Shakespeare Legend: The King's Men

by Azarius

The characters of William Shakespeare comes to life in this modern and original twist on Shakespeare's classic plays when teenager Anne Hathaway and the King's Men have to stop the mysterious Critics from finding the Seven Relics . . . . Please R&R!

9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Rosalind, Puck, and Ariel disappeared from my view in an instant. While their fall was more guided, more directed towards their destination, mine wasn't so lucky.

I fell straight down, plummeting with so much force and velocity. Nothingness passed by me and I fell for a very long time. After a while, I was getting bored, wishing that death would just come and claim me just to get it over with. I would have even been happy to see Atropos's ugly face again. I knew I was going to die now and I would accept the fate. I wanted to accept it quickly. Why should it procrastinate?

Then, I was falling through a clear blue sky. I was no longer falling through nothingness anymore. I tumbled through a patch of fluffy clouds, my hair and clothes damp again after they had dried at the Merchant's Library. I looked down at myself and saw that I looked like a train wreck. My cardigan was filthy and my jeans were ripped. You see what I mean? I was so bored with falling that I took the time to notice that my clothes were destroyed. I guess adventure would do that to you. Not cause you to be weary of taking too long to approach your death, but make you look horrible.

I kept falling . . . and falling . . . and falling . . . . Puck, Rosalind, and Ariel were long gone by now. I wondered if they reached Prospero's manor or had they tried to turn back to look for me. I didn't know if they could find me now. I didn't know how well they had control of themselves with the whole traveling between two worlds bit but I sure as heck didn't have control of myself. Falling like this was so not like flying under an enchantment from fairy dust.

I looked down for lack of anything better to do. I could see land far below me, which meant that I was falling towards an actual town in Shakespeare. I was no longer in the world between worlds where time and space didn't exist. I was in Shakespeare.

This would have been a happy moment if I had entered Shakespeare still in the circle holding hands with Othello and Rosalind. But I wasn't in the circle anymore. The circle had first lost Othello and then it had lost me. Perhaps it had lost some of the others as well, I wasn't sure. All I knew was what happened before I fell. Maybe Puck, Rosalind, and Ariel reached their destination safely. I could only hope that they did. No one else needed to lose a life because of me because I didn't matter anymore. I would be joining Othello soon enough.

I wondered if my death would be instant or if I would suffer for a while before my last breath was drawn in. Surely falling from such a great height would cause me to die upon impact, my body breaking like glass. I then wondered what death would feel like. Would I feel cold like I had always imagined? Would my soul ascend to Heaven like Alice had promised me when I was younger? Did the world of Shakespeare even have a Heaven?

Looking down, I could see buildings now and things in nature, such as tall tress. To my left was a town with a cluster of buildings that were huddled together. To my right was a forest with great trees that seemed to guard the entrance like wary sentinels. And below me were grasslands, like never-ending plains. It looked like the land was a part of a farm. Well, at least my fall would be cushioned some, I thought grimly.

My falling continued and nothing exciting happened. I could almost see Atropos's face standing in front of my mind's eye and taunting me, while saying, "I claimed you anyways . . . ." I wondered if there was shadow in my eyes now. Othello had said that there weren't any shadows earlier, but were they there now, a recent addition as death approached slowly but surely?

From below, green rushed up to meet me. It wasn't the black of night that I had come to associate with death. Green was the color of life and rebirth so would I be spared?

I laughed at the thought. There was no way in Hades that I would be spared? No one could survive a fall like mine, unless they could perform magic. I wished I could perform magic then. If I just knew one spell, maybe it would be enough.

I could see the grass blades rustling in the wind below. There was a barn nearby and I could see cows grazing outside and horses in the stables. Down a dusty path and up a short hill, there was a quaint little farmhouse with smoke billowing from its chimney. It was the only house for miles outside of the immediate city.

I wondered who would find my body out in the fields. Would it be the old farmer who was out preparing the land for planting, or would it be the young farmhand whose first job would scar him terribly if he saw a bloodied and mangled dead body? Would it be the farmer's wife, out with her favorite horse for her daily morning ride, or worse of all, would it be the farmer's children who were out playing in the fields?

I had enough time to picture an entire family residing in the farmhouse and the reactions on all of their different faces individually if they happened to stumble across what would remain of me after impact.

Still, I fell . . . .

I was close now, close to my death. I guess this was how someone felt who knew that they were about to die—at peace and slightly content. Falling a long way down was like days of suffering for me and I just wanted it all to be over. Nothing else mattered except for preparing for my journey into the afterlife, which made me wonder if I would be going to a higher place or if I would just become worm's food after dying.

My entire life did not flash before my eyes like I thought it would. Instead, I could see different images of Alice, Melody, Will, and even my new Shakespearean friends, playing and replaying again and again in my head. I was recalling memories of those people who were dear to me, reliving moments that I had spent time with them all. Sadly, my parents were not a part of this.

Alice was present the most in my recollections, which made sense because I had spent the most time with her. Will was probably a close second and Melody was right behind him. Rosalind, Othello, and the others didn't show up much, considering I had just started to get to know them, but images of them were still significant as well. I saw Rosalind and Puck rescue me from Lachesis and then, I saw the three of us flying together. I saw myself talking to Ariel and I saw myself hugging Antonio goodbye. Lastly, I saw Othello breaking away from our circle to battle it out with Atropos and prevent her from taking me. Othello had been so brave and faced his death like a man and I would be brave too. I would be tough like Rosalind.

I'm not ready to die yet . . . .

Othello had told me those words before he left. Just because he wasn't ready to die didn't mean that death would pass him by just because he wasn't prepared. He had faced death in every sense of the word when he attacked Atropos. After all, she was Death herself and could control the demises of people. She was the Grim Reaper in the world of Shakespeare and when she decided it was time for you to go it was time for you to go. Before now, I hadn't been ready to die either. I had believed that I had my whole life ahead of me. I had believed that I would graduate high school next year, go off to college and finish my degree early with a lot of studying and taking summer school courses, and marry Will when it was time for that type of commitment. Then, it would be on to getting a job and having kids and growing old with Will by my side—a normal life. I had always believed that I would die old, somewhere in my late seventies or eighties, perhaps even in my nineties if only I could be so lucky. But I had been naïve. Life had a different course for me. My destiny had already been sealed. I was now going to perish at the ripe age of sixteen. I had only spent sixteen short years in life. So much for the other sixty years that I should have enjoyed.

This was it. I had reached the end now. I was at the end of the tunnel but there was no white light, just the yellowish glare from the sun overhead. Images of my friends and family faded from my mind then. I was less than a hundred feet above the grass and dropping in height. My mind was surprisingly clear as I knocked on Death's door and she was coming to answer . . . .

Fifty feet . . . .

Forty feet . . . .

Thirty feet . . . .

Twenty feet . . . .

I closed my eyes. I did not want to see this. I wanted to add a little suspense before a dramatic conclusion. I considered balling my body up as much as possible but that was unnecessary. Nearly every bone in my body would break anyways so what was the—

With a thud, I collided with the earth and everything went black.

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"What do you mean you want us to sit out the initial invasion of England?" Serafin asked the Dark Lady, his voice remaining calm and conversational. "Do you think that achieving victory would be possible without our help?"

They were walking along down a corridor inside of Owen Glendower's exquisite castle in the south of Wales. The Shadow Council had traveled to Wales to meet with Glendower who wanted to update them on his contributions to the Dark Alliance and the forthcoming invasion of one of the Three Thrones, a highly anticipated event.

The Dark Lady was flanked by her usual company. King Claudius was with her, taking time off from ruling his kingdom to meet with Glendower for what was believed by the other Golden Kings to be a "diplomatic" meeting in King Henry's stead. Claudius was pretending to speak with Glendower about the growing tension between England and Wales, who were very close neighbors. Instead, the Dark Lady found it ironic how Claudius was actually helping her to instigate and widen the schism between the two countries. Kings Henry and Duncan were so naïve. They were blind to the fact that one of the Golden Rulers had betrayed them. The Dark Lady pitied them.

Caliban hadn't returned from his own mission yet, so Hotspur was once again accompanying the Shadow Council as a temporary councilor. The Dark Lady didn't mind Hotspur's presence, which had always been an inspiring one. Hotspur was so full of energy and he was always eager to carry out whatever task the Dark Lady assigned him. He was a little too eager at times, but at least Hotspur had to drive to do something. Some of the other members of the Dark Alliance tended to drag their feet, but Hotspur was just simply a livewire, a catalyst. If only he could keep his rampaging anger in check at times, the Dark Lady would be very fond of him then.

