Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 This is Hystorical Fiction, the primary point of divergence (Many Worlds
Interpretation of Quantum Mechanics) is the Siege of Nancy, which was
successfully defended by the Burgundy, who are now consolidation power
across what is now known as France.  About a generation after Jean de
Orleans (Joan of Arc) this mostly concerns the adventures of a Norman
transgender boy, born a Lady to the house du Lasci.  On the assumption that
this was always a thing, and her Heroine was possessed by Serial Killer out
of time.  (For my longterm fans, once known by the alias Amanda Hunt, but
after several trips back in time with a Nano-alien, who's busy building a
Pirate Fleet on the Archepelagos.  Now called the Aegean sea.)
   ;
   Quilla deLasci (GM Sedu?  Lang/IR NS)
   The Hunter was dark, for a DeutsheMann.  I have bean learning to read it
from the History of Bern, but have not Spake it much aloud.
   "Latine Loqui?"
   "Who are you, little one."
   "Comptessa Quilla deLasci, auf Normandie?"
   "Normannish, what are you doing here?"
   "Staying deVinter mitt mine Cousin, the Yarla auf Lassiter."
   "von LakSee?"
   "Lasci."
   "Aquilla de Lasci?"
   "No, Quilla.  Oh, ComptessA deLasci."
   "You are, Bergundoir?"
   "Anglo-Normon."
   "Pardonne, mine Frankisch ist worse than mine Anglic."
   "My latineLoqui is better than my Deutshe.  You are, Milanoir?"
   "Romansh.  aufAirolo."
   "Oh, you are Hirsh Balgen?"
   "I have been called that, or Hirsch Hartmann.  Have you heard of me?"
   "I have read your lady's letters."
   "She is not my lady, I am her huntsMann."
   "JagrMeister."
   "HuntsMaster, yes.  What have you read?"
   "All of them, since you came.  You make my cousin very happy."
   "You know this?"
   "You asked what I have heard."
   "How old are you?"
   "A dozen, old enough to ride, in fair weather, and to hunt."
   "In that?" He laughed.
   "Of course not, I saw you fighting Sean.  The Armaster?  What is that,
large saber?"
   "GrossMesser?"
   "You cut off his shield with.  That is, ah greatKnife?"
   "Yes, it is."
   "I wish I could fight thus, but the men fight for me.  Or like Milne. 
Does she truly fight that way?"
   "You read all of her letters?"
   "The ones you brought?  Yes, while you pleased my cousin." Imagining
what that must be like, fur Milne, she is not much older.  "Do you truly
have Philatori, where you are from?"
   "Where did you read that?"
   "I told you, her letters." They sound very exciting, "I am unmarried,
not even promised."
   "Is that." He stopped, looked around, "Why not?"
   "3rd daughter, not enough Dukes that aren't my cousins." {A side effect
of marrying around 12 is you can have cousins, and even nephews old enough
to be your father, or husband.}
   "What do you, propose of me?"
   "My escort, will come for me, in spring."
   "Yes?"
   "It is cold here, and quiet, you came over the snow."
   "It is not so cold here, I komme from the mountains, this winter is mild
to me."
   "Well, it is cold to me, I may need someone, to keep me warm on the
way."
   "To where?"
   "Calais?"
   "Well, I sailed from there, would you like an escort to Calais."
   "Or Bristol, we could stay there, ist much nicer than here.  I have
arranged it, but my uncle said I should ask you."
   "He tying to get rid of me?"
   "He tried to get his mann, Seam to kill you."
   "He did not try enough," he laughed.
   "Sie Philatori, they mentor boys?"
   "Traditionally." He scrubbed my hair, "But I am not a traditional
Philator.  I would have to ask your father, in Calais."
   "Mine mutter, she is Burgundich."
   "Well, I am not of the house of Alberich."
   I know.  "You are common born."
   "Yes, but working on.  A promotion."
   "They would try to kill you for asking."
   "That would put us at an impasse."
   "Not if you don't take me to Calais."
   "You don't like it there, either."
   "I don't like my family, they don't let me do anything."
   "You are afraid of them?"
   "Of them, finding out what I have done."
   "What is this?"
   "You know the smithSon."
   "I met him?"
   "Yes, I went fishing with him."
   "And."
   "And, it was cold out on the lake." All night.  "We could had no fire."
   "Ah."
   "Yes.  It hurt, but.  We kept eachother warm."
   "I understand."
   "So, you don't have to worry, about protecting my virtue.  But if they
ask, you do."
   "I understand."
   "Kommen, let's go talk to my uncle."
   "I should tell him, I am taking you to Calais?"
   "Ja."
   "Da."
   "Yes?"
   "It is said: 'Da'."
   "Oh, Da."
   "After you, mine Lady"
   "Where could you take me?"
   "Where would you like to go?"
   "Bern, Interlaken, deNeuchatelSee?"
   "Neufzatel."
   "Neuf."
   "ZatelSee."
   "NeufzatelSee."
   "Gut."
   "Danken."
   "I do not have to go back."
   "To Bern?"
   "To anywhere, your cousin has a courior, ready to go."
   "Oh."
   "I was thinking, die interSe'en."
   "Wherem der?"
   "Varum.  Varum dir."
   "Varum dir?"
   "De Eiberin, your Latan Loqui?  My Romansch, they hast Portusch,
Gibraller, Moorishe ist keine."
   "I understand, good.  Yes, die Intersee."
   "Then Roma, Siscilia, Candia."
   "Kretes!?"
   "Yes, maybe Pori."
   "Oh, Ja.  Da!"
   "Warum is ein Uncle?"
   "The Jarl?"
   "In his study."
   "Thanks, back to your work."
   "Contessa..."
