Along the old, cracked road, well towards noon, an assembly of vehicles could be seen on the horizon. Meverguile clicked her tongue and heels, guiding Grickham into the tall grass. Within minutes, the procession began passing by her. Guards strode by on their lavishly decorated imperial horses, followed by important cars, announcing their immenent arrival as they spluttered smoke and noise; the most important vehicle, flanked by more imperial horses, was enrobed with laurels of roses and carnations, and inside was the guest of honor, the soon-to-be queen of Tethrill, Lady Sable. 

Killian's decision making had never been all that great. The nearly-reclusive king had made a hasty decision to marry Sable after just two courtship outings. It was rumored he and Sable had already bedded each other. It was also rumored Sable had once worn another king's vow on her sacred ring finger; but she had remained tight lipped about that. 

Sable's glance landed on the figure of Meverguile, and the rogue tugged at the hem of her hood as the slightest gesture of respect. All she could afford. Sable's expression mixed of curiosity and irritation, but it was quickly whisked away as she passed Meverguile and Grickham, adorned in the irony of a white gown that nearly flooded the inside of her carriage, lapping at the knees of her consorts sitting across from her. 

The last of the procession passed, and Meverguile motioned for Grickham to pause. She watched the last horses trot at the rear of the parade. They drew nearer to the gates of Tethrill, Meverguile's once-beloved home.

There was nothing more she could do now. Killian had made his choice. 

Many had made their choices that had resulted in the current events; and she could do no more to help the kingdom.

By dusk, she'd arrived at the outermost reaches of Tethrill, on the cusp of Orgwain. Fields of corn had given way to orchards as far as the eye could see, and Meverguile unmounted Grickham, watching as he trotted towards the orchards to partake in apples that had fallen to the ground. Meverguile stepped into a bar, pulling back her hood to fully reveal her close-cut ebony hair that framed her dark, sharp features. Her golden eyes landed on the one projection set in the room, displaying the events of the day as Killian and Sable wed. With another mourning sigh, Meverguile approached the bartender, Horace, as he stocked old, clouded glasses.

"Evening, Mev," he said through his thick cigar. "The usual?"

With another glance at the projector, Meverguile grunted as she took a seat. "Double it."

"Double? Somethin' troubling you Mev? I ain't seen you in such a state."

Meverguile fished a complimentary pack of matches from the seat next to her, and upon crumbling her own blend of herbs into her pipe, she lit the concoction, hoping to find peace. "My home is screwed."

Horace looked at the projection and nodded. "Ahh; that mess. Yeah; I don't think many have their chips on the success of that union."

"It's going to cause a lot of trouble. I can't imagine how much money was used on a ceremony that none of the townspeople could see; money they've been needing for years."

Horace shrugged; not rudely, but casually, as though the events were nothing new; which they weren't. Meverguile knew there was nothing else she could do to change how Tethrill was being run.

"I can't stay there anymore. It's time to move on."

Setting a dark amber drink in front of Meverguile, Horace also placed a wooden bowl of flatbread, smoked fish and soft cheese in front of her.

"Well you know you're welcome to stay here," he said. Meverguile smiled.

"Thank you. How is Abatha?"

"As good as the day you brought color back to her eyes."

Meverguile grinned, and her attention returned to the projection as Horace moved away to tend to another customer. On the wedding recap, Sable stood across from Killian, their hands clasped together as the priest read from an ornate text. Sable's face was obscured by a layered, gold-hemmed veil; Meverguile sipped her tonic as she beheld the odd accessory. Killian, a tall, strong-jawed man nearing the edge between grown and middle-aged, stood as though he might fall asleep. He wore the most crisp, white linens, also trimmed with glimmering gold as a cape trailed down the steps, mirroring Sable's veil. 

It was a long ceremony, judging from the recap. Fanfare and feast was abundant- at least for those invited. Meverguile watched a surplus of Tethrill's prize fish and rich, ripe produce go to waste on the already fat bellies of the uppercrust as they nibbled and discarded half-eaten meaty salmons, tunas, shrimps and crabs before the decadent cake was served. Meverguile noshed on her own meal, watching incredulously at the gaudy dessert as the bartender returned.

"It doesn't even look edible," Meverguile said. Horace chuckled.

"It looks like something I'd put out back to let the horses lick."

