Author: Kayla Anne Cunningham

Title: Warrior of Blood, The Coming of the Harvesters

Phone Number: (385) 315-0154
Word Count: 83,815
Mailing Address: 6778 S. 100 E.
Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Midvale, UT 84047
Email Address: kayla_cunningham1987@hotmail.com

Warrior of Blood
Book I

The Coming of the Harvesters

Prologue
We come to Harvest from these lands,
For our master has his demands.
Here is the truth
We pick from the merry spring of Redbones youth
We seek your fair young maidens
Who are beautifully endowed and ladened
Whose skin is as warm as a birds chorus
And has a voice that floats upon the butterfly Moors.
Prepare yourselves not
For any withstanding thoughts.
For neither springs green promise nor
Currency can change whats in store.
Autumns golden caution cannot prime
Your daughters for the Seasons change of time,
And all that is to come.
Let your daughters not conceal behind the mask of resistance
For it is futile
And the penalty may be brutal.
We take what we like
And like what we pick.
Defy our master and he will make her wear a leash
Harsher than any word carried on his breath, in order to teach.
Chained to her mind will she be
If she refuses to see.
If the lucky few of the chosen ones
Attempt to run,
Never again will they see the sun
And severe consequences will there be
The Masters sword of silence will they see,
leaving her a mangled heap
Barren as a bitter winter wind that creeps.
Be grateful all
We leave what the year has made old,
Our benevolence should be told.
Now say good-bye

To your kin ties

Before its too late
And sorrowful tears will you create.
Were taking what youll truly miss,
Eternity awaits those that are chosen by our kiss,
Never shall these daughters return;
Do not come searching or a swift death you will earn.
Its too late
We leave only the second class.
Resist or take up arms and you will surely meet your fate.
Youve been warned
We leave you now to mourn.

Chapter 1
The Return of the Harvesters
Allyrias Point of View
Treelorn Kingdom, Village of Redbone
Second Age of Man year 105

A long time goes by and there is no sign of movement.

The dampness from the forest floor seeps up through my blue tunic, which has a
slit up the side to afford more freedom, but the attire is not warm and a shiver spreads
into my bones as I sit waiting, trying not to doze off from my previous nights lack of
sleep. Its always hard to sleep when we run out of food.
There is a break in the trees and about forty yards off a shadow passes through a
tiny patch of sunlight. Then leaves rustle and gleaming yellow eyes become visible
through the brush.
I become wide awake and alert. Besides its eyes, I cannot see anything else of the
animal, nor make out what it is we are hunting.
My feet sink into the soft, mossy ground of the cloudy forest and I aim my bow
eye level at the target. All I can think about is the gentle draw of the bowstring and the
burn in my stomach. Hunger is a constant reminder of how important this shot is. I take a
deep and uncomfortable breath and exhale quietly, trying to slow my heart rate.
Beside me is my best friend Wesley wearing his cold hunter's mask and readying
to attack.

Wesley raises his arrow and shoots it through the air. He misses by inches, and
the creature stops and turns to look towards us, as if mocking us. Wesley looks
crestfallen, his shoulders slumping forward. A miss with an arrow targeting a small prey
wouldnt have been a big deal, but a large creature would have been able to feed both our
families for a lengthy period. I don't dare tease Wesley or make any comments about the
miss, especially because of the low visibility. The eerie, ancient trees, mixed with the
foggy atmosphere, give this forest a mystical air. This stretch of land is so misty and
prone to rainfall, that the trees are blanketed in green moss all the time, giving the area a
glowing feeling. My favorite time of year is when the red leaves fall, and cover the
spiraling tree limbs; but the change of seasons means winter is near and food will soon be
scarce and the meager people of Redbone will be even hungrier.
Thinking of winter makes my stomach ache. I am so hungry I feel sick.
Then something unexpected happens and for a moment the sunlight breaks
through the thick forest canopy and I catch a glimpse of a red hood, draped around the
face of the yellow-eyed creature.
Wesley, I begin to say and point toward the direction of the movement, but at
the sound of my voice the figure darts out of the sun and out of sight.
Did you see that? I ask.
What?
Red.
I somewhat expect Wesley to understand what I am trying to convey. But he
looks confused and so I clarify, That wasnt an animal.
Youre hungry Allyria. Youre just imagining things.

The low cloud cover and fog is everywhere, making it hard to scan the area. Not
far off there is another rustling sound in the trees and whatever made the sound begins to
move in a hurry. I see that it must be quite large for the noise and amount of movement.
It was there. Im not seeing things, I protest.
Wesley begins to say something, but instead of listening to him, I jump through
the trees and take off in pursuit, running at a steady pace after the creature. I have to
know if the movement was really from an animal, or if it was something else.
I hear Wesley yell at me not to wander off the path, but the sudden spike in my
adrenaline drowns his words out. I run along the narrow path, around dark twisted trees
and swinging vines. My leather shoes are worn and have a hole, which inevitably slows
me down.
The moss covering the ground and vegetation is slippery, and I cant catch up. I
quicken my pace, but it doesnt help; whatever I am hunting is too fast.
I am out of breath and about to give up, when the movement suddenly stops, and I
once again catch the outline of a red hooded figure. The figure turns to stare at me, and
though the hood hides the figures face, I feel as if he is looking into the depths of my
very soul with its penetrating, callous, yellow eyes. It is one of the Harvesters, and I
know there is no escape.
I feel suddenly cold from terror, like I am caught within a brutal and merciless
winter storm. Any moment now, the Harvester will kill me. I am sure of it.
Then the chilly feeling of impending death is gone and in a flash the figure has
disappeared, this time fleeing at full, inhuman speed.

