> “The monks of Gontad take after the Ushorin Orders with their cultivation of the mind, body, and spirit. As ridiculous as such practices may seem on the surface, I have become increasingly convinced that they are on to something momentous. Such a trinity appears in all parts of the Archons’ system; Diren and Vrogott make up the Mind, Esultare and Nok the Body, and Ushorin and Kandrev the Spirit. Or look to magic: Old Magick is concerned with materiality, the land, traditions and old precedents; Sorcery is nothing if not mental, and Miracles are grounded by their very nature in spirituality. These trinities appear more and more in my research. I wonder…”

* Oreanen Vainen, the Emerald Sage

They traveled with the trapped archer-- whose name, Bim got them to reveal, was Raymond-- and Jonathan, who was still dismayed and disgruntled at Zara for removing his abilities.

“So how’d you get to be the tenth in a line of Jonny John Jonathans? Is it an old family name?” Bim asked, genuinely curious to hear the man’s answer.

After a time, Jonathan begrudgingly responded. “It’s an old family name, actually. The Jonathan family have been of some stripe for, oh, hundreds of years. Look through any history book. At some point, a with the name will pop up in the footnotes.” He looked around, then stared at his hands. “Look at me. Family fortune gambled away, no heir to my name, and my class mangled beyond repair, my very heritage stolen from me forever. Is this how my line ends?”

Bim put a consoling hand on the man’s shoulder. “Hey there, hey there. Tell me something: how old are you, Mr. Jonathan?”

“Forty-three.” The man looked up. “Why do you ask?”

“You aren’t exactly on your deathbed. You always have time to reinvent yourself for the better.”

Jonathan shook his head miserably. “With a family history like mine, and with a criminal record like mine, I wouldn’t be able to find honest work if it dropped into my lap.”

“Don’t lose hope. My past isn’t exactly saintly, but look at me now-- I’m a and .”

Bim patted him on the shoulder and moved away, hoping his would help the sad man.

“How much longer to Lakeside?” Greg asked, turning to Coll.

“We should be there by sundown, actually. Just another eight hours or so of travel.” His brow was knit, and he had an uncharacteristic air of being distracted.

“What’s the problem, Coll?”

He grunted. “Problem? Not exactly a problem, but-- I’m worried about my mother. When I left Lakeside a decade and a half ago, my mom was in her seventies. Not as sharp as she once was, but still a stellar mind, and I saw her beat a man half her age in a duel. But a so flagrantly robbing people traveling on one of her roads? I’ve heard other stories too. Infrastructure breaking down and going unfixed, money being misspent, taxes going uncollected, increasing overstepping by the City Council. I worry if she’s lost her touch.” He turned to Jonathan. “How long have you been running your operation for?”

“Two years we’ve been in the area.” The responded.

Coll’s frown deepened. “The Stina Walsh I knew wouldn’t have let you kick around for more than six months.”

“Lucky she’s going senile, then.” Raymond the bandit archer snapped.

“What the hell did you just say?” Coll’s nostrils flared, and his eyes went wide.

“Woah, Coll, hold it.” Bim reached out a hand to steady the one-eyed , as did Greg.

“You shot me in the leg.” Zara said, shifting over in the cart and staring at Raymond, folding her arms as she did so.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Yeah, and your boy fixed it up good for ya, so you’re fine, stop whining.” Raymond shot back.

“When we get to Lakeside, you’re going to rot in a cell for the rest of your days, you scum.” Coll hissed, lean muscles straining to get free from his friends’ grip.

Helena rolled her eyes. “What a pleasant wagon ride.”

That evening, they pulled up to the large town, its streets filled with fog, its outer walls towering wooden constructions with guard towers every fifty feet. They stopped outside the gate, greeted by a pair of burly looking guards.

“Sorry, guys” the senior looking guard, beard full of gray, said solemnly. “We’re under lockdown; there’s a serial killer on the loose in the area. Nobody in or out until we catch the guy. He’s already killed close to one hundred people.”

The team was aghast, but Coll was simply outraged. “Get a message to the . Tell her Collin’s back. She’ll know what it means.”

“No can do, bud. No messages except for emergencies or critical functions of the town. The C.A. is holed up in her manor after we found ‘I’m Coming For You Next, Walsh’ written in blood on an alley wall last night. You’ll have to camp outside the walls until the situation changes.”

Coll grumbled, frowned, and rolled his eye. “Fine. I didn’t want to ever use this again, but if I have to. .” He wiped at his tongue as if he was trying to get dirt off it while the guard sprinted off to deliver the message.

“ is useful, because I can say one true thing and have everyone in earshot believe it wholeheartedly. The catch is, I plain can’t lie for a full twenty-four hours now. Makes me literally nauseous. I can’t even embellish.” He confided in the team.

After a ten minute wait, several dozen heavily armed guards approached the gates, which were opened with a dignified fanfare. The guards drew back into two orderly lines, and a bent, small, white-haired lady hobbled forward with her cane, a thin frown on her face. “Collin Mel Walsh.” She said, pointing one wrinkled finger at him. “Why haven’t you visited in so many years? Not even one letter? You do your mother a disservice, and if your father was alive today, he’d bend you over his knee and give you a spanking like you deserve!”

“Mom, I’m sixty-three years old.” Coll said quietly.

“I don’t care how old you, you write me!”

“The way we left things, I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me ever again.” His eyes were averted, his fingers fidgeting.

“I was mad, yes, son, but I wasn’t ‘disown my only son’ mad. I cooled off after a few weeks, but by then you were over the mountains and I couldn’t get ahold of you. Ever since then, things have been going to the dogs. And now I’m getting a serious death threat, apparently.” He touched a hand to her chest, looking faint.

“There, there, Miss Chief Administrator, let me give you a hand.” Bim said, trying to soothing and drawing upon his minimal experience working with nonagenerians.

She waved him away, shaking her head. “I’m not some fragile old biddy yet, young man.” She squinted at Bim. “By the Archons, you’re Oakchild’’s apprentice! You must have learned so much from the of Galefast!”

Bim froze, pale as a ghost. “How about we get everyone inside, out of the cold and damp, and tell you more about what your son’s been up to these past years.”

Coll’s smile was small, embarrassed, but Walsh embraced him with a massive hug, which he hesitantly returned, before they broke apart, she kissed him on the forehead, and they marched back with her guard detail towards the Adminstrator’s manor.

“How’s District Admin Baines doing? Still trying to convince you to marry him?” Coll asked, regaining a bit of his usual air of comfortable inquisitive confidence.

“No, the sad sack’s trying to declare his District a sovereign municipality. He’s even got the qualifier tacked onto his Class now. He’s been hemming and hawing about it for eight straight years, but nothing’s actually been done. I’ve chosen to leave him alone instead of wasting resources I don’t have to show him his place.”

Coll frowned. “I remember when you’d kick his teeth in just for flirting with you. Now he can advocate for independence for the better part of a decade and you don’t move a muscle?”

Walsh sighed, her shoulders hunching even more in a fashion that implied a great tiresome weight was pressing down on her. “I’ve grown weary, son. I never expected to be doing this in my nineties. When I made that stupid promise at my father’s funeral, I assumed my heart would give out before I turned sixty from all the stress of keeping this charming garbage fire of a town in order. Look at me, closer to ninety-two than not.”

Coll looked at her strangely, a ruefulness in his words. “I never really appreciated how much this job weighs on you, did I?”

“No, no you didn’t.” She responded with a sad smile.

They had a quiet, reserved dinner at the manor, then were set up in some of the several empty guest bedrooms in the large and airy house.

Zara, for the second time this month, awoke to screams.