She invited the warmth of the sun onto her pale torso skin as it peered from behind a cloud. Her legs, covered in chestnut fur as they were, never truly felt the glory as her human flesh did.


Better for whom? Veridian scowled, looking between a mustached man and a bearded man. Finally they settled their horses and resumed their silent guard. Though one kept soundlessly whispering into his mount's ear. For your happiness or his self esteem?


Philomel thought back, with a smile on her face, to how she had met the men. It had been part the way into the forest, and she herself had had a small retinue of warriors. Ten guards, as well as Vaeron, her best friend and reluctant father to her child. The riders in black had not been able to fully see the Lily Fortress, but they had seen a sliver of the power Philomel wielded. It had been deliberate, to show them just who they were dealing with when they were sent to escort the Matriarch of the Gilded Lily. And just for effect Delath had dug his way out of the ground - his favourite home - and joined them on their journey. Laughing, Philomel remembered the initial looks on the riders' faces. Shock, horror, confusion.


For his self-esteem, to be sure, she nodded.


And then she was blinded as a shaft of pure white lanced down from the sun like an angry arrow. Filling her vision briefly with patches and blurs, the faun was required to cover her eyes with a hand briefly, as she blinked heavily. Behind her the riders did the same, one letting out a small yelp. Delath shoved his large head beneath the grasses, and their length hid that, but not his massive body behind. For a short while all they could do was grunt and rub eyes as their mounts carried them forwards.


And then -


And then there was sight. And there was the curve of a hill, and there it was before them, cast into view and reality - Whitevale, home of the Brotherhood. A limestone array of buildings, walls and forts, all carved up in with tiled roofs. A bell tower pierced the sky, and a great fort stood near centre, proud and able. Smoke rose from chimneys, heralding the idea of a town alive with industry, and the beginning of villagers, moving two and fro on balconies, in the main streets and in small windows could be seen - at first brief movement only, but as one got closer you could see their faces. Philomel's lip smirked, and her joyful mind that had been forgetting why they were doing this journey in the first place, took over again.


In that moment, Lichensith Ulroke and his maddness did not matter. His bloody power as he formed the Crimson Hand once again, his tortorous methods as pysically described and shown to Philomel now, his manipulation of the once sweet girl Amari ... for this moment that did not matter. Because finally, finally, the Gilded Lily was riding into the heart of the Brotherhood of the Castigars and friends would find each other alive. The greatest alliance between the mightiest of warriors was about to be formed, and all to kill a king who sat on a literal bone throne.


Eagerly, Philomel kicked her tera'k into a fast run, and the beast let out a moan before complying. Seeing this pace, Delath himself let out a hearty roar, before wagging his huge tail and cantering himself, all twenty feet of a monster. The three riders in black, they gulped in surprise, but encouraged their horses faster also, and soon the five galloping creatures were descending upon Whitevale.


The journey to destroy Lye had begun.