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Kantus stirred in his hose as the conversation went on with the Monkey King, and he took a moment to acknowledge the strange garments of the far east. This was an interesting experience, and though it was a little far fetched for Kantus to find pleasure out of, he didn't dislike the experience and entertainment provided by the Monkey King.

Then Bors did what Kantus was hoping would happen, and he bid farewell to the monkey king, and began to leave. Following Bors' lead, Kantus did the same. With a soft kick to his horses sides, the horse began slowly trudging forward. She was obviously tired from carrying around Kantus so much, and she showed it. With a gentle pat to her neck and main, Kantus leaned in and said "Dont worry Lamina, were almost there" in a soft, reassuring voice. Then he turned to the Monkey King, smiled, and raised a hand to wave, but said nothing.

Turning back to the road Kantus took in once more the beauty of the land, and removed the skin from his belt, slightly surprised by its lack of weight. 'Thats right' Kantus thought 'its empty'. Kantus then retied his skin to his belt, and reassured himself that his parched mouth would soon be overflowing with water when the group got to the village, reassuring himself in a similar manner he reassured his horse, just with different words, and spoken in his mind in stead of by toung.

His horse gave a mighty snort from the sweet dew of the pollen gracefully dancing in the air as they started to move on to Alanna's village. Kantus couldn't help but feel a little excited, as Lancelot had always dreamed of visiting this place with Alanna, and Kantus couldn't deny himself in the sharing of that expectant joy, and here it finally was,staring them in the face.

Lancelot scratched his rough jaw bemusedly as Semya told them more about himself: he had never heard of the Holy Lands, he was from the Far East (however far was still uncertain), he had a name, and he titled himself as the Monkey King. He was also fond of laughter.

“Well. It is a pleasure to meet you, King Semya. I do hope you enjoy your time here, in King Arthur’s fair kingdom of Logres,” Lancelot welcomed the foreigner, smiling soberly. “Laughter is well and good in itself, but I would not say it can cure anything.” He could think of quite a few examples in his mind.

Lionel muttered in French under his breath, and then sheathed his sword, subdued enough by Bors’s embarrassed scolding. He couldn’t see himself slaying this hair-covered fool, anyway. Clearly he didn’t have any ill intentions—unless he was a marvelous actor.

Lancelot was grateful for Bors’s amazing tact in parting with the chuckling ape man. Bors was certainly the most refined and even-tempered of all of them: the diplomat. Lionel, the ruder brother, glared sourly at Semya, and then followed after Kantus. Lancelot turned to the Monkey King once more.

“Good graces to you, King Semya,” he bowed his head, then goaded Clarric to follow his friends, bringing up the rear. He exhaled, reflecting on the oddity of the most recent situation. But he soon was feeling excited and glad again, as he came closer to the humble village of Alanna’s birth.

Semya tilted his head to the side, "Oh you don't have to call me "King"." he said, following the group, probably to Lionel's dislike. It seemed he just up and welcomed himself into the group. He walked crouched over, his hands curled up so his upper body weight was placed on his knuckles. Jangu, which was currently only two feet long, was roped on his back.

"You haven't told me who you are yet!" he chirped. Didn't most people in Brtain think it rude to ask someone's name but not give their own? At least that's what Semya gathered. Anyway, he was curious about them, and had no intention of leaving them alone until his curiousity was satisfied. A pretty major flaw, but it was jsut one of things that made him such a funny little character, "Are you knights? You sure look to be knights!"

"Ooh! That's a pretty ring!" he said , now sitting on Alanna's horse, eyeing her Ring of Dispel with fascination. He wasn't very big, not much taller than a 12 or 13 year old boy was. He was also pretty scrawny looking, but boy did he move quick on his feet. There was a chance that, if they weren't paying full attention, they wouldn't have even seen him so nimbly climb upon Alanna's horse. The horse probably wouldn't have noticed him much, either, as Semya was very light weight, "It's so shiney! I wish I had one!" he said, seeming to forget about his question whether or not the men were knights. Another of Semya's little quirks was his somewhat short attention span.

Alanna jerked back in her saddle, nearly spilling off of it in surprise at Semya's sudden present on her steed. She instinctively pulled her hand back when the furry man observed her ring, her brows rising in concern. "Ah...aye, King Semya...this is indeed a very dear possession, I do appreciate the compliment."

Then, in an effort to maintain some linear structure in the conversation, she answered his first question. "I am not a knight, no. My name is Alanna of Greensbury." She pointed awkwardly towards her childhood home, "That is Greensbury. I believe my sister still resides there, and my fellows and I on our way to visit my place of birth."

She glanced back behind her towards Lancelot, her eyes full of uncertainty. She wished to be down in the valley by now, showing her beloved all of the wonderful sites where her childhood memories had been forged, introducing him to her sister (if she still resided there), and watching his wonderfully handsome face light up with the interest that she simply knew would be there. She had been looking forward to leading him along through the paths she had once tred as a girl, ever since the idea had first arisen of them going to Greensbury together. But it seemed Semya was determined to stretch out their conversation.

"Would you...perhaps...care to join us?" Alanna asked warily, eying the 'Monkey King' while keeping a careful grasp of her ring, just in case. She was not entirely sure of inviting the furry boy to come along, but it seemed the only way they were going to actually make it down the hill. And if he wanted to slip into the village anyway, he could do so without an invitation.

