Edwin breathed heavily, he could barely remember what had happened to him. A dream, perhaps? No, he felt the blood in his head. And his mind was too sound for a dream.

Then, quiet shouts could be heard as the distant clatters did alarm him. He breathed heavily, again and again, so that he could still be alive. He then felt a shake in his body, a small nudge at that. His leg felt less numb with each nudge.

Edwin opened his eyes, seeing the mask with black eyes again. He looked left to see his cousin plunging the sword at the soldier's throat. "I thought you were dead," Lady said as Edwin suddenly got up. It wasn't a dream anymore.

As Harold wiped away the blood from his blade, only then did his uncle arrives. He too was also covered in blood, panting as he got down the horse. Edwin saw the glare in Harold's eyes. His anger was seemingly too much to stomach. It was obvious who he was mad with.

"I should have known," Harold said as he walked up to the Lady, with his sword gripped with hatred. He took up his sword, and grabbed her by the neck. Edwin saw his cousin's eyes red, and he could not let him do harm to her.

"Harold, let her go!" Edwin yelled. But he did not listen. The Lady did not say a word, and yet her panting could be heard from under. "Take off your mask, now!" Harold demanded, as he then felt Edwin's hands pulling him. Harold pushed Edwin as the latter's weak body fell to the ground.

"Take it off!" He said it once again. John was about to stop him, but then he saw Lady nodding her head slowly.

Calmly, the Lady did as he said. Her hands slowly pricked the mask off as what was revealed to be a pale, oval face. Her golden-haired and blue eyes did startle him a little as he backed away from her. Harold found it hard to control his emotions quickly.

"So you are what they were looking for," Harold gasped. His anger turned into shock as the Lady revealed herself. John saw how Harold was agog as he dropped his sword. He knew that face vaguely. And it meant trouble to him.

"Perhaps I owe you an explanation," the Lady said, seeing all three of them gathered together. She knew there were no more secrets that she could hold back now. The three Western men were the only ones who could protect her.

"I am Agnetha, daughter of Jarl Kjartarn," the Lady spoke out, giving Harold more questions.

"You, daughter of Kjartarn, the jarl of Nordlund? You don't jest, do you?" Harold asked, as it made less sense at every moment. The name Kjartarn did cause confusion, at least on Harold. Being the name of the jarl whose father has submitted to Westhaven, no doubt he would have nothing but hatred for Westerners.

But the question is, what is the daughter of a jarl doing here? Harold's mind hastened, as he only wished it was merely a lie.

"I don't, it is the truth," she replied sincerely. Harold could breathe heavily, as there was nothing that he could do to prevent this. "They said... you were dead. Ambushed back in the Southern regions..."

"I would go on all day to explain, but the truth is simple, I am alive," Agnetha replied back firmly. Harold breathed in deeply, not wanting to know how terrible of a situation he was in. "Don't tell me... those men who attacked you, you suspect they were Western soldiers?"

Agnetha merely nodded. "I do not truly know why, but as of now, I suspect they want me dead," Harold then turned to his uncle, as the latter already knew what he was going to say.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

"This is your fault," Harold said to him without hesitation. Never would he agree with his nephew. Harold had made many mistakes merely due to the fact that he disobeyed him. Now, John wished that it was he who had never made the decision.

"My fault? Harold, how would I know? Do I have the foresight to see all of this?" John replied, wearier than anger in his voice.

"Damn it... This is the end for us..." Harold said, not even having the energy to lash out his anger at him. He notices the silent winds blushing through their faces. The stirring of trees reminded them that they were lost and stranded.

"Where's Alfred?" Edwin said, ending the silence. John looked down as his son could only fear the worst.

"Well?" he asked again.

"He bolted, he and what few men he had left," John merely replied, not even having the strength to look at him. Typical of him, and yet he can't be blamed. The authorities can't find them, but so can't anyone else. They were effectively abandoned. Lest somehow several men were still alive.

Alfred couldn't be blamed, however. It was John's idea, making him guilty of all of this. John saw his son and nephew, both weary and dilapidated. And they were now stuck in the woods, with only the birds accompanying them. He looked again to the Lady, as her face was now visible to him to curse.

Agnetha looked at them, feeling a sense of guilt in her. She had brought them to their current fate. But her words would only anger them. Especially the one who grabbed her throat. At this point, there were no words to convince them. They were Western mercenaries, probably killing many Nords like her. What difference does she make?

"So far..."

"Let's just kill her," Harold told John, his eyes were dead serious. John did not blame him, but he could not agree with him either.

"We shouldn't take action this fast..."

"What are you talking about!?" Harold said once again. He was always blunt in his words, making him more irritated by his uncle's words. Perhaps he was right, maybe he should kill her off as swiftly as possible. A quick blow would end this continuous disaster.

"Maybe, we could be rid of her so that no one could catch us" John replied as if understanding Harold's argument. Harold was rather surprised, as for once his uncle understood him. Despite that, he continued further.

"But what if she has more on the way?" John continued. Harold's eyes were incensed upon hearing it. "Perhaps, we could demand a larger share? For all of the troubles we been through?"

"More on the way?" Harold repeated with frustration. "There is none! Let's just be done with her and send her corpse, that way, we could still profit from this!"

"She's the daughter of the Jarl, Harold," John reiterated what she had said. "Let's say if we kill her, wouldn't we attract more trouble for us?"

Harold then turned to Agnetha, who was oblivious to their bickering. Edwin was there too, as he looked as if he was exchanging words with her. Their posture indicates that they have something in common. His demeanour doesn't change, his hand could only grip in rage.

"Edwin might disagree," John added in.

"Damn his thoughts, he can be a real imbecile," Harold retorted, not having more about their arguments. Edwin was stubborn, too much for his good. And the last thing he needed was to fraternize with her as he was now.

"Even then, what chance do we have if we turn her over," John said. "They would still hang us for treason, even for merely escorting her!"

"You're not suggesting we continue?" Harold said, his words were long as he began to lose spirit. John sighed, seeing his nephew completely despaired. Maybe he was right that she should be killed. But they were already in this rabbit hole without a rope to climb out. There was truly no turning back for them, except to move on.

The law was harsh, especially nowadays. For years they have persecuted and killed bandits. And now, they have become exactly that. They should know how painful their punishments would be, especially how frequent they have become. Westhaven would not tolerate this.

"We continue, that is all," John made his decision. Harold opened his mouth, only to realize it was hopeless. Harold nodded as he sheathed his sword, now too tired to kill. Harold looked at her again, his breath deep and hard at her. He then let go of her before giving a hateful glance at Agnetha. Could he still trust her after what she had done?

"Come on, we are leaving," Harold said to Agnetha and Edwin as he continued forward. Agnetha looked at Harold, not blaming his anger on her. He had every right to, but she also needed to have him dragged alongside her. Edwin merely saw him going through another mood swing, and thus he did not bother to talk to him. Where Harold was going, he did not care. For it would only wound him further.