   ;
   {Latin Loqui: Okay, since the Romans, everyone speaks it in and around
the Empire after it collapsed.  However, while there is some divergence
between the so-called "Romance" languages, there's more in common between
say Swiss Romansh, and Portugese than modern Peruvian Espangol, and
Brazilica Portugues.  Because they haven't been spoken separately as long,
over the 500 years between then, and now, so it's all fairly close to old
Roman Latin from the Crusades, and Migration era of cultural mixing.  From
wars of succession over the Old Roman Empire.}
   ;
   Quilla (tM Scribe/Squire)
   "Mh?" I curled up in the fur, and sighed.  "Hhn!" The light of morning,
shone through the canvas like a tent.  Only moving, with the gait of the
Clydestale, the dull heavy hoof falls muffled by the snow.  I peeked out
through the flap, out front to see the tail swinging, and cupped handfulls
up to wash out my mouth.  "Hold," I called up to Hirsch.
   On the saddle, riding instead of leading the sledge, he stopped and
dismounted, while I pulled some pants on under my nightshift.  Out on the
plain, I saw our tracks, climbing over the luggage, lashed to the back with
leather strips.  "Shall we break fast?" He put his hand on my shoulder.  I
turned to see his Knife.  At his side, like the warKnife he left at the
castle in Seam's charge.  He looked down, at the side of his belt.
   I pulled at the tangle of my curls, the knots, and looked up.  Asked,
"Have you anything to cut this?" He felt it, pulling at a bad snarl, where
the plait twisted, and knotted at the side.  I had abandoned my coif, and
with it the pretense of my family.  My family's family.  Switching to
Latin, "Philator."
   "I'm not." He straightened up, with his smallest sharpest knife. 
Turning to sit on the baggage, "Turn around.  I am not Cretanes, nor
noble."
   "I am not a girl."
   "Skuzzi?"
   "My mother, sisters, aunts, and cousins.  None of my family would
believe me.  She showed me, on my body that I am a girl, but I have never,
felt like one.  I am a boy, inside, but no one would believe me." It just
feels better, to say this.
   "I do." he held my head, to his shoulder.  "My, there is no word, for
this relation.  My first man, his father married a woman, who was born a
boy.  Inside, as you say."
   "Azisa Toupori, I read the book you brought, and Smithson believed me as
well." The first who ever had, and I was so relieved, I gave my body to
him, willingly.  "It is, the most attractive thing, for a man to me.  I
want to be your squire."
   "I am no knight, either."
   "Not by birth, but by skill.  You bested my uncle's best, you fight as a
knight, and it would be easier for our travels, if you claimed it."
   "I have no lands." He sawed off another braid, and I sighed.
   "Then, we will make up a title for you, sir Hartmann.  You were Vassal
to the Baron of Bern?"
   "Oberland.  The Bernese took over, after the Abbey closed, but I was
never transferred, to them.  I was, a peer of lady Alberich, so in a way a
knight."
   "JagrMeister."
   "Yes, I trained with her, her Armeister Bavard, then his replacement
Leonard di Candy when he was killed."
   "How?"
   "His lord, executed him for letting her take lovers.  Then, there was a
feast.  For her birthday."
   "You ate him."
   "I was not invited."
   "No, but the lord, Alberich.  He eats men."
   "So I hear, yes.  Officially he was charged with poaching.  As the
Marshal?  The caretaker, of the land, I was to charge him, and there for
the execution."
   "Are you cold?" He shivered.
   "No."
   "You are chilled, by the memory."
   "Yes."
   "Then talk about something else." That works for me, when I am
frightened.  By a story, or a nitemare, I was always protected from all
that might harm me.
   "The bear, he killed.  It was under order, by Lady Milne.  She took us
up to the hills, and valleys, I as guide knowing the lands best."
   "LandsKnecht."
   "Yes, I was vassal to the Land.  She did not want to see the land.  She
wanted to.  Well, she says 'Gefechten und geficken'."
   "Fighting, and fucking."
   "Is that how you say it?"
   "Yes, in Anglic, ficken is Fucking."
   "Fucking." He nodded.
   "How does it look?"
   "Your hair?" I turned around.
   "Do I look like a boy?"
   "Less, like a girl.  Your dress." He held it out.  I pulled it off.  "It
is cold."
   "Then get in the sledge," I pushed him back, "And warm me up." I took
his hands, and moved them down, from my chest.
   "You do not like?"
   "I hate them." Ever since they started growing.  "I want to cut them
off."
   "Here," he tore the nightgown, "Let me show you, how to bind them down."
Flat, yes this did feel better.
   "Oh Hirsh!" I hugged him, his broad shoulders, and kissed his mouth.
   "She does, like this.  Under her armor." He told me about fighting, and
fucking.  "It is, the same for her."
   "She is harsh.  In bed?"
   "She sleeps alone, but.  Yes.  Brutal."
   "It hurts?"
   "Yes, it hurts good."
   "Then fuck me 'till it hurts."
   "I will, my boy."
   I bent over, so he could pull my pants down, as soon as I got the
buttons open.
   ;
   {Fighting/Fucking: All right, there's no concept of Rape, because
consent is not an issue between Nobles, and vassals.  Why he can outright
threaten deputy guards at the gate, impersonating a Ritter, or Rider. 
(Lowest rank of a Knight, not rarely lowborn as well, though he assumed the
title rather than have it bestowed.) As it was with Milne, legally it isn't
Rape, because she Owned him.  The threat of death, cooked to death by her
father is just implied.  So, consent forced by threat of violence, torture
and death are morally Rape, but legally.  Well, sex slavery, I suppose.  If
you're wondering about his change in attitude, it comes with assuming the
Rank.  They wouldn't believe it if he didn't act the part, basically a
Power Assertive Malignant Narcissist.  Where the term "Entitled" comes
from, because it was normal back then for Knights and other nobles, just
like 12 year old brides were.  To this day, it's why neckbearded beta
trilby wearing throwbacks say "Milady," because they grew up reading fairy
tales, and imagine themselves Prince fucking Charming.