This day was not at all going well for Juliana. After a week of hard riding and sleeping outside she had to admit her bum was in a pitiful state, but she didn’t complain about that. Her sister however, the baby of the family and unaccustomed to riding was speaking on behalf of her discomfort quite often. This however was the lest of her problems today. They were lost to put it nicely, though she though she was somewhere around Greensbury from what she gathered by the sign. No her greatest problem was after a week of evasion that sorry excuse for a knight’s thugs had caught up to them, and worse yet when they weren’t on horses. Their guard was the first to be thrown to the ground, though he appeared to be alright. The group of fie hairy men seemed to laugh at the poor lad’s grunt of pain and she glared at them. They gave nasty tooth missing grins in return.

Then one grabbed her sister’s arm and her temper flew. Marry screamed the second the hairy man touched her, a shrill female scream one couldn’t easily mistake. She usually couldn’t stand the sound, but at the moment she wasn’t concerned with that. Instead she unhooked the large stick she’d collected from the forest a few days before and whapped the man that had her sister over the head with it.

“Unhand my sister you boorish brut!” She yelled at him as she hit him with it again. He released Mary at once more out of surprise than fear or pain. Well blast it he was amused! She had to admit a stick probably wasn’t the best defense in the world, but a woman had to make due with what was available. Mary ran behind her immediately tears in her eyes. Her eyes flashed defiantly at the men a silent command to ot come near them that she knew would not be obeyed.

Roryn listened to Mabuz they skinned the deer. Mabuz had learned quite a bit. He was much more talented than even his own mother had given him credit for. Roryn, could see that he was capable of more than was given him, which was why he took Mabuz in.

"As far as living goes, you're very capable. Of course, your swordplay could still use more improvement." hunting and surviving was one thing, but combat was another story. Not that Mabuz couldn't defend himself, combat training just had a tendancy to take longer to master.

His face lightened up when he heard the voice of a certain little girl, "Sweetheart!" he said, dropping the knife and scooping up Aurora, spinning twice as he stood up then hugged her tight, "How's my favorite girl?" he asked, then kissed her cheek, "Going for a walk with mama?" he asked her, walking toward Maraud.

"A walk? It can't hurt. That deer isn't going anywhere, so we have time." he he said to Mabuz when he suggested they take a break, "But hide it somewhere so the wolves don't get it." he would have done that himself, but he knew Aurora wouldn't want him to put her down yet.

The bright summer sun shone down on the golden wheat and barley fields of Dumnonia. A cool sea breeze rustled the heads plant life and cooled the workers as they went about their daily duties. People say this was the golden age of Britain, but still its armies fought against the Saxon invaders, struggling to hold them back as the shore holds back the raising sea.

From the distance coastal Castle of Camelot a dust cloud could be seen rising. High King Arthur Pendragon bane to the Saxon threat was marching out, reports of Saxon raids had been filtering there way back from the border with request's for aid, which had not gone un answered. Arthur rode at the front of three hundred men at arms, with ten of his best knights, the Dragon Banner held aloft by his personal Standard bearer Durfal.

For years Arthur had fought against the Saxon’s for many years, as Just a king always being seen were the fight was hardest with his knights at his back, the sword Caledfwlch cutting swaths through the enemy striking fear and panic among there ranks. Some still say that his sword given to him by the lady of the lake was the only thing that made him what he was the High King of Britain. But this wasn't true for many years he fought battles in Armorica without the aid of this Magic Sword, he was an accomplished swordsman in his own right possible the greatest swordsman to grace Britain’s shores, in all the Knightly duels that he has competed he has given up his sword for that of his standard bearers.

It was in the uniting of the remaining province's that brought him the title of High King, he stopped the constant infighting, and turned there attentions against the Saxon's that had invaded and pushed there ancestors from there rightful homes.

But in reality, and though brought up in a war torn country, Arthur longs for the time were Britain is peaceful, but he has come to the believe that he will not see this dream come true in his life time and must settle for setting the wheel in motion so that one day this dream may come a reality.

At the head of his force Arthur rode behind him his castle disappeared over the horizon, along the same path that he traveled families walked past him, mothers held children in there arms and fathers pulled what meager belonging that they owned, these were victims of the wars that cursed Britain.

Arthur made sure to stop and encourage these people giving them gold for there troubles and the promise that he will bring vengeance for there lose. For each mile that the covered the more and more the destruction that the Saxon's caused could be seen, fields lay bear and abandoned as villages retreated further from the border, were once a prosperous village stood, all that was left were burnt out shacks of houses.

Nearly a day had past when the first border fort came into few, Arthur rode to a stop, calling back he spoke to gathered Knights and men.

"Tonight we rest, tomorrow we will march across the border we will bring bloody revenge against those that pillage and burn are province. These crimes shall not be allowed to go unnoticed, we will show them that we will not be defeated, that we will stand firm were others might run. So tonight my brothers celebrate like tomorrow will be your last day on earth!"

This brought a might cheer from the assembled troops, they were willing to give there life's for the free Britons.

