Chapter Twenty-Five
…..
The SouthEast, five kilometers of the border of Rivendell and the Reach territories.
Silence, deep abiding silence, that is what greets the army from the Reach and the Vale, the moment they entered Rivendell territory. The outriders that Randyll has sent ahead returns with the news that the large "Homesteads" are completely abandoned and so are the forts. Thus the seventeen thousand army that he leads marches uneasily on unfamiliar lands with no one to fight off, something that they have not expected to happen.
Randyll Tarly personally does not approve of this march of theirs. This is a problem of the Faith after all and as an experienced and professional soldier, he has seen more times than one how dogma and religion can make men completely unreasonable.
Already it is affecting the army that he is leading.
While Randyll leads the army after all, the real power comes from Inquisitor Holland, the "Messenger of the gods" as he so aptly calls himself. He completely ignores his suggestion that they make a forced march to the inner territories of Rivendell and put down the insurrection quick and fast before they can muster enough of a force to fight against them. Instead the obese Inquisitor is making pit stops on the abandoned Homesteads and Forts, completely wasting time by ordering the army around to make statues and carvings of the Seven which they hung or leave behind.
The delays makes Randyll Tarly girt his teeth. These forced stops would enable their enemy to assemble an army which would cause a lot of dead men. Battle might be glorious in songs, but for him who has seen it more time than he can count. Randyll Tarly knows that the dead cannot celebrate the victory of the living.
The only reason that he does not blow a gasket is because majority of his forces are knights. It is not actually quite surprising. The Knights of Westeros with the exception of a complete few are sworn the name of the Seven. Thus when the High Septon called for their oaths, many answered. Plus many of them are green and yearn for the glory of battle and slaughter to put something on their belt of deeds.
For Randyll Tarly, it is easy for him to answer the call. While he has no issue with the Old gods of the North, the "Inquisition" that the Faith demands require Randyll to answer. House Tarly has been a martial House that stretches back for generations. They have always answered the call to battle or war when their oaths demand it. Randyll would not be the first to break faith no matter how moronic the reasoning or the leadership is. That may be the reason as to why he didn't spear Mace Tyrell after the oaf claimed Randyll Tarly's victory against Robert Baratheon as his own.
"Move out!" the Inquisitor's voice might have sound impressive if not for the rather nasally voice it holds. Randyll follows silently behind.
Already he is disapproving as he looks behind him to see the knights and the foot soldiers they are leading happily patting their bellies. The Inquisitor have declared another "Bounty of the gods" and have literally feasted at the middle of the road. He tends to do this at every Homestead they pass by. Now the soldiers are fat, full and probably not even paying attention to their surroundings. Even the scouts at the sides are dozing off on their saddles. Seeing that this entire march had been less than fruitful when it comes into action, the men are completely inattentive. Already some of the more bolder (or stupid) knights are boasting that the enemy must have run off at the coming of the "holy army".
Randyll of course scoffs at that. He has seen at Pyke the prowess of the Unsullied and the cunning of the Dame, Delianah of Rivendell. With a plethora of skills like that, Randyll knows that the last thing on that young girl's head is retreat. He is under no delusion that this campaign of theirs would end without bloodshed.
Randyll Tarly's premonition of a fight comes sooner than expected. Without warning an ear splitting scream echoes all around them without warning. Men scream in response as everyone grabs their ears or skulls in an attempt to stymie the blood flow coming from their orficie. Horses bucks and flails throwing knights off of them and even killing a few men as they hollered and kicked in an attempt to stop the ear splitting sound. Randyll himself goes cross-eyed as the sound makes him see quadruple and he barely registers going airborne as his horse throws him off also. It is only with the air being knocked off his lungs does he realize that he is in the ground and his horse running off.
Still the piercing wail continues.
Randyll has no idea how long it lasted as he lies there shaking his head, his armored gloves covering his head. It might be a min or an entire day, he has no know how. All he knows is the breathe of relief that follows when the wailing finally stops.
"-lord, My lord!" the blurry sounds of his squire Edmont calling him snaps Randyll to some semblance of control as he forcefully pulls himself together. The next second, hands pull him to a sitting position and he jerkily twitches as his vision slowly comes once more together.
"Edmont?" Randyll mentally thinks as he stares at the face of his squire worriedly looking at him. Only for the squire to suddenly pause as something emerge from his gut, specifically a root.