I walk up to the place where the figure vanished. My mind is racing and I am
barely able to comprehend what just happened. The figures long, draped cloak must
have caught and ripped during the chase, because a red piece of fabric is all that remains.
I reach out and grab the fabric; proof that what I saw was indeed real.
They have come. Out of the shadows and the darkness, the Harvesters have
returned to Redbone, a poor providence of the Kingdom Treelorn. Mystical monsters,
wizards, and magic were once prevalent during the first Age of the Aion Kosmos, but
that was before the Great Triton Crusade, when mortals waged war against the dark
magic forces that had dominion over the lands. It has been a little over a hundred years
since the sovereign war, and the Harvesters and wizards and other magical beings have
not been seen since the darker epoch. The ancient magic has passed out of knowledge,
and most people believe it to be extinct.
Yet here, standing in front of me had been one of the Harvesters. If he had wanted
to, he could have ripped my still beating heart from my chest. The Harvesters were not
known for their lenient or kindhearted nature; it is not even certain they had hearts. So
why didnt the Harvester kill me?
To my left, a second movement ensues, and I turn and speed up in pursuit.
It takes a moment to catch up with the rustling noise, but when I finally do, I
realize it came from a wild boar. This is not the same creature I originally began tracking
but I need to focus on whats now infront of me. These creatures are fanged and brutally
vicious, especially when scared or protecting their young. If I had known the second
noise came from a boar, I probably would not have pursued the creature, but I had
anticipated another Harvester had been close by. I stare at the boar with a small tinge of

fear rising in my gut. However, food is food and I can picture roasting the creature on a
spit over the fire.
All of a sudden, the boar pivots and begins to charge toward me at full speed,
making grunting piggy-sounding noises. I try to calm my nerves as I take in its powerful
stride. My stomach rumbles again as I prepare to release my shot. I only have one
attemptmy heart pounds as I pray that the shot finds its mark. I release my arrow and it
makes contact in mere seconds. The beast lets out an awful squeal, but it continues to
charge toward at full speed.
I am not ready, and when the boar makes contact, its sharp fangs slice into my left
forearm. When the boar lets go of my flesh, I have just enough time to grab my knife. As
the creature begins to make its second attack, I thrust the knife into the creatures neck.
An instant later, the boar falls immobile in defeat.
Sliding over to the creature, I almost dont even feel hungry anymore with this
new spike of adrenaline. Looking into the boars horrible, bulging eyes I feel a tingle of
triumph run through my nerves. Most people would feel a pang of mercy for the dying
creature; if my stomach were full, I might feel the same way.
The boar continues to respire and suck in air, though his numbers of breaths are
limited. I take my knife, knowing that the right thing to do is finish killing the creature, so
that he is no longer in pain. Before I can do it, the sound of snapping twigs breaks the
surrounding silence. Uneasy, I get up on one knee, and turn to prepare my bow. Holding
it steady, I can see blood seeping out from my wound, but I do not have time to worry
about my arm. I have to be ready in case the sound came from one of the Harvesters, or
something worse.

A deep sigh of relief escapes me when Wesley appears from the trees. Wesley is
gorgeous. Tall, with dark green expressive eyes, he is well built and tanned from his time
spent hunting and chopping wood. Jokingly, he raises his arms in defeat and I
immediately relax my bow. These woods are dangerous and we can never be too careful,
especially since we are trespassing on the land of the Kingdom Treelorn. The king of the
realm is ruled by House Targan, and he is one of nine kings that rule over the Aion
Kosmos, or at least what has not been obliterated in the world by the old wars.
Wesley half smiles as he catches up to me, but his olive colored eyes quickly set
on the dead creature behind me, and then he sees my arm. Hurrying up to me, Wesley
picks me up off of the ground and hugs me.
Are you okay? Without meeting my eyes he shakes his head. You could have
been seriously hurt!
Im okay. I let out a tense, tight breath, pushing the thought of pain from my
forearm out of my immediate thoughts.
Wesley takes my arm and begins to exam it. He will not look me directly in the
eye, so I assume he is probably still embarrassed by his miss.
Youll live from your injury, he says as he finishes inspecting my arm. But
you may not survive the wrath of your mother. She is not going to be happy when she
sees this.
Then bandage me up so she cant see it. Ill keep it covered until the banquet is
over.
Wesley nods and then moves past me to take a look at the creature. Even though
he is worried about my arm, his smile and eyes are warm with sincerity as he looks at the

animal. I am pleased to see him excited by my kill. The boar finally takes its last breath
and then ceases to stir.
For a moment Wesley looks relieved. See, I told you it was an animal that you
saw.
I open my mouth to tell him about the Harvester, but for some reason I cannot yet
form the words to tell him what I saw, but I know I need to. I just cant make sense of
what happened, or why I am still alive. The Harvester saw me twice, and yet here I am.
Alive. It doesnt make sense.
"You are as terrifying as you are wonderful," he says, with a contagious smile.
"I'll try and take that as a compliment," I say.
You should, you have an excellent shot. Congrats on your kill.
I cannot help but smile too. Wesley is very serious when it comes to hunting, and
he has always been hard on himself. Wesley always seems impressed by my skill and
ability to hunt, even though we have been doing this for years, and once the kill has been
made, and we know our families will eat, we can relax.
Thanks, I say.
My friend and I have always been competitive, and it is fun to keep track of who
gets the most kills. Keeping tab helps ease the tension of knowing that if we are caught,
we will be punished.
Wesley gets up and goes to his pack to find a bandage for my arm. When he finds
something that will work, he gently cleans and then wraps the injury.
As usual his blond hair is messy and looks like a bird has been nesting in it. His
hair falls slightly in front of his eyes as he takes care of my cut. He has caught the

attention of many girls throughout Redbone; all as striking in beauty as he, and they
remark that he resembles the part of a god or heroic warrior. But he has not shown
interest toward any of the females in Redbone nor toward the idea of marriage, despite
the fact he is nearly eighteen.
He offers to clean the game so I can rest, and I dont object. Wesley places a hand
on the animal and then whispers a few words of respect and thankfulness for the animal's
life. I can hear the quiet words, Thank you friend for giving your life so that we may
eat.
I fall into silence, but a prayer does not form on my lips. Instead the throbbing in
my arm is uncomfortable and I am not exactly grateful that the creature attacked me.
Still, his death meant enough food to last both Wesleys and my families for sometime.
Gazing at the carcass, Wesley hangs it from the tree and then slices the boar down the
chest and begins to prepare the meat to take to Redbone.
I lean against a tree while Wesley works and peer up at the branches crowding out
the sky. Thunder begins to roll through the foggy valley, but the light misty rain from this
morning has stopped.
Our home is surrounded by thick forest and borders on the oceanfront in
Redbone, unlike most manors that are in open fields and located in closer proximity to
the Kingdom of Treelorn. Some people have guessed that the forest is a natural defense
barrier that has offered us some sort of protection. Few outsiders know the secret
pathways that are required to get in and out of the deep forest, making our village of
Redbone not easy to travel to. It would be easy for anyone to get lost who does not know
the way. Therefore, we seldom fear being attacked from the kingdoms that look to lay

