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  Edmund stood at a window in his chambers, looking outside at the kingdom. He turned around, hearing a door open and saw Elspeth walk up to him. She stood in front of him.

  “You sent Rosalis out to prevent Wolfgrimm from starting a war?” She asked.

  “Yes, I did. She is my herald and custodian after all.” He pointed out.

  “What do you see in her?”

  “She knows how to do her job.”

  “Why did you hire her anyway?”

  “You know why.” He told her testily, his patience being challenged.

  “It would be better to send a man to complete the task.”

  “You do not know her like I do.”

  “I warn you, Rosalis will be the death of this city.” Without saying anything else, she spun round and strode out in anger. Edmund sighed and rubbed his forehead, looked back towards the kingdom.

  Rosalis journeyed through the forest, only the light from the moon guiding her way. She was now beyond the point of no return. But even then, she was not one to simply give up and go home. Rosalis walked across the grass, there being no path to lead her towards her enemy. She moved forward, not diverting her feet from her straight course. She looked around the forest and saw what looked like old cottages, broken, battered, rotting. There was one cottage without a door which had long since rotted into the ground and there was another cottage with a window shutter squeaking as it slowly flapped in the breeze. A third cottage had vines and branches growing all over it, mother nature taking back what was rightfully hers. Slowing her pace, Rosalis scanned her surroundings. Suddenly, a twig broke, the snapping sound catching the knight's ears. Reacting, she drew her sword out and looked around at the ghost town. Surely she was only hearing things? Then, she heard the grass rustling under someone’s feet, footsteps being heard. There was someone with her. She turned round and saw a monk in front of her, dressed in simple brown robes, his hood up. He carried a long, wooden staff in one of his hands like a walking stick. “Who are you?” Rosalis asked him. “Speak!”

  “My name is Benedictus Fitzalan.” The young monk replied calmly. “And who are you?”

  Rosalis looked at Benedictus and did not say anything, the sword still in her hand. He sighed.

  “Okay, maybe we got off on the wrong foot, I should not have snuck up on you, it was disrespectful of me. How about, you put the sword away, and we could have a small talk? How does that sound?”

  Seeing that the monk was not going to be of any trouble to her, Rosalis sheathed her sword. Suddenly, the monk took his staff and spun it in his hand. There was a sharpened tip at the bottom of it which he held at her neck. He looked at her with a slight anger. “Who are you?” Benedictus asked her. “Why are you here?”

  “My name is Rosalis Ventris.” She said, being careful with her words. “I am on my way to Wolfholde.”

  Benedictus frowned. “Wolfholde? What business do you have there?”

  “My business is my own.”

  “But surely you must know what you are heading into?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Seeing that Rosalis was going to be of no threat to him, Benedictus lowered his staff and took his hood down. His head was bald, not one length of hair on his scalp. The only hair visible was his shaved beard which was replaced by an even patch of dark stubble. “Wolfholde is a dangerous place, my lady. People have gone in and have never come out.”

  “The king of Frinnor seems to think that Wolfgrimm wants to burn the kingdom to the ground. I need to stop him.”

  “Try and you will fail.”

  “Then you could be of aid to me.”

  “Aid? You are thinking that I want to join you?”

  “Do you not?”

  Benedictus hesitated, only for a split second, but Rosalis still noticed.

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  “So, are you going to join me or not? What say you?”

  “I will accept this proposition, only because of the fact that you may need help with your quest.”

  “Much obliged. What do you know of Wolfholde?”

  “Much. The villagers live in constant fear, they live under the rule of a tyrant. There are mass prisoners, executions, even crucifixions. It is not a nice place. Correct me if I am wrong, but, you want to kill Wolfgrimm?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Then you will need more help. Tens have died trying to face him. But tell me one thing, why do you want to kill him?”

  “If it helps to prevent war and the destruction of Frinnor, then I will do whatever I have in my power.”

  Benedictus nodded. “Then you have my help.”

  Rosalis went to journey further, placing one foot in front of the other when she suddenly stopped. She turned to her new companion. “What is someone like you doing in a place such as this anyway?”

  “I am just someone on a path of redemption in hopes of getting into Heaven.”