Lancelot looked down in surprise to find that Semya was following them, scurrying himself along in a curious primate fashion. And amazingly, such a crouched gait could bring him up to speed with the walking horses.

“You’re quite right… Semya,” he said, omitting the royal title as the lad requested. “I have not told you my name—I am Lancelot du Lac… Lancelot of the Lake. And I am not yet a knight, but that is indeed my aspiration.” He squared his shoulders and smoothed his surcoat, taking some pride in his knightly appearance.

However, Semya appeared to lose interest. He hurried ahead of Lancelot. Lionel noticed the small boyish ape and was displeased. “You are a pest! Be rid of us!” he growled at Semya, but the monkey man passed him by as well--and all by moving along on his knuckles.

Lancelot picked up his pace when he saw that Semya had joined Alanna on her flaxen-maned charger. From her glance back at him, it was clear that she had not invited the scrawny creature to ride with her. Lancelot trotted past the three riders preceding him, and caught up to Alanna’s side. He had not heard Semya admire the ring of dispel, but he could perceive Alanna’s misgivings about the monkey king’s persistent curiosity. Clarric, also curious, sniffed at Semya, and tossed his silvery head with a perplexed whinny when he could not determine the creature’s species.

While Lancelot was pondering what might be appropriate to say to Semya, Alanna made the decision to invite their new acquaintance to accompany them to Greensbury. It was not ideal, and at first Lancelot didn’t like the idea. He had been hoping to spend time alone with Alanna (a luxury he had not been allowed for months, given the constant companionship of the other three men). Surely, the addition of another to their party would make this wish even more difficult to fulfill. Especially considering that Semya had already demonstrated that he didn’t seem to understand when his presence was undesired.

But Alanna had already offered the invitation, even though clearly it was not to her liking, either. Lancelot breathed through his nose and managed a slim quarter smile. Semya was rather amusing, and there was still much to be discovered about his origins, and his purpose in Britain. Although, he worried what people would think of him being in the company of such a strange foreigner. He usually didn’t care so much, but now that he was to meet Alanna’s sister, and not only as a friend—but as her beau—appearances were all that mattered. What was Adaline to think of him being followed by a fur-covered, guffawing animal child in Oriental dress? No respectable knight ever kept such unconventional company—not even as a pet! And yet, here Lancelot was, allowing such a creature to ride on the rump of his lady’s horse!

Well, he wouldn’t allow it any longer. He shifted in his saddle and leaned over taking hold of Semya by the scruff of his vest and lowering the scrawny lad to the ground with one arm. “I’m sorry to be so forceful, Semya, but you musn’t jump onto a rider’s steed without permission.” Semya was fast enough, after all, to follow them on his hand-like feet.

Lancelot turned to other squires behind them. “Are you all ready to continue on?”

Lionel was about to agree, but then he was struck with sudden perception. His lips curled sneeringly as he thought of Semya coming along with them to Greensbury. “Coz, you and Alanna should go ahead of us. My horse would like to go to pasture a bit longer. We’ll meet you later in ze village green, hm?” After he suggested this, he turned to Bors and Kantus and eyed them with the intent that they follow his lead.

Lancelot was pleasantly surprised by his younger cousin’s offer, and was sure to accept it. “Very well, Lionel. We will meet you in the green, at the hour of none.” None, a canonical hour, was roughly three o’clock in the afternoon. At the time it was approaching sext, or midday.

Being sure Semya was safe out of the way of Clarric’s hooves, Lancelot kicked his charger forward, riding next to Alanna. He smiled softly to himself—his time alone with her had come sooner that he had expected. Perhaps Lionel had done him a favor on purpose. Lancelot turned to Alanna and his smile widened. “I think it best that we meet your sister without the others. At least, not until later. But, at least when we reveal to her the nature of our… acquaintance.” He worded it awkwardly, mostly because he was suddenly giddy and nervous at the thought of presenting himself thusly to Alanna’s sister.

“Oh, Alanna… my love… Can you believe it that we’ve been together for two years? How fortunate we’ve been, that the Lord has seen fit to keep us together. You make my heart beat as strongly as ever… in fact, it seems a wonder I’ve endured such ardent palpitations. Thus, don’t be surprised if I am struck dead because my heart is so exhausted… for it will be from love for you, dear Alanna.” To augment his love-induced words, he let go his hand from one of the reins, and grasped hold of Alanna’s free hand, and pressed it to his chest, right above the first of his three golden lions. And in fact, it felt like having such contact with her was fit to truly increase the throbbing of his most vital organ.

He let go of her hand, for indeed it was easier to man a horse with both hands on the reins. But he was still full of love for her, so he halted Clarric and leaned over in his saddle to kiss her lips. But he could only kiss her briefly, for Clarric neighed restlessly and bucked his head. Lancelot hoped there would be more kisses to come in the next several hours, and so he contented himself with the brevity of the first. He brushed his hand over his travel-parched lips. He had not kissed her in so long! Too long, that was to be sure.

By that time, Lancelot and Alanna had gone far past Lionel and the others. Lionel gave his horse a rest, all the while eyeing Semya. “You best get along your way, Monkey King,” he said lowly. “You have no business in Greensbury.” He didn’t care if Semya had been invited by Alanna or not. That was his main purpose for staying behind—so as to chase away the monkey pest without Lancelot or Alanna interfering out of sympathy.

