text: The Kearnes had not made this journey pleasant for any of us, utterly salivating at the fact they had control over so many, no doubt. Usually, these weaklings would have been kicked down and left in the dirt. But their close proximity with the King and coloured history allowed them to operate with impunity. They poked and prodded each other, hurled rocks at passing animals, and acted in general, far below their station. Micah pulled up beside me, cloak pulled over his head. “Bunch of absolute morons.” He spat under his breath. I nodded in approval. “However, they are our appointed guides for this journey, and we would do well to not rouse any suspicion for what our plans are.” He quietly pulled his warhorse back into the fold. I looked towards the front of the group. The Dunkans still held the front, their great lumbering bears seemed to never lack stamina, as they trotted at a quick pace for the last several hours. We could easily feast on the blood of animals when the occasion called. Our party left the carcasses of many rotting beasts behind us, strewn across the path. While it satiated our hunger, we all had a deeper need for something more fulfilling. I hoped for some more humans to share once we reached the village. The winding road outstretched before us as we crossed the plains of Gwynedd. At the top of the nearest hill lay the village in question, fortified on all sides by stone walls and a great iron gate. It seemed the reports had been far too modest in terms of what we were up against. In the middle of the village towered a great keep that likely had archers stationed within the battlements. As we proceeded down the path, Cian held his hand up, motioning the party to stop. He held the scroll up to his face, illuminated by a torch that was our only guide in the pitch darkness. “The report says the party was attacked here nearby...” Cian urged his horse to the right of the beaten path. The smell of rotting flesh greeted our nostrils uninvited. “House leaders, join me.” Roy, myself and a few others motioned our companions to wait on the path while we moved forward. We waded through trampled branches and fallen trees, clearly signalling some kind of combat not long ago. There were claw and sword marks in the trunks of some oak trees which had been completely toppled. The image of the melee came into my mind, as I attempted to picture just what kind of force had killed two of our brothers. “Look Rathiel!” Came a familiar high-pitched and urgent tone from behind me. “Layla, you’re not supposed to be...” “Hush.” She juggled something around in her hands. “What is that?” I jumped off my horse to get a closer look. The other leaders were starting to take an interest as well. “Looks like bullet casings.” She said, seeming smug and pleased with herself, allowing a smile to slip through. “Let me see that.” I picked one up off her palm. I studied the piece of metal carefully. My eyes narrowed into black slits as I pushed them into focus. It clearly was an ammunition casing of some kind, the make of which I hadn’t seen in many years. From the weight and appearance, it reminded me of the brightsilver that had been used centuries ago in the battles fought for east England. We had been trained about all silver weaponry extensively in classes as children. I dropped the casing, not noticing the red blotches it left on my hand. “Lets keep looking.” I motioned to the others to move forward. We fanned out in the forest. I walked further eastward, moving not a hundred paces before I heard Roy’s voice call out from behind me. “Here!” He shouted. I grunted and turned to a wisp of smoke, not caring for professionalism. In an instant, I reached his side with the others, and reappeared. There were two horse carcasses in the clearing, bloodied with claw marks and with bite wounds in their neck. This must have been where our brothers were attacked, I reasoned to myself. There was a human wagon not far off, toppled over and contents littered all about. Uninteresting books about Christianity, blunt weaponry and jewellery littered the piles. I heard a sharp HISSSSSS escape one of my companions over my shoulder. I turned to see Wayne Alnwick writhing on the ground covering his eyes. I rushed over to him. “Wayne?” I put a hand on his shoulder, worried. “Arrrrrrghhhhh. wretched Catholic dogs!” He covered his face and bared his fangs menacingly. As the others moved to tend to him, I walked to the source of the commotion. Beside the wagon lay an opened black box. Inside was a silver cross and a rosary that had spilled out. I picked it up in my hands, carefully inspecting the ridges in the craftsmanship. “Wayne, there are no blessings upon this cross.” I said reassuringly. I put it back in the box, but I was becoming worried. Turning to the others, I began to speak, but I was interrupted by Cian. “Its clear we aren’t just dealing with any rag-tag band of hunters here.” He said slowly, choosing his words carefully, which was uncharacteristic. “The side of the wagon bears the Kingdom of England and Ireland's Royal Coat of Arms.” Concern started to bubble up in the group as we all looked at each other, not knowing what to say. The royalty was not something we usually came into contact with in our coven. Even leaving Castle Beaumaris happened very rarely, to avoid such danger as angering the crown. “We cannot jump to conclusions...” he continued. “This must only be kept to yourselves, to avoid unnecessary panic.” All of the leaders present agreed, and our eyes flicked towards Layla, who also nodded in compliance. “If King James or other Royal houses are involved, this goes far deeper than we could have imagined. Wren, Dunkan, send your best and fastest men back to Beaumaris with this news, and keep it discreet.” I nodded and made my way back to the path to deliver the news.