood on either side of the bewildered Sigurd, ensuring that the mob didn't gather too close.

As Sir Gervais Vanderbilt took a step forward, stepping between the mob and Sigurd, he looked toward the floor, eager not to allow his eyes to reveal his true state of mortality, "This man is under my protection, and therefore shall not be touched, for fear of retribution."

The sense of anger in the room was palpable, until one of the patrons stopped in his tracks, looking toward the insignia on his tunic. The gold embroiled spider, prominently displayed on pitch-black cloth.

"That's the Widow Maker," he said, fear oozing from his voice.

Like a crashing wave, dread and trepidation swept across the room. As each man took a step away from the infamous spymaster it gave Loldirr the time to push Sigurd angrily toward the door.

As she encouraged his exit, Sir Gervais followed behind, causing the patrons to disperse and return to their seats.

The squelch of his bare feet on the soggy muddy ground caused Sigurd to smile and laugh at his nakedness in the cold, uncomfortable rain.

"What's so funny?" Loldirr reacted as she followed him into the torrid weather, briefly looking behind her to ensure the rabble was now sated from their bloodlust.

"It's been a while since a woman kicked me into the rain stark naked." Sigurd smiled, his blue eyes brightened by the adventure he had just endured.

Loldirr wanted to hit him, and she knew she would be within her right to, instead, however, she grunted frustratedly. "You are such a damned fool, we head for the forest, it appears we must sleep there this night." without hesitation, she headed directly for her horse, eagerly sitting on it and galloping away into the rain.

Jeffry instantly followed, pushing his way aggressively past the pale-skinned Sigurd, leaving the naked man with the undead spymaster who kept a close eye on the tavern folk.

"I believe I have upset our Empress." Sigurd reacted, chuckling as he began to dress once more.

"Do you know what you've done?" Sir Gervais reacted, ensuring his lifeless white eyes focused on the warlord, "word will now travel to Lionmane of the apparent return of the Widow Maker. This will undoubtedly put Arnaud on alert, along with the bitch, Nimue. If they had known that the last remaining Aex-Igh was here this day, they wouldn't be increasing security, they would be dispatching an army to find her."

As Sigurd buttoned his shirt, he remained quiet, realising the error of his way.

Climbing on top of his horse, Gervais looked toward Sigurd once more, "she just endangered this entire mission so that she could get your sorry ass out alive. She is your Empress and now you owe her everything. What she did just now, she did without hesitation and I can tell you now, none other would have done such a reckless but ultimately selfless act for a man such as you."