It was the distinct aroma of sizzled meat that Amana awoke to. Unlike most mornings, she found herself strangely coherent today. Oftentimes, she rose from her sleep with an addled mind and scattered thoughts, needing time to gather herself. The bed she lay in was nicer than any she had slept in since her arrival in Trilea, and as such she was hesitant to leave it. There was an odd sense of safety there, even if it was an illusion. Amana feared that the warmth and comfort at hand would soon be at an end, and so clung tightly to her blankets. Ultimately, it was her stomach that betrayed her as it let out a growl. With a defeated sigh, she rolled over and propped herself up by her elbow.

At the table nearby was the source of the scent Amana had caught. Cooked strips of pork and honey-dipped bread sat on a wooden plate, ready to be devoured. Breakfast had become rare for her in Trilea, and she missed it greatly. As enamored by the meal as she was, Amana hardly noticed Reinhart seated at the table. He furrowed his brow in disbelief as she eyed the food on his plate.

"Come," he gestured. "Join me, before you starve."

She pulled her gaze away from the knight's breakfast and glanced toward the door. "I should be leaving. I am grateful for your charity, but the headmistress will be angered at my tardiness." Amana tossed aside the blankets covering her and stepped out of the bed. When she realized she was garbed in only her thin gown, panic set in and she frantically searched the room for her dress.

"Relax yourself, Amana," Reinhart said. "At least sit and speak with me for a moment. If you go out that door, the baron's men will take you straight to him and his steward."

Amana paused. "What is it they want?" She ran a nervous hand through her messy hair, no longer concerned with her appearance.

"So that you might tell of what happened last night, I imagine. That steward, Randall, is frightened of his own shadow. He believes I have brought my war to Baelcroft," Reinhart said as he forked a sausage on his plate.

"Have you not?" As the question left her lips, she strode over to the table and placed herself in the empty chair across from Reinhart. "After last night, how can you say elsewise?" As Amana stared at the knight, all she could think of was how easily he had painted the ground red with the insides of a man.

He took a bite of the greasy meat and chewed it quickly. "My coming had nothing to do with what happened at that late hour. Well, I suppose that isn't entirely true. They attacked last night because they knew that half the men-at-arms of Baelcroft would be drowned in ale, celebrating my arrival. But those were not my enemies that stained the yard with their blood."

"Those men weren't sent to kill you?" Amana asked with bewilderment.

"They didn't come to kill anyone, though they certainly left a trail of bodies behind. Those men were not assassins, but simple thieves. They had hoped to steal away the baron's daughter, or wife, and ransom them back," Reinhart explained. As he spoke, he brought his cup to his mouth and took a quick sip. "Forgive my manners, you aren't the only one who worked up quite the appetite yesterday. Here, for you." He slid his plate across the table and in front of Amana. "I had the forethought to ask for a larger portion, but not for a second plate. Eat all you like; I will not say a word of it."

She wanted desperately to dig into the food before her, but burning questions lingered in her mind. "Thieves?" Like the men who attacked Thornwood. "Are you certain?"

"Indeed. The one assailant who survived told me the entirety of their plan. It was incredibly daring, but equally stupid. They entered Baelcroft masquerading as refugees and crofters in search of respite. One of them even served as a carpenter's apprentice, which is where they got the ladder. They killed a man and his wife and used their home as a hideout until the attack. The thieves intended to move quickly to the manor, grab the child, and flee the town," he explained. A piss-poor plan, all-around."

Amana felt a chill. "They have done this before, haven't they?"

Reinhart gave a jaded nod. "Yes, several villages to the west of here. Mare's Crossing, Longbow, and most recently, Thornwood. But this was by far the boldest of their attempts. And I will make sure that it is their last, as well," he promised. "Now that I know where their den lies, it is only a matter of time before they answer for their crimes."

Thornwood. So, it was them. "The man you spoke to, did he say anything about a girl? Someone they had taken from Thornwood?" Amana questioned. Her heartbeat had quickened.

Reinhart eyed her curiously. "No, nothing about a girl. I asked no questions of that nature, though. All he said of Thornwood was that they had encountered trouble in their journey from that village to here."

Marion, surely they did not hurt you. She felt sick in her stomach. "How so?"

"Before I answer you, you must answer me," the knight countered. "Of what significance is the matter to you? Do you know these men?"

Amana hesitated to answer, searching for the right words. "I-,"

Thump. Thump. A loud knock on the chamber door cut short her response. Reinhart glanced over his shoulder. "What is it?" He asked loudly.

"Lord Hyward wishes an audience with the handmaiden," replied a deep voice from outside. "We're to escort her to the lord's parlor at once."

Reinhart looked back at Amana, a hint of frustration on his face. He rose and made his way to the door. He pulled it open ever so slightly and peaked his head out. "The lady is currently in a state of undress. Give her a moment, and I'll escort her to the baron myself," he proclaimed, with sharp emphasis on his final words. No protest came, so Amana presumed the men outside had found the knight's proposal agreeable. Reinhart shut the door and turned back to Amana. "Our conversation will have to wait. Eat that food in front of you, and dress yourself. You'll need to be prepared for what's to come."

