Legacy of the Overlord Chapter 3: Sympathy for the Devil, an overlord fanfic

CHAPTER EDITED: Chapter has been checked for spelling mistakes and plot mishaps.

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This chapter has graphic scenes of torture and blood so discretion is advised. I've also upped the rating to M.

I'm still open to plot ideas so keep them coming.

I own nothing to do with the Overlord games, I only made Briar and the brays and if Code Masters or Triumph Studios want to use them, they can.

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Legacy of the Overlord

Chapter Three: Sympathy for the Devil

By the end of the day Briar was able to finish cleaning the round house and tidying the farm, with her washing hung on a line between her house and a tree, her washing pot empty of water and back in its place beside her fire hearth, the carpets beaten free from dust and she had even found time to sharpened her sword. The farm was where she had the most trouble, or should have been more trouble, but with help from the browns and the new brays lifting and moving most her the equipment she used about her little farm it hadn't taken very long to put everything back in place, some of the brays had even scrubbed the old cart and empty pails.

It was going to take a bit of getting use to, seeing her goats like they were now and Briar still wasn't sure if she was going to wake up soon. It all felt like a weird dream.

But in her typical fashion, Briar was going to have to get use to this. Her whole life had depended on finding a way around the problems that got in her way. So, after sorting the farm and her little house she had taken the female brays aside, into the barn, to figure out just how she was meant to milk them. Much to the humour of the browns who were standing on Brum's back watching.

"Mistress stays 'abreast' of things!" she heard Gash chuckle.

"Chicken breasts, I hear of! But goaty breasts! That new!" Pummel added.

"Mistress create new fad. Men take special order!" The minions laughed hard before a well aimed rusty bucket crashed into them, causing them to tumble off the donkey and land hard on the ground, the bucket landed on Rasp's head. The minions quickly ran out of the barn, Rasp running into several obstacles as he forgot to take the bucket off his head. Brum just continued eating the straw.

Unlike the children of Spree, Briar was quite a good aim.

The young shepherdess returned to the task at hand, finding it much easier to concentrate with the browns no longer distracting her and she was able to find a simple, easy way to milk the bray females. If they sat between her legs with their backs to her she was able to handle them without giving them any discomfort. By the time she had milked eight females she had mastered a technique. Sally was the next female she had to milk, the black coated female's tail was wagging somewhat and she made sure not to prod Briar accidentally with her small horns as she sat back against the young shepherd. The other females had either gone back to the herd or were still waiting for their turn to get milked, talking amongst themselves as they waited, some of the females had kids running around the barn.

She had nine full pails by the time she decided to get everyone settled for the night and get some sleep for herself. She would turn these pails into cheese since it was still a good few weeks before she could go on another trade day and milk wouldn't keep that long, even if it stayed in the small cold store she had under her barn. But the pails could wait until tomorrow before she began the process of turning it to cheese; considering what had happened earlier that morning, she had done enough for today, no longer able to control the yawns that forced themselves from her throat. She watched the rest of the bray females leave before taking the pails to her cold store and making sure everything was secure safely in the barn. The brays may have been the ones that had taken her blankets and crook, but that didn't mean a rustler or thief wouldn't come to her little farm hoping to get lucky. Whatever lucky streak a thief may have had would run out when Grimjaw and his pack got their fangs into him.

The brays had certainly known what they were doing when they took her things, but they had been the unknown 'thing' when it came to Briar puzzling over what to do and that was why the dogs had not been agitated. They still saw the brays as goats so did not do anything to stop the brays from taking her things; they hadn't known any better, they were just dogs after all. Even Briar hadn't noticed anything wrong with the goats before the browns had used them to get her to the ruins... which was another thing, she still had to punish those long-eared sods for tricking her. But that could wait as well.

She was sure that whatever had happened to the brays to make them change had occurred at those ruins when she used magic for the first time in her life.