But before any chasing could be done, there came a sound to his ears; a sound that made the hairs on the back of his neck prick and his eyes flash furiously and his hand immediately fly to his hilt. It was the shrill cry of a lady. It sounded to be a distance off, but close enough for Lionel to hear (but most likely out of Lancelot and Alanna's hearing range). He wasted no time, and roughly kicked his steed, grasping hard on the reins. The horse flew forward and he galloped in the direction of the scream—not bothering with Semya, or caring to see that Bors and Kantus were following. All Lionel cared for was finding the distressed damsel as quickly as humanly possible.

And he rode his steed to just such a speed, and came upon the sight he was seeking: not only one, but two fair damsels, cornered by five brutish, hairy men. He didn’t need to observe any of the other particulars of the scene (such as Mary weeping, and Juliana trying to defend herself with a stick), before he let out a righteous war-cry upon the villains. As he did when he was profoundly angry, he forgot all English and began yelling at them in French. But the message of his deliverance was clear in any language: they would suffer for willing any harm to these ladies.

He leapt off his steed and drew his sword in one swift, shining motion. He jabbed the butt of it at the nearest rogue, and then slashed at any others within his reach, all the while stationing himself in a position to defend the ladies from further attack.

Alanna had nodded gratefully towards Lionel for his suggestion that she and Lancelot go on ahead, and made no protest as Lancelot removed Semya from her steed. She agreed that it might be best for the two of them to be the first to arrive...introducing herself would be difficult enough, never mind her lover and his two princely cousins! And this strange 'monkey' fellow? She doubted she would have been able to stomach a grand arrival such as that. And beyond that, she truly desired some time for privacy between herself and Lancelot. As fond as she was of Kantus, Lionel and Bors, she found it decidedly tragic how little their moments of peace seemed to present themselves.

Of course, sometimes she thought that this might have been a good thing. For though she had been completely devoted to the young prince when they had first set out together, and believed herself to have reached a depth in her affection for him that could not be further developed...in the time that had passed, she had somehow managed to fall even more deeply in love with him. A single glance from his dark eyes was nearly enough to elicit a swoon from the stout-hearted woman, and each morn when she awoke she thrilled at the thought of what they might accomplish together throughout the day. Though she had found him humble and courageous and worthy two years before, during their adventures since she had discovered even more virtues to treasure. Even when they argued, she admired his mixture of determination and gentle-manliness.

But this ever deepening devotion, while pure and benign in its nature, became a troublesome thing when coupled with the fact that, with time, Lancelot had become a very attractive man. At times, Alanna lay awake at night and tried to bring to mind any other more desirable man, not out of desire for finding one, of course, but simply to give herself a reason not to think about how deep Lancelot's eyes were, or how wonderfully thick and rich his hair looked, or how cherishable the lines that formed around his mouth when he smiled were. But this of course only caused her to determine that there WAS no more perfect being, and would send her into restless dreams about all of the ways Lancelot surpassed the average human male. There were some nights she even had to sleep with her back to him, just to make certain she didn't spend all night adoring his fire-lit, athletic frame. It was nights such as these where she was glad for the interruptive abilities of the other three men in the company.

And so Alanna found herself with a great quandary throughout most of journeyings they shared...treasuring both a man's physical and spiritual qualities while being prohibited from truly worshiping them by a lack of marital commitment. It was a difficult thing to balance, but thus far she had done well. Until she had a permanent solution, she merely entertained herself with the times that they did have alone, and cherished every moment.

So as they rode towards her girlhood home, Alanna's face was lit up with a smile brighter than any star. When he spoke, she listened to each word as though it were instruction for eternal life.

"Lancelot, darling, my sister will adore you! All of Greensbury shall, I cannot see how they wouldn't! I look forward to presenting you," She replied to the hidden nerves in his voice with a peaceful smile. When he spoke of God's grace in keeping them together for so long, she replied with a giddy laugh, squeezing his offered hand and feeling a thrill of delight as he passionately placed hers over his chest.

"Aye, two years, and yet still it is not enough! But oh, beat a while longer yet, dear heart! For mine is surely connected to thine, and they will most assuredly cease beating as one! And there are yet so many ventures we must partake of together!" And she returned his gentle kiss eagerly, her own heart quickening with delight. And then they were on their way again, Greensbury growing larger with every moment.

Alanna waved cheerily to a few of the peasants the pair passed on their way to the manor, earning a few stunned stares in return. She had not been to Greensbury in nearly a dozen years, after all...likely some of those who had known her as a child would either not recognize her or expect her to be deceased.

The shock at her return seemed to trigger a much quicker report system than normal...when the couple reached the manor at last, the main steward was already at the gate with an expansive gawk fixed upon his round, wrinkled face. The few whisps of dark hair that remained around the man's head seemed to stand on end, and he was running his narrow fingers across the front of his cloak as though to remind himself that he was indeed awake.

"C...can it be? Doth mine eyes deceive me..?" The man choked out in a surprisingly deep voice. Alanna merely laughed and dismounted her steed, quickly stepping forward to embrace the large man (who stood a full two heads taller than her and was at least three times as large around with what looked to be leftover muscles from a hard-working youth) before pulling back and beaming.