Also, landsKnecht literally means Slave to the Land, or Vassal.  The
fame of the Swiss mercenaries hasn't even spread yet, he's actually a bit
ahead of the curve, but not on his own.
   ;}
   Ritter vos Airolo (Mt NS.)
   After some venison, and sausage, I took a nap in the sun warmed sledge,
while sHe led it on through the snow for Britsol.  The harbor is frozen,
there will not be a ship to sail until the thaw, which should come earlier
here.  At seeLevel, which should give time to earn passage on a ship for
Portu?
   "My lord," he shook me, through the flap.
   Liking the sound of that, "Huh?"
   "Deputies." He stood up in my cloak, over hers.  There was no where to
get boy's clothing, but buttoned and broached against the cold, her blouse
didn't show even a stitch at the collar.
   "My lord," he bowed, waving gracefully to me, "Ritter von Airolo of
Bern." Backed behind me, pushing furrows with his heels.  Wrapped in furs I
had left lying around, I pulled on my Morion cap, and with it the air of
Nobility.
   "What is it?"
   "You are entering the lands of Brykgstow, and owe Tax to enter."
   "Huh!" I nodded, snapped, "Fetch me my purse."
   "Yes, my lord." He fished it out of the saddle.
   "What manner of sword is this?" Flat bowl of a helmet, like a buckler
tipped back, his crude Halberd leaned on his shoulder.  "Is it a sword, or
Seax?"
   "Messer.  Uh," Scratch my head, and bend down for a hand full of snow.
"Aquillo, tell them."
   "Knifesword." I nodded.
   "Can I see it?"
   "Yes, you saw it.  There on my saddle.  It's German." Really sick of the
conversation.  The curiosity, hopefully the warKnife I left with the Guard
of Lacy would get around, and people would get used to seeing a Nail.
   "German Hanger." His scribe wrote down, with cold ink.
   "What is the tax?"
   "What is your business?"
   "None of yours?"
   "Uh," my squire spoke up, "Lodging, and passage to Glascony."
   "There are no ships to Glascony until spring."
   "Right, hence the Lodging, until spring."
   The scribe thought.  "Five pence."
   ?
   "Pfennig."
   "Pay it then." I yawned, and pulled out my breeches.
   "And this?" The soldner.
   "Did I tell you to touch my things?" I drew my 'hanger' from my saddle.
"I can take your hand, clean off for less.  Lowborn."
   "I must log any weapons, before you enter, my lord." I'm starting to
like being called that.  I nodded.  "Is it a sword, or warhammer."
   "Stocco."
   "Tuck."
   "Yes, tuck/hammer." I slipped my knife through the loop for it in my
belt, and drew it from my saddle.  "So, I don't need a longsword, and a
hammer, should I encounter impudent Deputies in armor on the road.  Where
is your sheriff?" I held it up, Morder grip, as a hammer.  "Are you
deputies, or bandits?" The prongs of the Luscerne face ready to punch links
out of his maille shirt.  As Bavard killed the bear he was killed for
killing, punching through it's skull with the quillion of his doublehander,
so I know it works.
   "No sire!" He shrank back.
   "Then open the damned gate, it's too early for this shit." I slipped it
back in it's loop, while my squire translated.  "The fuck was that all
about?"
   "The lodging.  The Sheriff of Bridgetown is rich from Tax.  Lowborn, so
he lives like a lord since knighted.  Taxes the Hostels as well, so they
wouldn't extort so much from us at the gate."
   "Ah." Smart.  "Well, hopefully we can find another arrangement, you know
this town?"
   "We stayed with him, when we arrived in fall.  It would be best I avoid
him, less he recognize me."
   "You have a twin sister."
   "No sire."
   "Well, you do now."
   "Ah, yes sire."
   "We'll have to ditch the sledge." The Roman cobbles are clear, icy, but
not working very will on the brass shod runners.
   "There is a stable."
   "You think we can sell the horse?"
   "Yes, sire."
   "Let's do that, then." In the city, it is more expensive even without a
Sheriff to extort Tax from us.  "Then, show me to this Sheriff." Maybe we
can work something out...
   He bartered for me, her money any way, but a good draft horse, almost
too large to ride.  I unpacked the damned court doublet, hose, and
codpiece. If Im going to act the noble, I have to dress it, especially if
I'm going to go bully the sheriff out of these taxes.
   "Huh!" Warmer, though.  Velvet, like woven swede, with brocade between
the slashes, bloused around my shoulders and thighs.  I skipped the collar,
draw the line at unfolding it like a fan of motley partitions, and tucked
the straps back in my helmet.
   My squire returned, handed me the purse no fuller, but heavier.  "Gold?"
   "A little, you ran hounds in the Highlands?"
   "Oberland, yes." I nodded.
   "I got a draft dog, for the horse.  He had not the gold to pay in full,
but she will carry our packs." He led us out.
   "SennerHund?" I did not know they had these, here.
   "Mastiff." And a small cart.
   "Like a baby carriage."
   "A pram." Better than the sledge over the cobbles, and muddy ruts away
from the center street to the Castle, Court, and Sheriff's fort.
   "Lead on," I patted his shoulder, "My boy."
   "Yes sire."
   "To the market," I reconsidered, "We have to get you some, more
appropriate clothes."
