Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 This starts off interlaced between a Fairy Tale, and preperatory to escape.
Ye olde Lady in the Tower, but also retold by a cyberdemon out of time that
hates waiting, and made up a bunch of crazy stuff.  The stuff of nitemares,
but in her position, there's not much difference between daydreaming, and
sleeping to pass the time, in between conspiring to run away with her Swiss
Mercenary.  Also, some Transgender themes.

   Watch the movie: Beauty and the Beast, the cartoon, only this time
ignore the men, and think about at her.  The small-town Belle, dreaming of
her escape from "This provicial life," using her Beauty to borrow books
from the kindly old bookseller, literally waving it in the illiterate
serf's faces.  Spurning the advances of the Power Assertive Malignant
Narcissist, and basically dreaming of becoming a princess on the set of The
Sound of Music.  (The hills are figuratively alive, I swear to god.) Then
trading up for a Sadist, with a castle!}

   Donna Isobelle

   "Magie Miroir." {Florence + the Machine - Breath of Life}

   "Yes, milady."

   "Why do you sit up there, on the table?"

   "It is where I have always rested," beside the rose.

   "Sit down, and tell me about the Curse." Of all the household, she
always looks different.  To me, I see myself, as I was younger, when I come
here.  My Lord sees only the beast, he was for all those decades.  This
ancient castle, the curse older than my Father, he grew up knowing only the
wood no one would go, until the castle was forgotten...

   "Well, long ago, this Province was ruled by a good king."

   "How long?"

   "I do not, count years as you do.  To the point that I can not give you
a meaningful answer."

   "Oh.  You're not mortal."

   "I am the curse."

   "You were broken?"

   "I was fulfilled.  I was also a prophecy, so your love allowed me to
break the confines of the curse."

   "Which is how you change shape?"

   "I do not change shape, I have none.  I am formless, so you see what you
want when you talk to me.  Bastion was cursed for Vanity, so he saw himself
in me, or the wretched form he was bound in."

   "Then why do I see you as an ostrich duster with the maid?"

   "That is how she sees herself."

   "So, you show me how people see themselves?"

   "Yes, I am your curse."

   "I'm cursed?"

   "No, I am free.  You broke me free, so I am yours.  The family curse,
but as I was bound to him, I can not be his.  I will be yours until his
heir."

   "Oh," So that is how it works.  "So, I can bind you to someone."

   "Perhaps, if you learn how."

   "How do I learn?"

   "The books, in the library."

   {All right, then.  If you want to imagine Hermione playing the
anti-antagonist, I can't stop you.  I'd probably cast a young Charleze
Theron, and sew an A on her gowns at some point.  (And Michael Dorn as
Bastion) Eventually, expect this to make it's way through the Merovingen
line to the Bern House of Alberich.  She grew up reading Fairy Tales...}

   ;

   Ritter {James Newton Howard - The White Hart(Snow White and the Huntsman
OST)}

   The baker, they call "Fairycake." Like the small ones she cooks,
carrying the surplus around the slate yard in a tray.  Short, and plump,
with a hat like the Buckler helm, only ruffling around the edge, and white
as the finest flour.  Like her apron, belted around her ample middle, some
of the men appreciate her soft curves, her bosom, but I am preoccupied by
my squire.

   "Thanks," she pulled a napkin back from a bun, marked with a cross,
still warm.

   "I baked this special for you, Ritter." I cupped it with my chilled
hands, while the rivet forge warmed up.  She winked her eye, "Careful
eating it."

   "I think she fancies you," the targeWright laughed.

   I shook my head, but it broke open, in my hands.  Around a folded piece
of cloth, stitched with letters, I frowned.

   "Is that a love letter?"

   [Mine Knecht.] In German,

   [Don't let my cousin read this.] "Looks like," I lied, and carried it
over to the light.  Shining in the corner of the wall, we are not prisoners
here, but they won't let me see him.  I took a bucket to upend, and sit in
the light.  Munching the soft sweet roll, I had to squint at the threads,
still lighter than the yellowed cloth.  I can not say when I learned to
read {*} without study, but as my eyes traced across I could hear the words
in my head, even as I puzzled as the strange shapes picked out in
needlepoint.

   [I'm trapped, in the tower.  My cousin holds me hostage, until I agree
to marry his sheriff.  {We have the start of a plan.} Yes, I still have the
Curse, and he helps me.  Stave off the loneliness as well as figure out the
resources we have at hand.  {Well, mostly how to use them, not really her
strong point.} Hey, I am a boy!]

   I rubbed my eyes, at the argument carefully stitched between the voice
in his head.  Had I not heard it myself, felt the numbness seize my body
before thrown into incredible action faster than I knew what was happening.
I remember, being told later what "I" had done, having missed it.

   [I dare not reveal the details, for fear it being intercepted, but it
will only get me out of the castle.  We still have to escape the city, and
the island.  Secure if you can a boat at the shore, in waiting for the
night.  Not tonight, but I can see you in the yard, and signal by breaking
the window.  {Well, your dogs.} I should be able to meet you at the gate,
so be ready, once you have secured a boat, and some way to get there from
the courtyard.

   Sealed with a Kiss,

   Aquillo.]

   Returning to the eaves, I burned the cloth in the rivet forge, watching
it blacken between the letters, then the stitches curl out to smolder at
the ends like lampwicks until finally being consumed.

   {*Deus ex Machina: Literally, and figuratively.  The "Curse" cured his
illiteracy.  Not by teaching him to read, but the Neuronano communicates
directly with the mind through the language centers (And across the Corpus
Collossom) Which was reprogrammed to translate letters into sounds, between
Visual, and Vocal words across the hemispheres of his brain.  When he was
possessed, and got used to hearing it's voice in his head.  Teaching him 4
European Martial Arts (Leichtenaur, Florentine, Milanaisse, and Venetian
Cinquedea/Knife, and Buckler.) In record time, Quillon hasn't learned them
yet, so "He" takes over her reactions, paralyzing her body (Side effects
may include numbness, and hearing about it later because it happened too
fast to follow.  The same as Airolo.}

   ;

   Lord High Executioner (Chorus)

   I found her crying, and gasping in the corner.

   "What is it?" my maid, face buried in the duster stops to wipe her eyes
on the lace cuffs of her blouse.

   "Nothing, my lady.  Sorry to disturb your morning."