"Hello, Master Nathan. Is my dear sister, Lady Adaline, available for a visit?"

-----

Bors sighed as Lionel began to berate the strange 'monkey king,' but said nothing in the lad's defense. After all, Lionel (foul tempered as he was) was his brother...and the furry lad was still just a stranger. Telling him to push off was not truly harming anyone involved, so Bors let things be. However, his calm expression melted away into one of tense alarm at the sound of a lady's cry. Without a word, he kicked his horse into a sprint after Lionel, in the direction of the cry and without a second glance back towards Semya.

"Ah! Madamoiselles, restez-vous la!" Bors shouted to the women that he and Lionel soon found, pointing to indicate that they stay where they were. In a flash, Bors had his blade drawn and he was facing the few brigands that Lionel could physically not (though in all truth the fiery knight could likely handle them all in his moment of righteous fury) and wasted no time in lunging at one of them with the intention of a quick dispatch. While Bors preferred peaceful methods, he was still a knight...and there were ladies clearly in danger. No punches could be pulled.

Semya wasn't about to take such a berating from Lionel without some kind of payback in mind (for Semya, payback could be any number of thngs, most commonly, pranks). He nimbly hitched a ride on the rump of Bors' horse. He wasn't even noticed, and Lionel was up front so he couldn't see him.

He was also curious about where the scream came from. Then again, Semya could get curious about anything.

He slid off of the horse's rump as it stopped, and was now hiding behind it. He didn't stay there long, when he heard Lionel attack someone with a sword he stepped up to get a good look. Though he was a skilled martial artist, Semya disliked fighting, and so he didn't move.

That didn't stop a brigand from coming to him though, "What in God's name is this abomination? A hairy lad with a tail?" he said gruffly then shrugged, "You made a mistake coming here you-- UGH!" he had raised his weaon to attack, and so Semya quickly and nimbly drew his Jangu and made it's length shoot outward into the attacker's gut.

"Oops!" Semya jeered childishly as the brigand doubled over. Semya reached out and pretended to pull him to his feet, "Let me help you to your feet again.... HONK HONK!" he said as, at the last moment, he squeezed the brigand's nose then playfully kicked him in the shin, giggling all the while, "You're funny!"

Kantus was swaying absent-mindedly to and fro with the rock of his horse, until Lionel spoke, bringing back Kantus' consciousness from the abyss. “Coz, you and Alanna should go ahead of us. My horse would like to go to pasture a bit longer. We’ll meet you later in ze village green, hm?” Kantus nodded his head in agreement with this, and as Lionel turned to him and Bors, Kantus said "yes, my steed tires as well, some pasturing would be good for her." Besides, it was good to give the lovers a little privacy every here and there, and so Kantus soon found himself following the lead of Lionel.

When Alanna and Lancelot had disbursed from earshot, Lionel began his persecution of the monkey man Semya. Kantus honestly found himself in agreement with Lionel in this matter, and believed the monkey man would be a hindrance to the group of knights, and though he would not have gone out of his way to outcast the monkey king, he did support Lionel in his decisive exillation from the group, and Kantus nodded in agreement.

Then, the shrill piercing cry of a damsel in distress rang through the wind and the sky, and instantly, Kantus' attention was kidnapped to the scene. He took a moment's hesitation to see if there would be another scream, but upon Lionel and Bors instant action, Kantus kicked his horse into gear and followed suit with all haste to the scene of the crime, also losing all interest in the monkey king Semya.

The wind blew caressed around Kantus' face and blew back his hair behind his head as he charged his charger Lamina forward, and so he didn't find any need to brush his hair out of his face as he placed his helm upon his head, chainmail links falling around his neck as he prepared himself for battle. He also removed his shield from its resting place strapped to Lamina's side and donned it upon his left arm just before they reached the crime scene.

With Lionel and Bors, Kantus propelled himself into the heat of the action, launching him off his horse, and drawing his glistening blade out of its sheath, the sound of sliding metal rung in the ears of whoever was there to behold the incoming battle. Kantus launched his body at one of the heartless bandits that dared to defile such pretty ladies, and he engaged him in combat, thrusting and slashing at every opportunity, and bashing with his shield when needed. The fury of Lionel during this fight in combination with being the first in combat would likely bring about a glorious victory for Lionel, fr his fury was wrath in this battle, so wrath that it brought about the admiration of Kantus as he swung his blade in fury at the opposing wretch. Son the wretch would lay in a pool of his own blood, there was no doubt about it.

Finishing some final correspondance, Lady Morgan fixed her quill back into the tiny holder and corked her ink bottle. She gazed down at her hands and fingers, which were lightly stained with ink. It had become difficult to foccus as of recently and she remained languid between bed and garden.

That banquet seemed so far gone and she had not heard from Vivienne since then. The conversation was taken so quickly, like steps two at a time. Asking things about her son and the future; which she dared not look too far into on her son's behalf. She feared the worst for him, especially when it came to women.

With a great exertion, Morgan stood from her comfertable chair behind the tiny desk and moved tow the window to peek at the afternoon activity of the blossoms and sea. She had not opened the curtains in quite a while, prefering to keep it dark and cool. The red velvet collected dust to the point where she only used her index and fore finger to open them.