"EDMONT!" Randyll is fully awake now as his squire coughs up blood.
"M-m-m-my lord," the fifteen year old squire coughs once, twice in blood, screaming for a second before being literally ripped into five different pieces from the inside out.
Now recovering, Randyll fervently notices the other screams of terror around him. His eyes opened fully and for the first time in his life, Randyll Tarly is truly afraid, and for good reason.
The forests and woods around them seems to have awakened, naked women as beautiful as starlight and wicked as sin appears from the barks of trees moving like starlight before sharp sharklike teeth bite through armor, flesh and bone, wooden beings with trees as bark and walking with roots smacking men left, right and center. Those that have the unfortunate luck to be touched are screaming as wooden spores attach to any naked skin before burrowing like grubs and exploding from the inside out causing many legs and arms to be separated. Giant humanoid like trees are ripping themselves off from their roots and are kicking and crushing fully armored knights as easily as a man would crush a tin can.
It is total anarchy. The entire marching line has been thrown into full disarray thanks to that hideous scream. Now the unnatural beings are pouring out all over like ants and taking advantage of the till frazzled men of the Reach and the Vale.
"I AM THE REPRESENTATIVE OF THE HIGH SEPTON! THE MESSENGER OF THE GODS! HEAR ME MONSTER AND BE BANISHED BEFORE MY FACE!" the booming voice of the Inquisitor leading them makes Randyll turn towards the man who is raising both his hands with his staff of office pointed into one of tree giants clutching a dead body of a knight.
"What is that fool doing?!" Randyll mutters beneath his breathe as the man smacks the foot of the giant walking tree with his staff. He might be an ass but he is still part of the army after all.
"IN THE NAME OF THE TRUE GOD I COMMAND THEE STOOOOO-AAAHHHHH!" his impromptu exorcism is abruptly cut off as giant tree grabs his foot and bodily swings his body to the ground with a meaty smack, leaving a bloody smear behind before juggling it around his head and used as ammunition that decimates the lives of five more men in a gory explosion upon impact.
Randyll knows then and there that he must do something lest the massacre of his army fall into a complete rout.
"Stand Tall Men of House Tarly to me!" he roars amidst the throng of the dead and dying, pulling his sword Heartsbane and cleaving in half one of the unnatural murderous beauties who shrills as it dies. Randyll idly notices that instead of crimson, green blood splatters all over his sword.
The men of House Tarly to their credit despite caught in the panic rallies around him, their spears and weapons drawn, nearly sixty all. Of course such a gathering of men tends to attract attention and it does not long for this fea monsters to throw themselves at the gathered group.
Like a lightning bolt they crash on the shields sending knights and men at arms stumbling against the unnatural strength of these creatures. One Knight whose helmet is dislodged via impact gets mauled as he takes a second to rearrange the visor on his head. The guardsman at his side gets an impromptu sword thrust from a borrowed blade by one of the wooden beings. A pained screech comes from another knight wearing the Vale's colors as the wooden being that serves as his opponent kicked him in the crotch burying the plate deep inside his jewels.
Around Randyll more fights and duels are occurring. One soldier tries to duel one of the pale beauties with his short sword against elongated claws. He lasts only with two feeble strikes before the monster in human flesh bitch slaps him removing half his face off his head. Beside him, his companion which tries to rush the unguarded back of his killer with an axe gets jumped at by one of the wooden constructs and is promptly punched to death on the ground.
Springing sounds makes Randyll look at the trees only for his heart to sink. Wooden female structures who have bows as hands are glued like squirrels upon the tree trunks. He can see one shooting a spike of some kind that impales itself on one of his retainers straight at the eye and taking him fully out of commission.
Still his men fought on around him with courage despite the unnatural foes they are dealing with. He identifies one, Ser Pollard; blocking a claw strike from his enemy before punching it straight to the face with the pommel of his sword and twirling to block another one. His squire jumps behind his back without warning and takes into the head the spike aimed at the knight.