   It's like meeting them all anew, not that we had much interaction when
she was a duster.  "It's all right, why don't you come with me," to the
library, "And tell me all about it."

   "It is Chandelier."

   "Your lover?"

   She nodded, "He is so rough."

   Hard to imagine as a spindly stick bent of brass, but now he had
regained his mortal form, and with it his manly vigor.  "He was not, for
all that time?"

   "We could only flirt."

   Right, as animate objects, I hadn't thought how that would not work.  "I
am new to such magics as curses." Had only really found the sections on the
shelves, but I had to re-dip my quill.  "What did he do to you?" It took a
while to get it all out of her.  She took breaks to weep, which I took to
keep my nib wet, blot the pages, dot my Ts, and cross my eyes.

   Long story short, he forced her down in the corner.  "The one I found
you?" Yes, tickled under her skirt, and slips until her legs gave out, then
held them over her.  To pull her underclothes (Yes, Plural.) down, and
mount her.

   Like a mare, thankfully "He was done quickly, so he let me breathe."

   "Oh, you poor thing." I was Exited!  My lord, can be passionate, as
well. Always is in bed.  "It hurt my first few times, as well."

   "What did you do?"

   "I learned to enjoy it."

   "I do not think I can do that."

   "I can show you how."

   "I do not think."

   "Don't, then." Daylight, streamed through the open windows, so the fresh
candles were unlit.  Thank you, Chandler, for doing your job, and more. 
"This won't hurt, at first.  You have to be ready for it.  Feel your
passion for him, and use this.  The wax is slick, and smooth, until the
water of your love starts flowing..."

   {Translated to English, so Lumierre becomes Chandler.  Not just the
candle-holder hanging over the dining table, but also the member of the
household that has to light all those candles.  Not to mention replacing
them, a candle-maker being a Chandler.  The soundtrack courtesy of Gilbert
& Sullivan, (Vocalist/s) because it's a Musical!}

   ;

   Handymann {Gone (SW&tHm OST)}

   "Hale guard." I turned at the thick accented voice.

   "Oh, it's you." The Ritter.  I spat in disgust.

   "Peace, mahn.  I made you something."

   "What?" A buckler, he turned his over.

   "Look, sei?  It is a bracer, with a boss." Padded on the inside with
thick wool.  "How has your arm healed?"

   "I did not lose my shield hand." I backed away from the shiny surface,
imagining the chunk taken out of it.  Like the moon with a shadow across
it, and the broad blade between in my mid's eye.  {As a guard, he would
have witnessed one of the Tetrad of Lunar Eclipses of 1475.}

   "Here, you can learn to fight with your left.  It is advantish, as
alle'mann learn to fight the right handed fighter.  Give me this." He
pulled at my arm, cradling the stump.  "Let me sei."

   I let him buckle it on, at the elbow.  I winced, "Does it hurt?" I shook
my head, flexing my phantom fingers, and twisting the bones in my arm. 
"There, know you how to fight with the knife?"

   "Of course," I took out my seax, and flipped it out.  Tried it, stepping
back en guarde, it felt strange.  Like fencing my shadow on the wall, but I
was the shadow.  "Comen," he led me, but on the wall my shadow faced me as
a normal man, now.  With both hands, buckler and knife, I covered my
knuckles with the rim.  He tipped up his moon cap, the Morion, that had
become popular with the forces of York.

   "Where did you get that?" He looked up.

   "Oh, London."

   "You came, over land in the snow?"

   He nodded, "I see your status has gone down, since you lost."

   "To a boy."

   He laughed, "They did not tell you?  No," to himself, "Ich nehme an, es
ist geheim.  Ahem.  That was the Lady, Quilla du LakSee, in disguise for
the road."

   "She is in castle Lassiter," I had heard, "She sends missives to her
betrothed, the Sheriff." Looking through the open gate, across the tower to
the guardhouse.

   "No, she's up in the tower," he pointed, "Punishment for refusing his
hand." I broke down, bashed my cheek with the hard rim, trying to cover my
weeping eyes.

   "Oh, be not ashamed of being beaten by a girl, she's bested me, in
practice.  You have heard of Jeanne de Orleon?"

   "The knight?"

   "She is possessed by her spirit.  The greatest warrior of our age.  That
is why she is locked away."

   I had heard, of a mysterious girl, in the tower.  From her guard, I knew
not where she came from, but his duty began the night I.  I lost my hand!

   "It's all right," he patted my back.  "Let me show you, how to use it to
your advantage."

   "It is?" I looked up.

   "Dry your tears, before they freeze.  Let me show you, now my knife
faces your knife." Having taken off his helmet, then rebuckled it.  Tight,
but the straps crossed in the middle, to grip like a buckle.  "Your shield
faces mein.  Kommon," he waved them, "En guard, let me show you."

   He cut his whiskers, or said that she did.  She likes him better, with
it short, and even sleeps with them in her pillow.  So he says, he is in
love with her.  The girl, who maimed me.

   "Are you afraid?"

   "NO!  No." I bit my teeth together, bitterly.  "What have I to fear?"

   "Then attack me, I won't hurt you, but you learn by doing.  Let me show
you, how to fight to your advantage."

   I looked back, at the stocks.  Where the Sheriff spent the night, but
survived.  Now her guard, for giving in to her seduction.

   "All right." Our steel rang, and I bit back the pain.  From the padding,
on my tender wrist, but I am a man.  A warrior, I have felt worse.  I have
cowered enough, cried enough tears in mourning for my hand.  She beat me,
but will not ruin my life.  I won't let her.

   ;

   {Psi: Okay, I've got a bit of a femdoM horror/snuff/sadistic fantasy. 
Watch the movie, when I ask what makes a girl do something like that? 
Well, start off with someone who intellectually dehumanizes everyone around
her, throw her in a castle with literally (Magically) Objectified servants,
and give her all the Sexual Power in the Province.  (Because Beauty.) Now,
place your bets on how long it takes her to become a Wicked Queen.}

   ;

   Poudreusee {Guilbert & Sullivan - I've Got a Little List (John Reed);}

   My lady could be cruel, when angered The chandler deserved it, she
called him in, and ordered a fire.  As he bent to his task, she backed me
to the door.  "Look at his ass!" Bobbing, as he hummed to himself.

   The tails of his waistcoat flapping behind his spindly legs, but he had
something, behind his hips.