The sky above was filled with greying white clouds and the sea became restless. Her ideal weather had she been mre alive.

The collective response to Juliana’s stick weapon was howling burly laughter. She scowled at them all. She knew her position wasn’t favorable…ok a complete disadvantage, but she’d be sure to give the one that tried to grab her a sound thrashing with her makeshift weapon! The leader on the hairy boorish group ceased his snickering first, and made a grab for her. Juliana promptly delivered a hard swing to his gut, and quickly backed away with Mary still behind her. The hit accomplished its mission, making the burly man double over in pain. She had however, neglected to look ahead to what would happen after he recovered, which seemed all too quickly. His beady eyes glared at her with male intent. This was not good.

She’s almost called for Mary to run while she tried to hit him again, but miraculously a man on a steed cam riding to their rescue, shortly followed by two others…and an odd little furry lad. The first man was lean and though she’d never descried him as hansom, he was not completely unattractive. In fact as he rode to their rescue with such a furious protectiveness on his face and shouting at the burly men in a language she didn’t understand, he seemed quite…dashing.

The second man was of a bigger build, and was quite hansom, though Juliana didn’t dwell upon the fact. Instead as he rode in after the first man she backed Mary up with herself to make certain not to get in their way. The horrid men were now trying to flee from the blades of the gallant knight’s as the third man made the scene with the furry boy, though only one managed to make it into the safety of the trees and out of sight. Juliana and Mary were both a bit unsettled by the bloodshed, but those men had been horrid wretches and probably saved many a barmaid’s chastity in the future.

Mary wiped the tears from her eyes and sniffled before peeking her blond head up from behind her sister with watery crystal blue eyes. She then turned and offered her thanks to the closest of the knight, which happened to be Kantus.

“Thank you so much for your help kind Sir. We weren’t sure how much longer we could out run them, and after the caught up to us there was not telling what they would have done to one of us before dragging us back.” Mary said in heartfelt thanks. Juliana nodded adding her sentiments.

“Yes truly we thank you, I was not sure how long my stick would last against five of them.” Juliana added addressing all of them now. It was so nice to know they were, for the moment, safe.

They had entered Greensbury, and Lancelot eagerly absorbed what he saw. The local folk did not seem to understand his zeal when he smiled at them, but he could not help himself. “What a gay knight!” they remarked to one another—for it was not often that a knight would pass through their village, nor one that appeared abnormally cheerful. But even more surprising than the visit of an unknown knight was the longlast reappearance of Sir Robert’s eldest daughter.

Lancelot admired what he could see of the small manor, situated beyond the gray stone wall. He hoped that Alanna would show him the orchards while the white blossoms were falling from the trees. They couldn’t have picked fairer weather for their visit. He filled his lungs with the satisfying Greensbury air--it hinted of rich peat and honey-sweet heather and sun-warmed farmland.

Then they came to the steward at the gate, and Lancelot watched as the large man met Alanna in disbelief. Seeing Alanna dwarfed by Master Nathan, Lancelot tried to imagine how miniscule she must have looked when she embraced him as a child—the last time this man must have seen her.

Following her example, Lancelot dismounted. He lingered a moment, holding the reins of both horses—so as not to interrupt Alanna and her steward’s brief reunion. Once Alanna pulled away from her hug, Clarric nudged Lancelot’s shoulder, and the knight-to-be nodded at his steed’s prodding. He stepped forward with one hand on his hilt and the other at his side, and he bowed to the steward. Then when he straightened, he had to look up to speak to the man—which he was not often required to do, having grown into the tall stature of a knight.

“Good sir,” Lancelot greeted with a gentle smile. “May I introduce myself? My name is Lancelot du Lac, and I have been accompanying Lady Alanna on her journey…” he glanced at Alanna, and his eyebrows arched inquisitively ever the slightest. What would be appropriate to tell this man at their first meeting? That he had been Alanna’s companion of two years? That she had met him in an enchanted Lake where he once lived? That they had promised their hearts to one another… suddenly it occurred to him that Alanna’s past acquaintances may recognize the green-jeweled pendant he wore plainly over his surcoat. He remembered well her saying that it had once belonged to her mother—the late Lady of Greensbury.

Leaving the pendant be, he decided to add one more piece of information for his initial introduction to this man: “I have come with Alanna, hoping to have the honor of meeting her sister.” He looked again at Alanna and his smile widened, creating the creases around his mouth she so cherished. It didn’t occur to him at all that he may be mistaken as a suitor for Lady Adaline, given his unexplained interest in meeting the unmarried lady. Of course, his glances at Alanna may provide enough unspoken proof that he is indeed enamored with the elder sister.

Kantus had withdrawn his blade from the vile bandits belly with a single heave, spilling his blood all around the bandit as he lay dieing, and mercifully, Kantus gave him the coup de grace, the finishing blow, and ended the mans suffering with one swift blow to the head. He ensured that none of the ladies saw him commit the decapitation of course, and soon after he found a clean spot on the ground, pulled forth a handkerchief, and proceeded to rub the crimson flow from his blade, revealing the true, metallic colour of the sword from beneath the disguise.

