“If I may say so, sir. I really hope your Mages aren’t in there.” Arthur didn’t respond right away, his jaw clenched. The prince leaned heavily against a pine tree, staggered by the mass of monsters before him. It was impossible.

“What are those things?” He asked, disbelieving. “Why are there so many?”

“Those are qek,” one of his bodyguards whispered. “They’re a common nuisance this far north. There is always some variety of them the closer you get to the wilds, but…” the man trailed off, and Arthur could guess the rest. It was rare for monsters of any kind to show up en masse. Not entirely unheard of, but rarely, but this was something else.

“There must be thousands of them.” He whispered, and even as they watched, he saw flame thrown from the wall to land among the monsters swarming at its base.

“Well, it looks like they do in fact have a Mage in there,” but Arthur shook his head. Every man with him was a skilled fighter, but they numbered less than a dozen. Briefly, he regretted the choice to travel with such a small retinue, but there was no point in bemoaning the decision now. His eyes roamed back and forth across the battlefield as his mind raced to come up with a plan.

“Well,” said a raspy voice from behind the group, “the Second Prince of Strath, you are a long way from home.” Every man present,, whirled on the spot as their swords came free of their sheaths. An old woman in brown robes grinned at them from where she stood deeper in the trees. Her skin hanging loose, and teeth stained yellow. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she held a gnarled staff in an even more gnarled hand.

“Who are you?” One bodyguard demanded, his sword held in a two handed grip, positioned so that he could thrust at her. He inched forward toward the old woman. Arthur, sensing danger, was about to order him to stand down when runes slithered onto the old woman's skin, her eyes glowing a glacial blue. Magic rolled off in her suffocating waves, slamming down on to the group and sending Arthur’s men to their knees, swords abandoned as they gasped.

Arthur took a slow breath and visualized himself, his body bathing in a gold light that held the woman’s magic at bay, and felt the effects of her magic on him lessen somewhat. The only one still standing. He pointed the tip of his sword at her threateningly.

“Stop, let them up or I will cut you down.” She cackled as walked toward him, using the long staff as a walking stick. It took every scrap of self-control he had not to retreat.

“So you are the Mage Slayer's son, eh? Looks like your father taught you a few tricks. That’s good, very good.” she waved a hand dismissively, and the shifting symbols faded from her skin, the glow in her irises dimming away to reveal milky white eyes, bulging with veins.

“Who are you?” Arthur asked her as his men were released from the Mages oppressive power. His hands shook and had no illusions about the situation. He’d been in the presence of Mages while they were casting more times than he could count. Some of them were rather powerful according to reputation, and the density of magic rolling off this old woman had dwarfed them all.

“Does it matter who I am? Not here, not now.” She babbled, still approaching him. “No, no, what I think matters is you. You’re a long way from home princeling. What reason could you possibly have for being so far north during this time of crisis for Academy City, hrm?” She finished speaking as she stopped directly in front of him. Even with her hunched back, she was tall enough to meet his eye, which she did despite apparently being blind.

“Perhaps it doesn’t matter, but I would still have your name if you plan to speak with me.” Arthur sheathed his sword and signaled his men to back away as they rose to their feet. All of them obeyed, putting their weapons away as they cast wary glances at the old Mage.

“You’re all so insistent on names. I never saw the point. Oh fine, fine. You can address me as Gurty if you must. Now, I’ve answered you, your highness, now you answer me. What are you doing here?”

He glared at her, right hand coming to rest on the pommel of his sword. She knew who he was, which meant there was no point in lying, and she didn’t belong to any of the orders within Academy City, or at least. She wasn’t wearing any of their colors.

“I’ve come to seek out Mages,” He said reluctantly. The old woman laughed, her breath wheezing.

“So the Mage Slayer has decided to play along? Cash in on The City’s crisis, is it?” She grinned widely at Arthur, who had to resist the urge to step away from her.

“But it seems your potential recruits are in a bit of trouble.” She said, leaning to the side to look past him. Arthur didn’t need to follow her gaze to see the army of monsters laying siege to the town. The image would likely be burned into his mind's eye forever.

“So it seems.” He said, meeting her blind eyes. “What about you, Mage? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you helping your fellows?” He had sensed her power, and knew what it meant. She could sweep down onto the field of battle and lay waste to the monsters.

“Bah,” she waved a dismissive hand as she turned away, her back to him. “And why should I do that? Hrm? Tell me that Princeling. Why should I lift a finger for those down there?”

Taken aback, Arthur opened his mouth to plead the case with no idea what he intended to say, but she turned back to him and waved her hand once more.