In addition to Claudius and the firebrand, Hotspur, the three councilors from the Council of Nocturne was also apart of the Dark Lady's entourage that moved through the stone corridors of the chateau. Serafin, Mordekaius, and Miltiadi walked along with the Dark Lady, Hotspur, and King Claudius, garbed in full body armor like usual. Surrounding them were their Critic bodyguards who were fully armored as well. The bodyguards were always quiet, never speaking, and always looking around like they were paranoid.

Today, the Dark Lady traveled with her own bodyguards. Tybalt and Roderigo flanked her on either side. Their poise was a little more relaxed than the Critic bodyguards, but they were still wary and their eyes kept flickering towards the armored Critics ever so often as though they were fearing an attack from their allies. Many of those who favored the Dark Lady did not trust the Critics, which was understandable since so little was known about the Critic race as a whole. Questions still tugged at the back of the Dark Lady's mind about where the Critics came from and how they managed to stumble upon the world of Shakespeare of all places?

Leading the group that traveled with the Dark Lady was Lady Mortimer, Glendower's precious daughter, and a handful of attendants who served Lady Mortimer as personal guards. All three parties were so well protected—the Critics, Lady Mortimer, and the Dark Lady.

Distrust was running rampant throughout the Dark Alliance, and the Dark Lady did not have the power to prevent it. It would always be there as long as she sought power. The more power she had, the more she would come to distrust the Critics, her additional allies such as Glendower, and her close followers. People always craved more power and they would do anything to achieve their own selfish ends, even if it involved getting rid of whoever currently held the power. Right now, the Dark Lady held most of the power within the Dark Alliance and she intended to keep it that way once she was crowned Queen of Shakespeare, which meant that she would have competition for the throne within and outside of her organization. Most of those contenders would be too weak to attack her outright and those would be the ones she would be able to control. Others would have the audacity to challenge her but she would use her weaklings to thwart them and remain untouchable and with ultimate power.

But her decision not include the Critics in the opening battle of the ensuing war had nothing to do with distrust. She had come to this conclusion with the sole intent on saving the Critic troops to make a grand entrance during a later and crucial battle. She didn't want to reveal to the King's Men that the Critics were on her side too early in the game. Although they speculated that her and the Critics had formed some kind of alliance, they still weren't sure if the rumors they were hearing from their spies were true. She wanted to surprise them, to overwhelm them and that was why she wanted to keep the Critics out of the invasion of England. Their time would come and the Dark Lady hoped that Serafin and his comrades would understand her theory.

The Dark Lady explained her theory to Serafin and the other Critics, who listened to her without arguing. They didn't say anything until she was finished. Her point had been short and succinct but she felt that it had gotten the job done. She felt that it would almost be enough to convince them.

"Do you really think that would be a good idea?" Mordekaius, the military strategist, asked curiously. The Dark Lady had expected him to ask such a question. "The King's Men and all of the people who are worthy to fight with our enemy outnumber us? You will need all of the help you can get."

"I think that our numbers will suffice," the Dark Lady told him with confidence. "It will be a surprise attack. They will not be expecting us. We could march in with a dozen men and deal considerable damage before we meet much resistance. And we have a lot more soldiers at the ready than just twelve men, Councilor."

"Besides," Lady Mortimer spoke up and out of nowhere. The Dark Lady was surprised that she dared to even address the Shadow Council without being acknowledged. It was rude and the Dark Lady would only forgive her if she had something of value to add to their conversation. She was no soldier after all, so what she could have to say that was of value was beyond the Dark Lady. "My father is a very powerful, very influential man. If its soldiers you need, he'll supply you. He has legions of people awaiting his command."

The Dark Lady cocked her head to the side. Well, what Lady Mortimer had to say really didn't classify as being too valuable but she had made a good point other than calling her father a powerful man. Sure, he was influential but he wasn't very powerful. He was only the leader of Wales, a small nation who cowered under the strength of England. Glendower needed the Dark Alliance just as much as the Dark Alliance needed him if he ever was going to conquer England.

That was why the Shadow Council was visiting him today. Glendower claimed that he had more troops to provide. He was eager to invade England and so were his men he had said. The Dark Lady would be sure to have Glendower's eager soldiers fighting on the frontlines as often as possible.

"I can see that you make a valid point, Councilor," Miltiadi pointed out, ignoring Lady Mortimer's remark. The Dark Lady was surprised that he had spoken—he was usually so placidly silent—and she listened and waited for the "but". She knew that it wasn't going to be too easy to convince the Critic leaders of her plan. "We should remain out of the contest for as long as possible and when the King's Men least suspect it, the Critics should join the fray and create the type of chaos that will overwhelm the soldiers who are fighting to defend the Three Thrones from foreign invasions. However"—that was not quite the word that the Dark Lady had been expecting but there it was anyways—"your intentions to keep us out of the initial battle have me worried. Have we not gained your complete trust yet, Councilor?"

"Trust is not an issue here," The Dark Lady told him semi-truthfully.

"Then what is?" Miltiadi was curious to hear her response.

The Dark Lady looked at Mordekaius, her dark eyes barely visible behind her mask of tragedy. "Strategy. Mordekaius of all people should understand this. If the Critics participate in the invasion of England, then the King's Men will know officially that we are allied and they will stop at nothing to learn all that they can about their new enemy. The King's Men will study you relentlessly and learn how the Critics attack, what defensive measures that your soldiers use and so forth. Once the King's Men know more about who they are fighting, it may give them an advantage in future contests and we don't want that, at least not until we are deep into the war that is sure to come. If we cause the King's Men to believe that they are fighting only a portion of the Dark Alliance, then we will have the advantage. Am I not right, Councilor Mordekaius?"

Mordekaius nodded at once as if the Dark Lady was controlling him with imaginary strings. "An effective strategy," he said. "I agree with it and I understand your intentions, Councilor. This has been your rebellion from the start and we have imposed on the glory that you seek from your first major defeat of the enemy."

"No, I do not seek glory in that respect, Councilor," the Dark Lady corrected him. "I have no other intentions than the ones that I have implied. This is our rebellion, our alliance, and we shall definitely fight alongside each other when the time is right."

Hotspur smiled. He was growing more and more eager to fight with each passing day. He couldn't wait to see the look on King Henry's face when the Golden King became aware that it had been he all along who was instructed the peasants and other lowlifes to revolt, to insinuate anarchy, so that the Dark Alliance could come in and take out what was left behind—clean up the mess.

The Dark Lady looked at him and watched him for a moment. Even his gait was changing. He carried himself with an air of importance. Perhaps filling in temporarily for the absent Caliban was going to his head. Hotspur was becoming more and more cocky and the Dark Lady found it mildly attractive.

"The time is very close now," Hotspur said proudly. "So close I can smell it." He then inhaled deeply for dramatic effect.

"Patience, my boy, patience," Serafin reminded him before returning his attention to the Dark Lady. "Although Councilor Mordekaius agree with you, we shall discuss this matter more in council. Then, we will make a final decision through voting and if we have to bring in a seventh, then so be it."

"Fair enough," the Dark Lady agreed with the wise Serafin. Even though Serafin seemed to be against her plan, she felt at ease and as cool as the other side of the pillow. With Mordekaius seeing eye to eye with her, that was all it took. Claudius and Hotspur would agree with her automatically—the two sides of three tended to stick together when making important decision like two political parties campaigning against each other and a seventh voter, a third party, was often needed to break a tie—and with Mordekaius on her side, she already had the majority. A seventh wouldn't be needed as Serafin had predicted or had wanted.

Lady Mortimer led the group to a set of giant oak doors at the rear of the castle. Several of her attendants broke off from the group and opened the doors up for the important people whom they were happy to be in company.

"Milady," one of the attendants referred to Lady Mortimer as she stepped through the doorway. "Councilors and friends." The attendant added when the Dark Lady's entourage swept through as well.

They were outside in a courtyard, the sun shining bright overhead—a beautiful dawn. Stairs went up to a higher level to the left and stairs went down to a lower level to the right. The courtyard was vast, spanning several hundred yards all around. It was the top of a stone wall that overlooked the outer yard of the castle. This was where the archers would stand if the castle was overrun and perimeter defenses were overwhelmed. It was Owen Glendower's favorite spot to stand. He could view nearly his entire estate from up there.