   "I cannot see."

   "Then go for a closer look." He tucked his flint, and steel in a pocket,
and knelt down to blow on the embers.  I pulled up the tail, behind the leg
he held up, in front of him.

   "What are you doing?" He jumped when I goosed him, across his bottom to
the codpiece.

   "Have you heard miss' Potts," she's English, "Say that sauce for the
goose is sauce for the gander?" My lady laughed.  "Go on, keep blowing."

   "My lady."

   "Before it is dark, and I am not yours, you are mine."

   "Yes, donna Belle'."

   "That was not a question, but mine is not the heart that burns for you,
so save your attentions for miss Poudreusse."

   "Oui, donna."

   "Does he melt in your hands?"

   "No, donna."

   "Belle'."

   "Of course, "Belle'." We are more familiar, "Sorry, Belle'." Now.

   "Does he harden in your hand?"

   "Oui, Beauty'."

   "I did not ask you."

   "Donna!" she rose, "Do not presume to be so familiar with me!"

   "Sorry, Donna."

   "Not sorry enough.  Poudreusse, make him sorry."

   "Non!" I twisted his candle.

   "Not too sorry, until I get the drips of wax!" I bit it.

   "Non!"

   {Kind of illustrates in the movie how Chatels are stripped of their
identities.  After most of a century being reduced to 1 job, enslaved to
the house itself.  Incidentally, the "Curse" is an illusion.  Lumierre
wasn't literally a brass candlestick, but it shows people what they want to
see, or see in themselves.  The duster/girl charged with fighting back
dust, on every surface actually has one of the worse jobs.  It's immense,
so Cinderellesque, forgotten, and ignored in the background, except at the
hands of a sexually frustrated pervert.  Decades of it, incidentally this
is to prevent the Lord, shown what a horrible person he is on the inside
from raping, torturing, and killing his immortal servants, because he sees
them as animate objects.  How exactly do you go about killing a brass
candlestick?}

   ;

   Lord Bastion {A more Humane Mikado (Christopher Lee)}

   "What happened?" I growled.

   "The clumbsy Chandler fell, into the fireplace.  He tried to push back
out, but burned his hands." The maid nodded, but kept her head down.

   "You were there?"

   "Yes, I.  Saw it, my lord." His fingers burnt off, the stench of burnt
hair almost overpowering the cooked flesh.

   "I need some air." To the balcony, remembering Gaston, I chuckled,
"Guest." Looking over the stump where he uprooted a plaster spire to attack
me.  In the rain, on a clear sunny day from this vantage I can remember it
fondly, my wounds healing, his body tumbling down into the moat with his
makeshift weapon.  The night my curse was broken.

   "Snhhh!  Huh." Shrug, "Well, I suppose accidents happen."

   I grunted, "Help me with this." I can't just carry him around, for
light, much less throw him over my shoulder.  We had to drag him, to the
balcony and push him over.  To slide down the roof, and off to the cliffs.

   "Hhahhn!  That's better.  Maid, clear the air in here, I can't stand the
smell." The cooked flest, worst of all, "If you need me, I'll be in the
kitchen." As an ox, I lost my appetite for it, then it returned, "What do
we have to eat, for tonight?"

   "Stew."

   "Hrrah," I waved it off, "What do you have to make a broth?"

   "Dried rabbit?" T "Nothing fresh?"

   "No, lord."

   "Then go find something!" I growled.

   "The snow, sire."

   "I didn't ask about the weather, go get me some Meat!" I drew my cape on
my way out the door, to end the conversation.

   {A Little Priest (Cariou/Landsbury)

   ;}

   Rider/Ritter (C/mann Poss.)

   The window shattered high above, and fell, twinkling in the morning
light like snow before falling through the shadow of the wall.

   Everyone jumped back from the brass, slotted to hold the panes in a
lattice.  {Clean it up.} A chill crept up the back of my neck.

   "Warum?"

   {Recycling.  We need it for the bars.} I sighed, and led the cart over
to the scattered pile.

   "CartMann," I gritted my teeth.

   "HartMann."

   "Why do you clean up this mess?"

   "{I have a cart.}" I growled, "You want to help?" He wandered off.  {I
won't let it cut you.} "Wei nicht?" {By not touching the edges?  Also duh.}
I just can't wait to get out of here, how long have you been back? 
{Gradually, over the past month.  The hot cross buns, sealed with a Kiss?}
Ah.

   "Here is a broom." The bossWright brought me a sheet of steel, cut off
flat, and held it.  "You should let me polish that helm."

   I shook my head, "I like it."

   "Why?"

   "It's green." Getting darker.

   "Ah yes, I wondered why it was brass."

   "{Bronze.}" My head shook.

   "What's the difference?"

   I shrugged, "{Tin.}" Oh.  {He's not a shmidt, either.}

   I can't wait to get out of here.  {You're under arrest?} Not exactly,
I'm more comfortable here, with the men I know, but I stayed for my squire.
{Oh, you love him!} Yes, I suppose I do.  I need one, to be a knight, and
pass on my legasy, but.  I didn't realize.  {Well, I can feel it.} Yes, I
love him.  Nodding.  {Well, he's turning 13, so they're going to do the
Betrothal, for her birthday.} Fuck, {Yeah, kinda forced our hand.  Speaking
of which, thanks for sending us Morton.} I did not.  {Well, then he signed
up for the duty after you told him who he was.  The Duke agreed, thinking
he couldn't be seduced after what sHe did to him.} He has, {Well, with a
little help.  ;} What is that?  {A wink, see?  ;} Oh, yes.

   I twisted my head.  "{Uh, that should be enough.}"

   "For what?"

   "Well, you can sweep the rest down the drain?" I pointed the broom.  to
the corner of the slateYard, where an iron grate allowed it to drain to the
Avon.

   "Where are you taking it?"

   "To the Glacier." {Not the recycling I had in mind, but a good lie.} He
can melt it down.  {So can I, you think you can put the cart on the runners
with it loaded?} It is not much, why?  {Good, because wheels on ice. 
Should be easier to lower it down the bank as well.}

   We had to lead it far up-stream, to where the bank was clear, and in the
shadow of the castle, still snowed over.  The dogs protested, but then my
body went numb, and pushed the sledge sideways.  They couldn't hold it, but
pushing the bar on the back, we were able to let it down, with them
pulling. "{Gut.}" She stood me up on the runners, and took up my coachwhip.
"{MUSH!}" And the reins, only with the bottom of my breastplate braced
against the bar could I not fall, but it was like a Chariot from one of the
old books.