Patting Brum on his rump as she past by the laid-back donkey she went into the chill of the night outside her barn, it was a clear sky tonight and she wouldn't be surprised if there was a frost in the morning... her eyes glanced over her shoulder to look at the goat pen, she wondered how the brays would fair in the cold. As goats they did fine, but what was their fur like now? Was bray fleece more sparse or finer than a goat's? Briar walked up the the fence and look in the dim light to try and spot Ramrod. He was still wearing her red blanket and carrying her old crook so he was easy to see, she could see several other brays were wearing the blankets they had carried back.

"Ramrod." She saw her top billy as he rushed towards her; his shepherd had need of him.

"Yes, kind Herder?" he asked "What is needed of me?"

"Take the herd into the barn, I think there's going to be a cold snap," she explained "I don't need you dying because your transformation means you can't handle the cold well anymore." She left him to gather the herd and she went to her house, trying to suppress another yawn. She watched Ramrod and several other billies open the barn door, taking a head count on the herd as they entered into the relatively warmer environment of the wooden structure; they even let the minions come back into the barn from their hiding places after Briar had thrown the bucket at them before closing the barn again.

Briar at last laid on her bed, stretched and fell into a restful, dreamless sleep. Grimjaw, Fang, Dark Lace, Jagger, Rip Tooth and Bubbles came to lay in a heap at the front door about half an hour later.

------ LoO ------

Briar's prediction turned out to be correct. Come the morning when she stepped out of her house and into the faint light of early dawn the ground was shimmering with a thin layer of delicate ice; it covered the farm and the pastures beyond. There was a definite fall in temperature, causing the dogs to puff out their fur and the minions to hug their goat-skin tunics and trousers closer to their bodies when they waited to warm up in the dawn sun. The browns mounted the dogs' backs and spurred them into a run, beginning a new patrol and cooing things into their ears like "Good Doggy" and "Giddy up".

"Bad morning, Mistress." they greeted as they rushed by her to check behind her little round house for any intruders. She didn't get the chance to give them a greeting in return, they were gone before she could open her mouth to say anything. Briar walked at a steady pace, she was still feeling a little tired, having just woken up, and she needed to warm up. The brays greeted her as she entered the barn, bowing before returning to their conversations, and she stopped to look around at the bray herd. They had found more of her blankets and some old pelts. All of the females now wore something, the males must have given them the blankets first before going through something for themselves, many of the young males and the aging males weren't wearing anything. Briar watched as two males began to fight over one of the remaining pelts; they first started off with their new fists, but when neither backed down they got down on their four limbs and charged each other, their horns coming together with a clash. The bray's legs were noticeably short on their bodies, but it allowed them to retain a quadrupedal stance which allowed them to graze and run at speed. It also meant that they blended in with other livestock much better than standing on just two legs. Ramrod was still wearing the red blanket they had taken for the short-lived idol and was still carrying her old crook. She approached her top billy, who was talking with some of the other brays, she could just make out some conversation about the brown minions.

"Ramrod, take the herd out and graze." Briar ordered, it was time to get the brays eating. The females wouldn't make milk on empty stomachs and none of them would grow good fleeces or horn castings on empty air.

She heard her top billy gather the brays and take them outside, their hooves tapping the ground as Briar went to her cold store to get some pails of milk and buttermilk to begin making cheese. She could hear the browns and the dogs catching up with the herd, following the procession as it went to the pastures.

Alone, Briar was able to concentrate on the task she had given herself for the morning and so she began by taking a couple of pails from her cold store and returning to her house, coming back for several jugs of buttermilk; she could see her herd in the distance to the North as she returned to her house. Briar decided she'd make soft cheese today and that started by heating the milk over a fire. Taking some pans and lighting a fire in her simple stove she put some of the milk into them and collected more of the equipment she needed, cheese cloth and some vinegar which would make the warm milk curdle.

She heard a noise outside. Someone tripping over the rusty pails she kept by her house, she stopped to listen. Perhaps it was one of the browns on the dogs looking for a place to have a quick rest, but they knew the farm and the old pails, they wouldn't crash into them. Her eyes began to glow; ever since her first bit of magic both her eyes would now glow. Briar picked up her sword and opened her front door to investigate; there wasn't a brown minion, a dog, a bray, there wasn't anything else just seemingly nothing, but the pails were scattered from their place on the Southern wall of the round house. She circled around and found nothing, but she knew something was here and kept her sword ready. "Who's here? Show yourself or I'll call my dogs on you." she gave a fair warning but still nothing made itself known.