Despite their courage, bravery and ferociousness against the monsters that Seven only knows what. It is clear to Randyll that they are heavily outmatched. A punch from one of the giant trees flattens the ballistae that a siege crew has successfully manned. Those damned white witches are fluidly gliding over the battlefield like dancers cutting through unwary men's throats from behind with either their claws and teeth. The spikes from above continue raining down with terrible accuracy against their adversaries down below. Knights fought bravely fighting at the best of their efficiency. Still it is painfully obvious that they are not at their best. Unhorsed, slipping and sliding on the mud and without support from the lightly armored men at arms and levies, they are slowly being taken out faster than Randyll can see.
One trapped knight in the ground gets its head stomped on by a giant walking tree; another fell thanks to the accurate shot of a spike via visor. One lucky knight able to climb atop his horse are cut down midway through his lance charge with a flying axe, courtesy of a flying axe. Another knight is brought down as one of those fluid women mauls him face first, his friend tries to help only to have his back torn open by one of the walking bloody wooden structures.
Randyll is brought idly out of his thoughts as he is lifted bodily unto a horse by his men. He barely manages to bark out a command before one of the walking wood structures charges at him. Heartsbane springs forward, the Valyrian sword cutting through bark and straight into its chest that kills it immediately. His house's retainers are not idle. As more wooden beings rush towards him, they forms a half circle of shield, blade and armor that serves to support him. Even with the odds against them, they are able to hold the line barely. Ser Jason of the Vale, the leading knight that came there are cutting and dicing one wooden structure after another with his own Valyrian sword, Talon's Feather.
"Valyrian Steel works against them," Randyll Tarly observes as he cuts through the arm of a wooden structure before promptly beheading mid-air one of the pale beauties that jumped him, another tries to sneak at his back only to get a spear at its chest, courtesy of one of his retainers. Of course said retainer is promptly judo punched by a giant tree sending his head flying amid somewhere in the throng of dead and dying.
All around him the battle is continuing. One of the knights manages to pierce the hamstrings of a giant tree making it fall to its knees before another knight smashes it in the face with a broadsword cutting off the lights off its eyes as it fell to the ground dead. A peasant tries to fight off against another of the man-sized structures only for the structure to trip him on his feet and start to kill him with his own pike. A knight like Randylly who managed to get atop his horse is expertly hacking left and right bringing cutting and damaging heads of anything that is not human. Men that trip and fall are given no chance as the pale beauties maul them on the ground or be torn to pieces by the wooden structures.
One knight is lucky enough only to fall on his knees, blocking the teeth aimed at his throat before introducing the face of the pale beauty to his armored knees sending green blood everywhere. One of Randyll's retainers fell pleading for mercy only for the structure to strangle him with roots that serves as hands. His friend tries to aid him by charging with his sword but the thing blocks it easily with its free hand before one of the pale beauties mauls him from behind and begins to bite his face off. Green and red blood intermingles as knights hacks and slashes against supernatural, strength, claws and teeth.
Heartsbane takes its fair share of souls but Randyll can see that one by one his retainers are dying. One gets an axe at the face, two more dies thanks to the archers at the trunks, five more gets mauled by the Pale beauties and another is torn apart by roots. The rest he cannot fully see if they are either dead or still alive.
A shriek at his side makes him turn to Ser Jason shearing off a half of the head of one of the Pale Beauties only before punching with his shield a wounded walking tree sending it crashing on the ground. Dropping his shield, the knight of the vale raises Talon's Feather ready to cut off the head of the tree thing only for a gnarled root to grab him in the neck from behind and bodily throws him at the ground flat on his back. The knight frantically tries to get back on his feet only for the bark monstrosity to whack him on the neck cutting off nearly half of it off, Talon's Feather falling off of the Valeman's cold hands.
"BASTARD!" Randyll Tarly roars at the death of the Valyrian Sword wieldier urging his horse to charge forward ready to impale Heartsbane to the tree figure.
He never sees the spike that hits him in the chest dead center. The last thing that Randyll sees as he is unhorsed for the second time during this entire march is one of Pale Beauties rushing over, maw open towards his direction before darkness finally claims him.
….
Fort Ronald, Primary Defense of Rivendell Facing the Riverlands.
"You have got to be kidding me," Commander Farsight, the charged Fort Commander of the base can't believe his eyes as he observes the "holy army" that came from the Riverlands.
When General Draco assigned him less than a thousand men to hold the Fort, part of him wondered if his Commander was testing his resolve and tactical acumen when dealing with the gods accursed invaders. Now he understands why Commander Draco assigned him such low a force to hold this position with such strategic purpose.
