[hider=My Hider] mood music, ONLY AT THE HOT GATES https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLADobVaA9s [/hider] "[i][b]A[/b]re you crazy!?[/i]" The accent was still too much. She felt like laughing it was nearly unbearable. "[i]Who is this mad-woman? Who gave her a maillie-coat, too?[/i]" Freda's blank stare seemed to quell the man's anger, or that it went silent in the command tent. It was already past dark and Lowburg stood in the distance, the large palisade untouched and the carrion fields between were horrifying. This so-called leader of men clearly was more green than a meadow. "[i]I will say again, it is paramount you -speak- to this King. He is renowned to be fair in judgement and will -help-. I am telling you there is no way back. You must escape further and -help-. Death's Hand has risen again.[/i]" The name itself sent shivers down her spine, Henry Kenneth was equally mortified but the wine he was given and empty stomach from all his vomiting had kept him quiet; a looming shadow behind her. Freda found it almost cute. Almost. That aside, mentioning the dreaded cult's name caused the officers to glance between each-other, a silent message going between them that was more eerie than reassuring. But she knew what response she was going to get. "[i]-I- will say again, 'Princess' Freda of Midway, I will not recall or aid you. I will remind you of the decade long conflict -your- father started with Queen Anne! Enough of this. You are not welcome in my camp nor are any of this false information. Your Order's word means nothing to me, nor does yours. Be-gone.[/i]" The flatulent General twirled his fat sleeves and dismissed her like some common peasant. Her father would of cut off his hand in that instant but cooler heads prevailed here, so she simply bowed her head to the man-with-the-rolling-twang-accent and departed. She'd of cursed him to the flame if it was even worth the curse. Which it wasn't. Freda grabbed Henry by the collar and dragged him out, not in the mood for it nor did he really mind, just going along pleasant whilst looking up at her starry eyed, asking the sweetest question he had been able to muster since Midway; "[i]So... when are we making love? Now or lat-...[/i]" Freda's shoved him to the floor and into the sooty mud, not that he minded, just shouting back. "[i]Tonight, then! I'll keep you warm, Princess! Promise! I'll name our boy Leofric for the King![/i]"Unable to contain her sigh of disappointment or the ringing of laughter echoing through the dreary and almost dead camp. Silence had fallen a few moments after as any semblance of fun or meaning had departed the place, departing would be all well and good but from the sight of the field-of-death before the gates she'd most likely be shot down before arriving a few feet from the first line of defences. Concluding it was not the best idea but it was the only idea present. Her missive was urgent and by chance she prayed all she had heard of this King was true because now was the time to test that theory. [b][i]At the hot gates...[/i][/b] It was a hard journey through the trenches and caltrops and leaving behind the horses was a huge risk, but there was little choice. She could faintly see through the gloom of the night Henry running with the horses to the Silent Woods, it was the best place for them and she most assuredly did not want him anywhere near anyone of importance. With a deep breath she held up the white banner on her spear, not that it was very visible in the dark but she just trusted in -not- being shot at, her white and red surcoat offering at least some distinction from a Ralyian foot-soldier, not that most foot-soldiers had the quality of garb she had. Before long the gate-keeper shouted in a rough boom. "Halt right there, scum! Stare your business or be destroyed!" The words shot anxiety into her for whatever reason, watching life spring back into the garrison. On the other hand, given how many corpses littered the floors from here to the gate were more than enough to attribute to the affect. "[i]I am Freda Risley, of House Risley - Lords and Ladies of Midway and the Eastern Realm of the Middle Kingdoms! I come bearing urgent and dire news that I will only deliver to your King, by decree of my father, Lord Protector Alfred the Third and the Master of the Order of the Phoenix! I implore you to let me inside![/i]" It took more heart than she could of imagined to say all of what she did but it came out naturally, even if apprehension seized her soon after - probably expecting to be littered with arrows from the sniggering coming from above from the gruff garrison; even some arrows were notched. Another voice greeted her this time, much to her luck. The voice of a High-born, she guessed. "[i]I hear you, Lady Risley! Open the gates, dim-witted fools! This one is no enemy of ours! Arrows notched! If you are betraying us, Lady Risley, I will send your head back to your father with a nail stamped into your forehead![/i]" Northerners, Freda deduced, were far more rough than she liked. Just to make sure she was not being followed she turned around and checked her progress, scanning over the area behind her with a quick twist of her head whilst she heard the gates crunch through the mud and gravel, pulling backwards enough to let one person through - this one person was Freda. She made a quick jog towards the entrance with an immeasurable desire to get inside before any of these dead men decided to get up and start walking again. One glance at Lowburg was enough to make her frown, going as far to doff her helmet and set it under her arm, leaving on the coif and hood of gambeson as she expected to put it back on again. Many of the men within stared the armoured woman down, the entire garrison roused at the sight of an entirely plated-warrior with breast-cuffs on the breastplate. Freda, once again, concluded it to different cultures and awaited to be addressed - not that anyone came in a hurry. Not a soul said a word to anyone. It was silence and pointed pikes or drawn swords, these men were on edge. Even the gate nearly trapped her flowing cape behind her and that was only to her knees! "[i]Lady Risley. Dashing as ever, I see. The legends of Eastern women was not wrong. You arrive and an in-opportune time but I will take you to the King. He resides at the Keep in the far back. I will have to disarm you at the Keep, but for now it would just be rude. Pardon me from before - we're all on edge here. We've had some disturbing news come up from the distant Forts.[/i]" The voice was of a Knight, one she had seen before - one that had came to her court quite some time ago, not that she remembered his name nor when it was. Too long ago. She offered little words other than a respectful gesture of offering out her plated fingers from her heart in a slow motion forward and a high bow, bending her head and keeling her back slightly in a very formal gesture. It was enough. The men around them parted ways and went back to their camps dotted all around the walls, the place was alight with life and none of it was civilian. The damaged and burnt buildings were met with a frown, being left to ponder all of this in silence. All the answers could likely be answered but she remained to herself, being lead through the town of Lowburg. [b][i]It was quite the sight and now she had become the main attraction...[/i][/b]