The glow in her eyes exploded and she turned around just in time to see the hilt of a sword make contact with the side of her head, she felt herself falling but she couldn't remember hitting the ground; she blacked out from the force of the blow.

------ LoO ------

Grim always allowed Pummel to ride on his back, even though the large wolf hybrid preferred Rasp as a rider. It made Pummel happy that the head dog of Mistress Briar's pack liked him enough to let him ride about all day. But you didn't need to be on his back to see when he became agitated. Even the dim-witted browns could tell Grim was unhappy about something. His ears twitching and twirling about his head, listening for something.

"What wrong, Grimmy?" Pummel asked feeling the large dog's fur stand on end. Grimjaw growled and snarled in response, then almost sent his brown minion rider flying off when he broke into a sudden sprint back towards the farm. Bubbles and Jagger, along with their riders, Gash and Gloob, followed when they saw Pummel fighting to stay on the frantic alpha dog. When they reached the farm and the round house, they could all feel something was wrong. It was way too quiet but the air felt electrified, like something had come and gone quickly.

"Mistress?" Gloob asked at the open door of the small house, but no one answered. He could see that pans of milk on the stove were boiling over. Since he knew that Briar would never forgive them if they let her home burn down he got off Jagger and carefully took the pans off the heat. He didn't try to put out the fire; he wasn't a daft Red after all, he'd just burn himself.

They heard something going on at the entrance to the farm and Gloob barely had time to remount Jagger before Grim tore off to investigate, his two pack mates catching up shortly. When they reached a group of bushes they could use to watch the commotion at the entrance without being seen.

What they saw, at first they didn't understand, there were five well armed Spree men, probably a part of the village's militia, at the farm entrance handling something fairly cumbersome and heavy. They each had horses but there was also a sixth which they were trying to get the heavy object onto. The object was in a rough sewn sack and as the men became more and more frustrated trying to get it on the horse, the more and more rough they handled it.

The minions and the dogs couldn't see what the object was because of the sack so they didn't realize it was Briar until the rough way they threw her onto the back of the horse loosened the sack and revealed her face to them.

Briar was out cold with her hands tied behind her back and the side of her young face near her right eye was developing a deep angry bruise; they had hit her, they had hit her with enough force to not only knock her out but also to cause a substantial nosebleed. Blood was still dripping freely and was beginning to stain the Chestnut fur on the side of the horse she was now being tethered to.

As one, minions and dogs went charging, teeth gnashing and saliva flying from their mouths, roaring and howling and screaming bloody murder as they broke from the cover of the bushes, the minions raised their their clubs above their heads in the anticipation of smashing them down on someone elses. They were going to get their mistress back and rip these Spree idiots apart, then dance around in the bloody remains.

"Her demons have found us!" one of the men cried, terrified by the sight. The minion's eyes glowing a dangerous amber as the wolf-riding browns quickly gained ground.

"Quick! Get on the horses!" Only three of them were able to scramble onto horses before the minions and their mounts fell upon them. One was able to gallop away with the horse Briar was on. Since Pummel had leapt off Grimjaw to deliver a blow to one of the two men who had not been fast enough to get away, the ever-loyal herd-dog went dashing in pursuit of his master. But they were gone, taking Briar with them, when his legs began to burn and with his tongue lolling from his mouth in heavy pants he stopped chasing the scent of his master. He howled in the direction the horses went, a deep, great howl that made the leaves and blades of green grass shiver, perhaps his master would whistle for him. But she remained silent.

Grimjaw turned and returned to the battle, his attacks full of viciousness. His sad howl had drawn the other dogs and their minion riders, the herd of brays watched from a short distance as the minions battered the men with clubs and the dogs tore into them with their teeth, unknowing of what had been taken from them. Bubbles wrapped her fangs tightly around one man's neck, he struggled to get her off, gasping and gurgling but then he went still.