Glendower was currently standing near the edge, staring down at something that no one walking up behind him could see quite yet. He was standing with his own entourage. Henry Percy, Hotpur's father, was present, along with Hotspur's wife, Katherine Percy. Henry Percy was the Earl of Northumberland, a province of England. Percy's brother, Thomas Percy, the Earl of Worcester, was also there, and so was the Earl of Douglas—a province of Scotland—Archibald Douglas. His presence there was peculiar as he served under King Duncan. How fascinating it was that Glendower managed to secure an ally of Scotland. Hopefully, it would make things easier for the Dark Alliance when they were ready to besiege Scotland, the last of the Three Thrones they planned to take. And last but not least, Edmund Mortimer, Lady's Mortimer's husband, was also there, standing by the side of his father-and-law.

Glendower approached the Dark Lady's party when he saw them.

"Father, your guests are here," Lady Mortimer announced.

"Excellent, excellent," Glendower said, smiling. His face seemed to be bursting at the seams with excitement. He was eager to show the Shadow Council his product and the Dark Lady was eager to see it herself. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Glendower was vying for a spot on the Shadow Council. He had wanted to replace Caliban during the leader of the Sycorax's absence and he also mentioned his own name when there were talks of adding a seventh permanent member. The Critics and the Dark Lady hadn't seen the problems that could arise when there was an even number of Councilors. They had just wanted to be twice as powerful as the leadership of the Three Thrones and that had blinded them. Needless to say though, if Glendower proved himself today then the Dark Lady would say that he was definitely in the running to join the Shadow Council. She was sure that the Critics would object because they would want another Critic member obviously and that would just create more problems. Sometimes, the Dark Lady started to regret forming an alliance with the Critics.

Glendower held his arms out wide. "Welcome to my humble abode," he greeted his visitors. "I have something very important to show you. But first, I would like for you to meet some very important friends of mine."

The people who had been standing with Glendower near the wall's edge came over then. Hotspur greeted his father first and then his wife. They embraced quickly and their kiss disgusted the Dark Lady.

Glendower made introductions. He first pointed at Henry Percy. The Dark Lady knew of all of these people because Hotspur had told her all about them but she listened to the formal introductions anyway, finding herself looking at Lady Percy in disgust from time to time.

"This is Master Henry Percy, father to young Henry here," Glendower said prior to pointing at Hotspur. "Young Henry's wife, Katherine," he continued with the introductions. "That charming fellow right there is Master Thomas Percy. Next to him is Master Archibald Douglas of Scotland. And my son-in-law, Master Edmund Mortimer."

The Critics introduced themselves then and so did King Claudius, although he had met some of them already. The Dark Lady didn't worry about introducing herself since Glendower's friends seemed to know too much about her already and referred to her as Mistress Lanier. The Dark Lady didn't like using her given name much but it was common knowledge that she was the heir of Lanier Castle. That was all anyone knew about her. There was no one in the world who knew what her first name was, how old she was, and what she looked like. The Dark Lady was so shrouded in mystery that she would excuse her last name being used sparingly.

The Dark Lady also didn't bother with introducing Tybalt and Roderigo. They were not important; they were pawns and nothing more.

"Now that the pleasantries have been honored," Glendower spoke afterwards, "allow to me to show you a fraction of the Dark Army." He grinned. "Follow me."

Glendower turned and marched back to the wall's edge. Everyone followed him as instructed. Mortimer and Lady Mortimer were walking hand-in-hand and the Dark Lady regarded them for a moment. They didn't make her feel queasy as much as Hotspur and Lady Percy who couldn't keep their hands off of each other. And Lady Percy wasn't particularly a good catch either, in the Dark Lady's opinion. Whatever Hotspur saw in her was mind boggling.

"The Dark Lady tells us that you have acquired a multitude of soldiers, Master Glendower," Mordekaius made conversation with Glendower.

Glendower nodded. "Yes, I have," he said. "It wasn't easy and I didn't get the job done by myself, of course." He chuckled. "No I had a lot of help from friends and associates that I have made over the years. It is because of Master Douglas here that I have about three times the amount of soldiers than what I started with. Apparently, there are many Scots who dislike their king as much as the English."

Douglas chuckled too. "It's all about dislike," he commented. "In England, it is more so about legitimacy because Henry is not the true king. Master Mortimer here should be king and for that reason many Englishmen despise King Henry. In Scotland, we just have sheer hatred towards Duncan, the benevolent king. The king who can't take charge at all and fight his own battles. If it wasn't for Macbeth then Duncan wouldn't be where he is today I can assure you of that."

"Macbeth?" Claudius echoed with curiosity. "Who is this Macbeth that you speak of, Master Douglas?"

"The Macbeth, your Highness," Douglas told him. "Surely, you have heard of his exploits by now."

"I haven't," Claudius told him. "Tales from Scotland rarely reach Denmark, I'm afraid."

"Yet the countries are so close together," Douglas pointed out. "But never mind that, I shall tell you a little bit about Macbeth. Macbeth is a competent warrior, a thane in the Scottish army. He, however, is not a member of the King's Men and I have people who are currently trying to get him to join our cause. His wife, Lady Macbeth, is already hooked and we just need Macbeth to cross sides now; however, it will be difficult at the moment because Macbeth is loyal to Duncan and he is away right now, fighting the rebel Macdonwald, who has a small band of Norwegian soldiers on his side."

"This Macbeth is a competent warrior, you say?" Claudius perked up. "Then, he is definitely worthy of joining our cause."

The Dark Lady thought about Lady Macbeth then. When Macbeth returned from his trip, she had better convinced her husband to join the Dark Alliance. The Dark Lady remembered giving Lady Macbeth another chance on that night the Relics disappeared—a night she tried to forget.

"Behold, your new soldiers!" Glendower exclaimed as they reach the edge of the wall.

The Dark Lady stepped up and peered downwards and she tightened her jaw to keep her mouth from falling open. Glendower had not only done his job but he had done it well. He had legions and legions of men standing downstairs in the yard. They were lined up in a tight formation, hundreds of armored warriors across in rows and hundreds of armored warriors up and down in columns.

This was truly a glorious sight. It was splendid, magnificent, and the Dark Lady couldn't understand why she was feeling faint all of a sudden.

Glendower spoke then but his words sounded so far away. The Dark Lady swayed on her feet before she blacked out and fell back into Claudius and Serafin.

Claudius caught her. "Milady!" he called. "Milady!"

A flash of a girl crossed the Dark Lady's mind eye and the very brief vision was gone. The Dark Lady was feeling better instantaneously. Even so, she wondered what had just happened to her because that wasn't the first time that something like that had happened to her . . . .

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I took in a deep breath and opened my eyes.

The sky was a pale and brilliant blue overhead. The sun's glare blinded me but I didn't care about the sky or the sun. I was just happy to be alive, even after wanting death to come to me so badly. I had been suffering then and I had been thinking irrationally. I hadn't really wanted to die, but dying at the time seemed to be a better alternative than suffering for some long.

But now, I was alive. I was stunned, in disbelief. I had fallen so far. I had blacked out and thought I was dead. But I had seen nothing but unconsciousness. I hadn't seen a white light or the fiery gates of Hell. All I saw was black and now, I could see the blue and yellow of the sky and the sun.

The grass was soft underneath my body and seemed to conform to my body's shape. I moved and found that I could do so easily without much discomfort. I was a little stiff but there was no pain. How long had I been out and why did I not have any broken bones? My body should have been crushed. It was a miracle.

I sat up and felt slightly dizzy because of the blood rushing back to my head. When the vertigo was cleared, I looked around. I was alone and it took me a second to remember where I was.

I was in Shakespeare. I was alive and in Shakespeare, which made me smile slightly. But then, I remembered that I was alone. Puck, Rosalind, and Ariel were probably back at the headquarters of the King's Men. I wondered if they had told Prospero yet about what happened to Othello and me. I wondered if they would look for me or assume that I was dead. I believed with all of my heart that Rosalind would search for me. She wouldn't ride me off that easily and I knew that Puck would probably be right along there with her. I wondered what Will would think if he ever caught wind of what happened to me. And then, I thought about Othello who was more than likely dead because of me. That would be a huge blow to the King's Men. He was supposedly one of their best men and now, he was gone. I never got to know how great he was because I had barely seen him in action. He was very brave; I knew that much about him, brave to the very end. If I ever found the King's Men, I would be sure to tell them that they should honor Othello's memory.

I was sitting in a field on a huge farm. From that position, the grass blades were nearly as tall as I was. I looked through the grass and up the hill. The farmhouse seemed to be miles away. I debated if I wanted to walk up to the house and check to see if anyone was home. Whoever lived there might be able to help me find Prospero's manor because I didn't know where I was exactly. Then, I spotted a road straight ahead. The road was a lot closer to my current position and I was sure that it led to the town that I had seen while falling. Surely, someone in the town would be able to assist me.