   "Oh," excited, "Yessire!" Toward the harbor, and the docks, at least
they had rooves and eaves with the doors open to show the wares.
   The scneider, from Candy.  I can sew, leather, but he made dresses.  To
wear, and also for Lady Minle, but, it would be nice to have him.  As a
dress must be sized for his body, I would think boy's clothes would have to
be for his girlish figure.  The start of hips I felt, in the tent on the
sledge.
   Bent over, to take it in the bind, it hurt but like a philator, and boy,
and he hopes never to carry a child.  With his small breasts bound down,
that might be another problem, but not as much without growing them with a
child.  "Huh!" It would be nice if Leonard was here.
   "Leather." He felt some sort of tanned hide.  I picked it up, fine, fine
enough for gloves.
   "How much?" I could make him some with laces, just not as nice as the
Sneider.
   {A note on Anglo/Norman Saxony.  In Bristol, London, York and Norwich
it's the early Renaissance.  However, they're out in the sticks.  A small
minor lord with a stone keep, practically a tower on a Motte with a Bailey.
In places it's basically the middle ages, and if you go deep enough into
the woods, you'll essentially find dark-age iron, and quarterstaffs.  This
is nowhere near Sherwood Forest, but that kind of heterogeneous disparity,
because you've got the Angles, Normans, and Saxons fighting for Control,
just like you have the Kelts, Picts, and Scotts fighting over the Highlands
to the North.  Which is why there's all these anachronisms, like highland
Clydestale sledges, targes, buttoned pants, and coiffed Norman buns in a
motte, and bailey fort.}
   ;
   Aquillo Page de Lassiter (t...)
   I announced him "Hart, the Ritter from Airolo," and bowed to let him
pass.  "His Anglic is crude, I speak for my lord."
   "He is Milanaise?"
   I shook my head, "Swiss."
   He bent to the edge of my new haircut, and I repeated in English.  "Oh,
His town of Airolo, was Milanaisse, now he is of Bern.  The Alpinetti?"
   "Da."
   "Yes, the Swiss Confederacy, have taken the mountains to the
Interlachen."
   "InterlakenSee."
   "Between the lakes, in the Highlands.  He was Vassal to the Land, now
Canton of Bern."
   "Ritter, is lesser to count?"
   "Yes, lord."
   "Good." Comptette, actually.  He's a fucking Sheriff, glorified master
of the guard, no better than Seam other than in his own mind.  Okay, well I
lied about Hirsch being knighted, but I lied all my life, telling everyone
I was a little girl.  Her old life, out with the bathwater.
   "What brings you here?" He rubbed his hands together.  Anticipating
taxes.
   "What shall I tell him?" In German, nobody here speaks it.  "Trade?  My
cousin, the Duke has no ties with the Swiss Confederation, yet?  Well, we
just came from the castle Lassiter, but anything going there can come
overland, as we did, or through here." With harbor taxes, shipping fees,
billet tariffs, I could see the gold twinkle in his eyes, imagining the
shower of coins as I listed off taxable things.
   "So, you will have to speak with him?" Which ment crossing the bridge,
and the petty guardhouse the Sheriff pretended was his personal castle.  I
yawned.
   "Of course."
   "You're related to the Lasci, then."
   "I believe my sister, Quilla stayed with you, when she came in the
fall?"
   "Ah yes, I remember." Me too.  If anything, he's become even more the
powdered perfumed dandy than before.
   "She told me all about you." I forced myself to smile.
   "I never touched her, nor did any of my court."
   I snorted, "Of course not." Now that I'm a boy, he seemed to show more
interest.
   "Well," he annealed, "Tell your sire to teach you some respect. 
Youngling."
   "Yes," I bowed, "Of course.  Are we free to go?"
   "Take them to the bridge," he waved boredly, and the buckler heads came
to escort us.
   "What was that?"
   "Slap me, and shout."
   "Dummer Jungen!"
   "Sorry, sir." It hurt, but if I'm going to be a man, I have to learn to
take a hit.
   "So," out in the hall, "What was that all about?"
   "I'll tell you later, but we didn't have to pay any more, right?"
   "Da." he nodded.
   "I outed him as a pedorast.  Thought he might be, but now I know his
secret.  Also, he deferred us to the Duke.  My cousin, so won't embezzle
from us.  It's not his place, and he won't risk it."
   "Clever boy." He patted my back
   "Thank you, lord."
   I outranked him, but I hated being a lady in waiting.  A small price to
pay for my freedom, and to be me.  Who I am, who I always was, and the
chance to become a man.  I did not earn it, the pillow my family carried me
around on.  This is my chance to earn it, as soon as I learn to fight.
   I am a page, and squire now.  I have never been happier in my whole
life.
   ;
   Bailey
   "Quill, pull out the Rolls."
   "Yessir." They made us wait, again, but she was born to this.  Court,
life, and it is fortunate that nobody speaks Germannish.  Latin, but that
means he can do all the talking.  Out here, in the Bailey, that is what
they call the courtyard where the men practice.  Fighting, the snow cleared
to slates, and marked off with white scratches for the Maestro to put them
through their paces.
   "While we wait." I handed him my new shieldSword.  "Ask after the
carpenter, the.  TargeWright?" I nodded, that's what Seam said, to ask
after when I was here.  To think, he sends away for shields.
   "What is this?" Holding it up, side down.
   "Turn it over, it is like a buckler, but rather than hanging from the
belt, here is the sheathe."
   "Like this?"
   "Yes, the blade protects your forearm, but you can also learn to cut
with it.  Now, show the other squires, and sent the Shieldwright to me."