The morons are pathetically incompetent, or at least whomever it is that is leading them.
When the five thousand or so of the Riverlords and their armies arrived, Farsight has been expecting proper lines and formations like the ones that they are constantly drilled with before during his time as an Unsullied, now Black Guard. Instead what he gets to see are groups of men milling around looking extremely unsupervised walking in ragged lines as they follow a palanquin in white carrying a fat slop in ornate gold and black priestly robes. If his guest is right then that must be the Inquisitor that is leading this "holy army"
The morons then instead of securing their camp with pitches, stakes or even a simple ditch simply prepare their tents and then crawl on them to sleep. If he is any more inclined, Farsight might have charged with his men and he guessed that he might have inflicted horrible damage to them. He holds his peace though. Captain Draco had literally given him strict orders not to make an impromptu charge whatever the cost. Farsight is only to happy to obey. Majority of the Black Guard assigned to him are green from training and are yet unblooded. Against this pathetic excuse of an army though, he personally does not worry. He will take his thousand men against them anytime (if they manage to pull their act together that is). Of the time they were given, they only managed to construct one trebuchet and it is angling badly too for reasons unbeknownst to him
Two days had past and the idiots only makes a half baked attacked once and briefly at that. He didn't know what possessed them to do so. They have rigged together a sharpened tree trunk towed by bulls as an improvised battering ram and pushed it towards the gate. Of course crossbow bolts, iron ballistas and the three trebuchets pre-prepared beforehand meets the charge. Due to majority of them being levies, hundreds died on the rush at the only bridge available.
Some of the wiser more creative ones tried jumping over to the waters in order to swim it out. They obviously had no experience about swimming since half of them immediately start going down like a rock burdened with tall that hide and chain mail. The rest who miraculously manage to drag their sorry asses to the shore at the opposite side become easy target for the scouts there and the crossbowmen. It's pretty hard not to be noticed when you are spluttering loudly and coughing your lungs out.
The attack on the gate however was a disaster. The two bulls pulling the makeshift siege weapon were killed easily. Whoever their commander were, obviously is not well-verseed in the art of war. Men instead carry the giant ram which was not advisable seeing that wielding hands on a giant tree trunk via carry was a completely bad idea. Hundreds died on the mad rush and more times than one, the trunk was dropped on someone accidentally due to its carriers being put down by crossbow bolts. In the end they did not even manage to attack the gate with the ram thanks to the piles of bodies now decorating it.
A parley had been called when they retreated in order for them to pick up their dead. The enemy lost almost a thousand men and another thousand or more wounded. The Fort on the other hand lost only three Black Guard and another fifty with minor to major wounds.
Now the morons at their barely defended camp realizing their folly are simply throwing trebuchet ammunition at them which falls extremely far from the Fort due to the ward runes carved by the Green Men at its walls. Their return fire on the other hand is a lot more accurate each time but Farsight orders his commanders to hold the ammo in reserve.
Especially since he can see another four thousand Frey reinforcements approaching from the North that seems to be joining the holy army.
….
Fort Granger, South of Rivendell Primary Defense.
"On my command, open the gates!" the iron and wood gates of the Fort swings open fast despite its size (Light weight runes).
"On me, double time!" the fifty or so Black Guard marches in tandem and perfect cadence in three lines as they face off against quadruple their number from House Goodbrook's levies and men-at-arms.
Fort Commander Pete calls the cadence perfectly as he trains his eyes and wrath against his enemy. These bastards dare call Lady Delianah a heretic. He'll kill them all.
House Goldbrook despite part of the Holy army coming from the Crownlands have instead charged ahead since it is impossibly near to the border of Rivendell. Apparently according from inside information from the Lady Delianah herself, the Head of their House believes that if he takes Fort Granger, he would easily gain favor of the Holy Inquisitor in charge of the Southern army.
Pete unfortunately for him plans to dissuade him of that notion.
"Form up! Ten man line!" the now three lines slowly reforms into a vertical ten line formation, the jog never breaking formation as their three hundred fifty man foe hollers and makes an impromptu wild charge at them.
House Goodbrook does not fall to the count of one of the richer Houses of the Riverlands so other than their Lord and his five personal retainers. The rest of his three hundred and fifty fighting men charging wildly are all on foot.