✸✸✸

"Tell us again, Amana." Steward Randall stood with his arms folded, a frown on his lips.

What for? Your doubt is abundantly clear. Amana pressed her tongue against her cheek in frustration. "As I said before, I had just returned from the tavern when I heard an odd sound. When I went to investigate, I came across the intruders. They brandished their weapons and drew down upon me. I cried out for help and fled for my life. I believe you know the rest."

Amana was seated in a wooden chair directly in the middle of the baron's parlor, from which she had repeatedly told the events of the previous night. The parlor was a place of vast information, papers and tomes littered the shelves and surfaces tops. Much like it had been on her first night in Trilea, she felt alone and surrounded by dangerous creatures. Lord Hyward sat across the room from her, his expression unreadable. He had said little, only exchanging the occasional glance with his steward. To her back was Reinhart, leaning against a wall near the doorway. "Why were you out at such a late hour?" Randall asked sharply as he slowly circled Amana.

"Lloyd and I were enjoying the evening together at a tavern, the Bird's Nest. I must have lost track of the time. Yesterday was quite stressful, and I desired some time away from the manor and my work," she answered.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The steward tilted his head. "And what exactly is the nature of your relationship with that boy? Intimate?"

"No," Amana replied quickly. "We are simply acquaintances and nothing more."

"You came from Thornwood, did you not?" Randall asked sternly. "The attackers passed through there recently, on their way to Baelcroft. Do you claim to know nothing of them?"

At the mention of Thornwood, she bristled. The record Lukas has of me must have been delivered to the steward. I am committed to this path, it seems. Amana peaked over her shoulder, to see Reinhart's focused gaze. "I... I was only briefly in Thornwood. The town was attacked while I was there, but-," She blurted out.

"You admit to having some knowledge of these men?" The steward pressed; his face strained tightly into a scowl.

"Well-, I couldn't-," Her throat was dry and her voice soft. How could I have known they would come here? "My lords, those men took me from Thornwood. They were cruel to me, and I thought for certain they would kill me. That is all I know of them. Please, believe me, I beg of you," she pleaded, on the verge of tears.

Randall turned and shared a look with the baron. Hyward scratched his chin and gave a slight shake of his head. With a tired sigh he rose from his chair and crossed the room. He came to a stop beside Randall and gave the steward a gentle pat on the shoulder. With a look of uncertainty, Randall moved away from Amana and placed himself in a corner next to a dusty old bookshelf. After a moment of lengthy silence, the baron finally spoke, "Amana, is there anything else you would like to tell us?"

She was unsure how to answer. Is this a trick? "I-, I am unsure what you mean by that. I know nothing more about those men. I..." Her voice trailed off.

Baron Hyward nodded. "You are from Sargotha, correct?" His question was asked in a gentle tone. "You served as a handmaiden there, in the capital of Altroza, and came here in search of a brother?"

"Yes, my lord," she responded instinctively. "He died, in Thornwood. It has been a difficult time for me, of late."

"Yes, it seems ill-fortune has befallen you. You have my condolences for your brother," the baron offered. He clicked his tongue and brought a hand to his chin. "I know Randall has been hard on you this morning, but I hope you will not hold it against him. He is simply performing his duties, after all. I do not believe you are an agent of these foul trespassers. How could I, when it was your frightful wailing that alerted us and brought about their demise," he admitted. Amana took a calming breath at those words. "However, I find myself hesitant to trust you. It is strange, is it not? You arrived on the precipice of my guest here, and quickly found your way into his chamber. You've become closely acquainted with the son of one of my officials. The other morning, my daughter let slip that a new handmaiden had been weaving fantastic tales to her. And yesterday, it was my Kamon who was upended by your handiwork, if I recall." Hyward folded his hands together behind his back. "And what do all these small things add up to, Amana? Opportunities. It makes we wonder where your loyalty truly lies."

No, this cannot be happening. How could it have come to this? "My lord, I am loyal to you and your house. You have given me a place here, and a means to provide for myself," she explained hastily.

"Above all else, what is it you desire?" The baron asked bluntly.

Home. "I hope to eventually return to my..." Her words came to a halt.

Hyward glanced down at the floor. "Your homeland?" He asked. Amana kept quiet but, her face like stone. "I understand, truly. You wish to escape this nightmarish land, to be away from here." He peered on, a hint of remorse in his voice as he spoke. "Mildred has long served my family, and I have always trusted her judgement of the servants. But times have changed. Trilea has changed. You are so close to my family, and I sense dishonesty within you. Even those with good intentions can be beguiled by malice, Amana. When you came into the service of my house, you took an oath to serve both faithfully and loyally. Would you choose duty here over your home?"