Soon after Kantus had sheathed his now clean blade, one of the two women turned to him with slightly watery eyes, cheeks glistening from wiped tears. “Thank you so much for your help kind Sir. We weren’t sure how much longer we could out run them, and after the caught up to us there was not telling what they would have done to one of us before dragging us back.”. To this thanks Kantus gave her a warm smile and bowed his head, but he waited for the other woman to finish speaking before he himself spoke.

"Thank you for your praise, miladies, but we were merely doing our knightly duty." Kantus was actually being modest, in front of a woman. He was indeed following Lancelot's example, though if he had further opportunities with the woman he would surely crack eventually into a slight bit of arrogance. An unfortunate habit that Kantus had been hard pressed to get rid of. "I am glad you are both safe and secure."

Lionel gritted his teeth as he roughly pulled out his sword from the barrel chest of a slain brigand--the man who had made the first move to harm Juliana. Between him, Bors and Kantus, they had slain all the attackers but one, who ran off into the trees. Lionel decided that he wasn’t worth pursuing. He noticed that Semya was still with them, and had in fact assisted in roughing up their adversaries. He didn’t mind the monkey lad for a moment.

After catching his breath and sheathing his bloodied blade, Lionel turned to the maidens they had just rescued. They were both young and lovely. The younger girl had fair hair and tearful blue eyes, while the older one was brunette and brown-eyed. Lionel found himself favoring the latter. He was not fond of seeing a lady’s tears, and naturally the dry-eyed girl appealed to him. Not only was she more composed, but he gathered that she was also resourceful, having attempted to fend off her attackers with a stick.

Lionel stood straight and tall, puffing out his chest so as to compete with the more knightly size of his older brother. He nodded honorably at the ladies as they thanked him and the others.

“You need not thank us, mademoiselle,” he spoke in English now that his temper had calmed. “As Sir Kantus has said, it iz ze duty of a chevalier to rescue damsels in need. Allow me to introduce myself and my fellows. I am Lionel de Ganis, and this iz my brother, Bors de Ganis. Our valiant comrade iz Kantus Griffale.” He frowned slightly as his eyes came to their fourth companion—Semya. “Zis lad here… ‘E iz a stranger to us. Or, at least all we know of him iz that calls himself a ‘monkey king’.” He uttered this last part between his teeth so as to show his cynicism regarding Semya’s claim to be royalty.

He turned his gaze back to Juliana—a far more pleasant creature than the scrawny lad covered in fur. He had to put forth an effort not to stare at her in admiration of her smooth complexion, or the deep red color of her gown, which drew attention to the youthful blush in her cheeks and lips, amidst the stunning pallor of the rest of her face.

Lionel glanced politely away and cleared his throat, then returned his attention to the sisters. “Perhaps, you ladies are in need of further assistance? We will happily offer you our steeds if you require escort to a certain location.” He pulled on his horse’s reigns and drew the beast to his side, gesturing to his saddle.

The steward had lived a long and ripe life, and seen many frightful and shocking things. Many alongside the former lord, and his dear companion from youth, of Greensbury. So as shocking as it was to see the young girl he had assumed to be reunited with most of her family here, now, as a voluptuous young woman wielding the same blade her father had wielded so many years ago...the large man recovered surprisingly quickly and regained his composure. By the time this occurred, the strapping young man accompanying the prodigal daughter made himself known, and introduced himself as one Lancelot du Lac. And beyond that, as a companion to the girl--the woman that was returning home. Nathan appraised the gently smiling man, his eyes holding a light of approval. Though he looked to be a formidable man, with sizeable arms and a broad chest and all of the other makings of a proper knight, this Lancelot du Lac held a certain gentleness. Perhaps he was merely trying to impress, but if so, then at least he was capable of some decent acting.

When Lancelot added that he looked forward to a meeting with Adaline, Nathan's eyes lit up even further. A new suitor! One that had come of his own accord! And one that looked perfectly honorable! Suddenly, any scant virtue that could be taken from a first meeting became much more noticeable in Nathan's eyes, as he began to envision this man as the future Lord of Greensbury, and loving husband to Adaline. And he even appeared to get on well with the elder sister! In fact, Alanna seemed to think very highly indeed of this handsome young man...judging from the looks she was continuously sending him, with the most spriteful smile he had seen since she was but a girl...and the looks he was continuously sending her, with a smile the likes of which he hadn't seen since...

And then, Nathan took notice of the stunningly familiar necklace around the young knight's neck. And he realized with a sense of deflation in his heart (and yet an awkward sort of pleasure that the noble appearing man had found his way to one of the Greensbury sisters) that the visit to Adaline was not the sort he had been hoping for. So he merely nodded at both of them, and motioned them forward to follow him through the gate and into the stone manor. He remained silent as they trekked along the gravel path, and through the stone-floor halls, into the carpeted ones, and past a few small rooms with well worn rugs and several ancient-looking candelabras. Perhaps he was brooding over the loss of a potential mate for the young Lady Adaline. Or perhaps he was merely thinking of the best way to inform the lady that her sister had arrived...after twelve years. Whatever the cause of his meditation, he ended it when the trio entered the largest room yet. Fully carpeted and well lit with large sconces high upon the walls, this room featured a few rows of long benches on one end and four rather decadent (compared to the rest of the village) chairs at the other, sitting upon a platform. Alanna's eyes, which had been jumping from every detail in the manor to the next with fondness, softened as she gazed upon these humble thrones. She conjured up a very clear, albeit distant, vision of a cheery lord and lady sitting upon the largest of the four seats, and two rough looking boys sitting on either side of them as the room filled with needy peasants.

