[Olm]

I just arrived in our enemies province Banded Hills.
Through the usual channels I managed to arrange a meeting with our local spy , a bard named Alfred. We are to meet at dawn in a lonesome haybarn. All is quiet and I enter the barn carefully. It only consists of one room, mostly filled with hay and straw. At the far end of the room sits a man on a chair, with his back to me. I say the password, loud enough for him to hear. But there is no answer. I repeat, but the man stays silent. Carefully, out of his reach, my hand on my swordhilt I circle him. As I can see his face, I now this man will never utter another word. It has to be Alfred the Bard, for his Lute lies at his feet. His face is beaten and bruised. Obviously he has been tortured. And I can make out a thin wire around his neck. They strangled him with a string of his own Lute.

And it happened not long ago.

I know what that means, but I feel no panic or even worry inside. Just plain cold anger. As cold as the blade of the frostbrand I now draw. I check my gear and get ready for battle. Now I can hear movement and hushed voices outside the barn. I turn around and slowly walk to the door. They will not have to wait for me. And so they will find out soon, that I am no nearly helpless bard, but a Lord Warden of Avalon. And they will learn what we are capable of.

It's an army of nearly eighty soldiers. Milesians and a flock of black hawks. Lead by two of those arrogant Sidhe Lords. The Milesians and us beat them and their Thuata masters once, and we will do so again, with or against the Milesians, it doesn't matter. I send a fast prayer to the Mistress, and then the hawks are upon me. Laughable, in a second all of them are bound to the ground by vines from my shield. Killing them is no more difficult than killing a duck for supper. Then the main host of spearmen and swordmen is on me. But they can't hurt me. the one or the other strike that comes through doesn't even scratch my marble armor. In return I give them plenty, and soon their ranks get thinned.
The Sidhe use their magic to send phantasms against me. Futile attempt. I can only imagine they are surprised to meet a warrior like me in that barn. Otherwise they would have used their magic wiser.
The first Milesians start to run, and not short after the whole army flees head over heels, the Sidhe giving their horses spores to even be ahead of their soldiers.

Its quiet. The only thing I hear is the rushing of my blood in my ears. All enemies are gone or dead. I am victorious.
After a deep breath I start to collect weapons and armor from my enemies. No soldiers shall carry those swords again. I bring everything into the barn and lay it all around Alfred, at his feet. Then I take a cape of one of the fallen and use it, to clean the bards face. His eyes have seen victory in the end. I close them, so they may rest forever. Then I put the string to the Lute again and bring the instrument into tune.
Two songs I play and sing. One of grief, sorrow and farewell. And one of bravery, victory and a bright future. Songs fitting for a heroes funeral. I lay his instruments into the bards lap and leave the barn without a second look, b setting the hay afire before I walk through the door.

Even if short lived, this shall be a monument to all our brave and heroic spies who died in service to the mistress. In the end we will be victorious.

I don't know what awaits me tomorrow, don't know my next orders, don't know the enemies next move. But I know this day was a glorious one for Avalon.