text: [Themes: fantasy, humor]
  
  Going into hiding was a ridiculous plan. Sure, this woman hadn't seemed to have caught on, but somebody would eventually.
  
  With new resolution, he returned to the house. The cabbage stew Mary gave him had about as much substance to it as a shredded piece of paper in a hogshead barrel did, but it was food, and that was good enough. After thanking his hostess once more and ensuring Alphonse had had plenty to drink, Sir Osis set out to the castle.
  
  Lord Feithid's castle made Sir Osis's home look like a plague-ravaged mountain hamlet in comparison. Even with so many serfs tending the fields, navigating the crowds of the outer castle was like making his way through a herd of stampeding cattle. The sensory overload was too much for him, and he had to stop and just sit at the gate to the upper levels of the castle before he could continue onward.
  
  As he made his way, he grew more and more certain that he should have just turned around and gone right back into those woods. He didn't even know Lord Feithid. How was he supposed to find him without being thrown out as some crazy man by the guards?
  
  Eventually he reminded himself that he was a knight and equal to or above any of these guards, even if they were in a bigger castle. He rode up to one of them who was leaning against a wagon. "Excuse me!" he bellowed, perhaps making his voice a little deeper than was natural.
  
  "Huuurrrrr, yes, sir!" The guard jumped up and pushed on the wagon wheel. "I was just testing how much lateral weight this could—hey, who are you!?"
  
  "I am Sir Osis of the Liver. As I was passing through on this journey that is my earthly life, I recalled that this is the habitation and domain of the good Lord Feithid. Might you direct me to where he is?"
  
  "Listen, impersonation of a knight or member of the gentry is a capital crime around here, and if you would like to keep your body attached to your limbs, I suggest you drop the act and keep passing through."
  
  "Those base accusations pain my heart, but you must understand that I have had to struggle against all manner of evil along the road. Indeed, there are none who give the appearance appropriate to their stations, at all times. You, goodman, were in a state of rest unbefitting that of one sworn to protect and defend when I met you. Did I therefore assume you to be a leech, feasting off the labors of his fellow man?"
  
  "Yes, yes, I get it. I'll bring you to him. Just be quiet."
  
  Lord Feithid was training a hawk in one of the fields. A tall woman, presumably Lady Feithid stood facing him, although he did not face her.
  
  "If you spent half as much time training your men as you did training that hawk, we'd have the strongest army in—Are you listening to me, Harold!?"
  
  "Uh-huhhh..."
  
  "Oh. My. My father would never have—"
  
  The guard Sir Osis was with came to Lord Feithid's rescue. "Pardon me, sir, but there is a Sir Osis of the..."
  
  "Liver."
  
  "There is a Sir Osis of the Liver here to see you, sir."
  
  Lady Feithid stepped forward and started to say something, but her husband beat her to it. "Well, where is he?"
  
  "I am Sir Osis of the Liver. It is indeed a greatest pleasure to have the opportunity to walk your lands and meet you and your wonderful wife, Lord Feithid."
  
  "That's nice. Why don't you let this nice man show you where that patch where we are sowing wheat over past the hill there," the lady said.
  
  "While it would indeed be a joy to see the full measure of your beautiful lands, I have matters of some importance to discuss about your daughter."
  
  Lady Feithid's false politeness turns into worry, and her and her husband glance at one another before turning back to the visitor. "She's on her way here and will be here soon," she said, reassuring herself.
  
  "Whatever you are going to say, sir, say it!" Lord Feithid barked. His expression towards had turned to fire in no more than three seconds. "I'll have you know she won't be marrying some old, third-rate stranger who says he's a knight!"
  
  "No, it is most certainly none of that. You see..."
  
  > tell the Truth
  "I made the decision to journey with the party your daughter was with, and it is with a heavy heart I must inform you that the caravan was attacked. I alone have escaped with life and freedom."
  
  A spear ran through the hearts of Lord and Lady, and all Lord Feithid could do was mutter. "I can't believe I let her do that. I should have...Is she alive?"
  
  "It is my belief, yes. We were attacked along the road, and those who were not killed were taken hostage."
  
  "How long ago was that!? She could be halfway to Africa by now! Or Sweden!" Lady Feithid demanded.
  
  "It has been but a night, if you send a search in the area it was in, perhaps it will not be too late."
  
  "Boy!"
  
  The guard looked around before coming to attention. "Have you no ears, boy! Organize a search team at once! If so much as a dandelion is not uprooted in that forest, I'll have your hide as my cloak!"
  
  "Yes, my lady!" the guard high-tailed it back to the castle, and Lady Feithid turned to her husband.
  
  "We'll send word to every house in the land and have men watching every port. The sun will freeze before gets away with a child of ours," she assured he husband.
  
  "Lady—"
  
  "Sir Odin or whatever heathen name you have, thank you, but this cannot wait."
  
  The both rushed past Sir Osis to get to the castle, and he was left with no company but the young grass. After some time, a servant came and told him that he may stay a night.
  
  The next day, Sir Osis took his horse and set forth along the road.
  
  This time, he was going home.