"I shall fetch Lady Adaline, if thou wilt rest in this room for but a moment," Nathan smiled at the recognition in Alanna's face, then with a deep bow he departed.

As soon as the large man's heavy footfalls descended into one of the nearby halls, Alanna tore herself from her revelry and turned to Lancelot, fit to bursting with glee. She immediately wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his shoulder and certain that she would begin to glow if she became any more pleased. "Oh Lancelot! Is it not wonderful? It has hardly changed, I can scarcely believe it! All of the old paintings, the furnishings my mother's uncle sent us upon her anniversary, all the same, hardly moved!"

She blushed slightly as she thought how silly it was, thrilling at her meager origins after she had seen Lancelot's beautiful lake villa...but she trusted he would not discount the emotional value of dusty old tables from her great-uncle. She pulled back and pressed another tragically brief kiss upon him, before pulling away and tugging him towards the four thrones. "See here...this is where my father sat...every day, he and my mother would take and give counsel to all who cared to come forward! And most days, they would go forth and meet with those who could not just the same."

Alanna sighed happily at the memory, despite the tinge of sadness in her eyes as she gently touched the decorative swirls upon the arm of her mother's former seat. But suddenly she started, grasping his hand and realizing something that had come up when they had spoken with Nathan. "But...Darling, however shall I introduce you?"

Her cheeks warmed once more, and she began to look very sheepish. "I apologize, I should have thought of this before, I know! But shall I call you my friend? My companion? My beloved?"

She could have also called him her lover, of course, but to her a 'lover' implied...well, certain actions that they were not yet taking. And he was certainly not her spouse, nor was he even truly her betrothed. But she loathed the idea of denying him as any sort of romantic acquaintance.

Juliana smiled at the men, who addressed themselves as Kantus, Lionel, and Bors. They had gone out of their way to save them, and even though they modestly claimed it to be their knightly duty, it didn’t change the fact they’d been their rescuers. She then heard Sir Lionel offer them an escort to a destination of their choosing, and Juliana gave a sheepish smile. It was a bit embarrassing, but they’d not been traveling to destination more of a direction. Mary had managed to compose herself by then at least waiting for her older sister to introduce them. Juliana quickly gave a curtsy and Mary followed suit.

“I am Lady Juliana of Oakford, and this is my younger sister Lady Mary of Oakford. We thank you greatly for your help and offer of escort, though I must admit…we’d no had much of a destination in mind, we were simply trying to Flee Oakford while still possible. In all honesty…we’re not entirely sure where we are. Might you know Good Sirs?” Juliana asked, quite embarrassed to have to ask the question, but she found it best to be truthful.

Bors stepped forward, having cleaned his sword of blood out of sight of the ladies to preserve them from the unpleasant sight. As he sheathed the sparkling weapon, he bowed to them and nodded at Juliana's question. "We do indeed have some idea where we are, Miladiez. We are not very far from Greenzbury, a fair petite village where you shall surely be safe. Shall we ez'cort you zhere?"

Judging from the way Lionel was holding himself up and puffing out his chest, this would idea would greatly please him. And they simply could not leave two ladies unguarded in the woods...next to five already foul-smelling dead bodies. And this also would mean they would not be abandoning their companions...though Bors also doubted a bit of privacy would overly bother Lancelot and Alanna, either.

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As they left the gardens (which seemed increasingly difficult to do with each step, for who would want to end such joy?) Armand was going over in his mind all that needed to be done now. He and Mennah would have to announce their intentions within the church (he would have difficulty not screaming it out for all he saw when they made their way over there), and he would have to inform one of his traveling companions of the agreement as well, so he could race back to inform all of those who were awaiting Mennah's answer with baited breath...he would have to get word to his mother, of course, or she would never forgive him for making her wait the longest. And then the tedious contracts would have to be drawn up, and all of the other time-consuming tasks...yet he was ready and willing to simply charge into the church and demand the priest join them! Ah, well. At least now he knew it was going to happen...eventually.

Semya's brigand wasn't dead. Semya's weapon was blunt, and thus not deadly, unless Semya decided to swing hard enough. Instead he lay in a daze, with the monkey on his chest, still teasing him.

He wasn't paying much attention to the ladies, until he was mentioned, anyway, "I have a name, Lionel!" Semya complained, purposely leaving out the "Sir" part, because he was told that these men were in fact not knights, but squires, "It's Semya! And these three aren't knights! They're squires in knight's clothing, that's what they are?" he said, finally getting some revenge for the way Lionel berated him earlier.

As always, it was impossible for Semya to keep a straight face, so he was giggling all the while, probably adding to the embarassing statement, "You should learn to defend yourselves! I would!" he said, scurrying up to the ladies. This was strange to him, most women in the eastern lands where hailed from knew martial arts, whether they were trained or taught themselves. Women here had to rely on men to rescue them... strange indeed, in Semya's eyes, anyway.