I stood up slowly, swaying on the spot. I wasn't injured but I was definitely disoriented. I regained my bearings and walked slowly through the grass towards the road. It felt weird to be alone here. I didn't know where I was going really. Sure, there was a town heading to the left—let's just call that way west for lack of a better term—but I didn't know what I would find there, or whom I would run into. I was a stranger here and people were sure to notice that I wasn't Shakespearean by my attire. I wouldn't be able to fool many people; however, my outfit was simple, wasn't too flashy, so maybe I wouldn't attract too much attention.

Yeah right. I would stand out like a sore thumb.

I reached the road. It twisted away from me for miles and I couldn't even see the town that I had seen on my way down. Walking wasn't necessarily something I enjoyed a whole lot but I was about to get plenty of it. I wished I had exercised more. I was terribly out of shape.

I stepped onto the road, took a deep breath, and headed down the path. There was nothing surrounding me except farmlands. For forever the grassy fields and towering trees seemed to stretch, so peaceful and picturesque, nature at its best. I found it really easy to think while I walked. The air was so clear and so was my mind. I was able to focus my thoughts on visualizing what I wanted to visualize. As I walked, I was able to separate the jumbled mess inside of my head and reflect on one thing at a time.

Atropos was the first thing that came to mind and couldn't help wondering what she wanted with me? She swore that she didn't want me dead and I had proof because not only did she say so herself, but I had also just survived a trillion feet fall. Nobody could survive a fall like that. I should have been a crumpled mess in a crater thirty feet deep that I had created when I crash-landed, but instead I was alive and well. My brain was functioning. I could breathe properly and my heart was still beating.

I was convinced that Atropos desires for me had to do with the Seven Relics. That was all I was good for, that was my destiny. My only purpose of coming to Shakespeare was to find the Seven Relics and nothing else. It was almost as if I was born to carry out that task.

Now why someone who could cause death would want to acquire the Seven Relics, I had no idea? It was peculiar, yet that was the only reasonable explanation that I could come up with was that Atropos wanted the Relics as well.

I laughed aloud suddenly, as I shifted thoughts. I remembered previous conversations about the Relics and I wondered if finding the Relics would be as simple as one two three. I had thought that somehow their locations would just pop into my head the moment I came to Shakespeare but of course, they didn't. I had no more of a general idea of where they were hidden now than before I left the Merchant's Library. That was the important piece that was missing from my assignment. I was the one who could find the Relics, yet I didn't even know where to begin to look for them. Whoever placed the enchantment on the Henry IV manuscript—prophecy—had made a mistake. They had forgotten a very important clause and the irony of the situation was amusing to me somehow.

I walked on. How far had I traveled? I had only been walking for a few minutes but it felt like ages already. I looked back. The farmhouse was far away now and so was the field I had landed in. I looked ahead again and I still couldn't see the town yet. Knowing it was there though, I continued to walk, hoping I would reach the first signs of the town really soon.

My feet ached and the sudden appearance of a headache was making it hard to think. I needed a plan. The quicker I found someone who could actually help me, the quicker I could be reunited with the King's Men. And the quicker I was reunited with the King's Men, the quicker I could get this quest over with and then I could return home to Alice and Melody. I was missing them terribly and what made it worse was that I didn't know how long I would be away from them. Surely, time passed differently here in Shakespeare than it did back home but the search for the Seven Relics could take forever, considering that I didn't know where a single freaking one was located.

It was frustrating. Why did I even agree to this in the first place? It was stupid of me. I was lost, wandering around somewhat aimlessly and Othello was dead, dead because he had been trying to keep me safe from harm.

I couldn't live with the guilt of knowing that someone died while trying to protect me. It had been honorable of Othello, so noble, but it shouldn't have been that way. This wouldn't happen if I hadn't been Curious George during my job interview with Antonio. I should never have read from the prophecy. That had screwed up everything. In fact, I wished that Will had never told me about the prophecies in the first place.

But what was done was done and no matter how much time I spent wishing for this and wishing for that, I couldn't erase the past. Will had told me about the prophecies and how he had always wanted to read from them but Antonio wouldn't let him. I couldn't change that and I couldn't change me reading from the prophecy and everything that came afterwards. The only way I could fix the mess that I was in was to carry out my objective. I had to find the Seven Relics.

I ignored my headache and tried to think, to clear my head again and focus on the positives. In regards to the Seven Relics, I had a head start. It wasn't much but I had some information about the Relics already. I knew what two out of the seven Relics were at least. Rosalind and the others had confirmed that Leah's ring was a Relic and I also knew that Yorick's skull was also a Relic. My dreams had helped me acquire that information and I was glad that they were good for something and not just nightly, fragmented, imaginations that my sub-conscious mind liked to create. If I could manage to find those two items perhaps they would help me somehow to find the others, or at least help me to be able to recognize what the other five were.

Then, I had it. Caliban knew! He was with the Dark Lady that night when the Relics disappeared. He was present in my dreams. He had given her Leah's ring, which he had stolen from Antonio. I was so happy to have remembered this that I had nearly forgotten that I didn't like Caliban and would rather not see him ever again.

My happiness evaporated like water on the street during a warm summer's day. Caliban was the only one I knew about who could tell me what the Seven Relics were, the only one who could help me with that information. I was still on my own in locating the Relics but Caliban could give me some tips; however, I knew that my repulsion of him would factor in my decision on whether or not to ask him for help once I was back with the King's Men. On top of that, I wondered how willing he would be to help me. Caliban was selfish and only cared about one person—and that was Caliban. What sneaky little conditions would he set up in exchange for aiding me? He would want some sort of deal out of it all, a deal that would benefit him. I had nothing to offer him, so what would he want?

Clip-clop! Clip-clop!

The sound of hooves coming up the road behind me startled me out of my thoughts. They were thundering along, coming up fast. I spun around and saw five horses galloping along the path. Three were out in front, leading the way and moving swiftly as though they were racing. Atop all five of the steeds were five different men. I could make them out even at such a great distance.

I breathed a sigh of relief. People were coming. They were strangers but I would flag them down and request their assistance on getting to Prospero's manor—forget what Alice had always told me about never talking to strangers.

I stopped walking and waited. I needed to rest anyways and I wanted to ready myself to try and stop the five men as they passed. Would they overlook me or would they notice that I wasn't from around these parts?

The three who were leading the pack raced straight towards me. I could hear them laughing as the gap between us shrunk. The other two remained at the rear of the group, preferring to move at a much slower pace than their companions.

I stepped off of the road and shielded my eyes from the sun. It was brightest in the direction where the men were coming from and I made a visor over my eyes with my hand so that I could see how close they were, watching for them to approach.

It didn't take long. The ones who were racing each other, galloped past me in a frenzy, laughing and cackling like madmen.

"Hey!" I yelled as loud as I could. "Hey!"

One of them looked back, a young man with long blond hair. "Hey!" I called again, waving my arms around like a maniac. The blond man stopped his horse, which caught the attention of the other two men who were with him.

"Giving up, Poins?" One of the men asked the blond-haired guy, who was named Poins. My brain processed the information and I knew who Poins was from Shakespearean literature. So who were his companions? Poins was usually in the presence of Bardolph, Peto, John Falstaff, or even better Prince Harry, the heir to the throne of England. Did that mean that I had fallen close to England? It was possible since I had been traveling to the headquarters for the King's Men, which was located in the center of the Three Thrones. If I were near England, then my destination would be closer than I had imagined.

"Never," Poins said with a smile. "Why would I give up if I was winning?"

"What do you mean you were winning?" The same guy who addressed Poins earlier asked him another question. He had hair that was shorter than Poins's and was very dark brown, almost black in color. "I was winning."

The third man scoffed. He had reddish-blond hair that was tied in a ponytail. "Bardolph, you were not winning. You were in last place my friend."

Poins laughed and Bardolph scowled. "So you think you were winning then, Peto?" Bardolph asked the ponytail man.

Peto nodded and stroked his horse. "As if you even have to ask," he said. "I always come in first place."

"There's only one way for this to be decided," Poins stated. "We ask her."

His eyes fell upon me and it was kind of embarrassing. I wanted to look away as he stared at me with a gaze of longing. Apparently, guys were the same everywhere. Whenever they saw a girl, the first thing that came to mind was to check her out. Poins was checking me out, trying to decide if I was worth hitting on or not and I didn't like the way he was ogling me. It made me feel very uncomfortable.