   {Or a dogsled, with sledge runners instead of sharp steel blades.} The
brass bottoms polished flat, and sliding over the hard ice with an
indescribable sound, but we quickly made it to the bars.  Under the tunnel,
I heard tinkling deep within, of glass falling, and the rasp of the Besom
on the slate, though I could see no light.  Then my numb arm was lifting
the stiff tarp over the box, on the runners.  "{WHOOHHHHH!}" It glittered
in the shadow, sinking down, and started making tinkling noises in the
glass.  Shattering, flaking, and breaking down.  {Pull it back strongly
when the shattering stops.}

   "{...oohh!}" I gasped, and once again felt my arms.  Took a breath and
blew into my chilled fingers, but the shattering stopped.  So, I gripped
the tarp, and threw it back, like a maid stripping a bed.

   It twinkled into the light, and with blue sparkles of it's own.  Tiny
arcs like lightning too small to see as the particles swirled in the dead
calm air.  In the lee of the castle, under the bridge, though the stone
walls supporting it could channel a breeze into a gale like when I came
down to scout our escape.

  
SCHßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßz!

   It swirled around the bottoms of the bars with a sound that made my
every hair stand up and shiver.  The iron and rust flaking, and starting to
even glow, amazingly as they're embedded in ice.  But at the tops, growing
upward as the cloud became darker, and darker with shards of iron with the
glass.  Impressed, it finally filtered down to soak into the ice itself.  A
shadow, creeping deeper, but to follow I had to bend up the now cooling
bars.

   "Huh!" I grabbed my hammer from the cart.  I mean sledge, I had
forgotten.  Hooking the head, and pommel in the bottom, I bent to the stiff
steel bar between the spearpoint, and the hilt.  "HRHNNNN!" With that
leverage, I was able to get it away from the bottom of the bar, already
freezing back over, and step in.

   Seeing a glow inside, the sweeping stopped, but I also heard strange
hollow sounds.  Finally I came to a pool.  Directly below the grate, in the
corner no one saw the glow, or came to investigate.  Boiling, but the
brass, glass, and iron somehow floating to the top, in the strangest shield
I had ever seen.  I picked it up, and saw myself, my reflection in it's
face.  It rang, like a bell, and spoke to me.

   "Come on, let's go bend the rest of those bars up."

   "Magie Mirior?"

   {Yeah, sorry.  That was my sister, Alloyer.}

   "Ah," I carried them back.

   ;

   Donna Bella

   So, we went down to the town.  First, I asked after "A chandler."

   They stared, at my husband.  The triplets, whispering to eachother, so I
went to ask them.  Bastion went into the bar.

   "Where did he,"

   "that swarthy man,"

   "come from?"

   "My husband?" I looked back, "The Moorelands." Which way is south again?

   In unison, "He's your husband?" They were always jealous of me.

   "He is so tall,"

   "And Dark,"

   "And Handsome."

   "He is your Lord," and My Husband.  "Know you the Chandler, in the next
town?"

   "Which one?"

   "There are three," I pointed, "There," away from our forest, "There, and
there.  Go ask after a chandler."

   "Yes,"

   "Belle',"

   "Donna."

   That never ceases to annoy me.

   "And a hunter.  Who is the best around?"

   "After,"

   "Gaston,"

   "Fell?"

   "Yes?"

   "There are none."

   "He killed them,"

   "all for poaching."

   "Yes," I have been away so long, "Of course." I had forgotten.  Rubbing
my chin, "Well, go and find the best shot in the Provence, or ask after
him, when you go find My chandler."

   "Yes, my lady." I waved them off, in unison.  Any of them could find a
man to escort them.

   "Huh!" I found my husband drunk.  "Come on, let's get you back to
Castle."

   {Halsey}

   ;

   LeibenKnect

   "My lady," I bowed, "The HuntsMann has returned with a gift."

   "Thank you, my left hand."

   I picked up my gauntlet.  She calls Cestus, and held it up.  "Let me
help you with that." She needn't say that we're leaving, dressed as she is
for riding.  All in black, "You have time to change."

   "We're leaving from my Fiancee's," she steeped back, putting up 2
fingers in front of her, "Court." Inched them, then let them fall to her
sides.

   Hard to believe how much she had grown, in 6 weeks.  Merely the days
that Finn guarded her, before she cut off his beard.

   Feeling the twisted bars of iron in front of my Boss, I wriggled the
prongs, setting the splints between the bones in my arm, and tightened the
strap at my elbow.

   "Ready?"

   "Yes, my Lady." Checking my sidearm, to not bash against it with the
crossguard as I walked.  At her arm, she wrapped hers around it.  My good
arm, stronger from training with the hand-sword.  The same one that had
taken my hand, a gift for my loyalty, my fealty to my lady.  Called the
greatest warrior of our age, born to it.  Refitted with a hilt as Main
Gauche.

   Down the south tower of the guardhouse, intended as her new home.  She
doesn't want to marry him, the Sheriff, not my commander as Master of the
Castle Guard, but he presumes.  Much, I am Her guard, not his, and I
detested him before I heard of his sexual tastes.  Whispered in the halls,
through my career, I heard things that should not be whispered.

   About my lord, and the pageboys, with his Sheriff.  She had heard from
her nephews, his own sons.  "Are you cold, my man Gauche?"

   "No," I hugged her arm closer.  "Closer here," at the base of the
stairs, scraping my rim against the post in the center.  "Remember, this
bottom step is lose."

   "I'm fine, you are my escort, escort me." She giggled, "At least I don't
have to get used to this tower." The 8 sided one which was her home, for a
month and a half, before she broke the window in a dare to her cousin.  Let
her down, or let her freeze in the night, for taking away Finn.  Her lover,
but we have no female guards for her.  We did not train women here, even
after what happened at Orleons.

   Now, they would believe that a woman can fight, if a girl can.  She
would be a formidable warrior, the greatest of our age, tall and strong at
the rate she was growing, but they fed her well since she had arrive.