siege to Treelorn, in hopes of gaining territory. But that protection does nothing to shield
us from the cruelty within the village.
Good thing you went after the animal after I missed my shot; this meat will feed
our families for at least a week!
Wesley, the creature I took off in pursuit of wasnt a boar. I lower my eyes
unable to face Wesley. It was a Harvester.
I scold myself in silence for being so abrupt, and then make a mental note to tread
more careful with what I say.
Wesley turns his eyes to the boar and after a few moments, he finally responds.
Youre just tired Allyria, you dont know what you are saying.
Wesley, it was a Harvester.
During the age of our great-great grandparents, humans battled against the
beings of dark magic, which were at the source of the magical upheaval. The witches and
wizards of dark magic were pursuing their ambition to create the perfect race, which in
their opinion did not include the mortals of the world. The Harvesters were the servants
of evil; they were said to rip out the hearts of those they captured, but that was not the
worst thing they did. Tell me, if you really did see one, why would such an malicious
being spare your life?
I dont know, I whisper. But I do know that if one of the Harvesters has
returned, then something more powerful has surely awoken and conjured them. Magic
has returned, Wesley.
Wesley shakes his head. All magical beings were destroyed long ago. Magic is
extinct.

How can you be so sure? I ask.

During the First Age, the forces of dark magic spent long years amassing a
fearsome army to swiftly conquer the human world, and they forged an alliance with the
most powerful and evil of creatures, including the Harvesters, who would serve the army
faithfully against the mortals. But something happened that the forces of dark magic were
not expecting; an alliance was forged and with the help from the wizards of the
Defenders of Light, who did not believe in the creation of a superior race, or the
extinction of mankind. In the end, battle after battle, mankind slowly took back the earth,
until victory was won. The defeat was the decline of the Age of Wizards, hence entering
into a Second Age of the Aion Kosmos, where mankind ruled. The mortals during the
end of the First Age chose to purge the land of all sorcerous powers, black magic, and
magical beings. Even the Defenders of Light, who had fought beside the mortals, were
asked to leave the nine mortal kingdoms and therefore they vanished. Magic is
nonexistent in this world except for maybe a few of the remaining bloodlines. Our
ancestors saw to that.
Wesley, I know what I saw, I am certain of it.
Stop it Allyria, since the Great Triton Crusade, traces of magic rarely exist in the
world, and the people who still have traces of magic are sought out and executed.
Harvesters and the other evil creatures have not been seen in these parts for half a
century. They are surely extinct by now.
Or they have been in hiding since the purge, I say.
Wesleys cheeks flush red and I can tell he is angry with me. If magic and
magical beings still existed, then where are they? Where are the witches, wizards, fairies,

trolls, and Guardians that once roamed across these great lands? And why are you still
alive if you really did see one of the Harvesters?
I dont know, I admit. But I need to warn someone. Redbone is in danger. I
can feel it.
You know what will happen if you say something.
I can see Wesleys expression, and I already know what he is thinking. If I tell
someone about seeing the Harvester in the forest, they will ask why we were in the forest.
Hunting is forbidden most days of the year unless a person receives special permission.
Lord Priam regulates the food intake in Redbone and restricts the lower classes from
hunting so that the nobles and wealthy class of Treelorn Kingdom have a full stock of
wild game when they hunt as a favorite pastime. Lord Priam, a cousin of King Targan
and a leader of his house, rules over Redbone in the region of the Kingdom Treelorn.
Lord Priam strives to maintain and monopolize the reserves by taking big game in forest
reserves, and small game in warrens. Hunting has also been essential in training for war,
and it is a privilege and measurement of nobility. The forest near Redbone is constantly
watched over by appointed gamekeepers, to make sure the peasantry could not hunt or
poach. Both are subject to severe punishment. We had a taste of such a punishment on
one occasion. If I tell the truth, Wesley and I risk being caught again. But if I lie and say I
saw the Harvester in Redbone instead of in the forest, the people will think I am crazy.
Most people do not believe in magic anymore, and to say that it still exists, and that I
have seen evil, would mark me as having blood ties to the ancient magic, or a witch. It is
likely that no one would believe me. Humans see what they want to see, and they tend
not to believe in the things they dont want to accept. Humans have always preferred to

believe in a lie if the truth is too scary, and they cling to the realities that make them feel
safe. Sometimes it is easier not to know the truth. But if the Harvesters are here, death
and grief are imminent, and I have my younger sisters to worry about.
Allyria, the long winter months are upon us, and food is scare as the Kingdom
stocks up their reserves. Think of everything you will risk by telling someone that you
think you saw a Harvester.
The kingdom of Treelorn is quite wealthy, but because we are peasants, we do
not have any consent to hunt from Lord Priam or King Targan. If Wesley and I don't find
food, our families in Redbone will suffer.
Wesley continues, If the officials hear that we were in the forest again, and they
see your arm, they will know that we were hunting. We have to think of our families and
put them first before anyone else. Family comes first. Always. You cannot say anything
to anyone about what you think you saw, not even your own blood kin, if you want to
protect them.
I am not convinced.
If it were not for Wesley and my family, I would risk running away and leave
Redbone in a heartbeat for one of the other eight Kingdoms in the Aion Kosmos, but I
promised my brother that in his absence I would be responsible for my familys well
being, and that is a promise I do not intend on breaking, even if he is dead.
It takes a while for Wesley to gut the boar, bleed it out, skin it, and then take the
meat from the carcass. He keeps the eyes, tongue, ears, feet, organs and the lining of the
stomach for sausage casing. No words are exchanged between us and as we remain
silent, I cannot help but think of the red hooded figure. To my knowledge, no one has

ever seen one and lived to tell the tale. The Harvesters are creatures of a darker age and
the legends about them are stories of nightmares; their presence is never a good thing.
As I watch Wesley, I rub the tiny, soft, piece of fabric between my fingers. For
now, I do not press the conversation about the Harvesters with Wesley.
Wesley is skilled at butchering and knows how to prepare meat to the point of
perfection. He looks up from his work and motions for me to start packing my things. We
can't risk not making it back to the village by dark and we need to get the boar meat back
to the village before it goes bad.
When finished, he sets down his hunting knife in front of me and stuffs the meat
into a cloth my grandmother Cyndel Pilar had sewn as a present.
I sigh. The last thing I want is to go back to Redbone. Do we have to leave
now? I ask.
Yes, the lords son is returning home from the Battle of Maurkon against the
Kingdom Newtyrell, and in his honor the lord is throwing a feast because of the lands and
riches claimed under the House Targan banner. We cannot risk being late, he says.
I know he is right. We dont want to run into any troops traveling through the
forest.
Lord Priam and his wife have made this event mandatory to everyone that lives in
Redbone and all the peasants are required to serve at the banquet. The village serfs follow
the lord's directions with precision. If we dont, we risk retribution. It is our duty to serve.
Wesley and I begin to make our way back through the golden pasture; we stop
only to stash our hunting weapons and then we part to say goodbye.
When do you want to meet again? Asks Wesley.