Then, I had Bardolph and Peto looking at me as well. It was really hard to stand there in the gaze of three men who was trying to figure out if they had a shot with me or not.

"So, she is the reason why you stopped, Poins?" Bardolph said with a smile, no longer concerned with their trivial race. I am not tooting my own horn when I say that I was more important than an argument over whose horse was the fastest. "I must say, that if I saw this marvel of beauty first, I would have stopped too." He had said that last line louder than the first, hoping that I would hear his compliment. Marvel of beauty? How lame.

Bardolph tugged at his horse's reins and his horse walked towards me. Poins and Peto followed him.

"Greetings, fair maiden," Poins greeted me. "Do you travel alone?"

I nodded. "Yes, I travel alone," I informed him. "I was separated from my friends and I was wondering if you could help me find them."

"We might be interested in helping you," Peto said. "But first, I must tell you that you are a sparkling ray of sunshine and the fairest of all maidens I have ever laid my eyes upon."

"Um, thanks," I said, blushing. I mean, what else could you say to that?

"My eyes have never known beauty until they have seen you," Peto continued. Sitting on his horse next to him, Bardolph rolled his eyes. "You are beauty itself, even if your clothes are soiled and strange-looking."

"Where are you from?" Poins was curious. "Are you from Heaven because you must be an angel?"

Bardolph rolled his eyes again. "We ask you this because we have never seen attire like that around here. Are you from one of the free lands?"

"Are you from Padua?" Peto asked. "The girls from Padua dress funny anyways."

I shook my head. "I am not from the free lands or Padua and I am definitely not from Heaven," I told them, trying to answer all of their questions. "I am from—" I hesitated then, not wanting to tell them that I was from the human world. How would they react if I revealed such precious information to them? I decided that I did not want them to know that I was from the human world. I racked my brains. Would could I tell them? "I am from"—aw, what the heck, it was the only place I could think of—"I am from . . . America!" I cried.

The three of them looked confused at the same time.

"America?" Poins echoed.

"I am not familiar with a place called America," Bardolph admitted.

"Me neither," Peto said.

Good, I thought to myself. I was glad that they had never heard of America. That way they would not know that I was from the human world.

"Where is America located?" Bardolph questioned me. "I have never heard of it."

"You know, it is far away from the Three Thrones," I replied, stuttering through most of my response and trying to utilize Shakespearean vocabulary that I knew. "And far away from the free lands. It is west of here and—"

"In the unexplored regions?" Peto cut me off. "You are from the unexplored regions?"

Sure, why not?

I nodded.

"Amazing," Bardolph said. "I didn't think that people lived there."

"Fair lady, we would be honored if you would join us for dinner and tell us what it is like where you come from," Poins said.

"I'm afraid that I am not hungry," I said and at the same time my stomach betrayed me by growling loudly. "And I do not have time for dinner. I must find my friends. It is important."

"What is your name, dear one?" Peto ignored what I had just said and questioned me. "We were so caught up in your radiance that we are forgetting pleasantries here."

I thought carefully about this as well before I responded. "My name is Natalie Wentworth," I lied to the three of them. I had almost used Melody's name but I loved her too much to do that. Besides, if anyone started referring to me as Melody, then that would cause me to think about my best friend often and how much I missed her. Oh, how I missed her and Alice so much. Therefore, I chose to use the name of my worse enemy. I wouldn't like being called Natalie for as long as I was in the company of Peto, Poins, and Bardolph, but at least the name would keep my mind off of the people I cared about.

"Nice to meet you Miss Wentworth," Poins said, bowing low even on the back of his steed. He looked ridiculous and Peto laughed at him.

"Please just call me Natalie," I told him, not liking the whole first and last name reference even though I wasn't using my true name.

"Very well then, Miss Wentworth—I mean, Natalie," Poins said. He pointed at himself. "I'm Poins and these are my friends, Bardolph and Peto." He introduced himself and the others.

"Nice to meet you," I said, remembering my manners.

"Now, Natalie, as I was saying earlier, we would be delighted if you would eat dinner with us," Poins repeated.

"I can't, I'm sorry," I reminded him. "I have to find my friends."

"We'll help you," Bardolph offered. "We promise that we will help you after we get some food. We are starving."

Poins rubbed his belly. "Yes, I am pretty famished."

"So, will you join us?" Peto asked hopefully.

If it were the only way that they would help me, then I would eat dinner with them. I didn't have time to waste by arguing with them.

"Sure, I'll join you for dinner," I said. "But afterwards, do I have your word that you will help me find my friends?"

"Definitely," Peto said and I had the impression that he was either lying or had no interest in helping me.

There was laughter suddenly behind me. Then, a voice spoke. "I can't believe you three," the voice said. It sounded young and handsome, if a voice could sound handsome and it reminded an awful lot of Will's voice. "Really are we trading service in exchange for a date with a pretty young woman? Have you guys really stooped so low?"

I spun around and I was so shocked at what I saw that I nearly collapsed. The other two men had rejoined their friends. One was older with gray hair and the second one was younger. It was the younger one who had spoken and he looked just like . . . .

"Will?" I said aloud before I could stop myself.

Luckily for me, no one heard me as Poins was saying at the same time. "What are you talking about? We just invited Natalie here to join us for dinner. We are not trying to court her, honestly."

"Speak for yourself," I heard Bardolph whisper. I didn't look at him though. My eyes were fixed upon the newcomer.

Upon a closer inspection, I could see that he was definitely not Will, although there were a lot of similarities. The young man was ruggedly handsome and his brown hair was wild and cool looking like Will's. He even had green eyes too. There were several physical differences between him and Will obviously, because even though they looked alike they were definitely not twins and probably not even related for that matter. The difference that stood out the most immediately was that the young man appeared to be only a few years older than me and could sprout a full beard. The beard made him looked older and mature and I liked it. I didn't think that he would look very attractive without it.

"She is definitely beautiful," the older man threw in his opinion. I pulled my eyes away from the handsome younger man long enough to get a good glimpse at the other newcomer. He was definitely not as inviting as his friend.

There was something familiar about his salty gray hair, his wide frame, and the jovial look on his face. This man was John Falstaff and I had to be careful about what I said around him. This man was in league with the Dark Lady. I had seen him scheming with her from time to time in my dreams.

Falstaff winked at me; he was known as a womanizer in the prophecies that I had read about him. I couldn't see why women fell for him in the first place. He was not good looking at all. His friend, on the other hand, was very pleasant to look at.

I turned away from Falstaff, not wanting to look at him anymore, especially the lusty look on his face. Out of reflex, my eyes returned to the younger man. He was looking at me now and I didn't mind if he stared at me all day.

I knew that I needed to get a grip on myself and I knew that I had only broke up with my boyfriend a few hours ago—although time was different here in Shakespeare— but I couldn't help the initial attraction that I was feeling for this stranger. Maybe I was feeling that way because he reminded me so much of Will, which made me feel weirder for feeling that way in the first place.

"Forgive my friends, milady, they sometimes forget how to act in the presence of a woman," the young man addressed me.

I snapped out of some kind of a trance and realized that he had been talking to me.

"Oh, oh," I stuttered nervously. "It was okay, really. I'm used to it."

The young man laughed. "I'm sure that you are."

Falstaff brought his horse towards me, pushing his way past the young man's horse. He held down a hand for me to shake and I hesitated. I didn't know where that hand had been so I didn't want to shake it.

"John Falstaff," he introduced himself as if I didn't already know who he was. "Sir John Falstaff," he emphasized his social status. "It's a pleasure to make acquaintances with such a charming young lady."

Charming? I barely said anything. I loved how they all assumed so much about me, except for the handsome young man of course.

I tentatively held out my hand. "Charmed," I said sarcastically and no one caught my sardonic tone of voice.

Then, Falstaff gripped my hand tightly. I tried to pull it away but he held on to it with so much force. He then tried to bend over and kiss my hand like a gentleman but nearly toppled off of his horse's back. His friends laughed and during the commotion, I wriggled my hand free.

"Always such a gentleman, you are Falstaff," Poins said, roaring with laughter.

Falstaff flushed and straighten up the feathered cap that he was wearing on his head. "I thought I could bend over that far," he said, embarrassed.

"If you stop drinking so much liquor and lose a few inches around the middle there you'll be all right," Peto joked.

Everyone laughed except for me. I didn't find Peto's insult to be very funny. I would have expected Falstaff to side with me and to be mad at Peto, but he was laughing as well. Apparently, they all acted like this all the time.

