"Take this Myra." Isolda handed me some folded clothes, "I'll do yer hair once ye change. Quickly!" she shooed me into my temporary room and shut the door, humming impatiently as she waited. Placing the clothes on the bed I unfolded them and groaned. A pale grey dress with a white puffy sleeved undershirt stared back at me, it even had a pale apron to match it.

"Do I HAVE to wear this!" I called behind me.

"YES! Now hurry up." Isolda chirped. I groaned again and began getting dressed.

'This wont do."

I looked myself up and down. The dress was long and heavy and the sleeves of the white tunic hung over my hands. I looked like an overgrown baby doll. I looked around, squinting. My glasses were on the nightstand and I when I reached for them something dark caught my eye. My black leather cuffs and leather jacket were neatly folded and tucked under the stand. Perfect!

"How do I look?" Isolda placed her hands on her hips and glanced at the changes to my outfit. The black cuffs pulled up my sleeves and covered my wrists and the jacket pushed down all the fabric from the dress. She narrowed her eyes, " I don't like that black thing over yer pretty dress."

"I think it looks fine."chuckled a rough voice. We turned to see Baltor leaning against the door frame. He winked at me then straightened. "Vern is packed. Da wants to let ye know we're ready." Isolda nodded then looked at me, "I think it'd be best ye don't wear it to see the Baron." I shrugged.

"Okay then." and pulled it off.

"Turn around lassy. I will not stand to see ye with that hair loose." I wanted to protest that my hair was perfectly fine but I couldn't find the desire to fight or argue like I used to anymore. After that altercation with the old yeoman I began to find myself less angry and nervous though I new my anxieties where only buried, not gone. I turned around and Isolda whipped out a coarse brush and began combing my hair.

"Ow. ow. Ouch!" my head felt raw as she yanked at my tangles.

"Hush. hush. Dearie. It'll be over. This what my mother did with me and her mother before her. It is always good to look well and groomed. Now sit still!"

After a few more minutes of torture Isolda twisted my hair up into a bun like hers and pinned it with a blue ribbon. Once that hellish torture was over, and I was sure I was scalped, I was finally presentable by their archaic standards.

She gave a satisfied humph and clapped her hands, "alrighty, lets go!"

She left my room and I followed after, both our skirts swishing.

I knew I was soon to come to hate these long drapes they pass as clothing.

Vern, the old bag of bones; a barely functioning blind donkey was saddled like the poor beast of burden he was with our food baskets and water-skins.

Baltor and Oliver were both fully clothed in their respective outfits. Oliver, in his green mottled cloak, bow, quiver, and hunting knife, but this time he had leather bracers much harder and sturdier with metal platting and a chest plate to match.

"Why doesn't Baltor have a bow like you?"

We had all grouped together and the midmorning sun blazed overhead, the jumping golden rays dancing across the metal surface of Baltors distinct armor. He wore what I'd call half armor, he had nothing on but his chest plate, sabatons, and arm/shoulder platting and an impressive polear slung across his back. It glinted blindingly and twinkled like a star in daylight.

Oliver cracked a smiled, his crinkly skin folding into a warm silent greeting. Like a prune.

"You look like the sweetheart ye are Myra dearie." I tried to smile back in my stuffy skirt, but I bet I cringed instead.

"Eheh he he..."

Baltor laughed, "Unlike my Pops, I decided to pursue a service to the king as a soldier instead of being the Forest Protector like my old man here. And he's right, you look well arigh'"

" I wish I could say the same" I hefted my skirts up and waddled to the front.

"This is going to be the first and last time I wear this to impress..."

The men guffawed and laughed protests but of course Isolda just clucked her homey chit of disapproval and pinched the donkey to move forward.

And it was at this moment I began to appreciate the gas guzzling mechanical accidents we call cars as I realized we'd be walking. Hooray.

I prayed we would make it to the medieval equivalent of a city before my skirts dragged me down in the heat and I passed out.