"Stop, please! No more!" the remaining man cried, trying to use his bloody, ripped hands to stop the blows and fang-filled bites.

"Why you take the Mistress?" Gloob demanded, the minions had stopped hitting him with their clubs but the dogs still held him down with their teeth sunk deep into his flesh. When the Spree militiaman wasn't quick enough to give Gloob an answer the minion struck him with his club. "WHY!"

"We were told to bring her to Crosskeys! We saw her with you and the summoned goat demons! We wanted the reward the Empire is handing out for witches."

"Crosskeys Town. I know Crosskeys Town! We go get the Mistress back!" Rasp said jumping up and down with his bloody club.

"Kill him!" With Gash's order the militiaman's groans and moans of pain and terrified screams were silenced with Grimjaw's jaws clamped around his neck. The huge dog fulfilling his namesake. Like his comrade, the militiaman struggled, fighting the strong dog for air, but eventually went limp.

"Browns?" the minions turned to face Ramrod approaching them, his long, furry face a picture of sheer confusion. "What is happening? Where is the Shepherd? When we heard the howl of Great Grimjaw and screaming we searched but could not find our Shepherd."

"Nasty Spree men take Mistress to Crosskeys." Pummel told the red cloaked bray.

"They gonna give her to Shinnies." Gash explained "Shinnies will kill Mistress Briar because she has glowy eyes!" The bray herd gave a collective gasp and began to panic, what would they do without their Purpose, without the the kind Shepherd. Ramrod baaed loudly and the herd became quiet, he had been their leader and guide, he would know what to do.

"Did one of you say he knew the way to this town they took the Shepherd to?" Rasp raised his hands and nodded his head vigorously.

"We go save Mistress Briar for the Overlord." Rasp explained to the bray leader. "We hurry to Crosskeys!" Ramrod turned back to the herd as the browns began to strip the militiamen of their clothes, weapons and what little armour they were wearing.

"Brays! We follow the Brown Helpers, they will guide us to our Shepherd!" the herd cheered. "Our Shepherd, the Purpose for being brays, is in danger. She needs help, if needed we must fight for her! Gravid females and young kids stay, we will return to you with our Shepherd!" Their cheers turned to shouts and calls of vengeance and when the browns spurred the dogs onwards with Rasp leading the way the brays charged after them, some picking up makeshift staffs and clubs along the way. Like Ramrod had told them, only the females who were pregnant or had kids stayed behind; the graceful Dark Lace was left to guard them.

------ LoO -----

The town of Crosskeys had once been a little village very similar to Spree; the original settlement had been a place for woodcutters, farmers and hunters to ply their trade and raise their families in the relative safety offered by the main roads across the Kingdom of Belmna. One road leading to Heaven's Peak along the East, the North road leading to the dwarf kingdom of Ironstep, where they carved their settlements from the very mountains and the South road which led to the Great Harbor. Those roads had brought trade with them and trade had made Crosskeys very wealthy. The various mayors that had governed the town had added defensive walls, watch towers and numerous gates to protect it. Crosskeys was fast becoming a city of power, especially now that the Empire had a strong hand in the town's running; it was also becoming a place authority. It was why Briar only delivered orders to the town and didn't stay to do trade.

The sun was starting to drop in the sky when the browns and the brays reached the town limits and they hid in a small wooded area where they could see the town and get an idea of how to enter without being noticed. The midday sun was washing the high walls and towers with orange light and still the town was abuzz with activity. The bray herd took the chance to eat the vegetation offered by the small wood, taking their four-legged stance to blend in more while Ramrod talked with the browns, he was their collective voice, he would know what was best for them. The browns and the bray leader were watching the town with scrutiny, they couldn't go in through the gates, they would get stopped by the guards even if they were disguised as children.