"Shields!" Pete shouts as the jogging group in unison form their round shields forward. The jog is now less than a run and more a fast walk as they face unflinching their incoming foes.
"Steady! Steady! Now!" and without warning the entire line stops flat on its tracks, the second to the fifth person in each line bracing one another.
The result is immediate.
Carried still by the full momentum of their charge, the levies of Goodbrook slams like water into the rocks of the harbor. More than one unfortunate Riverlander get their bones broken as they are caught between their fellows from the back and the immovable shields of the Black Guard.
As they milled unceremoniously (with some dying due to internal injuries), the spears of the Black Guard do its grissly work. Cries of pain and fear immediately fills the air as metal pierces flesh, the thin chain mail and leather provided to the levies doing little to nothing in protection against the heavily enchanted weapons of the Black Guard.
"Forward march! Forward march!" the shout of Pete moves the line forward with a one-two cadence that the former Unsullied is well-known for.
Spears strike from the shields like tongues of snakes and anyone unfortunate enough to be in their way are cut down like hot knife through butter. Some of the braver peasants or man-at-arms try to charge the wall of shields intent on finding purchase to no avail. Whenever they try to pick a shield to attack, a spear would appear from its side ready to impale the attacker outside of his guard.
At the end of the day, almost two hundred of the levies lie dead on the ground with none at the side of Fort Granger.
…
King's Landing, Red Keep
The entirety of the Seven Kingdoms (minus Rivendell) is fully enjoying the King's Peace. The Small Counci's Chambers of the King however is anything but peaceful.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE FAITH IS MOBILIZING AN ARMY! NOBODY TOLD ME ABOUT THIS!" roars Robert Baratheon. This is one of the rare instances that the King chooses to attend this meeting and for good reason. His daughter after all is in peril. Unfortunately angry Robert is worse than a drunk Robert.
"Armies actually Robert," grunts Renly unhappily. "Majority of the soldiers come from the Reach, the Riverlands, Crownlands, the Vale and some from the Stormlands,"
"THE FUCK?! ARMIES. HOW THE FUCK DID THE FAITH GET MONEY FOR HOW MANY ARMIES AGAIN?"
"Three Your Grace," simpers the Spider. "Each one is being led by an Inquisitor assigned personally by the High Septon,"
"THAT DOESN'T ANSWER MY DAMNED QUESTION!" Robert slams his meaty hands on the table causing everyone to flinch.
"RENLY!"
"Ehm, yes, brother?" the Master of Laws whimpers of all things.
"SEND THE RAVENS! I AM CALLING THE BANNERS AND I AM PUTTING DOWN THIS INSURRECTION ONCE AND FOR ALL,"
"The banners your grace?"
"NEXT TIME I REPEAT MYSELF, I AM THROWING YOU OUT OF THE GODDAMNED WINDOW! SER BARRISTAN!"
"Yes, your Grace," the Commander of the Kingsguard replies barging in from the outside.
"GATHER A HUNDRED OF THE GOLD CLOAKS AND I WANT YOU TO GO TO THE SEPT OF BAELOR AND PUT INTO CHAINS THE HIGH SEPTON!"
"The High Septon your Grace?"
"IF ONE MORE PERSON ASKS ME TO REPEAT MYSELF. I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL SOMEBODY!" Robert roars ignoring the spittle that lands on Pycelle's face who croaking tries to wipe his face.
"Your grace I-," Littlefinger tries to speak only to be silenced by the stubby finger of the king pointed at him.
"CROAK ONE MORE WORD AND I'LL PERSONALLY RIP YOUR HEAD OFF!" he thunders. "RENLY! BARRISTAN!"
The two hurries to the door only to be barreled backward when an irate and angry Jon Arryn enters followed by Queen Cersei who is supporting a smug look.
"What is the meaning of this Robert about you calling the banners?" demands the Hand of the King who has to duck then as a flying piece of ledger (courtesy of Baelish bringing it with him) sails over his head only to smack right at Cersei's face who gives off an agonized cry before crashing down like a sack of potatoes.
"Your grace!" Littlefinger, Pycelle, Renly and Barristan rushes to the Queen now supporting a massive bruise and a nosebleed.