Lets meet two days from now before the work bell.
He nods. What did you decide to do about the Harvesters?
I dont know, I say. I should say something; its the right thing to do.
Allyria, what ever you think you saw, you didnt. Please just forget it, for both
our sakes. You know the laws about magic; even speaking of it will end in both of our
deaths.
I give Wesley a pointed look, and then take one step toward him and hand him the
tiny piece of red fabric from the Harvesters robe that I had discovered. I found that after
tracking the Harvester through the forest. It was snagged on a bush.
Wesley looks from me to the fabric. Then he shifts his chin and I can tell he is
about to say something, but there is a slight falter in his breathe, and I know he is now not
entirely certain about what he believes.
This doesnt prove anything, he says.
Wesley, youre my best friend. I am asking you to believe me. Out of anyone, I
would have expected you to trust me and not call me a liar. The entire Aion Kosmos once
ran on magic during the First Age, and without it all nine realms of the world would
fallen apart. Magic is old and it still exists. The Guardians and wizards use to watch over
the world, protecting the world from being swallowed by malevolence. You cant believe
that magic and those that possess magic, have all been captured, and put to death since
the purge. Some of them are still out there, the good and the evil. Is it really that hard to
believe that evil, such as the Harvesters has arisen?
Wesley holds up the piece of red fabric. Im not calling you a liar. But Lyri, this
could have been anyones. A soldier or someone of high class could have been riding

through the woods in one of the Kings hunting parties. A little piece of red fabric does
not spell out the return of E-V-I-L, magical monsters.
But I saw him with my own eyes! I yell.
Im sorry, I just cant believe you.
Cant or dont want to, because your afraid? I ask, a little more sharply than I
had intended.
Maybe a bit of both, he admits.
I shake my head helplessly and scold Wesley in silence for not trusting me. But
the Harvesters are things of wickedness, and I can understand why he doesnt want to
believe that they have come. Their presence is a reminder of darker times, when several
of the immortal beings, believed they should rule over the human race, because they
believed themselves to be superior in every way. Some even believed the humans should
be destroyed, and wiped from existence.
The crusade was gruesome and violent, and blood bubbled and soaked the ground
as the war commenced. The supporters of the dark wizards took the battlefields, the only
thing standing in their way from the complete annihilation of humanity, were the few
who banned together. But then something unexpected happened, and the Guardians and
the more moral of the wizards, came to stand beside the mortals in battle and in death.
They renounced their own kind and fought against their brothers and sisters, and the
alike, because they did not believe in the superiority of the immortal race. And when the
humans won, they took back control of the known world and excommunicated all
magical beings and creatures from the nine kingdoms, hence beginning the dawn of the
Second Age of Man. The humans forgot the goodness of the Guardians and wizards, and

they began to hunt down all magic born. Many believe that after all the witch hunts and
raids, all magic born had been killed or captured and enslaved. Magic was no longer
seen; therefore people did not believe it existed. They were wrong. If a Harvester has
come, he is not alone. It would be too reckless to show himself to human eyes, if he did
not have reinforcements.
Believe what you want, I say. But that doesnt change the fact that they are
here.
Before Wesley can reply, I turn and leave.

Chapter 2
Home Sweet Home
Allyrias Point of View
Treelorn Kingdom, Field Work Village of Redbone
Second Age of Man year 105

I race home and make it through the old, rickety door to my house just before the manor's
bells ring, which signify that it is time for us to start our daily activities and work the
fields and lands of Redbone.
I hand my father, Atticus Jake Pilar, the meat sack as I enter. Papa opens it and a
small smile spreads across his face, and I can tell he is proud of my kill.
My mother on the other hand, Akira Jocelyn Pilar, gives me a stern look as I rush
past her to get ready. My four younger sisters, Serenity, Hadley, Arabella, and Eleanor,
have already left. They attend domestic training, which includes sewing and needlework.
Hadley is particularly gifted with stitching, and they enjoy the more traditional pursuits
expected of woman. All the best work would be taken to one of the kingdoms, and sold.
Unlike my sisters, I want to learn how to protect my family and myself and fight with a
sword. My older brother and I were particularly close, and he always encouraged my
hunting and archery pursuits, but he was taken from me.
I dash around the room and slip under a hung sheet in order to dress in private. I
cannot let my mum see my wound. Outside the window the sound of boots, light gossip,
and the bells ding-dang-dong fill the air.

My home is a small, simple cottage in the center of Redbone constructed using

basic building materials such as mud, straw, thatch, wattle, cow dung, and reed blocks.
We have very few possessions or luxuries in our home. Furniture is sparse. There is not
much we store in the one chest of drawers except a few scarce valuable items. We do not
have glass windows like Lord Priams manor, but Gran made shutters for the two
windows in our home to keep most of the chilly wind out. The only water in the house is
for cooking; bathing is done in the village's public bath. My family, like many other serfs,
work and live on the land owned by the lord of the manor.
"Allyria, you better hurry and get dressed before we get into more trouble because
of you," my mother says in front of the sheet.
"Akira, give Allyria a break. This is no time for your scolding; she is hurrying."
Thankful for my father's intervention, I yell back to Mum, "I'm sorry, I promise
Im hurrying."
"Where have you been?" she asks disapprovingly.
"With Wesley."
"You were in the forest again with him, weren't you?"
"You already know the answer," I say. "Wild boar isn't something that would
normally just roam freely into town for me to shoot and kill."
I quickly remove the tight dress and then rip my boots off my feet. The feel of
releasing my swollen toes is astounding against the cold, dirt floor.
"If you get caught again, you know what will happen. Its not just your life youre
putting in jeopardy."
I look down to my arm. "I do know what will happen, and I don't want to talk