She could feel the tears in her eyes. She wanted to plead, to beg, to lie. Instead, she blinked and wiped away the mist from her eyes. For the first time since her arrival, Amana did not pity herself. Instead, she came to an odd realization; the words of this lowly lord were not without some truth. I would do anything to return home, that much I concede. I wouldn't hurt Lloyd, or little Riah, or anyone that I thought to be good-hearted. But I would lie, and fight, and even kill if it came to it. How can I fault this man for not wanting me within his house?

"Amana? Speak." Lord Hyward ordered with an annoyed tilt of his head.

Amana swallowed down the lump in her throat and met his eyes. "I would never bring harm to those who had shown to be kind or caring. But even so, I swore fealty as your servant in furtherment of my own goals. My loyalty is not to you, my lord. I must return to my home so that I can look upon my father's face once more. So that I might wipe away my mother's tears. I follow my heart, above all else."

The room fell quiet for a spell. The baron of Baelcroft seemed caught off-guard at her response and mulled over Amana's words for a long time. Steward Randall marched over beside Hyward and whispered something in his ear that was met with a look of distaste. The baron shot a side-long glance at Sir Reinhart and loosened his sour thoughts. "You hold part of the blame in this matter, Sir Reinhart. My town has become overrun with all manner of malcontents. Murderers, thieves, and the worst of all, scourge plagued rabble. You and your council at Belrose decreed that I must open my gates to all, and now this is the price I pay."

Reinhart gave a disappointed look. "Your men should know better than to let anyone who has not seen flame enter. Those who have the affliction fear fire above all else. There should be torches above each gate into Baelcroft. You cannot lay the blame at my feet for what happened this morning. Nor can you expect me to accept the notion that you would simply turn away thousands of people and leave them to suffer and die out of fear of a few miscreants."

Amana was perplexed. What happened this morning? And what is the significance of this council at Belrose? Does the city have no lord to speak of?

Hyward huffed. "Those thousands of people will meet that same fate within these walls come winter. Our harvest is pitiful this season, and now there are far too many mouths to feed. You may have delivered hope to their hearts, but without food in their bellies, they are no better off. And I would gamble that many among them, like this girl here, care not for loyalty. How many brewers would poison my cup for promises of better days? How many carpenters would shape tools used to rob me in exchange for a season of warm meals? How many guards would take bribes from spies who plot to undermine me? This is the fear your alliance has brought me."

Reinhart pushed himself off the wall. "Quell your anger, my lord." His tone told that he had heard enough. "The brigands that fester these lands will be dealt with. My men and I will set out with your volunteers at first light, tomorrow. After that is done, I will make it my priority to help thin out the refugees that have crowded your town. Once they know the roads are safe again, many will return to their homes and villages."

"I find that difficult to believe, Sir," the baron replied with a shake of his head. "And if the brigands have made their hideout in Seldrum, as that welp in my cells claimed, rooting them out will be no simple task. That city is overrun with beasts."

"My lord, if I may," Steward Randall said cautiously. "Perhaps our most immediate concern is in deciding what will become of young Amana here. She has openly admitted her lack of loyalty to you, and as such I would recommend a severe punishment."

Baron Hyward swiveled his head around to glare at his advisor. "What would you have me do, whip the girl?"

"Yes, publicly." Randall bobbed his head as he spoke. "In days long passed a trial might be held, but that is a luxury that cannot be afforded. Instead, examples must be made. A beheading for the prisoner in the cells, and a flogging for the unruly servant. While it isn't particularly pleasant, the people of Baelcroft must be reminded of your authority, Lord Hyward."

Amana's eyes went wide with horror. "I've done no wrong!"

Steward Randall raised his hand as though he intended to strike her, but a look of surprise crossed his face, and he stayed his hand. Amana could see out of the corner of her eye that Reinhart's shadow had moved ever close to her. "A wise decision, good steward," the knight commended as he took a step back.

"Enough, both of you." Hyward commanded. "I will not have Amana whipped or humiliated. Instead, I shall set her free." He looked back down at her with his steely gaze. "Begone, girl, your time as a servant in Baelcroft is at an end. Return to your home in Sargotha, if that truly be where it lies."

"Yes, my lord," Amana replied with her head hung low. There is nothing more to say. My time here was a but a brief respite. An act, in which I played the part of a handmaiden in need of coin. The path ahead will be fraught with peril, but I am no longer a stranger to that. Amana rose from her seat and made her way toward the door. As she passed Reinhart, the knight reached out and gently grasped her arm.

"Before you disappear, I'd like to speak to you," he whispered, leaning close. "Wait for me in the yard, I will be there shortly."

She gave no response, and instead turned and peered over her shoulder for a final look at the baron. "My lord, did your man survive his wound?" Amana had forgotten his name last night, but now she remembered. "Alan. He was struck by an arrow and fell near me."

Hyward clenched his jaw and offered a slight shake of his head. "No. The arrow was too deep. He died in the hours following the attack."

"I am sorry to hear of this. Though I hardly knew him, I will mourn his passing." With that, Amana gave a bow and left the parlor behind.