Saint Serreta, First Daughter of House Osteria, The White Rose of Lindelt was ill. It had not been the first time in her life but never before had everyone made such a fuss over her. She sat in her four poster bed, her flaming red hair pooled about her in a forgotten mess, watching as her father consulted with several of his most honoured Priests, and by their hushed tones and frantic glances toward her person, she knew the news would be grave. Serreta was a modest soul, and prone to neither great outbursts nor weeping. However, she worried silently, as was proper of a member of the Royal House. It had all started with a small fever, a symptom she assumed to be inevitable when one spent so often a time tending the various illnesses amongst the common folk.
She had contracted a dozen such fevers in her life, but the fatigue and nasal bleeding which followed were more worrying to her parent and guardians. She had been bedridden for a week now, and every day she grew weaker. Movement caught her eye, withdrawing her from her drowsy reverie. Outside her many windows the sun shone brightly in, reflecting off the marble tiles, illuminating the whole room brilliantly. Large white curtains billowed lazily in a soothing breeze which cooled her burning skin.
It was a small room, which she had taken upon accepting her Sainthood; the large expensive quarters of the other nobles would be ill-fitting for a Saint who needed so little. A wall was lined with books on various subjects, however holy texts dominated a shelf of their own, and each book was meticulously clean, if a bit worn with age and use. Near the bookshelf sat her study desk, a sturdy little thing, and her one extravagance. It was a mahogany table, crafted by a carpenter whom she had cured of a particularly gruesome illness that had claimed one of his arms. The legs were beautifully crafted in a canopy of various animals and flowers. At each corner of the desk a dove stood, carved seamlessly into the wood. A dignitary sat at the desk now, furiously composing various letters in a clear hurry.
A weight pressing down on the bed beside her drew her attention from the room and back to the people within it. Her father, Anton Osteria, was sitting there now, looking at her lovingly, but with something else in his eyes besides. Behind him she could see the Clerics withdrawing through the door, huddled in prayer or conference, she did not know. As the door opened faint singing wafted in, and she recognised it as a prayer of healing, but sung by hundreds of voices.
"They've been praying for a whole week straight", Lord Osteria explained with a small smile. "Praying for your health child, whole villages across the Kingdom are holding vigils and burning offerings for you. We can only hope the Gods listen." His smile was there, but it did not reach his eyes, which were brimming with held back tears.
"The will of the Gods have ever been their own father, none know that better than we…" Serreta reached out and stroked the older man's face affectionately. "I greatly appreciate everyone's devotion though. I did not know I was so well loved?" Osteria laughed heartily and shifted closer to embrace her. "Oh my dear sweet girl… "
They sat there for a while, Serreta overwhelmed by her father's affection and Lord Osteria trying to be brave for her. With a rumbling cough he sat back, still holding her shoulders and grinning through his tears. "Oh look at us, Serreta, what would Eldara say eh?"
She smiled despite herself. Her father rarely spoke of her mother, but it always struck something deep within her when he did.
"She would probably shoo you out of the room" Serreta laughed gently "And come up with some inappropriately simple solution to all our worrying." Lord Osteria laughed as well, fond memories of his wife filling his thoughts.
"Yes, your mother always did have a distinct lack of etiquette when it came to serious problems. Did you know she poisoned a visiting Duke once?" He laughed again, eyes lost in memory. "Yes, the old fellow decided to see how his relatives would react around his deathbed, so he lay in his bed for a whole week moaning and groaning, composing a dozen wills for his competing family members. Finally your mother was summoned…" He shook his head wistfully. Serreta waited patiently, staving off her growing exhaustion to indulge him. He very rarely had this amount of time for her, nor she for him. Family tended to fade into the background when one was so prominent a public figure.
"Anyway, your mother walked in and took one long look at the Duke and his fawning children and brothers and nieces and what have you, fixed him a tonic, mumbled some nonsense prayer over it and handed it to him. He drank it down fast, thanked her heartily and declared "My dearest Eldora, I expect I should make a full recovery under your ministrations!" and your mother, sharp as the crack of a whip replied, "My dear Duke, I should expect not, thy malady seems too serious for any hope of recovery. As some small act of mercy I hath provided you a most gentle poison to ease thy passing in short manner. The remedy rests here in my hands shouldst thou hath reason to extend thy life for a few short more days…"
That old man leapt from his deathbed so fast he bowled over his eldest son and gave him a concussion!" At that point Lord Osteria could hold his mirth no longer and began laughing, Serreta joining him shamelessly. They were still laughing minutes later as Ser Alva entered the room.
"For the crimes of Witchcraft, adultery, arson, public indecency, evading an execution, assaulting officers of the law and theft, I, Eska Hreftson, sentence the Black Witch Zullie and her accomplice Enda Orbason to death by hanging, to be carried out immediately in view of the Gods. May they show them the mercy we cannot."
Zullie rolled her eyes and fidgeted with the ropes holding her hands bound behind their back. They were much better fastened than the last time. The man reading the proclamation, Eska she supposed, turned to look at her, revealing a heavily broken nose and black eye. He glared at her furiously, and in return she winked playfully and mumbled something through her gag. She really did think the gag was a bit of an overreaction. She could work her magic perfectly well without her voice; didn't they learn that from last time? Well, she supposed, it was probably just some custom they couldn't overlook, even for her. Beside her the young man Eska was writhing and crying, mumbling some prayer to some God or other for mercy.