"Ahoy, you're the one to joke laddie," Falstaff chortled. "If you knock back a few more tankards, then you will be as round as I am."

Peto stopped laughing and examined his own belly. "You're right," he said with a chuckle. "I need to cut back on drinking."

"Like you can," Poins pointed out. "Getting drunk is the only thing that you live for, huh Peto?"

Peto laughed even harder then.

"That and robbing coaches," Bardolph said.

Poins smacked him on the back of the head out of nowhere.

"What?" Bardolph asked, trying to figure out why Poins had hit him.

Poins pointed at me. "We're in the presence of a lady, remember?"

"Oh, right," Bardolph said. "My mistake. I forgot."

There were more chuckles and I was tired of it. The more time we wasted by joking around, the longer it would take before I could return home.

"Excuse me, fellows," I spoke up. "But I really must find my friends. We need to go on and eat dinner so you all can help me and I can be on my way."

"Right," Poins said. "Let's go and eat."

"Where are we going to go?" Peto asked.

Falstaff looked around at the group. "Any suggestions?"

"The tavern?" Peto and Bardolph said at the same time.

"No, we will not be dining at the tavern today," the young man said. "We shall dine at my father's castle."

Poins laughed. "You're joking, right, your Highness? You know our kind is not welcomed in your father's home."

Your Highness?

"What my father doesn't know won't hurt him," the young man said. "Besides, he can't stop me from having a few friends over for a meal."

"Your Highness?" I echoed aloud. "You're royalty?"

"Yes, he's a prince," Bardolph said at once. "Do you not know who he is?"

I shook my head, although I was beginning to put two and two together.

"Thank you, Bardolph," the young man said sarcastically. "If I wanted her to know that I am a prince, I would have told her myself."

"You're Prince Harry, King Henry's son?" I asked knowledgably, not thinking before I spoke. It didn't matter anyways. Royal families were always popular and my question implied that I had heard of Prince Harry, even all the way in America, the fictitious Shakespearean place where I had said that I had come from.

"I prefer to be called Hal, thank you very much," Harry—Hal—spoke in the airy tone of a prince, mocking his own social standing in society. His friends laughed at his humor. "But yes," he said, his voice returning to normal. "I am Prince Harry."

"My name is Natalie Wentworth," I introduced myself, using my fake alias. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness." I bowed. It seemed proper to do that at that time.

Hal laughed and I straightened up. "Please, like I said, call me Hal," he told me. "And please don't bow to me. I don't like people knowing that I am a prince, let alone acknowledging me as such. Just think of me as your typical English citizen. Don't place me in such a lofty position. I am not above you."

"Natalie is not from around these parts," Bardolph informed Hal. "She is from America."

I groaned silently, hoping that neither Hal nor Falstaff knew that America was two continents in the human world. I didn't know how much access Hal had to the human world being the son of a ruler of one of the Three Thrones and I didn't know how much access to such information Falstaff had as well since he was a member of the Dark Alliance, as the Dark Lady and her faction liked to call themselves nowadays.

"America?" Hal echoed and Falstaff frowned, thinking. "Where is America?"

Before I could speak and get the subject off of America, Peto chimed in by saying, "In the unexplored regions, Hal."

"You're from the unexplored regions, Natalie?" Hal questioned me.

I nodded. "Yes, I guess I am."

"My father would love to hear about your life there," Hal told me. "He has been trying to convince the other kings to explore the land out west for years now. He will be impressed. Maybe, finally, he can send a team out there to meet your people. Do you live in large states or in tight-knit communities? I heard the people that come from the west are migrant people, moving from one place to the next."

"States definitely," I replied, wishing that the question session would just end. I was ready to get back to the King's Men so that we could search for the Seven Relics. I needed to get away from Hal and his friends, although I wouldn't mind it at all if Hal went wherever I went. He reminded me of Will a lot but he also took my mind off of Will too because he was different, a new object of my attraction. And since when did I get all weak in knees for boys? It had all started with Will . . . .

Bardolph's stomach growled then and it saved me from more questions about America. "Enough talk!" he complained. "Let's go eat and then, we can talk all we want to."

"Right," Peto agreed. "Natalie? You can ride with me."

Falstaff shook his head. "No, she can ride with me."

"No, with me," Poins said forcibly, all the while grinning at me with a dopey debonair-like grin. It wasn't dashing at all.

"I think that Natalie will be safer if she rides with me," Hal spoke up, taking charge. Sometimes, you could tell by the way he acted that he was a noble.

Peto mocked bowed. "Of course, Your Majesty, Natalie will be honored to ride with you."

Everyone laughed and Hal shot Peto a dirty look, before grinning himself.

With it settled whom I was riding with, I walked over to Hal's horse. He reached down to help me up onto the back of his horse. I grabbed a hold of his arm and he was surprisingly strong. He pulled me up onto the horse behind him with one arm. Once I was secure on the back of the horse, I realized that this would be the first time that I had ever ridden on a horse. I looked down. The ground wasn't so far away but I was still scared of falling off, especially once we got moving. I wrapped my arms around Hal's chest tightly and I suddenly wanted to lay my head on his back. But I shook away that thought. After all, I barely knew him and that would just be plain weird.

"Um, Natalie," Hal called.

"Huh?" I asked stupidly.

"You might wanna, uh, loosen up your hold there, buddy," Hal told me. "I can't breathe."

"Oh, right," I said. I had been squeezing him too tightly.

I loosened my arms around Hal's chest. "Thanks," he said, looking at his friends. "Let's go."

The five horses took off at a steady trot, thundering down the road. Hal and Falstaff hung back towards the rear of the group, while Poins, Peto, and Bardolph raced off down the road, creating a considerable distance between them and us. Hal even slowed some more when he felt me starting to squeeze him tightly again.

"The trip's uncomfortable for you?" he questioned me.

I nodded, although he couldn't see it. "A little bit," I confessed. "I, uh, never rode on a horse before."

"Never?" Hal was shocked. "How did you get around to places then?"

I nearly said "The bus", but I stopped myself just in time. "I walk everywhere," I told Hal.

"Walking will definitely get you from point A to point B," Hal said. "But riding a horse is so much faster."

He was right about that. We had only been traveling for a few minutes now and I could already see the town that I had been looking for up ahead, about another mile or so.

"I guess I could get used to it then," I told him. "So what is a prince doing hanging out with . . . with criminals?" I asked Hal, trying to make casual conversation to pass the time. I hope that he wasn't offended by me calling his friends criminals, but that's what they were, there was no other word to describe them. I guess I could have called them crooks or delinquents.

Hal laughed, which wasn't the reaction I had been expecting. "Criminals?" he echoed. "Why do you call them criminals?"

"Well, because they like to steal stuff," I told him. "They also like to hit on strange girls and get drunk a lot. I don't know, criminals just sounded like a good word to use. At any rate, I don't think that a prince should associate himself with people who act like that."

Hal glowered. I could feel his shoulders slump, although I could not see his face. Had I said the wrong thing? Was he mad at me?

"You sound like my father," he told me after a moment of silence.

"I'm sorry," I apologized at once.

"No, no, it's okay," Hal assured me and I felt at ease. "The people that I am friends with are harmless really. Sure, they like to plunder and are drunkards but they are better than the elites that make up my father's crowd. I can't stand to be in the room with any of them for too long." He shook his head. "Politicians, noblemen, ambassadors, military leaders . . . Now, those are the real criminals, Natalie. Those are the people who lie and swindle their way to the top while taking advantage of the commoners, my friends. That is why I associate myself with the people that you call criminals, because I can relate better to the commoners than I can the elites. I am different than any of the elites you will ever meet. I've been around the commoners for most of my life and I know what they want. They want a voice in politics."

"I think what you are doing is a noble thing—getting to know the common folks and what they desire," I told him. "But not all people in positions of power are bad. I'm sure that your father isn't."

"No, my father is one of the good ones," Hal admitted, and I could tell that he wasn't just bragging on his father because King Henry was his father. No, Hal's words were profound, the truth. He honestly believed that his father was a good king and not so because they were related and he couldn't say anything bad about his father. "He wasn't always though. I don't necessarily agree with the way that he became king but since he has become king, my father has changed. He is a good king. He is just easily fooled by those around him."

"How did your father become king?" I questioned Will. "You said that you don't agree with the way he became king?"

Hal chuckled. "You must want a history lesson or something? What you people out west don't catch wind of stories about the Three Thrones?"

I chuckled myself, playing along. "No, we don't."