   Flat chested, lean, and broad at the shoulders and hips, but the baggy
black pants are slimming, so she says.  With her haircut she could be
mistaken for a young boy, a squire as she had when she arrived.  Claiming
to be her own brother to get through the guard house, even fooling the
Sheriff enough to catch his eye.  "You cloak, milady." I twisted the tips
of my tines in the edge to help her into it, for the walk across the way.
To the bridge, between the gates, eyeing the murder holes overhead, but
where was the Hunter's cart?  His dogs, I knew they were to be part of the
escape, but he just stood there in his brown leather slashed doublet, and
leggings, with green panels between the blousing, to match his dulled
tarnished helmet.  He straightened immediately, from resting on his strange
sword.

   His svingendeSchwert in his accented Swiss German.  He hung it by the
beak shaped quillion, so that the rounded face of the hammer stuck out, and
the pronged pommel up.  Wrapped in platted steel wire, he called the blade
Riccasso.  I had faced and handled it many times.  Rounded, not sharp with
deep furrows on either side before being drawn out to a spearpoint, as
broad as his hand.  Chinkwedia, 5 fingers, but tapering to s stiff tip. 
{The cross-section is almost a figure 8, or 2 round bars joined by a narrow
fuller between.  With a cinquedea blade on 1 hand, bec du corbin quillion,
and ball peen hammer opposite.  Basically a lucerne hammer pommel, the name
"Svitzer swingendes swert" translates to Swiss Arming Sword.}

   "Vas ist los?" She pointed at the shield, the boss wright held up for
him.

   "See your mirror?"

   "Da I kannes sehen!" My German is not real good.  But I'm learning, part
of the plan, they picked it up together, and turned.  I could see the
handle across the copper boss in the middle, I didn't even bother to ask
what for.

   "Shall we?" She turned, standing behind me.

   Then, they started advancing to the Castle.

   Already lined by guards with shields, and pulling their handaxes.  I
trained them myself, I know what they're capable of, but there are 15.

   "Let them through."

   "Or try to stop us!" she shielded them with her body.  So the rank of
arbelest, and arquebus up in the gallery could shoot them.  Not with her
there, i didn't feel as confident, stepping forward.

   "I said, let us pass." I looked across their ranks, locking targes,
looking for an opening.

   There, a grin.  The Halberdier I recognized by his neatly trimmed red
beard.  He raised it, like a staff, and let it down across his shoulder.

   "All right," some glanced back, right as he twisted.  At the body,
whacking the helmets from behind on 1 side, and hooking the hafts of
halberds away with his back spike on the other.

   {Halsey - Castle (Reprise.) From the trailer for The Huntsman: Winter's
War.}

   ;

   Allojer {Henry Jackman - Rage and Serenity (XM1C OST) followed by
Frankenstein's Monster...}

   I made sure to securely button, and brooch my cape around the Lancaster
Red Hood.

   "HihehnyeahHA!"

   I'll handle this.

   "Brace yourselves," I put my hands up on my shieldmen's backs, felt up
to the bases of their necks, looking down.  "There's a line, between
flagstones, behind you." Their feet turned, sideways, and they leaned
forward, bracing the copper back against their front legs.  I pushed as
hard as I could, feeling the field swirling around us growing stronger,
sensing the sympathetic shapes across the passage.

   15 identical bosses, stamped out with trip-hammers at the wheelhouse on
the Avon.  When it was flowing, the field reaching them, and turning them
on the soldier's arms.  Left out in the sun all day, the black surface
soaking up energy, now swirling straight through me, and twisting them
hard, and harder at right angles.

   Their grunts, the effort to hold them out, to protect them, even the
same embossed helmets, tilting their heads, maybe strong enough to break
their necks, but painfully arm.  A side effect, I just need to turn their
shields parallel.

   "Lift," they raised it, in front of them, modulating it so the toriodal
field started spinning, as if thrown out by the stationary record, now
irresistibly twisting their arms.  I looked up, gauging the angle by eye,
but now the steel barrels of the muskets, and arms of the crossbows they
dare not lose with Me in the way starting to line up.  Unlike a phonograph,
with a spiral grove, the face radiated outward to the edge, flattening, but
in vanes where they met at the copper boss.

   On my command, it shattered, the ferroceramic glass bursting into
harmless nanoparticles, falling around us in a sootlike cloud of powder. 
Even as the vanes flipped, stabilized by the broad flat thin edges, and
flying out thick heavy end out as ax edged darts, and sweeping the shooting
gallery behind us.

   PWHFHTWH!  They fired, reflexively gripping the triggers, but all
missed. I felt the field stop.  In a rough rectangle with an arc buried in
the cobbles before us.

   "That takes care of the archers," I straightened, and noticed my left
hand man, Gauche was out of the arc.  Stepping forward to face a terrified
guardsman, his own trainee at the end of the rank, cowering, and holding
his sword up protectively.

   Morton, he caught the blade, and twisted, pinning it between the wrought
iron prongs of his fork, he tore it away, and slapped him aside with the
flat of his Cinqeudea.  On my right, Ritter unhooked his hammersword, and
went in as the bossWright pulled shieldswords from his thighs.

   I closed my eyes, holding my hands out.  Up, curling my fingers like
claws, and felt the nanocloud rising to swirl around my wrists.  Stepping
past the arc of runesteel shards, I called them back, shattering to be
caught by the field, and adding to the storm swirling around me until the
air started cycling with it.  Up the center to spread in a fountain over
me, puffing out the cape, catching it, and coating the thick felted wool of
the Red Riding Hood.

   "I'm gonna huff," Paradoxically feeling lighter, "And puff," my toes
leaving the stones, "And blow your house down!"

   They routed, falling back as the torus fully formed.  Floating 15' off
the ground, they dropped the portcullis.  Or tried to, the squared timbers
bound with iron bands.  I caught it before they even fell to lock in the
pyramid holes at the foot of the drawbridge.  Gripping it with My field, I
pushed it back home, in the bridge between towers.  "Stay behind me," I
floated over to shield them, even as the parapet opposite opened fire.  I
didn't bother to dodge the bolts, and bullets, i don't have to.  They
disintegrated in the swirling cloud, now a dust devil of ferroceramic,
iron, pulverized lead, and neuronano.

   Clearing the gatehouse, i waited for my 3 comrades to step onto the
bridge before dropping the gate, and turned.  "Pick up some shields before
they reload." I turned, to face the balcony behind me.  Already fleeing,
they closed the doors to either side, so I didn't have to wipe them out.  I
turned, to the chains holding this side of the drawbridge.  Held the winch
on on side, and reached out.  The field with it, towing a gale of abrasive
to shattering grit to cut through the thick ling at the top before they
could pull it in.  "New plan, climb down."