   "YesSir, thank you sir!" Delighted, he practically skipped off, but
clumbsy with the hybrid weapon.  Hybrid shield, and sword, like the Main
Gauche I saw around the borders of the Burgundi lands, but cut out to the
curved quillions of the 5 finger blade, and anchored across the boss to the
pommel.  Without a shieldwright, I had to hack it out of a targe, but there
happened to be a damaged one handy.
   "Benifasci?"
   "Benifachi!" I grinned, turning.  "You are the carpenter, you make
shields?"
   "Carpenter, boss smith, leather tooler, yes."
   "Venizzi?"
   He shook his head, "Sisceeli."
   "Good to meet you." I gripped, and pulled his hand, "Where is your
workbench?"
   "Over here." I led my small cart.
   Against the wall, just a roof sticking over on poles, but dry, and even
a small forge.
   A stack of bosses.  "Are these for shields, or helmets?"
   "They make them, in mass.  Stamp them out at the river, I can use for
bosses, bucklers, or pad and strap for helmets." Explains the guards'
fashion, "Was that a cinquedea?"
   "My squires'?  Yes."
   "Nice!  I saw one, on Siscilia."
   "You are from?"
   "Oh no, Marseille.  I fled there, then here."
   "Why?"
   "Catholica."
   "Oh."
   "They attach the Cinquedea to bucklers, in Venice now?"
   I shrugged, "I do not know, I have never been there."
   "Where did you get that?"
   "A friend, from Crete.  Then, I made it, stuck it to a boss I won in a
duel."
   "Oh, clever."
   "Thank you."
   "What are you doing?"
   "Well," Beating my Knife on the back edge through a post.  "Splitting a
handle, for this." I brought the head of my Hammer.  My true hammer, "Like
a polish ax."
   "With the," He stuck out his fingers, like the prongs.
   "Luscern head." I nodded, "Instead of the back beak."
   "Axe, and hammer." He nodded.  Flipped it over, "With 5 finger spear."
   "Yes, for my squire to learn Halberd.  Have you ever seen one of these?"
My draft dog, curled up in the harness, I pulled out my hammerSword.
   "It looks like a stocco, and hammer."
   "It is, but with the pommel, I can show him, the Halberd without
stabbing him."
   "The point is on this side."
   "Yes, is also a Tuck."
   "Why?"
   "So, I don't have to carry a sword, a hammer, an ax, a hook..."
   "Yes, I see."
   "When I came here, I had no squire, nor horse.  Now I have a squire to
arm.  I will need a shield as well.  You do the tooling." I noticed, the
tools to work leather, the knot designs that are the fashion here, as well
as the raw leather.
   "Yes, of course."
   "How do you fix it to the targe?"
   "I will show you."
   "With the forge?"
   He laughed, "Of course not, you will need rivets, for the langets on
your pollax?"
   Finished cutting the handle, I nodded, held it up for length, but I can
always cut it off.  "Good, thank you."
   "No problem."
   "Here is the deal.  We make 2, I keep one, you keep one, so you know how
to make?"
   "Agreed." We pulled hands to make it official.  He picked up a rivet
with his tongs, and the peening ball on the back of the hammer, while I
held the langets over the haft.  We didn't talk while we worked.
   ;
   Lacy (tb NS)
   "What is it?" The FAQ, all around, so I showed it off.
   "Shield sword," I held it up, "Hand me one of them?" From the rack,
plain old cut and thrust wooden swords, "I'll show you.  You boys know how
to fight?  With the sword, and buckler."
   "Of course," some also had the Scottish dirk, which is like a knife, but
little to no guard.  I braced my forearm in the ferule, and circled around.
   "Sir," Hartmann was busy talking shop, we had barely begun to spar, but
these reflexes aren't going to train themselves.  I grinned and winked.
   ;)
   "En guarde!" Easily batted his blade away with my flat, lunge-stepped
diagonal, but looked back twisting to hook my edge behind the edge of his
shield.  Easily slipping the tip between his elbow, and the arm strap, I
side stepped, crossguards locked, and hooked my heel behind his, throwing
my shoulder in behind the boss.
   "wuH!?" Shield slammed him, with his own shield, back-stepping as he
turned, away, guarded from his blade on the outside, I disengaged hilts,
and ran my flat up, around the rawhide banded rim, to chop across his
throat, and punched him in the back with the boss so he tumbled over,
gasping for breath.
   I kicked his sword away before it even finished clattering on the
slatestone, and circled around, "Who's next?"
   "Khuh!" He choked, and coughed, bent over on his knees, and I kept
side-stepping, as they came around.  To surround me, but cutting off their
line of approach so they could only engage one at a time, I lunged, and
summersaulted over his back through an opening.  Bashing one to the
unprotected knee with the edge of my buckler, and sweeping the sword strike
away on the other side before rounding it off, turning, and backing out
while one hopped, circling around with 2 wounded to cut off their angles
now.
   This many boys to fight off, I'd have this body dialed in soon enough...
   ;
   Ritter
   "What the fuck?" I ran out, to the commotion.  Across the yard, it took
a while to get to the opposite corner, where the boys and teens were
starting to gang up.  The ones that weren't running, and crying.
   And the man, 1.  I could tell by his bearing as much as his armor he
must be a knight.  Just a breastplate, maille, and the flat caps that look
like bucklers, he fought like one too, with a basket hilted hanger, and
Targe.
   "Ahahaha!  Is that the best you got?"
   Over the boys, chanting, and pumping their fists, chanting "Fight fight
fight!"
   Lasci, my squire was dueling a knight?  Just with the buckler sword, but
swithching hands, and circling around his shield side.  Murderous rage,
"Come on, girl.  What are you afraid of?" Taunting him.
   "GrhH!"