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

"Hail travelers!" the lanky daft looking young fellow guarding the drawbridge gate called out his nasally greeting. "Were from and were too?" We had waited hours in a long line of people, animals and carts behind the iron drawbridge backed up all the way to the surrounding village till it made its way into the bustling castle grounds.

I was so travel weary and exhausted I felt if he kept talking I'd punch him in the nose. Oliver reached into his cloak and took out a polished wooden slab with strange squiggles on it and showed it to the Keeper of the gate. The guy nodded and signaled for the soldiers up in the tower to lift the iron bars for us to enter. I slouched and grumbled as the gates sluggishly and gratingly opened and the infuriatingly slow donkey that should've died a century ago lumbered forward.

"If this keeps up I'm going to rip off my clothes and get arrested for indecency, this heat is obscene!"

Isolda's eyes bulged out of her round plump head and her jaw hung open in shock.

Oops.

Baltor who was beside me snorted in an attempt to conceal a laugh. Isolda slapped his arm in irritation but said nothing.

The gate was bigger than I thought, amidst the foggy dust kicked up by the pack animals and the oppressive heat you could almost hear the iron sizzle as the sharp points were drawn up and we passed under. If the gate falls suddenly my head would either be kebabed or my neck would snap before being crushed.

I shuddered and pushed that dark thought to the back of my mind. Why do I even imagine these things?

As we entered the throng of people in the market square and pushed against the current of bodies, Oliver led with Isolda behind and Baltor and me last. Baltor caught my hand in his and gently tugged me to himself and together we followed his parents. It took another thirty minutes and then some to find a rest area to wash out the dust from our tunics and belongings. We watered the barely alive Vern and paid for a stable hand to care for him while we went to the main castle area.

Baltor let go of my hand and gave me a reassuring wink.

"Don't be nervous. He's a kind man." and then he left on errands for Oliver.

The problem was not that I was nervous, it was that even after washing up I still felt sweaty and sticky. I was more concerned with how I'd smell when he greeted me.

"Come this way Myra dear."

Isolda looped her arm around me and swiftly placed a bonnet looking thing over my hair.

"What the- hey!" I wrestled the embarrassment off and shoved it away. "No. thank. You!"

Oliver hung back and waited for us, a puzzled look on his face. Isolda gave him 'the look' and in response he helplessly shrugged, "If she doesn't like. She doesn't like."

I nodded reasonably and gave him a thumbs up. We both grinned and Isolda frowned.

"Aw dear. It's ok love. Pay no mind, she is fine as she is." Oliver crooned sweetly to his wife and they laced fingers as they walked. Rolling my eyes and crossing my arms I just trudged on ahead with them. Who. cares. I'm not wearing a baby bonnet.

This is stupid.

~~~~~~~~

The streets got quieter as we left the main area and walked through a tall gated archway. It looked like a fancy front courtyard that rich old geezers have as an unnecessary addition to their mansions. Small stone benches lined the large closed off courtyard we entered with guards flanking either side. fig trees lined the side of the archways to some stone steps that ascended to the biggest and ugliest medieval doors I had ever seen.

"Wow. that's an eyesore." Oliver coughed and shook his head for me to rein in my tongue. I coughed as well, for no reason other than to copy him. And bit my tongue.

Don't say anything. Don't say anything, don't say anythi-

"Say, I wonder how far I could climb to get a fig."

"Not very far without getting caught by the guards." muttered Isolda in a patronizing tone. I blew a raspberry behind her head. This darn heat was making us all a little crazy.

The inside of the castle was not as impressive as I had hoped. It was all polished stone and weird rugs and tapestries. The good news was that it was a lot cooler inside.

A butler guy guided us down the halls to the reception room where the baron received his guests. And I took this time to appreciate modern architecture more than I used to, glancing at all the rough stone cut edges of the building that any child could bludgeon their head on. man, the things we take for granted. 

 I could feel the weariness of todays travels already in my bones and the day wasn't even over. On the contrary, my worries had just begun. oh the things we take for granted.

 I want to go home. 

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THANKS FOR READING!

to be continued next chapter~