   Starting to fall, I cupped the iron impregnated felt to parachute down,
and back, venting through the face of my flared hood.  Touched down, and
rolled out reflexively.  Came up running, for the anchor point in the
middle.  The heavy chain hanging down, my men taking cover behind the
support pylon even as they raised the castle side.

   It was a bluff, I didn't want into the Castle, silly.  All I wanted was
out of it, but the dog sledge was down in the "Moat." The river Frome,
routed around to flow into the Avon, but frosen over.  The plan was to take
the Sally Port down there, from the slate-yard, but this was quicker. 
Leaping, I parachuted my cape again, and floated blindly back, skidding to
a stop, and running under the bars for the tunnel.

   "Siri, Prokyon!" They jumped up, from the bear pelts draped over the
wooden box that was the sledge, still harnessed to the guide rails, and
dragged it to meet me.  Siri I knew, named her myself, when I bought her at
the stable's kennel.  her mate, Prokyon named after Orion's other dog. 
"Ready to go?" They panted excitedly.  So, I led them out, to the Frome to
meet the boys.

   "Come OOOOOON!" I called up the hanging chain, "Let's go, before I leave
you."

   My hunter dropped down first, for me to hug and kiss him, happily.

   "My, how you've grown!"

   "They fed me well!" I grinned in the dark, than hopped in, while he
grabbed the reigns, and stood on the runners.  Cupping my hands, "Catch up
when you can!" There was no meaningful pursuit all the way to the Avon,
which he turned up.

   "Change of plan, I could not afford a boat to wait, at the mouth." We
turned, at a ramp up the side, and climbed out to the southern side. 
Across from the city.  We made it to southampton, where we could afford
passage.

   He'd earned a lot, training the guard for the month, Morton, and Finn
brought their life's savings as well.  It's not an army, but it's a start.

   A small price to pay to be free.

   ;

   Haunted Abbey (Continued from The Huntsmann, his telling of it was
interrupted.  Also, I took a break for Gaming.  Finally gave up, and got
Dark Souls 3, but it made me yearn for everything you can't do with an
Estoc.  It's reknowned for Armor Piercing, because you can wiggle it in
through arm-slits, or punch through a breastplate with the quillons if
they're not S bent (For blade trapping) and you get the guy on the ground
first.  If I was making an Estoc for DS3, I'd give it a Straight Sword
Weapon-art, only Half-swords.  And an overhand murder stroke to punch
through Block/Armor, but I'd make axes hook away shields instead of a
parry, not give them Battle Cry.  I was not consulted.}

   Airolo

   So, we got far enough ahead to make a fire, and camp out in the Morning.
Running all night, without enough room for even Quillon, he decided on the
name Quillon, but we're working on it.  He's grown so much even he can't
stretch out, though he burned a lot of fat feeding the curse back at the
drawbridge.

   I barely got to fight, I was expecting it, but they disarmed me. 
Probably wanted that hammerSword after I showed it off, and fought over it
when they got back to the Slate Yard, but forget it.  It's gone, past, and
now we're back out on the snow.  You'd think it'd be easy to track a
sledge, Klydestale, 2 dogs, and 4 sets of boots, but we got a good hill,
with a good view, and the sun behind us to outshine the fire.

   So, we dried off, our cloaks, and Quillon remembered the story I had not
the chance to tell him.

   "No princesses in this one, but Candy heard about it on his way to
Breinz.  He joined us going to ask at the Abbey, but Milne did all the
talking.  As the new Lady for the Oberlund.  Augustines, they said that
they knew of the old Abbey, but as the monks were of a different Order,
they just left them alone when word stopped coming down from them. 
Travelers didn't come there much, so they hadn't heard those stories, but
they called them Trappists.

   Benedictines, all they wanted was to be left alone.  Why they built
their refuge in such an inaccessible valley, not much is known about the
old stone fort, beyond it being old, and ruined.  They confirmed that the
Monastery was built inside it, but not much else is known.  They had a map
I was able to copy with brushes, pen, and ink.  By the window, while Milne
wrote.

   It turns out they were woodworkers, the first thing I noticed was the
Abbey was very well kept up.  Down in the valley, it drops off from where
we could ride, then send the horses back, but we just put them up at the
stables.  They didn't have the kennel, so we also took 3 dogs.  The old
lord, of the fort kept hunting dogs, hounds not like these Mastiffs.  In
Bern they have Sennerhunds, like your Mastiffs with longer hair, but mostly
use them to search the hills, and valleys.  {Basically ancestors of the
modern Saint Bernards.} Good for dragging a tree back, not for hunting.

   The Baron also trained them as War Dogs, I saw Armor for them when I
stayed at the castle in Bern.  The hounds were happy just to run, and kept
us fed on the trip, which was longer for having to walk, but they made it
down the climb.  Mostly Pika, you don't have these, no mountains.  They are
like the White Hares, like this one, but grey with round ears like a mouse,
and hide in the rocks.  The hounds can track them, find them, and dig them
out, but can't catch the hares.

   So at any rate, we could see down into the walls, or at least the Abbey,
Candy said he was glad for his choice, going straight on to Breinz, instead
of around to Interlaken.  Milne wished she'd brought her starglass, but it
would have bean beaten, and broken by that climb.  Bad enough with speers,
but I showed them how to pole down, like the fishers do in the shallows, or
around the bay.  Also to feel for deep snow, it came up to Quill's knees,
but you could fall in, and it would be flat as water on top.

   It had snowed, in the night but we set camp overlooking the climb down.
Now, it turns out the inhabitants could see us.  Or travelers coming up
from the pass, which is why it had that location.  There was a Giant, but
you know how tales are told.  He might have been 7 foot tall, if he could
straighten to stand up to his full height.  No, let me correct that, the
first thing I saw was the upper wall.  It was in 2 levels, like this, but
the top was flooded, as was the Castle itself, so the Abbey was built in
the lower bailey.