   He over extended, and sHe blocked high.  To parry, twisting to catch the
back edge in the cutout, against the blade, forcing it down as if to break
his wrist with the guard of his own sword, and dodging the iron bound edge
of his targe, punching at hem.
   "Argh!"
   Shink!  His blade bounced away, off his own shield edge, then sHe
stabbed down.  Gripping the top edge, wickedly twisting the bands I
hammered around the quillions to fasten to the concave edge on his wrist,
and blood gushed out over the blade.  Dripping from a twist back,
spattering across the slate.
   "Ngh!" he fell, cradling his stump behind the shield arm, hunched over
and sobbing even as his sword rolled, and the severed hand fell out.
   "Anyone else?" He wiped the blade off on the fresh swede of the breeches
I made him, to fit his girlish hips, and skinny legs.
   "Come on!" I dragged him off by the top edge of the boss, to point the
blade away from me, but he held on.  Followed with the blade braced against
his arm.  "How the hell do you learn that so fast?"
   "Hihihihnyeah!" He giggled, frighteningly.  "I taught him, the same as I
taught you.  So fast, did you think you learned that yourself?"
   "What are you?"
   "It's a long story.  The short of it is I am the Family Curse."
   "My family is cursed?"
   "Ahaha!  Of course not, any more than deLasci!  You got me from the
Alberich.  I'm just killing some time until we can go back to Greece."
   "Oh." I had heard stories, I could not believe.  "You are," looking
around, they gave us all the space they could, 'basiatis?' The Demon,
Vampire of Melanui.
   "No, I'm his daughter."
   "Oh."
   ;)
   Ritter
   When we were out, on our way to the Duke.  "He is your cousin?"
   "I said?"
   "You said 'my cousin,' not that he was the duke!"
   "Yes, Dennis Lankaster, Duke Palantine of Bristol, did I not mention?"
   "Yes, you did not."
   "Well, he does speak German, and every other language we know, so let me
do the talking."
   Walking across the bridge, the Knight still wimpering and clutching at
the fresh tarred stump at the end of his arm.
   "He'll live." She, the demon daughter grinned, and blinked his eye when
I looked back.
   "I do not like this."
   "Was?"
   "This, city.  It is, too many people."
   "You don't like people."
   "I do not know any of them, so it is hard to know the wolves from the
sheep, and I am lost here.  In Insteltwald, and Aarmeule', I knew everyone.
Even in Thun."
   "Well, there's no wolves here."
   "No, there are men as bad as wolves, but they lie, and say they are like
sheep."
   "Oh, yes of course." He nodded.
   "You know the Red Rider?"
   "No."
   "La finna Nonna.  The story of the grandmother, and the wolf."
   "Little red riding hood?" She laughed, "Ha!  Girl's story."
   "Yes, but in that, there was one wolf.  In the wood, if you see one, you
look around for the others.  Here, there is someone around every corner, I
have never been around."
   "The people, or the corner?"
   "Exactly, so I come around a corner I have never seen, and there are
people I do not know, to trust."
   "You're paranoid.  In cities, okay well let me talk to my cousin, but be
ready for some action."
   "Why?"
   "He knows my family, I do not have a twin brother, my older brothers and
my whole family.  He knows me, or who I was.  So, I cannot lie."
   "You have reason, to fear your family." I swallowed, nodded.
   "Not like that.  Like Milne's, but bad enough.  They do not know me, or
believe I am a boy.  He would send me back home.  I'd rather be killed, or
go to prison.  He can do that, Duke Palentine is much like a king, when the
King is not here."
   "In London?"
   "There are 2 Kings, last I heard, the Lannister king was in Birmingham
fur sieVinter."
   "Quilla, what have you done with your hair?"
   He is old, well a Duke.  Here he is like king.  "These es jor Cousin?"
   "Denny, this is Hirsh, the Ritter von Airolo."
   "My lord," I bowed, and offered my hand, cupping my helmet under my
other arm.
   "Ritter, you are Dutch?"
   "Swiss/Milanese.  Alpinetti."
   "Ah yes.  Come in, I have a fire." He could roast me in, with room to
spare, I did not stand too close.  It was warm enough, out of the wind
blowing down the Avon.
   "I have been to Genoa, not Milan, you prefer Latin?"
   "Romansh, do you know this?"
   "Bastard latin, my Dutch is better.  I have been to Zerchen."
   "Yes of course.  I rode through, but stopped only to change horses."
   "He's gonna escort me to Calais."
   "Not until the river thaws, I hope, why is it so short?" He felt his
hair.
   "I had an accident, we saved what we could."
   "I hear she wounded one of my men.  Was he making advances?"
   "Deny!  I challenged, him, and cut off his hand."
   "Did he touch her?"
   "He didn't get the chance." He spoke to me, as if he wasn't there?  "How
do you have, such a young cousin?"
   "I was the firstborn, she was the seventh.  My mother was also the
third, her father the sixth."
   "Oh," shrug, "Good to know." Big families.  He mentioned that before.
   "Did you hear me?  I cut off his hand!" She squeeled.
   "She did, I saw it."
   "How?"
   "I sheared it off against the edge of his shield, like he taught me."
   "You taught her to fight?"
   "I can not wtch her always, it was for her safety."
   "Of course." He finally turned back to him, "This does not me you should
go sporting for fights, young lady." Okay, now I see why she hates them.  I
can imagine, being mistaken for a girl all my life, but this.  He ignores
her, doesn't even look at him, if he doesn't have to.  "Did you talk to my
Sheriff, on the way in?"
   "Denny!"
   "He could still make you a good wife!"
   "I'm not his type."
   "You're noble, you hand could gain him."
   "He likes boys." His hand snatch back, a if he'd burned him.  "What?"
