The Maiden was called an Evil of Man — but evil she was not.

Man yearned for Salvation — and so had come the Maiden to deliver in earnest, redressing with her every ounce of strength the Evils of the World. By her Curse did the World acknowledge her place amongst the legends of the past — and pushing this to its consequence did she write herself to every age, that she could intervene in every tragedy.

Of a Love of Man did she cull the Evils that wrought the World, that History was itself sundered to ceaseless permutation.

The Kingdom was come; the Earthly Paradise born anew.
All sins were absolved. All suffering was ceased.

In the Maiden's unending grace was Man himself come to dissolution. Such was the terminus reached in the tireless prosecution of Justice — never once faltering; never once withdrawing to retreat. Solitary did she therefore stand amidst a sea of swords — alone, a Beast of Calamity; a Stagnation of Man.

Beast the First — the Beast of Compassion.
The Maiden of the Purest White.

This was the Adversary that Aelfthrith now confronted.

Thirteen were the Grails she'd won since her departure from the Castle Adventurous — as of the Wars of every history that yet remained.
Seven to confirm to histories writ the Eden of her youth.
Six to bolster her fortitude, that she could equal in worth the heroes of yore.

To her womb was seated the One True Grail — within which were six and seven brought to join.

So arriving in the heart of Crowland was Aelfthrith come at last to the very beginning; to the bottom-most threshold met, that one might before a Beast of Calamity stand his ground alone.

To ground, as such, she'd thrust her sword, as it would hereon be of little use. Against an opponent clairvoyant the wielding of any weapon, a segmented blade was nothing of surprise.

In her left hand, she so readied an ancient tome, unhooked from her belt.
In her right hand, she so clasped a golden key, drawn from the thin of air.

The Maiden narrowed her eyes, apparently in recognition.

"That's ..."

"Casseur de Logistille — the Abolition Proclamation," Aelfthrith replied, "and Bab-Ilu — the Key of the King's Rule. Souveniers that I've collected of my travels, you see — borrowed temporarily, as to evidence the labors that I undertook.
"You draw your weapons of an Otherworld, I've heard — an arsenal permissible to externalization without the bounds of your flesh; so steeping your environs in the color of your will, that any villains unworthy your mercy can be made as dust to dust by the passage of time in expedition.
"By Logistille's undoer, thus, I deny to you the surfacing of your World. By my right as the holder of the Kingdom Key, I further match against your arms arrayed an arsenal of my own."

Closing her eyes, the Maiden sighed — manifesting to her right hand an ornate golden sword; and to her left, a pair of scales.

"You really are putting everything on the line, I see," she said. "But I'm not sure I understand what it is that you hope to achieve. Why do you oppose me, exactly? Even if you were to defeat me here and now, there's nothing to be gained but thousands of years of warfare and atrocities."

Aelfthrith grinned — readying at her side her key.

"I'm given to understand that long ago in the distant future, the two of us became the best of friends," she said. "As a friend, is it not my duty to admonish you for excess?"

These words were spoken as a Prince to his equal; a King to a guest of his court.
Perhaps this place was to not indeed the Crowland that Aelfthrith knew in youth — but to become as needs must, she would take it as her own.
A hero was in his homeland summoned at the zenith of his might.

"Did you know," she said, "that the 'Crow' in Crowland doesn't refer to the bird? It comes of 'cruw,' as to the crook in a river.
"It is written that forth from the Eden of my youth — from the Island of Crowland — four streams coursed:

Pishon / Asendyk in the North;
Gihon / Shepishee in the East;
Chidekel / Southee in the South;
Phirat / Nene in the West.

"As these waterways four comprised a turning point in the River Weolud, so too did Crowland mark the turning of my adolescence.
"So too does the Singularity of Crowland now become a deviation from the stagnation of your reign!

"'Haistulf the Thief' is my denigration, for though many are the brides I've bedded — the treasures that I've borrowed — I admit only the crime of being as an exemplar amongst Men.
"The strength of Man is after all to borrow of our peers and forebears — ascending ever to greater heights upon the shoulders of giants.
"Thirteen thousand years ago did we so assume the Primacy — birthed forth, it is said, as the Children of the Comet, which taketh and never returns.
"Yet in this hour; in this place, the Paladin Aelfthrith pays his dues.
"Here is recompensed all what which he owes, at interest!"