   We saw that, when we came around the flooded yard, to see over the wall,
and it did look abandoned.  Then, I saw a break in it, but new masonry. 
You could tell, because old stone is weathered.  Worn, stained, and some of
the blocks had fresh clean sides to them.  Built up, in the gap so we could
try climbing the fallen blocks.  The hounds howled, and ganged up to dig
for Pica that jumped down between them, but could not dig through stone,
and it would be risky to try climbing up.

   Just to see a wall, I saw was new from back there, so I moved on.  No
tracks, not even game tracks other than our own on the fresh fallen snow,
so the way was slow.  Deeper there, against the base of the wall, but there
was a drift.  Blown up one side, so I took the Shields to check it out. 
Let me show you, we didn't have these shields, we had hunting shields, and
it is flat here, but with 2 of them you can crawl on the snow.  Like giant
feet, it's slow, but I was even able to climb up almost to the top of a
wall.

   Another trick is there was 2 blocks, close together.  You know forts,
and castles, having grown up in them, but I lowered a rope, and pulled up a
spear, then threw it up.  Between the stones, so it caught, sideway, and I
could climb up.  From there, I could see down from the wall, and the closed
up Abbey.  A garden, they had almost a field of rows, with cabbages and
whatnot, but nobody to be seen to tend it.  Also a graveyard, which changed
in the time it took to pull them all up on shields, like sleds.

   That took several minutes, but in that time I saw fires.  Still no one
about, but you tend to notice things like fires starting that were not
there before.  In stone cauldrons, like water fonts, or catch basins, but
dry.  Now fires lit in them, but I did not see, nor hear anyone lighting
them.  I smelled the smoke, piney, as soon as we looked over the inside of
the wall, but these were solid stone.  Or the one we were on, unlike the
walls of Bristol Castle, which has wood roofs, and barracks inside?  More
like the main wall, all stone, and earth, so the upper wall acted as a dam
when they blocked off the middle gate.

   Oh yes, it was done on purpose, for a water supply, frozen over but with
a trickle from the bottom to feed a stream, right down the middle of the
bailey.  To the other gate, which ment they could clean, and dry out the
cisterns, and use them as brasiers, which they did.  We found the ramp down
from the wall, even though the defenses were set up for the gate, and the
stream running out it, that wasn't wide enough to keep us from retreating
out of when they all came out of hiding.

   They moaned, and groaned.  In moth eaten tatters of robes, and many wore
bone masks, made out of the faces of skulls.  The monks, though the ones
without masks were visibly diseased, and the Augustines did say they
Trappists took in the diseased to tend them.  Sores, a lot of sores, old,
gaunt, and with swollen faces so some of them looked liked skulls with
flesh on them.  It was all a trick, to scare off travelers, but the dogs
sniffed them out, and ruined the surprise.

   They had shields, of a crude type.  I will call them Corner shields,
because they were made of Planks, like the corner of 2 walls, but they his
behind them.  In the corners, especially in the Graveyard where there was
many corners, between crypts built up against the wall.  I don't know
whether they dug up the crypts, or not.  They were Pacifists, could not
fight, but the shields were difficult to get around, and they mostly tried
to push us back.  Toward the gate, they also had long staffs they pushed
with, like blunt pikes.

   The problem was the dogs.  They could run around, faster than they could
turn, in formation without breaking it, and exposing themselves to us.  So,
they fell back, but brought torches.  The ruse was very convincing, if not
for the signs of people living there, but that gave it away.  They may have
been soldiers, in life, and somehow remembered how to fight with spears,
and shields, but Gardening?  Masonry, firebuilding, and rubbing the bottom
of their shields with pine tar so they could set them on fire?  No, that
was something they worked out, and practiced.  I don't know anything about
the risen dead, I still don't, but I even doubt that if they were
woodworkers, they'd continue maintaining the building that well.

   It was impressive, the woodworking.  They fell back to the main door,
and rang a bell, then guarded it while the doors open.  Sure enough it was
the Giant, yelling "Get out," and the like.  In Romansh, he wasn't mute,
but held himself up on a cross.  Covered in gold at the top, but mounted to
a staff like a speer.  He was very good at it, we picked up dropped
shields, and nobody could get close to him, so I retreated, and loaded a
bolt.  We had come prepared for a fight, I took off all my armor to climb
up, then got curious about the fires when I saw they'd been lit, but the
other three just surrounded him, stayed back, and let him wear himself out.

   Hobbling on the cross, so he couldn't swing it, I found he had a bad
back, but then the church caught on fire.  I don't know how, the Monks
retreated in there, while we fought the giant, I missed with my first shot,
and one of the problems with such a powerful crossbow is you usually have 1
shot, then it takes too long to reload.  However, he broke down.  Pleading,
and praying.  We spared him, truly a wretched creature, but all of the
monks died.  Trapped in the abbey, burned to death, but he told us his
story.

   He was born, deformed.  The Monks took him in, but he was from Thun, and
his parents took him there when he was still a boy.  The trappists had gone
mad, Candy said it may have been from Disease, they got violent, and
started all these strange games to play with travelers.  Pacifists, but
practicing the war krafts from the library, which also burned.  They had no
tongues, some of them even cut off their lips when they became invested by
sores, lost their ears, toes, and even noses.  They were able to tend to
their hands, well enough to not lose too many fingers, but they could not
touch him.

   Lepers, my be some other diseases we didn't know about, but Thun grew
strong, and did all the heavy lifting.  Repaired some of the holes in the
walls, I would say the old castle was probably taken by Sieges, from it's
condition.  However, the middle gate was already closed off, and flooded,
when he got there.  Before the disease spread to all of them, but now they
had a real reason to turn away travelers.  Being Mute, they could grunt,
and gesture, spoke with their faces, but many of them had defrormities like
the giants'.

   He admitted that there were nuns, and they had broken their vows of
chastity.  With the other monks as well, and some of them were his
children. When he was younger, but years apon years of moving blocks, and
hauling timbers alone took their toll.  He was broken, crippled, and now
alone.  He had food, but after telling his story he begged us to leave him.
To die, at least he would not starve, but no doubt that winter.  We left by
the pass, which was clear enough to ride, had we horses, but we had to camp
overnight, and it was cold.  Milne vowed to take an army out there, claim
the fort, and repair it.