The browns had stolen some clothes from farms on the way to the town and they were now wearing children's clothes, even Ramrod and some of the other brays had donned the outfits, using hoods and thick scarfs to disguise their faces and, in the case of Ramrod and one other large bray male called Gus, their curving horns. The other disguised brays would stay with the herd, pretending to be shepherds. The four minions, two brays and Grimjaw were sat in some bushes looking at the high walls of Crosskeys Town trying to see where they could get inside.

"We get into town there." Rasp explained, pointing to a hole in the defensive wall where dirty water was pouring out into a man-made trench which guided the mucky water into a small creek running alongside the town.

"Where do we begin searching once we're inside?" Ramrod asked, his robe was hidden under all of the clothes he wore to hide himself.

"Small town, just look." Gloob said. "We find Mistress soon." With that said, Gloob left the bushes, quickly followed by the disguised party and Grimjaw. They ran across the open ground to reach the sewer outlet where Pummel was the first to crawl into the simple tunnel, paying no attention to the smell, nothing smelt as bad as the Greens. It wasn't long until they reached their exit, a small hole where the townsfolk just dumped waste into it to be carried outside to the creek. One by one the browns and two brays climbed out not bothering to try and clear their stolen clothes from the muck and dirt, only Grimjaw shook himself off.

Several townsfolk had seen them clamber out of the sewer system and they stared at them in astonishment, as what they thought were children hurried off down the street, taking their huge dog with them.

"Come on Doggy. We go home now." Pummel cooed to Grimjaw in the best child's voice he could muster.

"Yeah, come on. Walkies." Gloob added, just for good measure. Their sensitive hearing was able to pick up the noise of a large crowd from the center of the town, they were shouting insults and the group of seven followed the noise. They were met by a wall of standing bodies gathered around the great pillar in the town square.

This pillar was called Hounfen's Pillar, after a local hero who was born in Crosskeys and was said to have slayed a dragon; after many years it had become a site to punish criminals, most commonly flogging or stoning while the accused was tied around the wide pillar; as such, the thick column was often refereed to as Punishment's Pillar. As the minions, brays and the large dog looked for someway to get to the front of the crowd a crack rent the air and the crowd cheered loudly as a sharp scream of agony followed the thunderous snap. It was a flogging.

For the first time the browns heard Grimjaw whimper.

The small group found a way to the front of the crowd by crawling under some carts which held firewood and some trade goods. Yet another resonating crack and another scream, more cheering. From under the carts the minions and brays were able to see into the town square and the happenings at Punishment's Pillar... they also found Briar.

Her hands were tied with rope around the wide pillar, forced to hug the cold stone it was built from, her shirt had been ripped off revealing her young skin which was now marred by numerous open wounds on her back. Her beautiful, long black locks had been cut short to stay off her back, out of the way of the whip. The executioner brought the whip back and then snapped it forwards again.

Another resonating crack, another scream tore from Briar's mouth, more cheering.

Her face was still stained from her nosebleed, only her tears were slowly clearing the old blood, and her right eye was now covered by a deep, dark bruise. Both of Briar's eyes were glowing fiercely, the normal blue had turned almost white from the young girl's fear and pain.

Another resonating crack, another scream, another cheer.

From their hiding place the browns and brays could only watch, stricken as the cruel whip, now drench with crimson liquid, again met Briar's back, leaving another wound in its wake. All the while, the crowd just roared for more of the thirteen year old's blood, even though a large, glowing red puddle had already collected under Briar's feet and her trousers saturated with it. The glow came from the vast quantity of mana in it; again, something the minions had never seen before.

Another crack, another scream, another cheer.

Gash was not very good at counting, no brown was, but he could count up to ten and could tally. He tallied four lots of ten before the executioner stopped and the crowd booed and threw insults at the black clad, hooded man for not giving more, Briar did not even have the fortune of passing out. The magic in her veins gave her clarity most of the time, she had felt every stroke of the whip and the burning agony left by its caresses. She would've eventually collapsed, but that would take more than just flogging.

She was still alive, however, and for the minions and brays that meant they could still save her. But not here, not with all these people and guards. The disguised party once again maneuvered themselves to try and follow their Mistress as two more executioners untied her hands and dragged her away from the pillar; they had Empire guards as escorts. The minions, brays and the dog once again took cover, this time between some stacked barrels, trying to plan a way to follow their mistress without drawing the attention of the Shiny guards.