   "He saw my hair, what was left after I burnt it, and he tried to seduce
me.  Right there, in front of his men.  Ask the guards who came with me,
they saw it."
   Oh, they do not.  It is like Itali, they do not tolerate Philatori, or
Androphilae.
   "I disquised myself, after the fire as a boy.  So that I would not be
accosted.  I had no way to know he was like that." At the door, he went and
talked to the guards, in Anglic.  Too low to hear, but sHe chucled next to
me.  They nodded, and left.
   "Yes, very clever.  Now I shal have to get another Sherriff." To me,
"Would you like to stay?  If you trained her, as well as she said, perhaps
my guards could learn from you?"
   "Oh, no." I put my hands up, "Danke, sehen but I hate the city, and want
nothing more than to get out, as soon as the river thaws."
   "He hates too many people."
   "Too bad."
   "I would not mind training with them, however."
   "All right."
   "Can we have the guardhouse, until he is replaced?"
   "Of course, my dear." He wiped the kiss off his hair immediately.  "But,
I have to talk to my steward.  If you'll excuse me."
   "Of course."
   ;
   Page Aquillo du Lasci, squire of the Ritter von Airollo
   I could not write on the ship from Bristol.  Trying to hold my eyes and
quill steady on the page as it rocked, and my viscera sloshed with the
motion of the deck.
   "HRULGH!"
   My Ritter held me by the hood, to lean over the rail and spare the deck.
As a lady, I could have someone clean it for me, but as the squire for a
Mercenary.  I can't even consider having to fill the bucket with a rag,
smoked fish, dried carrots, and cabbage from the larder.
   "HRULGH!  KHUGH!  SPT!"
   I think that's the last of it.  Now a growing boy, I must eat to grow,
but this.trip to Bayonne, with the fear I may be impregnated by the
Smith'son.
   {You aren't.}
   That is my saint, Gene.  I dreamed of Jean de Orleans, from the stories
of my family, but now remember her.  Her armor, the weight of it on her
shoulders, astride her warhorse overseeing the cavalry of Orleans. 
Carrying the Banner, not quite a knight, but mascot as they rode out to mop
up their forces.
   My heroine, my Inspiration to become a true knight.  A man, not the
figurehead carved under the prow of the ship.
   Just a few heaves, a moment.  {Yes, that's it.  Let's change the subject
to your escape.} Oh yes, from my cousin, Denys Lannister, Duke Palatine of
Bristol.  Heart set on making me a lady, and marrying me to his sheriff to
cement his claim to knighthood.
   "Here," a slice of Lime from Africa.  Salted, I bite it to overpower the
vinegar, and bile of my breakfast, and spit rather than swallow it on my
empty stomache.
   "Merci'."
   He wears his new Coat, or Tabbard.  Embroidered en Brocade with the Stag
und Hart rampant.  The WarKnife between them, splitting them dexter, and
sinister my shield embossed in leather painted with the half-rose, red and
white Hart sinister, to represent my sire.  The Ritter Hartmann auf Airolo,
landsKnecht vassal of Bern.
   My savior, he brought me my Saint, lied to take me from the Lassiter
Castle overlooking the shores of Severn to Bristol.  The second to see me
for who I am, a boy, and took me as his Squire.  Lowborn Philator in the
Cretian tradition of his once Master, the Schneider von Candy da Ligetti.
   In Bristol, I was on House Arrest.  My cousin, excercizing his near
Monarchal Power as Duke Palatine locked me in a tower until I reconsidered.
Accepted my fate as a lady, married to that Pedorast, the Sheriff of
Bristol County.  A fucking TOWER!?  In the winter, the bitterest winter
remembered.  {Well, it is the Little Ice-Age.}
   What?
   {The sun, it has storms which wipe away the blanket of ions around the
Earth.}
   It is a ball?
   {Yes, Colon was right, or he will be, in a few decades.  Anyway, it is
like a lodestone, only it not just presses against iron, these bands around
it also generate a girdle of ions which partially reflect light from the
sun, and trap heat from the surface.}
   How does this cause a harsh winter?
   {Indirectly, the solar storms erode the blanket faster, but recently it
has been relatively calm.  So, the blanket was able to build up, for a
while trapping more heat, but now it reflects more, so there is less to
trap from the summer, when the sun is on this side of the equator.}
   Oh.
   {Better write the escape from Bristol now, before you eat, and while the
morning doldrums leave the sea relatively stable.}
   Good idea.
   {Lorde - Everybody Wants to Rule the World (Tears for Fears cover)
Incidentally, that's not Molinja, but the same multimedia player she is
eventually upgraded with/to.}
   ;
   Quilla de Lasci
   Of course, I'm served by girls.  I have to eat, but the guard stands
watch, to make sure I don't secure any means of escape.  I considered the
window, you know the story of Rubada?  {Rapunzel in German.  Yes.} Here, we
have glass, so I can see out over the icy roofs, and cleared slates of the
practice yard, but it doesn't open.  {Your aunt's friend, and lover, Milne
had a similar window.  It also traps heat like the girdle of the Earth.}
   It would be fairly easy to smash through the motley (Pattern of
diamonds) lattice holding the panes, but I don't have enough bedding,
clothes, drapes, and pulls to make enough rope.  Which would mean a fall, I
estimate halfway to the roof, and then the slates too far below.  I
wouldn't even consider trying to climb the wall itself, exposed, and no
doubt icy from the sleet that spatters against it.
   Nor could I write about it, my plans for fear that they would be found
in a search, when letters of courting are brought to me from my suitor. 
Right, forged by my father, then signed, as if I know not his hand, and his
every argument.  I am given enough paper, and ink to write replies, but as
they consist of "Non." there's quite a bit of surplus.  I have a fireplace,
so at least it is good for the chill at night, when the light fades from
the western window.  My favorite, not just from the warmth, but the view
down the Avon to see.  Sea, sorry, as the Suitzermann would say it.