  “What are your sins, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  The monk shrugged, almost like it meant nothing to him. “Fornication, debauchery, drunkenness, take your pick.”

  “Good Lord.”

  Benedictus sighed. “I just hope that the good Lord will find it in his heart to forgive me after all of this is over.”

  “He will. Don’t you worry about that.” Rosalis told him solemnly.

  Rosalis and Benedictus journeyed through the forest, making their way towards Wolfholde. The dead town did not seem to end, going on forever. The cottages were broken and battered, their cracked shutters creaking in the calm wind. Suddenly, some leaves rustled and both Rosalis and Benedictus stopped in response to the threat. Rosalis gripped a hand on her sword, prepared to draw it out at any given moment. They both looked around, trying to see where their enemy could be hiding away from them. There seemed to be no one around when suddenly, a man appeared out of the darkness, dressed in nothing more than rags. His hair was scraggly, stuck up at numerous odd angles and his face was dirty.

  “You journey towards Wolfholde, if I be correct?” He asked.

  “That is correct.” Rosalis responded, taking her hand away from her sword.

  “For the love of the good Lord, turn back. Turn back now while you still have a chance.”

  “I was sent on a quest to kill Wolfgrimm by my king, I will not stand down.”

  “Then you are the only one that can free us from this tyranny.”

  “How did you escape the city?”

  “By fleeing through the gates. I barely managed to escape with my life. I fear that if I return, the guards will surely kill me.”

  “About ten miles west of here, there lies the Kingdom of Frinnor. Go there, they will help you. Tell the guards that Rosalis Ventris sent you.”

  The man bowed respectfully. “My lady, I thank you.”

  Rosalis nodded to him. “Now go.”

  The man bowed again and walked past them, journeying ten miles west. Rosalis and Benedictus still carried on towards Wolfholde, there being nothing to stop them, not one enemy being in sight.

  “Get down!” Benedictus suddenly shouted. Rosalis dropped to one knee, responding, just as an arrow flew above her head. Standing up and spinning round, she drew her sword out, confronting her enemy. A man emerged from behind one of the broken cottages, holding a crossbow in his hand, aiming it at her. Rosalis and Benedictus looked around, seeing other people surrounding them, armed with swords, daggers and spears.

  “You listen quietly and you listen close.” The man with the crossbow said to her and her companion. “Hand over whatever gold you have, and we will let you be on your way.”

  “Okay, okay.” Benedictus said. “We will hand over our treasures, just let us be.” He went to reach into his robes when suddenly, he took his staff and smacked it against the man’s face. Blood burst from his broken nose and he cried out, collapsing to the ground from the force of the blow. Without giving him a chance to get up, Benedictus brought down the sharpened tip of his staff onto the man’s throat, piercing straight through it. Rosalis swung her sword, suddenly taking one of the thieves' legs. He screamed as he collapsed to the ground, blood quickly pooling onto the ground, pouring out from the stump like a burst pipe. She stabbed the blade into his chest and he died instantly. Drawing her blade out, she thrust her sword into another crook’s chest. The blade protruded slightly out of his back, having made its way through. Blood poured out of his mouth and she drew her sword out. He spurted and dropped to the ground. Swiftly swinging, Rosalis’ blade managed to take a head, leaving nothing but the stump. The headless corpse staggered for a couple of seconds and then went down like a sack of potatoes. The last crook, shaking in his boots, dropped his spear and made a run for it. Benedictus threw his staff at the remaining target and it embedded itself into his back. He collapsed to the ground, and that was the end of that. The monk walked up to his weapon and drew it out of the dead man, walked back over to Rosalis. She looked at him in a slight shock and admiration.

  “Not bad for a peace-loving monk.” She told him.

  “I thank you for the compliment.”

  They both looked around at the corpses, seeing if anyone was still alive. Seeing that they were the only survivors, they continued with their journey towards Wolfholde. A shadowy figure made its way through the forest, tracing the knight’s every step and then stopped in place. It looked down at the corpses of the bandits and then looked forward, at the path that Rosalis and Benedictus had taken. Picking another path, it quickly made its way through the forest, disappearing.

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