"I'm very surprised she survived," came a noble, but sly voice from above them "the lesser magic users tend to die after just thirty lashes." The minions looked up through the wooden planks that made a balcony jut out from the town hall where the barrels had been stacked and where two important Empire men had watched the flogging. "She is obviously more than just a simple summoner or witch, she has the potential to be something far more dangerous." The speaker was a somewhat tall man with a comically small nose, deep set, beady eyes and was dressed in fine Empire robes. This man was Atlas Minimus, the governor's adviser in Mellow Hills.

"Have some of the guards and executioners take her to the old Halfling Slave Camp near that village, Spree." This man was an ex-soldier who had recently retired called Remus Maxmillion, a strong, well built man, regally dressed and with a commanding voice. "Have her 'Torn Quartered'." He ordered "If she is as dangerous as you say, I will not let her go to the Arena. She will die tonight."

"As you say, Remus." The governors head suddenly came peering over the edge of the balcony, his eyes scrutinizing the empty spaces between the barrels of wine he had ordered for the festivities tonight. He could have sworn to the Gods something had been crawling around down there, only half satisfied that everything was well he entered the town hall with his adviser in tow.

The minions had been long gone. When they had heard that they would take her to the old Halfling slave camp they had scuttled back to the sewer hole they had climbed out of, hurrying to get back to the bray herd waiting for them outside. The minions and the bray leader had been explaining to the herd where they had to go when a beam of light suddenly pierced the sky from the West.

Someone had activated the arcane gateway near Briar's farm, the ground pulsed under their feet, only magical creatures could feel this pulse. But while the brays were not sure what this meant, the browns' faces split wide with gleeful grins as a name formed from their lips.

"Minion Master Gnarl, he comes."

------ LoO -----

She couldn't describe the agony, it was something she had never known before and therefore had nothing to compare it to. Briar had been in a daze, the loss of blood making her light-headed and unable to focus on anything for more than a few seconds. She could feel herself going numb... well, she was either going numb or she was in so much pain that her exhausted brain couldn't process it all after the flogging. They had taken her back to the prison cell afterward but had immediately thrown her onto the back of a horse and were now leading her somewhere. She didn't know where, she had overheard the guards talking about the Halflings but that was as much as she could make out from their faint voices.

She was sure that wherever they were taking her to, it would be the last place she would see.

What a way to die. Thirteen years old, orphaned, stripped to her waist and covered in her own blood; far from what she wanted but she guessed she should be surprised that this hadn't happened sooner. A magical creature living in an Empire influenced land... it just wasn't heard of. And the people of Spree, Crosskeys and all the other settlements in Mellow Hills, well Briar wouldn't be around long enough to see what would happen to them when the raiders and bandits tribes realized she was no longer around. A smile tugged her lips.

They deserved everything the bandits did to them.

Underneath her she felt the horse carrying her stop and someone grab her ankles pulling her from the animal's back they just let her drop to the ground, eliciting a agonized groan from her as they turned her over onto her back she cried out. Someone kick her face and through her faint ears she heard what sounded like "Shut up!", she couldn't be sure though. The new pain brought her to her senses for a while and she was aware that they were securing ropes to her arms and legs. Wrists, elbow, ankles and knees, a guard wrapped a gag over her mouth and then helped the others tie the other ends of the ropes to four strong, black horses. Even in her current mental state, Briar could figure out what was going to happen. Tears stung at her eyes.

She hoped her mother was still good with a needle and thread.

She saw four black hooded executioners mount the four horses and heard a soldier shout an order. The four executioners dug their heels into the sides of the horses and the ropes went taut.

With the gag, Briar's screams were little more than groans, so that the horses didn't get spooked and panic. Briar thought the flogging was bad, she had no idea what she was talking about as the horses tried to rip her apart, her eyes began to glow again and the blood that still seeped from her fresh whippings took on a red glow as its formed small pools underneath her hovering body. There was a sickening crunch and Briar screamed into the gag as one of her shoulder joints was pulled from its socket, tears appeared on her skin where the ropes pulled and burned her flesh. The soldiers just screamed at the executioners to spur the horses harder. Her other shoulder gave in and was followed by her hips.