“No, no. There’s no point, boy. So you mean to steal those Mages in there away from the City?” she asked him, changing tracks so suddenly he simply stared at her for a moment, confused before he forced his thoughts onto track.

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“Yes, my father believes that the Mage city is deeply corrupt, and that this crisis is an opportunity.”

“An opportunity to do what?” She asked, leaning on her staff with both hands. Milky white eyes fixed intently on his face.

“I…” Arthur hesitated. He wasn’t sure what his father planned to do. Not beyond recruiting Mages as his citizens, to deny them to Academy City in an attempt to weaken its position.

“I see.” She said, “so you haven’t put it together yet. I suppose they didn’t train you to be politically minded. It’s alright Second Prince of Strath. Everything will become clear before much longer.” She paused, looking him up and down contemplatively, before speaking more slowly. “Of course, if something isn’t done. The Mages in that city are going to die.”

“So do something.” He pleaded, stepping forward. The old woman compressed her lips and scratched her chin as if considering.

“No, I won’t help them.” She said finally, “Not in the way you want at least, but…” she held out a hand, the black runes slithering once more unto her skin, though this time they came without the crushing swell of magic. Arthur's sword leapt from its sheath, pommel first into her hand. She swung the blade with one hand like it was a willow branch. She brought the blades flat close to her eyes, as if inspecting the metal.

All around her, Arthur’s men gripped their weapons as if to draw, but he waved them down, never taking his eyes off Gurty.

“This is a fine piece of craftsmanship.” She said of the sword. “Very fine, but…” she trailed off, and then the sword in her hand glowed, first a dark orange that steadily became brighter until the blade looked red hot. Then the metal bent and distorted, beads of the steel ran molten down over her gnarled fingers to fall into the snow. In moments, all that remained was the pommel, which Gurty tossed to the ground, shaking the last bits of metal from her skin as if they were no more than drops of water.

Dumbstruck, Arthur stared at the ruin of his weapon, anger rising in him by the moment. He turned a fierce glare on Gurty, who grinned at him.

“If you were going to throw a tantrum, you should’ve done it while you still had a sword.” She needled him, and then her hand snapped out, the motion so quick he never saw it, and then a sword materialized in her hand. Longer than the one she’d destroyed, the blade thinner and made of a silvery-metal he’d only seen a handful of times. Runes ran the length of the weapon, glinting with light, and despite the appearance of being engraved, they shifted over the metal, like the runes of Mages.

“It’s no Excalibur,” she said as the blade floated toward him. “But then, you’re not that Arthur.”

Arthur had no idea what she was talking about, but he took the sword in his hand, and felt as if light had suffused his body. He felt good, better than he ever had in his life. Power sung through his muscles. His bones felt unbreakable. He looked at it, his eyes wide.

“You’ll want to be careful with that.” She said, “It’ll tear your soul to shreds if you don’t respect it.”

Arthur was torn midway between thanking her with tears in her eyes, and demanding why she would give him such a gift, but when he lowered the blade to his side, to decide which he would do first, she was gone. The only trace of her was some footprints in the snow, surrounded by the still cooling metal of his old sword.

“What the hell was that?” One man asked, looking from where she’d stood to the blade in Arthur's hand.

“If I was you, sir,” one of the others said. “I’d get rid of that sword.” Arthur glanced his way before turning and swinging the blade in a smooth arc. The blade passed clean through the tree Arthur had intended to strike, with only the barest resistance. For a moment, nothing happened, and he stepped back. Then, every so slowly, the tree leaned. Inch by inch, it toppled, slowly gathering speed as gravity exerted itself. With a crash, the tree smashed into the snow, branches shattering with the impact. Every one of them stood silently, staring with disbelief, except Arthur, who inspected the blade, and found there was not a scratch, not even a scuff. There was more to the weapon than an unnatural sharpness. He could feel it. The promise of something more tingled under his skin.

“Spread out and find a weak point in the assault.” He ordered them. “The thinnest line we can track down.”

“But sir, there must be-”

Arthur turned a look on the speaker, his expression unreadable. The man cut off, bowing his head in apology.

“We’re going to push through them and join the defenders if we can. Just find me a way through.”

“Sir!” One of them called out, pointing. Arthur turned to look and his heart dropped. From where they stood, he could see the gate fold under the weight of the monsters beating on it, and even as he watched, he saw the humans lining the top of the wall turn and run, the swell of qek following swiftly behind them. Arthur gripped his blade tight and started forward.

“I’ll take points, keep them off my sides and back!” He didn't wait to see if his men obeyed as he charged the back of the qek’s line. Dangole was out of time and if Arthur meant to help, it was now or never.