The colonel approached Peadair and held out a hand, but the innkeeper didn’t shake it.

“If it’s a round you want, you’ll be paying like all the other folk.”

“Ah,” said the colonel. “That won’t be necessary.” He handed Peadair the parchment he had been reading from. “This is a writ of accession, signed by the king himself. It demands you to hand over your property to the Crown. Until His Grace says otherwise, my battalion will be stationed in your inn.”

Dumbfounded, Peadair took the document from the colonel and stared at it, though Morrígan knew that he couldn’t read.

“The Bear,” he said eventually. “No, this is preposterous!”

“This is the law, and His Grace has declared a state of emergency given the growing threat of the Simian dissidents.”

“You can’t have it!” he said, pointing a finger at the colonel. “This inn is my life; it’s been in my family for generations.”

“I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter. His Grace has signed the writ in sacred blood. I am obliged to execute its orders, and you are obliged to follow them. This will only be temporary, and there will be compensation.”

With that, the colonel untied a large coin-purse from his belt and threw it to Peadair.

Peadair caught the purse in both hands. “There must be some kind of—”

His words were silenced as the bag fell open in his hands. Morrígan stood on the tips of her toes to steal a peek and saw the unfamiliar shimmer of gold inside. Judging by the size of the bag, she reckoned there must be more than a hundred coins in there.

The colonel smiled. “And there will be another one of those for every moon we are here. Now, my men need to rest. Can you give me the—”

“Keys!” shouted Peadair, scrambling for his pockets. “Yes! Here you go! Let me know if you need anything else. Anything else at all!”

The colonel held out his hand again, and Peadair shook this time.

“Colonel Eodadh, at your service.”

“Ah, Eodadh, great name. Strong, of the Old Tongue. I look forwards to meeting you again.”

The colonel bowed deeply and returned to his men. From the waning crowd, Taigdh emerged, a strange combination of dread and confusion upon his face.

“Da’, what’s going on? Who are all these people?”

“Ah, nothing to worry about, Taigdh,” said Peadair softly, taking out a handful of coins and letting them fall back into the bag. “The colonel and his men will be moving into The Bear, just until all this Silverback business blows over. Just think of it as a paid vacation.”

“What are you talking about? What about our home?”

Peadair placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, lifting the bag up and down with the other. “We can live wherever we want, son. We could even build an inn over in Point Grey, so your mother can still be with your grandmother. Would you like that?”

For a second, Taigdh’s eyes met Morrígan’s.

“For the time being,” said Yarlaith, stepping in, “you’re free to stay in Morrígan’s old family home, if that’s okay with her, of course.”

The two men turned to Morrígan. She nodded vigorously.

“That would be perfect, Yarlaith!” exclaimed Peadair. “We could move in there while we get ourselves sorted. Can I get you to send Moire a quick crystal-wave too?”

“Of course, Peadair. Feel free to drop by whenever you can.”

Yarlaith sighed as Peadair and Taigdh strolled towards the inn, the former walking with a spring in his step.

“Come, Morry,” Yarlaith said. “It’s getting late.”

Morrígan and Yarlaith made their way to the High Road, past the rows of motionless soldiers. Once the mages were out of earshot, Yarlaith spoke in a cautious tone. “The other villagers won’t be happy when they learn that their watering hole has dried up, not to mention that a battalion of soldiers will be sharing our village.”

Morrígan nodded slowly, not sure what to say.

First Father, then Mother, now Taigdh. It won’t be long now until I’m the last one left.

They walked past the graveyard and the chapel in silence. The ground shimmered golden under a thick blanket of damp autumn leaves, squelching with every step. Upwards, the road curved gently with the shape of the hill. Yarlaith’s house rose ahead of them.

I suppose this is my home now too.

“I don’t like these developments, Morry.” Yarlaith gave her a pensive glance. It was like one of his reading lessons all over again. “Why do you think the king would want to send his forces here?”

She knew by the tone of his voice that he already knew the answer. “Is it because of the troll? Have they come to protect us?”

Yarlaith sighed. “I wish it were that easy. They have come to protect us, yes. But not from trolls. Have you heard talk lately of one named the Silverback?”

“I heard Peadair mention it earlier. He was talking about someone named Santos too. Who are they? Simians?”

Yarlaith paused, struggling to find the right words. “I see no reason to hide anything from you, Morry; there are troubling times ahead. A small rebel movement in Penance has been growing over the past few years, and now it seems like they’re ready for war.”

“But what about our generations of peace?” asked Morrígan.

“It isn’t enough for Silverback,” said Yarlaith, his eyes somewhere far away. “He wants complete freedom from the Crown, and he and his people will do anything to achieve it.”

“The separatists….” whispered Morrígan.

“Terrorists,” spat Yarlaith.

“And Santos? I heard Peadair mention something about a railway.”

“Santos was the Chief Engineer of Penance. He and King Diarmuid planned on building a railway underground to connect Penance to Cruachan… north to south. It was meant to be a beautiful convergence between Human and Simian cultures.”

“What happened?”

“They were both attacked by the Silverback’s terrorists while inspecting the railway. The king barely escaped with his life. Santos on the other hand….”

His voice trailed off; he put his trembling hands inside his cloak. Morrígan had never seen him so shaken.

“Why would Silverback kill one of his own?”

“I never said this made any sense,” said Yarlaith. “The Simians are people, just like us… but there are some who are not content with simply beating their chests.”

As they crossed Yarlaith’s garden towards the house, Morrígan’s thoughts returned to the villagers of Roseán. How long will the battlemages remain in The Bear? Was the Silverback really such a threat to a quiet little village?