Briar could see darkness creep into the edges of her vision, at last, she was finally passing out, at last she wouldn't be able to feel anything.

A dark figure with glowing amber eyes flashed through her mind, his armored hand and glowing gauntlet stretched towards her, she tried stretching back, but something was holding back her hands she couldn't reach for him. Hundreds of pairs of glowing eyes appeared behind him and then charged forwards screaming. The browns came swarming.

A jolt ended her hallucination and the darkness receded a little, enough for her to see one horse and its executioner swamped by small brown creatures with large ears and strange goat-like people charge at the few soldiers, their heads lowered, their horns smashing into shields. A flash of something metallic and one of her legs fell to the ground with an arm, the ropes were being cut.

Things became quiet and the darkness returned to her vision, the brown creatures and goats gathered round her and then parted. A light gave her something to focus on and a voice could just be heard in her ears as the light got nearer.

"That was close. Your magic was the only thing that kept you together long enough for us to reach you. It was only thing stopping you from becoming five neat little chunks of meat." A grey, ragged face became focused but the darkness seeped in closer. "We will take you away from here, you certainly have spirit enough to be a Mistress..."

Briar went limp, her pain momentarily, was over.

------ LoO ------

Mellow Hills was celebrating. Spree village more than the rest. The villagers listened heartily and drank deeply as the three brave militiamen who had freed them from their fear of the young Witch told their story. They told of how they faced a legion of demons and felhounds before two of their number died from her powerful spells and enchantments. There was talk about rounding up a mob and burning her farm to the ground, but at the moment no one seemed to care too much, the drink was flowing freely; all being paid for from the gold the three militiamen had earned handing the witch over to the Empire forces.

The Happy Mule Inn was built as a pub, where most of Spree seemed to be celebrating and individual rooms which could be hired by travelers to sleep for the night.

There was also the private areas for the Innkeeper. The barmaids were handling the revelers alone tonight. While all of Mellow Hills was dancing, drinking and singing, in his private living quarters of the Happy Mule, Old Archie sat in sad, sombre silence. Young Briar had met with a fate worse than death.

Throughout all of her short life, Archie had known Briar. He had been one of the first people to actually see her after her mother and aunt had come to the Happy Mule asking if there were any properties where they could come to some agreement with; Briar had just been a few days old then. That was when Archie had handed over the deeds to a small farm that no one wanted with the agreement if her mother and aunt could turn it back into a functioning farm, she could keep it and somehow her mother had turned it into a goat farm. The Spree mayor could still remember this one day, when Briar had still been a baby, when she had smiled at him. A big, gorgeous open-mouthed baby smile. Even then her eye could glow rather brightly, but after that one act of absolute trust Archie didn't give a damn about her being magical. The aging Ruborian man was proud to be someone Briar felt she could trust, especially with the way everyone else had treated her: like some insect that needed crushing.

He had been the one she had come to when her mother past away from the aftermath of the magical plague; she had crept into the village late one night and tapped at one of Archie's windows until he had opened the door for her. She had been in tears and Archie, knowing that her mother had been very sick, guessed why the young girl had come to him. She had spent the night sleeping in one of his chairs while he had watched over her, her tears didn't stop all night.

He had arranged for her mother's body to be cremated and had helped Briar to create a little memorial near where they scattered the ashes in a little creek near the farm.

Archie turned his head to the window where a little Briar had tapped on to get his attention that sad day when her mother died, as if expecting to see her face there. He continued to sit in sad, sombre silence, broken only by his quiet, heart-rending sobs.

Poor Archie, I was hoping to shed some light on the reasons why Archie had remained one of Briar's closet allies even though Mellow Hills was probably one of the worst hit areas during the Cataclysm.

What's going to happen now, well you'll have to wait for the next chapters to find out.