about it."
My mother pushes aside part of the sheet to face me as I pull on my fieldwork
clothes. "Don't be so selfish. The consequence for hunting in the forest will affect all of
us, not just you."
"We have to eat though, don't we?" I ask sharply. Its the only choice we have, if
our family is to survive the coming winter.
Her eyes widen, and some kind of inner conflict registers on her face. My mother
doesn't respond... but something flits across her expression, which my father doesn't
notice: indignation. I have crossed a line being disrespectful and mouthy to my mother.
My mother is a slender and dark-skinned woman from spending her days in the
field. Her once brown hair has lightened with the hours she has spent in the sun. Many
people have described her as a plain woman, but she is beautiful to me, even if we do not
always see eye to eye. Even when we have these arguments, I still love her.
She leaves me to finish getting ready.
As I pin my braided hair back into a tight bun, I glance at the old wooden cross
hanging from one of the four walls in my house. It has been there since I was born.
Usually the image gives me comfort, but not today, not after seeing the Harvesters. I
release my breath, unaware that I had been holding it in. Fear rises in my chest and my
fingers tremble while finishing my hair. Taking deep breaths, I am not excited about the
long and tedious day ahead.
For a moment I try to collect myself and focus on what else I need in order to get
ready. My stockings itch beneath my simple gray dress, which is linen with long, tight
sleeves and a narrow belt. I throw on a sleeveless surcoat over my dress and I slip on my

old, worn out leather shoes. The cross is the last thing I see before I make my way out the
door and toward the farmland surrounding the village.
For some reason I dont tell my family about the Harvesters. They would never
believe me, even if I did tell them what I saw, or at least, what I think I saw. They always
dismiss what I say, and there would be nothing I could do to convince them that I am
telling the truth. The Harvesters are things of nightmares, and no one in the village talks
about them.
Hurrying down to the fields, I can see that the others have already started
working. I make haste to my section and bend down to begin picking.
Crazy Lyri, always late, says a voice.
I look up to see the face of one of the village girls that likes to occasionally make
fun of me.
Leave me alone.
Sure. Maybe Ill leave you alone and go find Wesley. He is very handsome. Its
to bad; he would probably be married if it werent for you and your status. He would
make a very ardent and doting husband.
Wesley is free to marry; it is his choice not too.
The girl smiles. You must know; he will never love you. Deep down we all can
see how much you care for him, and in your crazy mind you may think you will end up
together. But you wont. If he had wanted you, he would have asked for your hand by
now. You are nothing and you are fool if you think yourself otherwise.
Wesley is my best friend. I do not think of him as anything more, and it is not
my fault that Wesley sees through your fake facade and sees you for what you are, I say.

You may be his best friend, but one of these days youre going to make a
mistake and end up in the dungeons, or worse. The day you do, Ill be there waiting to
help him and comfort him.
I knot my fists and press them into my sides to keep from striking out at the girls
face. I can feel my eyes misty. Something the girl said has stung.
Maybe your right. But Wesley would never marry someone like you, even if I
werent around. Wesley is too smart and sensible to fall for some foul, conniving person
like you, I say.
Well see, the girl says.
Get to work! Or I will beat you both until your bloody in the name of Lord Priam
and all that is Holy in this kingdom, snaps a guard.
The girl bows slightly towards the guard and then hurries toward another section
of the fields. Once the girl leaves I return to my work. This is not the first time one of the
girls has insulted me. I have always been different from the other maturing aged girls,
and they have always made fun of me for the way I dress, and act. While they collected
dolls and jewelry, I collected scars and hunting weapons. But this is the first girl that has
insulted me to get to Wesley. Family doesnt end with blood, and Wesley and I are closer
than anyone I know; there is a deep love and friendship that runs in both of us.

The long day drags on as the sun moves across the sky. Everyone in Redbone works
together to finish the daily chores in addition to preparing for Lord Priams feast.
My job is picking crops and it is no easy task. Most fruit pickers have to bend
over all day to gather. Hot weather like today is bad because the sun is strong enough to

burn the skin painfully, but cold is worse because it makes the back pain unbearable.
When it sleets or rains, the field turns into a lake of mud. The worst is picking while
having sickness, and pestilence and sickness are common in the field.
Because most village pickers squat, bend down or kneel under the vines or twist
to reach up for the hanging fruit proving the trickiest, our necks, backs and shoulders are
almost always in agony. Every crop exacts its own particular discomfort. Standing up
allows little relief.
Two of my sisters, Arabella and Eleanor, and a young village couple, cut grapes,
collect them in pots, and periodically dump them into a wagon pulled by one of the
village men. My other sister Serenity is beautiful and has been asked to serve in the
manor house. A few years ago I had served like my sister, but I was stripped of that
privilege after being caught hunting.
Hours have passed and none of the workers have been allowed to drink, eat or
take any rest. Normally, in the early afternoon the serfs of Redbone would be given timeoff, but not today, not with the preparations that need to be completed for the feast.
Sweat drips down my forehead, and heat swells behind my eyes, causing me to
close my eyes.
"Allyria, get back to work!" yells an elder lady.
I open my eyes and realize I must have accidentally drifted off for a moment.
"Sorry," I say.
Between hunting and my usual labor, I feel drowsy with exhaustion.
"Youre always causing trouble! Don't let it happen again or I will tell the guard
you are lazy and sleeping on the job."

Suddenly, I feel hostile toward the woman. I want to yell and tell her to mind her
own business! I know I should be working the fields like the other serfs, but drifting off
was an accident. But there is no justice in Redbone and its no use fighting because itll
land me in more trouble.
Allyria, I need a word with you, says a familiar voice.
I look up and see Wesley. Sweat trickles down his forehead, and he looks
exhausted.
What are you doing here? I ask. Youre supposed to be helping the men at the
dock.
I had to see you.
Ive already been yelled at today, can this wait?
Wesley laughs. When are you not in trouble?
That isnt funny, I say angrily. I am still upset with him for not believing me
about the Harvester.
I didnt mean to offend you, says Wesley.
I stand up and look at Wesley, still irritated with him. What do you want?
Wesley immediately begins talking. Allyria, I know you are cross with me for
not believing you. I wanted to say that I am sorry. Wesley lowers his eyes. Allyria,
you are my best friend and if you say you saw one of the Harvesters, I will believe you. I
should never have doubted you.
I say nothing.
Wesley grabs my forearm. Many years ago, after the death of your brother, we
swore a blood oath to each other. I have never forgotten that day, and until this morning