   I know no language my cousin does not, and any papers confiscated would
be taken to him directly.
   Likewise, the chimney is always hot, it's winter, and at best would get
me to the kitchen, not out of the castle.  I considered it, even climbed up
over the flue to find the vertical passage narrow, and sticky enough with
soot, but also choking with smoke, and heat that would only get worse.  I
do have black stained clothes now, even breeches sewn in my own hand which
would never wash out.
   Not much else to do, I was given thread, needles, they won't allow me a
spinning wheel, once I was caught trying to plait rope.  So, they also
limited the material, rationed to less than half the height of the tower.
It is not a prison, officially, but with these rules, they barely cover the
lie.  I have 1 thing to buy my freedom, not my purity, I can not say who I
had given it to, for his life, but my suitor wants me for my position.  To
be an Earl, not for children, nor even my body.
   {Not his type, but you haven't noticed the guard?} He does not even look
at me!  {Well, no.  He'd probably be left stocked in the slate yard to
freeze to death, rather than roasted alive from the inside out, but the
punishment is the same.  He fancies you, though.} How?  {Stockholm
syndrome? Or reverse Stockholm, he is your captor, but you read the story
of Bella Donna, and her Beast?}
   I like my voice, in my head.  If I spoke of him, I would be found mad,
but they can't kill me.  If I wanted to die, it would be a simple matter of
smashing the window, or sliding down the dark hot chimney to the kitchen
hearth.  {Well, not that they would eat you here, but that would be more
appropriate.} I want to be a free man.  {Too bad we can't call the Eagle.}
? {Sorry, that is a story for another time, a long time from now, in a land
not far away.  Never mind, back to the Guard.}
   I don't fancy him, the huntsman has my heart.  {Hahahahah!} What?  {Long
story, that won't get us out of here.} But he is so old, and hairy in the
face.  {Yes, but have you considered that his beard also covers his face,
like a mask?} Of course!  {So, it should be just a matter of getting him
out of his clothes, and putting them on, once you have a beard to wear out
of here.} All right, I like this plan.  {Dressing as a soldier, I thought
you would.  So, if you don't have enough hair to make a rope, maybe you
could to make a beard.}
   I could seduce him, I suppose.  For my freedom, he knows I am not a
virgin, and it must get lonely out there.  Yes, cold and lonely out on the
landing, barred away from the fire, especially late at night.  {Yes, of
course.}
   I am tired, and have nothing to read.  Tell me a story.  {Which one?}
Tell me of the Huntsman, and the Queen.  {Well, long ago, and in a land far
away, there was a beautiful girl in a castle...}
   ;
   {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.  Bastian 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
   G&S - 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?"
   "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 fireld 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
irresistably 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 comraded 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 one 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 paracute 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.
   ;
   {Just play Magneti and Roll Credits.
Appendices:
1) Why Basiatis eventually shackled her with limiters, and edited her
memories so she "Forgot" how to go Aerosol.  Well, back in the Middle Ages,
they believed in Magic, and didn't have cell-phones.  Amanda Hunt is a
Psychopath, long before this point became The Psychopath, representative of
the sexual violence of Planet Earth.  So, in more modern times, she doesn't
have the Self Control not to go full comic-book Slayer Storm.  Now, they're
probably going to be hunted to the ends of the Earth for Witchcraft. 
(Granted, they were consorting with a Demon.)
   2) Allojer was basically the forgotten Forge Goddess of the Muldenhi,
the race of smith mages Mjoldin basically moved an entire planet to create.
Why there was a PoV change in there, Amanda Hunt basically stepped down to
let her do her thing.  Because she doesn't know how to create an Aqueous
Reactor in ice and forge metallic ions dissolved in it.
   3) Disneyfication: The cartoons basically dumbed down the Brothers Grimm
for a G-rating.  The Beauty and the Beast that immediately preceeds the
flashback portion of this is basically that, with all the sex and violence
(Cannibalism...) put back in by the storyteller, who doesn't know the
original.
   4) Snow White and the Huntsman: Winter's War.  Okay, literally trapped
in a tower for months with nothing to read except for the letters of
courtship (The Duke playing de Bergerac) the Curse instead played back
movies she liked enough to have memorized.  Including these 2, Maleficent,
Sucker Punch (The whole escape plan with a list of things they need..?) and
others, because she really fucking hates princess cartoons, and yet
basically found herself in a live-action fairytale.  Quillon was going mad
up there, but this is how the Curse guided that madness to the desired
result.
   5) Liggett is basically a hybrid of the Curse's personality (Amanda
Hunt) and the Deiokrates reflex map, which can not be copied, you have to
be born with it.  Like de Candy, what the Morions were basically about was
producing a Plan B for the Curse, from scratch.  Which ment sending her
away to keep Her from messing up the experiment (And ultimately planting
the seed which leads to Milne going to the schwarzerSee in search of the
legendary Morean queen of pirates.) Candy is where he's from, there his
family name is Liggetti, because Desiokrates is an alien reflex map, for
fighting with Tenticals.  That's why it takes Generations (In modern times,
Marion, then Christina, Ruth Elizabeth Cannon, and finally Janeanne, the
first Liggett) to hardwire into their reflexes, and instincts.  Virginia
Victoria Liggett is a retronym, allusion to the House Liggetti de Candy. 
Before they were called Moreans, or became The Morion, the Venixes called
them "Liggetti" for their use of bondage, flagellation, and strangulation.
So, Jiankarlo took the name Liggetti when he retired, and remarried to
Crete.}