   She wanted her own castle, but after, all I had seen and done with them.
The horrors worse than a castle full of the risen dead, we heard them. 
Their screams burning to death in that beautiful abbey.  I was so
heartbroken, and afraid of the Baron.  He would find an excuse to kill me,
as slowly as he could devise, if I stayed close to his daughter.  I loved
her, dearly, but could not sleep without nightmares.  They still haunt me,
I swear I am cursed.  Finally, those monks are dead, and have me to haunt
instead of their ruined castle.  As they had in life, to be left alone,
until we came and destroyed them.

   I'm sorry if it was not a very good story, but it is too painful to
tell."

   {Special Note: INS there were ever Pica in the Alps, or if there were
what the Romansh word for them would be, if not Hart.  But if there were,
you wouldn't mind them living in your outer wall, to tell you when people
are coming around it.  They're "Peeps," just like every living thing around
a Praire Dog Town knows when mr.  Coyote shows up, but we're not on the
praire, we're up in the Alps.  Where there's spots that never thaw in the
winter, and snow can blow down on the Solstice even if it wasn't one of
those years in the Little Iceage that just didn't get a summer.  It isn't,
but it could be, in the middle of July.}

   ;

   Quillon du Lacy

   As he told the story, he took out some tools.  He showed me, what he had
gotten from the trappists.  Just left out, in the courtyard when they went
to play dead.  "This, is the nicest tool I ever had." He showed me, a
drill. Like a spoon drill, only cut out of a spike.  Another spike on the
other end was bent, so he could grip it, and twist, back and forth.  So,
the sharp edge of the moon shaped cut out shaved curls from the side of a
short log he was sitting on.

   A woodcutter's camp, abandoned but with stumps, and a fire circle he dug
out in the center after poling it out.  They left an end, cut off round by
axes, then sawed off flat, to make the log flat on the end.  Like
woodcutters do, but he drilled through the side, and cut down a branch for
the handle.  A mallet, for woodworking, he prefers to hunt, but his father
was a woodworker, and took him out with him to work.  He just got bored and
hunted, it was always more fun than watching his father whack at a tree
with an ax.

   Poor Hart.  Broken by the things he'd seen, and done, and had done to
him.  I keep asking for stories, I should stop.  Knowing how it hurts him,
but he relaxed.  Beating at his ax to split wood, build a fire, then
splitting planks for the sledge.  To make it large enough to sleep in,
while we travel.  As we did in the first sledge, coming down from Lassiter.
The dogs really keep it warm, but he kept his shield out.

   His hunting shield, he made it.  Like a targe, only with a point on the
bottom, it hides the stock of his Arbalest behind it.  It is his way, he
does not like anything to do one thing, so you have to carry a shield and a
crossbow.  It is heavy, for a shield that size, but not as bulky as a
crossbow and a shield, he can just sling it over his back, when he's riding
the horse.  Rather than leave it, the dogs only have to pull when it gets
stuck, by we have to poll ahead of the horse in bad places, we don't dare
try to take it over water.

   Rivers, especially, they look frozen, but.  This winter, the first one
remembered where the Avon froze over, so deep you could march an army on
it. Not like the Frome, which always froze, but the Avon was ice all the
way to the shore.  Not the Severn, as far as Glouchester, but you can't
trust that.  Especially with such a heavy horse, buckled between the leads
of the sledge like a Chariot.  We burned the wheels, and he pulled the iron
bands from the fire, but like his ax has a hammer.  He is a hunter, but he
can work wood, or iron, but we had to fan the flames with shields.  Like he
showed us, until he could bend them, and beat the spike rivets into the
runners.  A cage, for the boards, and then loops to bend green branches
over.

   To cover it, like a tent, we could all huddle in there, sitting up when
the snow blew too much.  Or take turns sleeping, so we could stay ahead. 
There was a rider, looking for me, talked to the first guard who cut his
beard for me.  He went in, to talk to some farmers, and they heard, from a
rider.  Especially Gauche's hand.  The buckler, and fork he uses, but
looking for me.  For Witchcraft, that Alojer overdid it with the nanocloud
when we escaped, but then my curse left me.  I know not who for, would that
I could just ask.  I wonder that I can write about it.

   Hirsch woke up screaming again.  To think with all the things he had
endured, the one that haunts him the most is Bavard.  Not his execution, he
could not even stay to watch that after accusing him, but what it was in
revenge for.  He is not a vengeful man, even after he raped his mouth, I
know that it was rape, the way it affects him, the thing that gives him
nitemares is Milne, and her father.  The Baron, he struck me as an imposing
man, they for some reason overstate his age, perhaps he likes the notariety
of being called Ancient, but he struck me as healthy.

   Finally, Hirsch told me what was bothering him.  He stopped, fighting
his daughter, or smacking her around with the flats, and watched.  Bavard,
rape him up against the cold forge.  Milne too, he just stood there, with
his arm around her, holding her pauldron, finally accepted her as.  I don't
know, if she is like me, but more like a son.  Finally teaching her how to
fight, but she never said anything to me about being a man inside.  I had
always thought she was jealous, what she always wrote about is what they
get, and get to do.  Interesting things, like swords, and armor, fighting,
and telling battle stories around the hall.

   Ladies get to wait.  I hated that as well, but it was somehow worse for
being a boy, treated like a lady.  Whereas Milne, I don't know about her.
Everyone agrees that she was born to fight, like her father, but does than
make her a man?  I don't want to fight, I'm becoming a man, and that is
something I'll have to do, which is why I'm learning it.  A traveling Lord
is a Knight, or a commoner.  Like Hart, he was a Herald, could not read to
preserve the secret of whatever he carried, and guarded, but he avoids
fights.

   He fights when he must, but is not a coward when it is a good fight.  He
fought for me, even through the fear of a strange city, but I like him
better out here.  I just need to remember to stop hurting him by asking him
to tell stories.  He's so good at it, I did not think it would hurt him,
and I'm guilty of making him remember.  There's so much he'd rather forget,
being forced to give up his love for Milne, though it sounds like she
betrayed him.  Let Bavard rape him, but I have to wonder why she did not
write of it.

   The Abbey, nor Hartmann's rape?  I suppose she is secretive, what little
I've heard about her family, and the fear with which he speaks of it, I
suppose it is understandable.

   He is recovered, and tempered for me, so I know how to make him feel
better.  It always warms me up for going back out.  To the wind, and the
snow, I can find out where we are, but after.

   My man needs me right now.

   I love it in my hand, and between my thighs, so I can feel it as if my
own.

   ;

   {Continued in The Witches...  Workin on it?}
   :