The cake was cut and served, with one last toast from the usually-quiet Killian. He approached the center of the ballroom, champagne glass in his gloved hand as the other hand held Sable's, leading her to the focal point as those gathered applauded. 

"My friends and neighbors-"

Meverguile almost choked. Friends? 

"My sincerest gratitude is in order; today has been the most blessed day of my life. To share it has been a joy I cannot describe. Perhaps I shan't describe it," he said with a sly grin as his company laughed. Horace booed. "But I am honored to have had your audience today; the day my kingdom becomes one step closer to becoming a true, whole kingdom."

With chosen snippets being replayed for the broadcast, Meverguile finished her meal and decided that she'd seen enough. She reached into one of her satchels to place several coins on the table. "I'll be back to get my room keys; I have to fetch Grickham."

The elk hadn't wandered off; he was content to rest near where he knew his guide was, still munching on some apples he'd gathered. Meverguile fetched a pail of water for him before kneeling at his side.

"We'll stay here for a few days. Get our bearings and find out where we'll go to next," she murmured, stroking his muzzle. She took a moment as the sun fully set before she retired to her room.

-------- "Thank you again, Mev."

Meverguile climbed up another tree in the orchard, yanking free several more apples just on the verge of ripening. She finished and, with cat-like agility, she descended down the tree trunk.

"My pleasure, Abatha. You've let me stay three nights; the least I could do is help out."

Abatha smiled, picking up the wooden bucket of apples. "Where are you going to next?" She asked. Meverguile walked next to her, looking out beyond the rolling hills. She turned her gaze back to the road that she had arrived on from Tethrill. Her heart ached for home. But it was no longer that.

"I don't know. I relocated once. I can do it again, I suppose."

"You're always welcome here," Abatha insisted. 

"I know; and thank you."

The two headed inside, where Horace took the bucket to store it in the cellar. Abatha poured beers for her and Meverguile as they sat in the dining area, the bar was deserted as it was being prepared to open.

"I wonder what's going on today," Abatha said, turning on the monitor. The screen was a jumble of static, and Abatha clicked her tongue. "Rotten old thing," she grunted, leaning behind the box to fiddle with a few wires. Meverguile absent-mindedly watched the screen, and a flicker of clarity that displayed a large, red headline caused her to spit out her beer.

"A-Abatha, let me-" She begged, almost jumping over a table to try and fix the box. Abatha jumped back as Meverguile found the precise way the cables needed to be tweaked, and she heard Abatha's declaration of 'well I'll be damned'.

Queen Sable stood at a podium, her jaw quivering and her black mascara running down her slender cheeks. She gripped the podium as though it held her aloft, her graciously ample bosom was exposed enough to keep interest at least somewhere on the screen as he chest dipped and expanded with her sobs.

"Today... Today marks the worst day of what should have been a new beginning. But it is just another heartbreak. My beloved husband, Killian, was discovered dead this morning. Poisoned! By what was no doubt a 'gift' of one of the wines from our wedding." Sable closed her eyes, gathering herself. "This act will not go unpunished. My guard, Lord Caurnelian, is to begin gathering the armed forces of Tethrill, so we may vanquish those who would see our kingdom fall!"

Meverguile watched, trying to wrap her mind around what was happening. Killian... no... she closed her eyes.

Abatha watched Sable's address, her hands on her hips as she tried to make sense of what was unfolding. "Good God; she can't be serious?"

Meverguile's eyes remained closed.

"Can you believe-" Abatha looked at Meverguile, and she went silent, watching the taller woman sway ever so slightly as her eyes flickered under their lids.

"Abby! Have you see-" Horace stumbled upstairs, but Abatha quickly shushed him. He turned to look at the projector and his jaw became slack. "Dead? She's got to be joking."

Abatha jumped as Meverguile's eyes snapped open; her iris's gleamed a soft white for a second before it dissipated into her usual gold.

"I have to go," she said, turning towards the exit. Abatha bustled towards her with her husband nearby, the two of them watching both in concern for her and bafflement at the turn of events in Tethrill.

"Wh-where are you going to go?" Abatha asked. Meverguile clicked her tonge for Grickham, who was quick to respond. Meverguile mounted him, and took out a specific herb from one of her belt's pouches. She pulled a needle out from another pouch, pricked her finger, and pressed the blood that spilled into the tobacco chamber. She lit the herbs inside, and watched the smoke. It billowed towards Tethrill.