Yullie scanned the crowd, keeping mental track of her escape routes as she noticed her captor approaching the gallows.
"Eska you damn dog!" The grizzled man roared over the din of the crowd, hoisting a large sharp axe over his fur-clad shoulder. The villagers backed away from him in fear and apprehension, eyeing his weapon cautiously. He was easily over six foot tall, an unkempt beard dominated the lower half of his face and a bearskin hood covered his brow and eyes giving him a fearsome appearance.
"Eska!" he roared again, stopping the Sheriff in his tracks. "The bitch doesn't hang 'till I have my money! Until then she's my hostage you cunt!" Yullie wrinkled her nose at his language, as did several other ladies in the crowd. She swallowed her distaste however and began her work, igniting her Flame discreetly and prepping for a show. This was always her favourite part, providing the Old Bear didn't mess up his distraction.
"Back off you crazy bastard, or I'll have my men turn that bear skin into a hedgehog!" Eska's eyes were a tempest of fear and apprehension. He clearly wasn't confident in his command as several of his subordinates began slowly backing away from the bearded hunter. "We're hanging her here and now Baldr, we're not having a repeat of last week!" Baldr laughed, a harsh short laugh with no mirth in it.
"Not my fault you asses don't know how to tie a knot or hang a witch before she starts throwing fire around! Now stop your snivelling, go to your fucking hut and get my gold, or I'll take her down from there and sell her to someone who can pay their fucking debts!" With that signal, Zullie let loose.
With a momentary hiss a swirl of dancing flame appeared behind the gallows and hung there, waiting. The villagers stood dumbfounded watching the gentle lights and subtle warmth float aimlessly. Then it exploded, transforming into a raging inferno accompanied with a massive shockwave of pure force, throwing the shocked Sheriff from the wooden stage. Zullie quickly burned away her bindings and ripped the gag from her mouth with a laugh. She raised her hands in glee, loosing intense tongues of flame soaring over the heads of the crowd, whipping them into a frenzy as they fled in fear of her unholy magics.
"Flee before me mortal cowards!" She exulted in her most dramatic voice. "Flee lest I, Zullie the Magnificent Black Witch curse your feeble village! Crops will wither, cats will bark and dogs purr! Flee!" Her voice broke into a laugh as she finished and jumped down from the stage, casually throwing a ball of flame at an abandoned shack, smiling as it exploded magnificently.
"Well, that ought to be enough!" She thought to herself, critically examining her work. Several of the soldiers had fled, but a few had found enough courage to begin working at the village well to douse the flames. Off to her left, the enraged Sheriff Eska floundered to his feet, eyes dazed and hands flailing at his sides for the sword he had neglected to bring.
"Is that not the stupidest cunt you've ever seen?" A voice grumbled behind her. Zullie turned to see Baldr leaning on his heavy axe, staring unimpressed at her inferno, and at the half dazed sheriff. "If I were the sheriff here, I wouldn't have bothered with all this fucking ceremony and hanging bullshit. You'd have lost your head back in that ravine where I caught you."
"Yes, but he did need to show off a bit after last week's mishap" She said very seriously. "I did make something of a fool of him, what with knocking him out with my staff. Also could you mind the language? There are children about you know." Behind her she heard a surge as another house caught fire and screams as people fled the village.
"You fired things off too early you know. I haven't gotten my gold from this little venture, and I don't intend to leave until I have." With little effort he swung his axe over his shoulder again and marched meaningfully to the Sheriff who seemed to be regaining his senses as he noticed the large man approaching.
"B-b-baldr kill the Witch and I'll pay you triple!" He screeched, backing away hurriedly. "For f-fucks sake Baldr k-kill…" He was cut off as Baldr grabbed him by the neck and slammed his body against a nearby house.
"No deal Eska, now hand over the keys to your hut or I'll carve your bones into horse armour." He said it calmly and with no hyperbole in his voice, this was not his first time threatening a man.
Zullie left him to his business and approached the Sheriff's hut, ignoring the last few screaming people who cowered before her. She reached the hut and eyed the door carefully, deciding to wait for Baldr. She wouldn't want to waste all of his fun in threatening the poor cunt. She rolled the word around in her head for a while as she heard several loud squeals from the poor sheriff. It wasn't really so bad, it did have a ring to it.
"Stop your daydreaming girl, this dingy shithole will be crawling with Kingsmen before night time" he said, his voice slightly happier. He began kicking the stout wood door. "And I intend to be royally drunk and as far away from your skinny ass by the time they can see the smoke." Finally the door gave way under his boot, shattering and splintering inwards with a crash. Light spilled into the murky shack and Zullie entered quickly going directly for her staff.
It was not a particularly pretty thing, about four feet long and an ashy grey wood she couldn't identify. At one end the wood was gnarled and knotted in a way which drew the eye in an infinite loop. A liberal amount of blood was splattered over the knotted wood. The upper end split about a foot from the top into a dozen or so branches, each splitting into further smaller branches at sharp angles. Zullie picked it up with care, examining the braches closely as she heard Baldr slamming through the desk and cupboards in search of gold.