Jon however remains fixated at Robert. "You can't do this Robert, the Crown owes the Faith almost two million gold dragons and you can't march against them. The King is supposed to be the defender of the Faith Robert,"
"MY DAUGHTER IS IN DANGER JON!?" roars Robert staring down against his father figure.
"I understand that, and my bannermen are moving without my say so! Give me time to resolve this peacefully without turning the realms into chaos Robert!"
"WAIT! WAIT! IT'S ALWAYS WAIT WITH YOU JON! THIS IS MY DAUGHTER! MY BLOOD! AND SHE IS CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF A BLOODY WAR! I AM RIPPING THE HIGH SEPTON'S HEAD OFF EVEN IF IT'S THE LAST THING THAT I DO!"
"Your Grace!" the barrel tone of Ser Mandon Moore stops the chaos of the council as everyone turns to the Kingsguard carrying a letter at his hand.
"Dark wings, dark words your grace. Message from Ser Janos of the Goldcloaks. The High Septon and his entire Council have been assassinated,"
….
Rivendell Main Courtyard
Rhaenys would be lying if she says that she is not afraid. Last time she has ever been associated to war, no matter how remote said association is, she has been stabbed a hundred times and died a million deaths. Now here she is preparing to enter another war and this time literally.
She after all can't let Myrcella go off on her own.
"Lady Delianah won't like this Cella. Please you have to reconsider," begs Rhaenys to Myrcella who is dressing herself like one of the Black Guard.
"We trained for this Rae-Rae. Don't worry. We'll be fine. You know that Lady Delianah would be there leading us," she smiles at Rhaenys before putting on the face helmet of the Black Guard. "So how'd I look?" she poses dramatically in front of the former princess.
Rhaenys is not the least bit reassured.
"Please Cella, you are a princess. Princesses don't go incognito in fights," urges Rhaenys even though she puts on her own Black Guard armor. There's no way in hell she's going to let Myrcella gallivanting off to join the main army all on her own.
"You can't even hit Amelia during our spars,"Rhaenys points out as she puts on the armor.
"Amelia is an expert already Rae-Rae. Besides Queen Visenya and Queen Rhaenys did it long ago, joining fights even though they're ladies and royalty,"
"They have dragons Cella. They are far up where no one can reach them," Rhaenys gladly reminds even though she hates with every fiber of her being anything related about her original family.
"Well I have something better than dragons Rae-Rae," Myrcella says strapping the short sword at her waist.
"Really? And what is that?" Rhaenys asks looking pointedly at her. Cella only gives her a happy eye grin through the helmet mask.
"Lady Delianah and you of course Rae-Rae!"
"CELLA!"Rhaenys' exasperated shout is drowned out by the sound of the Black Guard Legions arming themselves at Rivendell.
…..
White Tower, Rivendell
"Hmm, it works different from what I expected. Not pleasing but one that can be adjusted at a later date. You may take your leave," she waves off the masked and cloaked kneeling figure who bows before disappearing into thin air as it puts on the cloak that is reserved only for the Hidden Ones' use.
Her eyes stare towards the Reach feeling both pleased a little bit miffed. Out of the Seventeen Thousand men that marched against them, fifteen thousand are dead, two thousand managed to ride away with Randyll Tarly in tow, zero prisoners. Of course it is to be expected, dryads, hamdryads, treants and Ents rarely take prisoners. At least with the forest awakened there, they won't be attempting an assault that way again, not for a long time at least. Trade she expects would also be lessened there for a while until she can comes up with something that would not pick clean the bones of a random traveler.
With the army from the Vale and the Reach no more, Delianah turns her attention South where the survivors of the Reach will surely link up to the invaders from the Crownlands. Unfortunately she cannot make a repeat of her feat of waking up the trees. It after all requires a lot of blood magic, runes and power. She needs a few years to refuel her latent magic if she plans to use the Awakening Ritual without killing herself.
For now though, the next step would be the classic grizzly and bloody work of swords and spears. It would however serve as a training ground for the Black Guard, her still unnamed bastard cavalry, and a chance for the Old gods religion to make a boast of itself.
"Are you ready for this Ser Arthur?" Delianah looks at the ghostly Knight who bows.
"As you will, my lady," the sword, Dawn gleams brightly at the ground where the Knight is bowing.
….
Author's Note: Guys I'll be updating slowly in the next twenty-five days. Something personal comes up in life that I need to be focusing on as best as I can. Thanks