in the forest, I have done my best to live up to the pact we made to each other. We swore
to always look after each other, to trust each other, and that we would never betray each
other, no matter what. We swore an oath that we would be here for each other until death
departs us. That oath meant that we could never break that promise, even in old age.
From the moment we mixed our blood, we became closer than family.
I remember the oath, I say. We are family, not of blood, but of choice because
we bound ourselves together with the pact we made.
Wesley lowers his head. Please forgive me for not trusting you earlier. I will
never doubt you again.
Thank you, I mutter.
Wesley releases my forearm. I shouldnt have reacted the way I did in the forest.
I was just scared. If they are really here, we need to be careful and alert.
I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight. I am relieved that he believes me.
Do you think I should I tell someone? I ask.
No. If you tell anyone you saw one of the Harvesters, someone of a higher
echelon or a member of the Church will punish you. The Law of the Kingdom clearly
states that no man, woman or child will talk of magic and be allowed to live. People that
have claimed they have seen some of the ancient magical creatures and beings are
prosecuted before the religious courts, and that includes mentioning the Harvesters. You
will suffer the same fate if you tell anyone. The Harvesters are said to be extinct and
conversing about them is a crime that is equally punishable to witchcraft. You cannot say
anything.

Still holding Wesley, I shake my head and attempt to breathe until the helpless
feeling leaves me. I feel scared. Of course Wesley is correct; if I told anyone besides him,
I could possibly be locked up or burned to death. In this land, casting out devils or evil
spirits by burning people alive to cleanse their immortal soul is a common occurrence.
Few people believe the Harvesters are still alive and out there, most people think young
girls run away from home.
But warning others seems like the right thing to do.
It wont help.
I nod, and then reluctantly let go of Wesley; but I do not want to.
Allyria, even if you warn the entire village, Redbone has no way of defending
against the Harvesters. They are not human. Not even the king could defeat a Harvester.
Instead of responding, I return my attention to work and try to focus on the simple
yet dauntless task of picking crops. I want to tell Wesley about my dream and seeing the
Harvester outside my door, but it may be too much for him to hear.
Wesley puts his hand on my shoulder. I know it is hard, but sometimes silence is
the only choice.
There are always options, Wesley.
Not this time, he says. Allyria, just promise me you wont do anything stupid.
Please.
I nod. Then he takes his leave and heads back towards the ocean, and work.
As the heat continues to climb through the peak of the day, the foliage is the only
available shade. Many women in the group have broke into a slow song, which somehow
helps soothe fellow workers.

The Harvest is here,

do not let Lord Priam see your tears.
For the seeds have grown,
and the meadows are blown.
It is the time...
we must now reap the prickly vines.
Bend and stand, bend and stand,
we are only the hired hand.
We must be strong.
We must be strong.
Worn out and still more to go,
we cannot help but feel a little low.
We give but never get,
Sweat and scars are about to set.
We are but flesh and bones
but do not let Lord Priam hear your moans,
we are the servants to the throne.
We must be strong.
We must be strong.
Blood
and mud,
boils
and toils,
this is part of our endless days,
because these are the jobs that pay.
This is how it is and will be forever,
working is our life's endeavor
We must be strong.
We must be strong.
We work until the sun's last rays,
but never do we get any praise.
All around, are worn out faces
we must work or confront the guard's mace.
do not hang your weary head
your family needs the bread,
no sympathy will you find,
Lord Priam is unkind.
We must be strong.
We must be strong.

Before the workers can finish the song, there is a moment of excitement and
hysteria as Isabelle, a village girl who is pregnant, collapses while picking crops.
Reported to have a high fever, swelling and a headache, she is taken to the village healer.
Fatigued, I look up toward the sky to stretch my neck. In the near distance I see a
flock of birds flying backwards, toward the forest. My mouth goes dry at the sight and I
cannot help biting my lower lip. It is a sign of a bad omen.
Several children play in the nearby gardens and laugh while running through the
fields. Some days I wish I were still a child and life was simpler. Every morning is the
same; the villagers all scuttle to work, scrabble to live, work their hands until they bleed,
and at the end of the day barely have enough food to eat. After a hard days work, most
villagers look for pleasure, often of a boisterous sort. Many meet inside neighbors homes
and enjoy gossip. Village life may not have many pleasures, but it is not a life without
some joys. For the matured people of Redbone, having and raising children are the joys.
But illness or Lord Priam can take even those joys away, and now the Harvesters are
here, and things will get much worse.
I continue to spend my waking hours picking food for others; food my family and
I can barely afford to eat. My thoughts continually turn back to the Harvester, and I am
torn about what I should do or say, if anything. They cannot be here on their own accord,
somebody or something must have summoned them and ordered them to Redbone.
After sunset a bell rings to announce the working shift has ended. On my way
home I meet up with Serenity, who is carrying a small bowl of bread, vegetables, and
water for supper. I notice that the hem of her beige dress is caked with mud and her blond
hair is greasy and stuck to her forehead from the heat of the day. Serenity is the second

oldest of my siblings, only surpassed in age by me. At thirteen she is the most helpful to
my mother with household chores and she will soon be married off. At the age of sixteen
I am the eldest and have already attained maturity but I remain unwed.
I notice Serenity looks exhausted; she is struggling to carry everything. I hurry to
grab the bowl from her arms.
"Thanks, Lyri."
"No problem," I say. "How was your day cooking in the manor house?"
Serenity begins telling a boisterous and long tale about her day and the gossip
spreading between a few of the village girls. Tired, I only half listen to the recount of her
tale. I love my sister dearly, but I care little about the social affairs of Redbone.
On the hilltop overlooking Redbone, Lord Priam's manor sits content with bright
lights casting shadows over the village. Dinner at the manor is always a favorite meal for
the wealthy folk and their plates will surely be filled to the brim. Like my family, the
people of Redbone are not so lucky. My favorite meal is eating meat from one of
Wesley's and my kills. My stomach rumbles, causing me to think about the small amount
of bread and meat my family and I will consume for supper.
Once Serenity and I are inside our home, laughter and chatter fills the air from
Arabella, Hadley and Eleanor, who are in the midst of playing a board game. My sisters
choose to ignore me, and only greet Serenity. My three younger sisters pay no attention
to me because they are embarrassed of having me as a sister. The whole land of Redbone
became aware that Wesley and I had been caught hunting in the woods some years ago,
and many neighbors shunned me and my family over the indiscretion. No family wants
their suitable son to marry to someone who is disobedient and causes trouble; therefore I

