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T he last time he’d been here, he’d been running for his life.

Andrew wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about returning to the home of his childhood, which had been good memories until his father had died and Alphonse had gone mad with power.

As he slowed his horse from the clipped pace he’d been keeping, he realized that the familiar little village on the outskirts of Haldane Castle looked dreary, starved, and worn-down.

What peasants he did see didn’t even seem human.

They ran from him and the men riding with him, hiding back behind their worn-down hovels.

“This place looks like hell,” Sully muttered beside him. “Is this where you were born?”

Andrew looked around, feeling greatly saddened by what he saw.

“I was born at Haldane Castle,” he said, his eyes flicking up to the monstrous castle in the distance.

“This village used to be very prosperous, but I have not been here in nineteen years. Clearly, it has not prospered under my brother.”

Sully thought that was something of an understatement.

He turned to look at the men riding behind them; Donald, who was looking at the fallen village with some sadness, Ridge, who didn’t show any emotion at all, and finally Thane, who had the same expression that Donald had for the most part.

Thane had never been to the village of Andrew’s birth, either, so this was all something of a shock to him. But it also explained a great deal.

Whatever Alphonse touched, he killed.

Thane had been at Torridon when Andrew, Sully, Donald, and Ridge had appeared in the darkness of the late evening on the day before.

Andrew had only come to collect his battle armor, and their stay at Torridon had been measured in minutes and not hours.

But Thane had been insistent that he come along when Sully told him what had happened.

Then, nothing could keep Thane from lending a hand.

The foursome became a fivesome that night.

Since Torridon was well into the repairs since the latest Dalmellington attack, and Etienne was a capable commander, Andrew had permitted his second-in-command to come along.

If anyone deserved to come, it would be Thane.

He had known Andrew, and of the man’s vengeance, longer than any of them, and when they departed Torridon, it was with Thane leading the charge.

They had pushed the horses harder than they should have, but knowing Alphonse had at least a day’s head start on them made them push in a way they wouldn’t normally push.

Fortunately, the horses were hearty, with good stamina, so a trip from Edinburgh to Torridon, and then Torridon to Haldane only took around three days.

Only stopping to rest and feed the horses as necessarily, they managed to make excellent time.

And even as they entered the once-prosperous village on the flatlands near the sea, all Andrew could see was the dark bastion in the distance.

Like a ghost rising from the ashes of his past, the dark hulk of Haldane was his final destination.

The men slowed their pace through the village, passing through the main road that Andrew had remembered to be very busy, once.

Now, it was desolate, with dog carcasses in the gutter and the occasional frightened villein running from them.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, trying to focus on what he needed to do and not the feelings that were being dredged up.

He felt so much sorrow to see the village as it was.

And he continued to feel so much hatred towards his brother.

So much of it was deep-seated, something he’d never be able to shake off.

All he knew was that he’d been planning for the coming confrontation since the day he’d run for his life from Haldane.

All of these years later, Alphonse was finally going to pay.

“I still do not know why you didn’t let me bring the army,” Thane said as he rode up beside him, breaking him from his thoughts. “Mayhap we do not have as many men as your brother has, but one of our men is worth ten of any other in a fight.”

Andrew’s gaze was on the castle as it loomed closer.

“Because this is something that must be done with stealth,” he said.

“One or two of us can make it into the castle, pretending to be farmers or merchants, and I can more easily find my brother that way. Besides, if we closed in on Haldane with a thousand-man army, they would lock up the castle and we would never have a chance to get in before my brother figured out that I had come. Josephine’s life would be in great danger in that case, so it is better this way.

Between the five of us, some of you should be able to enter and find Josephine whilst I locate my brother. ”

Thane knew the logic behind it, but he still didn’t like it. He thought a show of force would be better than five knights trying to sneak into a castle, but he kept his mouth shut. This was Andrew’s fight, and he would let the man fight it.

He’d waited long enough to do it.

As they neared the edge of the village, the small parish church came into view.

It was the church where Andrew’s parents had been wed and where both he and Alphonse had been baptized.