"Very well then, I will tell you how my father became a Golden Ruler," Hal told me. "It isn't much of a story, mind you. My father didn't go on some brave exploit to be crowned king, nor did he pull a sword out of a stone. My father simply gained power while King Richard II was away on a military campaign. My father declared himself king and he seized land from those in positions of power who stood against him. There wasn't much fighting involved, nor was there much resistance because my father was well-liked and favored even more highly than the current king at the time. When King Richard returned, my father and his supporters had him imprisoned, and my father was officially declared king a few days later."

I cocked my head in thought. "Oh, I see now why you are against your father's methods that he used to seize the throne," I said. "He used to be one of the elites that you despise, the type that lie and cheat their way to the top."

Hal nodded happily, proud that I had caught on so quickly. "Exactly!" he exclaimed. "My father went about it the wrong way and now, even though he has changed his ways, I fear that it may be too late. Justice for what he has done is approaching swiftly."

"What do you mean?" I wondered.

"There are whispers of rebellion in our kingdom now," Hal admitted. "Peasants are revolting and some of my father's former allies are turning against him. Owen Glendower, the dictator of Wales, is speaking openly against my father now, expressing the hatred that he has for who he calls a 'cowardly leader'. If civil unrest doesn't do in my father first, then the Welsh will."

"So, you believe that rebellions against your father will be payback for what he has done in the past?"

"Precisely," Hal said without hesitation. "How ironic."

"Yes, how ironic indeed."

I looked around, noticing that we had entered the town. Hal and I rode through the streets together, as I took in all of the sights. Falstaff was still hanging back a little ways ahead of us, but I couldn't see Poins, Peto, and Bardolph at all. They were long gone and probably back at King Henry's castle by now at the rate that they were traveling.

The town was a typical town I would have expected to see in a world like Shakespeare. The buildings were archaic, some fancier than others. There were several shops that were more outdoors like a market and even buildings that were comprised of wood and straw. Turkey legs were roasting on an open fire at once place, and the smell reminded me that I was starving. A merchant was selling jewelry at a wooden stand and he was shouting out "Rings for sale! I've got rings for sale!" continuously. I thought about the missing Leah's ring and my thoughts returned to the Seven Relics for a while until Hal spoke to me again.

"Natalie? Can I tell you a secret about me?" he asked me. "A secret that I have never confided with in anyone?"

"Sure," I told him, wondering why he wanted to tell me a secret. He barely knew me—well, technically, he didn't know me at all, not even my true name—and he was about to tell me something that he had never told anyone before. I couldn't figure out why he would want to do something like that. I guess I had "You can trust me" stamped across my forehead in big, freaking letters.

"I am putting on an act for everyone right now," he told me his secret. "I am spending time with commoners and criminals because I want people to get the wrong impression about me. I want them to believe that Prince Harry is a lowlife and will never amount to anything, let alone the King of England. Have you ever worn a mask, Natalie? Not a real mask, but a pretend one? Have you ever pretended to be someone your not?"

I nodded. "Yes, I have," I confessed to Hal. I was even doing it right now as we spoke to each other.

"Well, that is what I am doing, I am pretending," Hal continued. "Sure, I enjoy being friends with Falstaff and the gang but one day, I plan to leave this life behind and become the king that my father knows I can be, the king that I know I can be. I am grateful for my time spent outside of the castle, but my true place is by my father's side. And when the time is right, I will take off my mask for the world to see the true Hal. I will be a wise person because I will know what it feels like to be a noble and what it feels like to be a peasant. I will understand both worlds, something that no other king has understood before. Not even my father look to the commoners as much as he should."

"Good for you, Hal," I said. "I knew that you had another agenda."

I looked ahead and saw that Falstaff was staring at the two of us.

"So, Natalie, tell me a little bit about yourself?" Hal asked me. "I'm telling you my secrets and about my family and you haven't told me much of anything."

"There's nothing much to tell anyways," I said.

My eyes locked with Falstaff's eyes and for three seconds, we stared at each other. I narrowed my eyes and he turned away. I wondered how much he had heard of my conversation with Hal. Had he heard Hal's secret plans?

"Come on, Natalie," Hal pleaded. "Tell me something interesting about yourself."

I turned my gaze away from Falstaff, deciding not to worry about what he had heard. After dinner, I was out of there anyways. I would be back with the King's Men and hopefully I wouldn't see Falstaff again. I wished I could say the same thing about Hal . . . .

It was really Will all over again. Hal was drawing me in, making me feel things for him that I shouldn't feel quite yet or even at all. He was complex, so in control of his own destiny, knowing exactly what he wanted to do. He was so intelligent, so kind, and I believed that he would be a good king one day. If the prophecy I had read about him came true, then he would definitely become a good king.

"Okay," I said to him, enjoying the time that I spent with him while it lasted, as much as he enjoyed spending time with his friends that would come to an end soon. "I'll tell you a little bit about myself . . . ."

--------------------------------------------------

Will couldn't believe what he was hearing. Othello was presumed dead and Anne was missing, or dead too?

Anne dead?

Will felt a part of himself die when he heard Puck and Rosalind's recap on what had happened when they were traveling to Shakespeare with Anne. Atropos had come to visit them and had demanded to take Anne away from the group. Othello refused and Atropos attacked. Othello broke free to fight her and her avatars and he was currently missing, with everyone in the room assuming that he was a goner besides Prospero, who wouldn't announce Othello's death until he had proof that one of his greatest soldiers was truly gone. After Othello rushed to battle Atropos, Anne had lost her hold on Rosalind's hand and had fallen before the journey had been completed, fallen before the group had reached its destination. Puck, Rosalind, and Ariel had traveled on to Prospero's manor, but Anne had fallen . . . .

She was somewhere out there, Will was sure of it. Like Prospero, he would refuse to believe that Anne was dead until he had proof that she was dead. She had been traveling through one of the connecting gates between Shakespeare and the human world so she should have survived the fall. Where she was now? No one had a clue. And instead of sitting around talking now that Rosalind and Puck had concluded their tale, they needed to take action and send out search parties to find Anne.

In many ways, Will thought it was better that he had made the decision to return home to Shakespeare, instead of remaining in the human world to pine over his breakup with Anne. Here, he could assist in whatever plans Prospero and Oberon would have in finding Anne, where as if he had remained on Earth, he would have been oblivious to Anne's disappearance until Antonio had heard about it and then relayed it to him.

"We have to do something now!" Will cried, leaping out of his seat. He was pulsating and he couldn't take sitting still anymore. "We have to find Anne now!"

More than a dozen pair of eyes turned to stare at Will. Will didn't cower under their gaze, even though there were some big names gathered in the room with him, like Prospero, Oberon, and Titania. He stood strong, resolute. He was going to find Anne. She had already broken his heart by breaking up with him, but she was not going to break him completely by being never recovered. The longer she was missing, the more broken he became. He was antsy. He was on edge and a part of him wished he hadn't come to the meeting with Caliban, Mercutio, Macduff, and Portia. But Caliban had told him that it was something important about Anne and Will had jumped at the opportunity. A part of him wished that he had visited his mother instead. What you don't know can't hurt you . . . .

"We will, young Master Stratford, we will," Prospero reminded him in his calm, wise voice. Will wanted to yell at the old man for not moving fast enough but it was very difficult to become angry at Prospero; he just had a certain air about him that demanded respect and kindness all of the time.

If Will, Caliban, Mercutio, Macduff, and Portia were representing the Sycorax, then Prospero was representing the King's Men, along with Oberon, Rosalind, Puck, Ariel, Miranda, Malcolm, Michael Cassio, and Bassanio. Titania was there for the Fairy Wings, of course, along with the fairies, Moth and Mustardseed.

Will glanced at Cassio and for a second their eyes met. Although he was looking somber upon hearing the supposed fate of Othello, Cassio was also eager to get out and actually search for their missing comrades too. After all, Cassio and Othello were best friends.

"Anne is a stranger to Shakespeare and we can't leave her out there alone for too long," Will almost pleaded.

"I am aware of this," Prospero told him. "We will find Anne, I promise you."

For a fleeting second, Will looked as though he had more to say, but then, he was suddenly lost for words. He collapsed back into his seat, staring off to the side at one of the grandiose walls of the conference room within Prospero's home. Portia comforted him—she had always had a soft spot for William Stratford in an elderly sister way.

Oberon looked to Puck and Rosalind for more answers. Ariel wasn't involved in the conversation much anymore. She had given a brief testimony and was now hovering by the doors, separate from the rest of the group like usual.