will probably die a spinster. And because I am the eldest, my younger sisters fear they
will not find a suitable husband because of my mess and the shame I brought down onto
my family name.
Arabella, Eleanor, Hadley seem to think that if they distance themselves from me,
they will be able to save face and blossom into respectable young women, who will then
find an agreeable young suitor willing to court them as soon as they reach the agreeable
age of twelve. They do not seem to care about my feelings and the emotional cost of their
disregard for me; instead they are young and eager children trying to appear from a semirespectable family. They spend their days trying to catch the eye of some boys attention,
usually a boy from a good family, and their rivalry with each other is endless and
tiresome.
I have grown used to being overlooked by most of my family, unless work needs
to be done or we are running low on meat. Serenity and my grandmother are the
exceptions and they openly love me without fail; Serenity is thankful for the meat I bring
and when I am injured from the forest, she tenderly cares for me and has never stopped
showing me sisterly affection and devotion. My father loved Damion and I best, but now
that my brother is gone, he doesn't really seem to love or feel for anyone, not even my
mother. Everyday I feel the pain inside of me for losing my brother, but unlike my father,
the pain is not killing me.
My mother and grandmother are preparing food for supper. Like most women,
they wear loosely fitted, brown gowns that are modest and floor length. Their work attire
does not do their beauty justice. Grandmother Cyndel tenderizes the meat I caught this
morning, and the crackling boar grease in a hot pot sounds absolutely divine.

Many people say I look like my grandmother Cyndel when she was young, but
time and age have turned her body plump, her hair white, and her eyes a passive dullblue. She recently secured a position as a dyer, therefore her hands are constantly stained
with color and her complexion has turned pallid from working indoors.
Unlike the rest of my family, I have long, dark red hair and ocean blue eyes.
Because of my unusual coloring, my mother gave me the middle name Ocean Rose. All
the other women of the family have either blond or light brown hair and brown eyes,
always making me look out of place.
I hang my garnache on a wood hook and then kiss my grandmother on the cheek,
as Serenity kisses our mother.
"Allyria," my mother says.
"Yes Mum?"
"Why don't you make yourself useful for once and go help your father carry in
wood before supper."
"Why can't one of them help Pa?" I point to Arabella, Hadley and Eleanor, who
are still playing games.
"Because your sisters are tired and have been working hard all day."
I can tell Mum is still upset with me for being late this morning to field work by
her tone and resentful look. I always feel like I disappoint my mother, and the ones that I
love. It hurts like hell to know this, but its ok. Im use to it. Biting my tongue to keep
from fighting with her, I bow my head slightly, and walk up next to Pa, who is sitting at
the table sipping on a goblet of ale. His unkempt, bushy, brown beard is tangled and it is
so long that it hides most of his face. His hands are swollen and red from his labors.

Combined with his years of hard work, sadness and despair after the death of Damion
have caused him to appear much older than he really is. It has been six years since
Damions death, and he has aged considerably in that time.
Placing my hand on Pa's shoulder, I motion toward the door. It takes him a
moment to register that we have work to do; stiff, he is slow to rise from his chair. My
work is never finished.

***

Sitting on the dirt floor, Pa builds up the fire in the living room. The smoke from the
flames escapes through openings at the peak of the thatched roof made from stiff reeds
bound together. The heating is not very even throughout the house. On cold nights my
family usually falls asleep near the crackling fire in the main area where its warmest.
Once Mum and Gran have finished cooking, supper is served and we all come
together as a family and sit on stools at a table. Using wooden cups, bowls and spoons,
we pass around the vegetable pottage, bread, ale, and small amounts of the boar meat,
and serve ourselves.
On the wall beside our large wooden cross is Grans mirror, which is made of a
polished metal plate and framed with driftwood. I catch a quick glimpse of my reflection
in my grandmother's mirror, which hangs on a nearby wall. I barely recognize myself in
the reflection. My hair is in knots and my face looks almost black with dirt. The mirror
and cross are the only real decoration in my home and my parents despise the mirror
because it is said mirrors can be used for divination, hexes and black magic, and have an

affinity with demons and spirits. When Gran eventually dies I'm certain my parents will
take it down from the wall. For now, it remains because my grandfather made it for her,
and even though he has passed away a few years ago, it reminds Gran of him, and she
will not part with it.
Despite his modest pay, my father has been able to afford trappings such as beds
with bedposts for Gran, my mother and him. Like me, my sisters all sleep on the floor.
The reality is that some peasants have a better standard of living than others. We are
luckier than most, even though its my fault my family struggles to survive.
A shiver passes through me, as an ill-willed memory begins to surface. My family
could have had a better life if I had not saved Lord Edwin Whitfield from House
Whitfield and the Kingdom of Deansworth, from his death. It happened when Wesley
and I were hunting and we saw the man injured from some kind of animal attack. The
lord was traveling from the Kingdom of Deansworth through Redbone to reach the
Kingdom of Treelorn; there was talk of a union being created between the two kingdoms
by means of marriage. However, Lord Whitfield was delayed because of the attack and
while he was receiving aid in Redbone, another marriage proposal had been sent and a
bargain struck between King Targan and the far away Kingdom of Aislynn.
Many months after the incident and Lord Whitfield had recovered, he proposed
marriage to me through letters several times; I suppose he felt in debt to me for saving
him. I was not in love nor could I ever be in love with Lord Whitfield, and so I refused
every single one of his offers, and for that, Lord Whitfield exposed my secret of hunting.
I had one job to do, which was put food on my familys table, and I screwed it up by
saving Lord Whitfield. I never expected there would be a price to pay, a burden that came

with doing the right thing. If I had let Lord Whitfield die, Wesley and I would have never
been caught hunting, and our families would not have been reprimanded later. For that I
am sorry.
The lineage of the name Whitfield has been surrounded for centuries by tales of
ruthless bloodthirstiness, child murder, executions of allies, regicide, rampant fornication
of women, recreational torture, and countless other vices. His father is rumored to be no
better than a warlord; currently he is the steward of the Kingdom Deansworth, until his 9month-old nephew is of age to take the throne. Though Lord Edwin Whitfield has never
been said to kill someone by his own hands, it is believed that several men, and even
women, were assassinated at his command. He has outraged many people with his
arbitrary murders and his mistresses, who were either abandoned or imprisoned for
heresy once he was bored with them.
Allegedly, his own sister, who just turned the age of ten, tried to run away to the
Kingdom of Narrows, to escape her brothers violent and volatile tendencies after he had
a woman burned alive for rejecting his advances. The sister is sworn to someday be the
wife of the now infant king, and someday she will be Queen of Deansworth. She did not
even make it the docks before being caught and returned home by Lord Edwin Whitfield.
Even if it were not for these horrific tales surrounding Lord Edwin Whitfield, I
could never have married him because my heart already belonged to another. Yet my
refusal angered him enough to expose my secret, thus my family wouldnt have struggled
to survive more than they do.
My family grew irritated with me after refusing Lord Whitfield's offer; they didn't
understand my choices. It is the duty of a daughter to honor her family and to wed.