In fact, Andrew was named after the church– St. Andrew’s, as it was known.

He had fond memories of that church in his youth, and of a young village girl he’d been very fond of at the time.

She’d been adorable, with curly red hair, but she much preferred an older boy, a farmer’s son, who was young and strong and virtuous.

Andrew had been short and young and rather pudgy.

He grinned when he thought of his broken heart upon losing his seven-year-old love.

As he wallowed in memories of his lost romance, he noticed two priests emerging from the church yard on a small horse cart.

The cart was nearly falling apart, being pulled by a little pony with a shaggy coat.

By the time the priests made it onto the main road, they intersected with Andrew and the others, and Andrew pulled to a halt to allow the priests to pass.

He couldn’t help but notice they were heading in the direction of Haldane, so he called out to them.

“You, there,” he said. “Priest! Wait a moment!”

The priests pulled their huffing and puffing pony to a halt, waiting for Andrew and the others to catch up. When the priests looked up at Andrew with a mixture of curiosity and fear, Andrew pointed to Haldane in the distance.

“Are you going to the castle?” he asked them.

The older priest, a man with rags for robes, nodded. “Aye, m’laird.”

“Why? Is someone ill?”

The priest shook his head. “A wedding, m’laird.”

Andrew’s heart caught in his throat. “A wedding?” he said. “Today?”

“Tonight, m’laird,” he said. He looked at Andrew and the others hesitantly. “Are ye friends of Laird Blackbank?”

Andrew passed a glance at Sully before answering. “Possibly,” he said slowly. “Is it the laird’s wedding?”

“Aye, m’laird.”

By God! Andrew nearly collapsed in relief. Just in time! “I see,” he said, struggling to contain his excitement. “And you are to perform the mass?”

The priest nodded. “Haldane has a fine chapel,” he said. “’Twill be there. Are… are ye guests to the wedding, then?”

Andrew was thinking very quickly. These priests had no idea who he was, which meant he could possibly use that lack of awareness to his advantage.

The fact that God had put him here, at this very moment, told Andrew that it was a sign that he should use this situation.

He had to make it work for him. His mind was working rapidly as he thought of a plan, something that would bring the priests to his aid without even knowing.

God, it had to be clever.

It had to work!

He grinned. “I am a very old and dear friend of the earl,” he said, trying to make the situation sound light and humorous.

He gestured to the others around him. “In fact, we are all friends of the earl. We want to surprise him for his wedding, so do not tell him you have seen us. It will spoil the surprise.”

With that, he dug into the coin pouch at his waist and pulled forth several coins, which he pressed into the palm of the priest. The man’s eyes widened when he saw how much money he’d been given.

“Nay, m’laird, I shall not tell him!” the priest said excitedly. “If I can do more for ye, I am happy to!”

It was the offer Andrew had been hoping for. A plan suddenly occurred to him. Leaning over on his saddle, he fixed the priest in the eye.

“There is,” he said. “When you enter the castle, tell the sentries at the gatehouse that you are expecting five more… priests, men to help you with the mass. Tell them to let us pass without question. Will you do this?”

The priest nodded eagerly. “I will, m’laird. It… it will be a good surprise for the earl, will it not?”

Andrew almost grinned when he thought of the truthful answer to that question. Instead, he gave a generic version of it.

“It will be a surprise, indeed,” he said. “Remember– you are not to tell the earl that you have seen us. It will spoil everything and I will take back my donation if you do.”

The priest’s eyes widened; he didn’t want to give the money back. Coinage such as this would feed them for months and to so poor a parish, money was the most important thing. Therefore, he nodded firmly.

“Not a word, m’laird,” he said. “I must get along now.”

Andrew stopped him before he could get away. “When is the mass?”

“Sunset, m’laird.”

That was only in a few hours, and Andrew let him go after that. He waited until the men and their rickety cart were well down the road before turning to the others.

“Did you hear that?” he hissed. “I could not have planned this better. My God… what an opportunity!”