THE Weeping Monk entered the tent where Gawain was held and tortured. Too many emotions were challenging him now. Fear. Regret. Confusion.

"Don't be afraid, Ash Man. I don't bite." began the Green Knight. "It's those eyes. The mark of the Ash Folk. There haven't been any in these lands for centuries." his words were like knives in the monk's heart, he tried so hard to forget about his kind. "Have you just come to watch me die?"

"Why didn't you tell them before? You could have told them. But you didn't. Why?"

"Because all fey are brothers. Even the lost ones."

"This suffering, it will cleanse you." The Weeping Monk tried to ignore his words, he tried to ignore his own doubts and feelings.

"You parrot their words, but you know it's all lies. I can feel it in you, my brother."

"You are not my brother."

"They have turned your mind so far inside out...that you don't know the difference between kindness...and hate." Gawain tried to reason to him, call out to his internal fey. "Who did this to you?"

"We are saving souls. Your soul."

"Tell that to the little ones that you burn."

"I don't harm children." The Weeping Monk said, defending himself, he already had this converstion with Guinevere that night they crossed paths. That was the first step to the downfall of his faith in Father Carden and his cult, it all fell down.

"You burn their homes, you slay their mothers and their fathers and you watch your Red Brothers run them down on horses. And you see it all through those weeping eyes." Gawain's words were sinking deep into the monk's heart. The Green Knight reminded him of Guinevere somehow.

" Brother! You can fight. I've never seen anything like it. You could be our greatest warrior. Your people need you."

" You are not my people. " but deep down, The Weeping Monk knew that the fey kind, the demon borns, are his people.

"Then tell them. If this is where you belong, tell them what you are."

"I'll pray for you." his doubts were growing, they were demonic creatures, yet with angelic hearts. Could they be right? Could Father Carden be wrong? Did he even cared about him?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Guinevere was wandering around the Paladin's camp. She walked hours before she finally found it. The girl was struggling to keep her hood still, as the wind was blowing it back, she tried to avoid any attention.

"Where are you, Squirrel?" she thought. She needed to find him and leave before anyone finds out they're here. Guinevere cursed under breath, she was lost in the camp and there was still no sign of Squirrel or Gawain. The girl began to fear someone would notice, it was clear she was an outsider.

"What are you doing here?" Guinevere knew that deep and husky voice she knew too well. "Leave. Now. They'll find you here." he said, taking her hand.

"I am here to resque a friend. You took Gawain." The Weeping Monk opened his mouth to say something, but Father Carden cut him off.

"Who is that, son?" both stood silent. Guinevere noticed that Carden was surrounded by Red Paladins, but the man beside him stole her attention. It was the one she met that morning, Mordred. He was too charming to not be evil.

"It's her! The Shadow Lord!" shouted a paladin. He was in Gramaire, he saw Guinevere.

"Ne-" she tried to say, but Mordred grabbed the back of her neck, hitting her head lightly against a tree, making Guinevere collapse.

The Weeping Monk kneeled down beside her, checking if she's fine. But he quickly came to his senses, standing up and hoping no one noticed his concern. It was too late, however.

"Do you know her, son?" asked Father Carden.

"No, not at all." he lied.

"Take her." as the paladins were coming closer, Mordred spoke up.

"Carden," he began, as smooth and charming as always. "may I ask you for a favor?"

"What is it that you want, Mordred?" he asked. Carden was careful around him, the man was a viking prince, son to Dagmar, heir to Cumber's throne.

"If I may, I would like to take her to my tent."

"And why is that, Mordred?"

"The deal with my grandfather. He has a friend that would be more than delighted to have her." Mordred said, his eyes glowing with mischief. Carden was skeptic, killing the only child of Theodore would bring him glory. But the deal with the Ice King is important, he might get another chance to kill her.

" As you wish. "

The Paladins took Guinevere, taking her to the other side of the camp, where Mordred's tent was.

The Weeping Monk wished he could care less about what would happen to her. He wanted to be indifferent, but he couldn't. He had a bitter feeling  watching her being so helpless, his usual vile expression was now transformed into a concerned and sorrowfull one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tristan was riding into the woods, searching for Squirrel. Both him and Gawain disappeared. But where were they? The man heard noise from behind the trees.

"Squirrel?" It wasn't him. Instead, maybe ten or twelve paladins came out. Fuck. How did they found him? Tristan draw his sword, ready to fight. He was a fierce fighter, slaying the paladins one by one, but he was outnumbered.

There were only two paladins left and Tristan was still standing, but not for too long. He swinged his sword, disarming one of them, but he kicked Tristan in the stomach and then in the jaw. The half fey man was now on his knees, spitting out blood. He tried to stand up and fight, but his efforts were in vain. The Paladin punched him in the face once again, and he lost consciousness.

Tristan woke up, finding himself dragged in the paladin's camp. Shit. He was now in front of a an old man. Father Carden.

"What is this?"

"We found him close to our camp. He might be fey." Carden turned to The Weeping Monk, waiting for him to say something. He reconised the man, he was with Guinevere at the mill.

"Half fey."

"Half a demon is still a demon." said Carden. Another Paladin came, holding little Squirrel.

"And who is this?"

"Fey scout. We found him in the kitchens  trying to free The Green Knight." answerd the paladin.

"How many are with you boy?" no answer. "Are tou two together? How many are you?" asked Carden, turning to Tristan.

"Enough to kill you, you paladin scum!" said Tristan, sptting on the ground.

" Have Brother Salt take their measurements. And tell him to start with this man with a foul tongue." Carden said. "God is smiling even brighter to us today. We have the Green Knight, that Shadow Lord-"

"Don't touch Guinevere or Gawain!" Tristan spatted at him, what happened to his sister? The Weeping Monk watched the man's reaction with curiosity, was there something between him and Guinevere?

"He's just a boy. He's no threath to us." said The Weeping Monk.

"You. Take them." Father Carden said with rage. He wasn't pleased with his sudden care for these demonic creatures. "Why would you embaress me? Why?" he questioned, slaping the Weeping Monk.

He clenched his jaw, that hurt. Both mentaly and physicaly.