Marriage would have secured a better life for my family, and I have suffered from the
guilt of letting my family down for quite some time. According to my mother and my
sisters Hadley, Eleanor and Arabella, everything bad that's happened has
happened because of me. Being family isn't enough to gain forgiveness, even though I've
done all I can to make up for my mistake. Hunting and ensuring they have food to eat
have become my duty. Family is all I have; watching out for them is my job. More than
that, it's who I am. I cannot let them down again.
If the Harvesters really are here, it will not end well. It never does. I would rather
depart this life than let one of my younger siblings be taken by one of them.

Chapter 3
The Plan

Lord Edwin Whitfields Point of View

Deansworth Kingdom, Whitfield Manor
Second Age of Man year 105

Less than two days before the banquet in Redbone, Lord Edwin Whitfield sits in his
study, preparing.
The sun had just begun to rise over the valley, when a messenger entered the gates
of Whitfield manor. The guards took the messengers horse to the stables and then
escorted him into the manor. His father would be away at the castle of Deansworth,
acting as steward to the Kingdom.
Entering the study, the young Lord motioned for the messenger to sit, as he
continued to write a letter.
There are no sounds now except for the subtle ink quill lifting to dot the is and
cross the ts. The messenger waits in a long, thick silence, afraid to disturb the Lord.
Finally, the Lord turns and begins to eye his young guest. What news from
Redbone?
Everything is ready my Lord. says the messenger.
Good. And what news of Allyria? asks Lord Whitfield.
She has ben hunting again.
The Lord raises his brow, as if surprised to hear this.

Allyria and Wesley have trapped and killed a bird, which they had to pull the
feathers off of and boil, a wild hare, and a deer, which lasted both families for a little over
two weeks. Sometimes they didnt catch anything and went without fresh meat for a few
days. I watched closely and the gnawing, gut wrenching feeling of hunger always
motivated them to catch something during the next days hunt, if they were patient
enough. You would think peasants would be used to hunger by now.
What do we know about Redbone? Did we find something the parents would be
willing to agree to for trade, in exchange for their daughter? asks Lord Whitfield.
I talked to one of the youngest sisters, giving her a small piece of bread in trade
for information. She was willing to talk.
And what did you discover? asks Lord Whitfield.
The familys food supply does not solely depend on Allyrias hunting, but it's
close, especially during the harsh winter when the Lord of Redbone rations the food
supply. I think the mother will be more than willing to strike a bargain if offered the right
amount of food and leverage in exchange for her daughter, says the messenger.
What about the father?
He seems rather distant. He drinks himself into oblivion every night.
Keen observation, says Lord Whitfield.
Thank you my Lord.
Had you ever been to Redbone before I sent you to spy on Allyria?
No, my Lord.
What did you think of it? asks Lord Whitfield with distant interest.

Im happy I do not live there. The people in Redbone are very poor, probably the
poorest in all nine kingdoms. The families are heavily taxed, often to the point of
starvation by Lord Priam, and the unwed women of the village are treated as common
property, needing the lords approval to marry since he wants spoils of women available
for the upper class men in the Treelorn Kingdom, and the army to choose from. Married
couples also need permission to bear children; the reason for this is so Lord Priam can
control the population and ensure there are enough able bodies working the fields, but
also, he wants to make sure there is not too many mouths to feed, since the amount of
crops harvested have depleted drastically since the years of the plague.
Thats quite the observation. You perceived more than I expected for a common
messenger.
The man hesitates. Thank you my Lord.
I may have further use for you in the coming months. You are currently a
messenger roaming across the kingdom to find work; if I was too pay you double what
you normally make, and give you room and board at my manor, would you consider
working for me?
The messenger inclines his head. Make it triple and you have yourself a deal.
You are not worth triple. You have probably never made double your normal
rages in your life.
The man seems to consider the original offer. Done.
Good, says Lord Whitfield. Now, what else did you observe in regards to
Allyria?

The messenger shifts uncomfortably, and even though he is slighted by the

comment, he says nothing. The family blames Allyria for their poor situation. The
sisters and mother in particular are not very forgiving for her refusal to marry you. The
only person that still seems to care for Allyria is the second eldest sister, Serenity. The
grandmother, and the father when he is coherent, loves Allyria. Allyria tries to shelter
Serenity, from the world. Serenity is Allyrias one weakness.
And in your humble opinion, do you think the parents would turn their back on
Allyria? asks Lord Whitfield
It would be easy to persuade the mom, if she hasnt already turned her back on
the girl. The mom is the one that matters. She has been in charge for quite some time of
the family affairs. The father has no fight left in him; if he did he would be a problem.
I think you are right, the mother would be easy to persuade; but I am no longer
after Allyria.
The messenger looks confused. But my Lord, you were so certain a few weeks
ago. Has something changed?
Yes. I have had dealings with the Master of Rochester Castle. I have reached an
agreement, and in exchange he is going to summon the Harvesters. They are going to
strike Redbone the night of the banquet feast.
My Lord please, I am telling you this for your own good. I understand that you
want to severely punish Allyria, but the Harvesters are not the answer. If you dont act
rationally, you may get yourself killed. The use of magic is outlawed in the nine
Kingdoms, and raising the Harvesters will not be taken lightly. Do not try and raise the

old world gods, or disturb the magical holders from their eternal slumber. That kind of
evil has no place amongst mankind anymore.
The Lord listens patiently with his hands folded on his lap. Thank you for your
concern, but my mind is made up, and now that you are a hired messenger under my
house, that will be the last time you will express yourself freely in my presence. Do so
again, and you will lose your tongue. Speak of the Harvesters and my plan to anyone, and
I will have you and your entire family line killed. Do you understand?
The messenger nods his head, but says nothing. He was no fool, to turn down
Lord Whitfields proposal after everything he had just revealed; he would surely be dead
before he could even make it out the front door.