"Do you have a general idea where Anne fell?" Oberon asked Rosalind and Puck.

Rosalind shook her head. "I don't know," she replied. "We were moving so quickly that the moment Anne fell, the next second we had moved away from her considerably and I could no longer see her at all."

"We were close to here though when she fell," Puck said. "I would wager that she is at least in one of the Three Thrones right now."

Prospero nodded. "Miranda, darling?" he called.

Miranda stood up and swept instantly by her father's side, her long blond hair glittering like diamonds. "Yes, father."

"I want you to send out messengers to each of the Golden Kings," Prospero instructed her. "Tell them that we are looking for a girl named Anne Hathaway, who is from the human world, and that we need their assistance in finding her."

Miranda nodded and left the room, stepping around Ariel and out the doors.

"What do you need for the Sycorax to do, my liege?" Caliban requested eagerly. He was just eager for action period.

"Nothing but for you to return to protecting your borders if you are still honorable, that is to say," Malcolm spat suddenly at Caliban, so that it shocked everyone. Malcolm, who was the prince of Scotland, was usually the one to shy away from confronting people. That was why everyone was surprised at his outburst. Mercutio and Macduff were scowling at him and Macduff and Malcolm were good friends, as Macduff was a loyal thane to King Duncan, Prince Malcolm's father. "I've heard about your attempt at kidnapping Anne Hathaway and now I truly question which side you are on, Caliban. Are you still loyal to the Sycorax and to concept of what is means to be good, or have you slipped into darkness and is now a devoted servant of the Dark Lady?"

"Prince Malcolm, Caliban's honor and loyalty is not what is to be discussed here," Macduff spoke up for the leader of the Sycorax. "Our primary topic is Anne Hathaway and how we are going to find her."

"I beg your pardon, my friend, but Caliban's honor and loyalty is what should be questioned here," Malcolm retorted. "He seems awfully eager to help in finding Anne and why did he attempt to kidnap her?"

Macduff opened his mouth to speak, but Caliban beat him to it. "Thank you, Macduff, for defending me, but I can speak up for myself," Caliban said loudly, smiling at the Sycorax member. Then, he turned his attention to Malcolm. Will squirmed in his seat in outrage that Prospero and Oberon was allowing this discussion to carry on. They should be out there searching for Anne, not talking about Caliban. Whatever personal intentions that Caliban would have for Anne no longer mattered now that they were back in Shakespeare. The King's Men would keep a prying eye on Caliban at all times, now that more and more King's Men were starting to think that Caliban had already switched sides. It would be impossible for Caliban to try and do what he had tried to do in the human world.

"When I journeyed into the human world, I did not go there to kidnap Anne Hathaway, I went there to find her and bring her back to Shakespeare with me so that we could find the Seven Relics together. I admit that I didn't want the King's Men involved because I wanted to bring glory to the Sycorax once again. I was wrong for feeling slightly jealous at how the Golden Rulers favor the King's Men so and the Sycorax remain in the shadows. But I was not going to take Anne to the Dark Lady, if anyone in this room believes that to be true. My intentions are always for the greater good and you should never doubt that."

"Your intentions may always be for the greater good," Rosalind spoke out of turn as well. "But there are always selfish reasons behind it all."

Caliban shrugged and grinned. Neither Rosalind nor Malcolm liked it much.

"Prospero and Oberon trust me," Caliban said. "I don't see any reason for anyone to question my loyalty and my honor."

Prince Malcolm looked to the two leaders of the King's Men, who were sitting next to each other. "You honestly trust him? He is a snake. Clearly, you all can see it."

"If you recall, my prince, Caliban is a spy working for the Three Thrones," Oberon reminded Malcolm. "He has gained access to the Dark Lady's inner circle over the past year and has fed us valuable information about her and her newly formed Dark Alliance with the Critics. Your father trusts him. King Henry and King Claudius trust him, and so did King Hamlet. The King's Men are devoted warriors who serve the Three Thrones, so I have to say that I trust Caliban too, and so does Prospero."

To this, Prospero nodded but remained silent.

"But you only trust him because the Golden Kings trust him," Bassanio added his opinion. "I am not questioning your trust. I just noticed, Master Oberon, that you seem to trust Caliban only because it is your duty to serve the Three Thrones."

From across the room, Portia smiled. She had always been smitten by wise men and not in a sisterly way.

"Caliban has never given us any reason not to trust him," Oberon pointed out. "And I simply trust him, bottom line and end of story. I also trust him because the Golden Kings trust him as well, I am not going to lie about that but—"

"But he has given plenty of reasons not to trust him—" Malcolm began, cutting off Oberon, who in turn was cut off by Ariel, who spoke up quietly from the doors. She had barely whispered but still her voice carried across the room to them all.

"Someone's coming."

Silence prevailed. A moment later, there came a knock at the doors "It's probably just Benvolio," Prospero presumed. "He and Romeo are securing the meeting. Enter!" he called loudly.

The doors swung open and a woman entered the room. She was dressed in a black cloak that covered her entire petite frame and swept the floor behind her. Her eye makeup was running streaks down her face as if she had been crying. Desdemona had heard the news about Othello and had come to call during the meeting between members of the King's Men, the Sycorax, and the Fairy Wings.

Desdemona swept across the room in a hurry. Ariel closed the doors behind her. Desdemona marched silently up to Prospero, who rose out of his seat to greet her.

"Is it true, my liege, is it true?" She demanded of Prospero, not bothering to greet him properly. "I have heard whispers and I will not believe them until you confirm something for me. Has Othello been taken into shadow? Has Atropos claimed him?"

"That is what many believe," Prospero told her and Desdemona started sobbing at once, thinking that Prospero believed it to be true as well. "However, I will not believe Othello to be dead until his body is recovered and we have proof." He comforted Desdemona and then looked into her eyes. "So keep your head up, my child. We will find Othello." He then looked to Will. "And we will find Anne Hathaway."

Will sat up all the way in his seat and listened.

"We are going to send out three search parties to the three kingdoms of the Three Thrones," Prospero concocted a plan. "I've already sent out messengers to the Golden Kings, so they should already be on the lookout for Anne at least by the time we arrive, and everyone knows who Othello is, so he should not be too difficult to locate." He looked at Caliban. "Caliban? I trust you as much as I trust myself. The time has come for you to regain trust from the rest of the King's Men. I need the help of the Sycorax if we are to locate Anne Hathaway and Othello. Will you be willing to lend some men to the cause?"

Caliban smiled. "Of course, my liege."

"Very well then," Prospero said. "Caliban, I would like for you to lead a search team to England. I will send several King's Men with the Sycorax members of your choosing who will accompany you."

"I'll go," Malcolm volunteered his services. "I would like to go and keep an . . . eye . . . on the situation."

At the same time, Will asked Caliban if he could accompany him to England and Caliban agreed. England was where Anne was rumored to have fallen and Caliban knew that Will wanted to be there if she was discovered there. They had a history together and Caliban couldn't deny the power of young love, although Anne didn't seem too happy with Will as of late. And Caliban could care less if he had anything to do with the sudden dislike. He had traveled to the human world and did what he did because of the greater good.

The England search party was set—Caliban, Will, Malcolm, Rosalind, and Puck, with the latter two joining the team at Prospero's request. After more discussions, Desdemona was chosen to led a search team to Scotland and Macduff would accompany her because he knew the kingdom well, and so would Ariel and Michael Cassio, who, as Othello's best friend, wanted to remain by Desdemona's side during their mutual time of grieving. Cassio had lost a close friend and Desdemona had lost something more. Caliban didn't think that it was fair for the King's Men to outnumber the Sycorax three to one for the Scottish search team, so he was allowed one more member and he chose Mercutio. The last search team, the one that would be going to Denmark, was selected shortly thereafter. Oberon would lead the third team personally and joining him was Portia and Bassanio. Titania decided to send Moth as well to assist and promised Prospero that the Fairy Wings would remain their eyes in the skies, as they were still on high alert after his request was made during the last general meeting for the Council of Seven.

"Well then, it has been decided," Prospero concluded. "Good luck to you all and Godspeed in finding our two missing friends."

But before they could head out, Ariel said, "Someone's coming again."

The doors burst open as expected. There wasn't a knock this time. It was Benvolio and he ran into the room, breathing hard and out of breath.

"Sorry to interrupt, my lords," he said to Prospero and Oberon.

"Benvolio? What is it, my son?" Prospero questioned him.

"He has been spotted and he is on his way here now!" Benvolio cried.

"Who?" Prospero wondered.

"Othello."