(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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The hall we walked along had tall ceilings and our footsteps echoed, amplifying every rustle, every murmur, as if you where on a stage with a microphone with no audience but the shattered sunlight on the rugs from the narrow windows. The Butler guy walked so briskly, like an invisible dog with a torch in its mouth was trotting behind him, and we shuffled quickly and somewhat awkwardly behind.

The pompous man stopped and clicked his heels in. "The Baron is just behind these doors. Enter promptly and do not delay." he sniffed and looked down his nose at all of us and I admired a dried rose in a vase with an opaque and glassy texture to distract myself from the urge to launch myself and tear apart his ridiculous outfit and plummed hat. He sharply turned and was gone before I could seriously contemplate tearing out his moustache.

"Let's not keep him waiting." Oliver held out his arm for Isolda and waited for me to join them before entering the room.

The sight before me was jarring. A really round jolly looking man was shuffling papers in what was an office room, the funny part was that he was wearing a sock on his head and a lavishly spread table was before his own desk with the most oddly shaped and colored foods. The curtains where drawn to let the sunlight stream in and the rays glinted off crystal clear and ivory silver ware with opal finishings. A grotesque looking bird with a snakes tongue was humming with the likeness of a car engine and was licking at a lemon in its blue talon. I stared at the ugly bird with three gem looking eyes until the man looked up and exclaimed jovially, "ah! My dear friends, it is good to see you! Come, come. Sit, sit."

He flapped his arms around and swiped the papers he had been puzzling over and hastily made his way over to the old bowman. "My good man. How are you today?"

He kept gushing about wishes of good health and spewing pleasantries in obvious delight and excitement. I watched on in consternation as Oliver smiled broadly and laughed in a shared camaraderie I did not know and they embraced like all men do with a sort of firm vice grip. I shrunk back behind Isolda and grimaced. Is this normal or is this guy just strange? The obvious fantastical items and foods in his office brought the thought I had been avoiding since I had got here. Is this not the past but a fantasy realm of another world? Does that mean there is magic? I seriously hated the possibility of this fact. The simple idea of some new and totally foreign power, unknowable to me and alien in every way to such a considerable degree made my insides churn. How can I face what I do not know? Am I to be at the mercy of this new world?

It was not that it was anything I had not seen before, the old hag was proof of that but it was brief and I had forced myself to forget, at least for now as there was nothing I could do then. Everything I had seen so far seemed to fit and not stand out as unusual or strange per se, this changed that, it introduced facts that I was not yet ready to acknowledge. New circumstances and fearful unknowns that made me tremble, all it did was reinforce my desire to leave, to escape. It overshadowed all other thoughts, all other emotions of mine. I never new I even possessed this desire to this degree until it was staring me in the face like the most obvious thing in the world. I had only figured to ignore I was homesick. Though I believed on some level, it impossible to feel that way. How could I be homesick for a place I never called home?

I didn't know I had been spacing out until the Baron's cheery red face appeared in my immediate vision. "And who is this spindly girl?" I jerked back and without thinking kicked my leg out and threw a left hook with a shriek tearing from my throat. Soft silky material and plump fat smooshed under my fist before bouncing up again like a rubber ball once I snatched my hand back away, propelled by the backward force. It was dead quiet.

I gupled down another shriek of surprise. "I-I, uh, I-" 

"HAHA! hahaha haha!" I jumped at the barons loud bellowing laughter, tears glistened at the corner of his round eyes, his face now purple with wheezing. He gulped out words between his laughter, "I'm so sorry my dear. I didn't think you'd be so startled. My bad~ sorry, sorry. Ahehehehe. You throw a mean punch dearie. Good, good. Strong girl"

I just blankly stared at him in confusion as his bemused chuckling died down.

"Oh no, no need to be frightened dear. The fault is mine. Come come, sit. I have prepared a feast. We have much to discuss."

The baron came round and pulled out a chair for me his face wide and bright, smiling. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Isolda and Oliver take their own seats, a wisp of a grimace on both their faces. I blushed so hot I could feel the heat in my face and sat down without a word.

The table cloth was of a dark jasmine silk and the table was set with many plates and fat cups; goblets, inlaid with silver and copper. In the middle of the table setting was a bowl of brightly colored aromatic fruit. The Baron, still smiling, grabbed a pitcher and walked around filling our glasses, ignoring the distressed server who had come to wait on us. He began to chatter amiably, "So my dear friends, I hope the journey was not of much difficulty?"

Oliver absently waved, "la man! Ye know it is."

Isolda smiled, elbowing her husband who grunted and coughed but did not flinch.

"Of course the journey was not difficult Knolend, tis' always lovely to come visit ye."

The Baron sat down, and seeming to remember himself, pulled off the sock hat and called the server over to serve the dishes. As the server bustled about serving the strange foods, I peeked over at the Baron, the man who governed this place, who was close to the Woodfords. The strange man, who would decide what would happen with me. A person whom Oliver seemed to trust deeply. He was somewhat corpulent but well muscled, with bright yellow hair that reached his shoulders, a well trimmed beard with a small white scar on his chin. He was tan and had lots of freckles from long sun exposure. Despite his funny appearance, long robes and deep laugh lines his eyes had a certain spark and his shoulders a certain bearing of power and authority. I was glad to be sitting at the other end of the table. I would be too nervous to eat otherwise.

The server came around to me soon and I was served a meat of some kind, a bright white steaming meat, something like chicken but also slightly blue in color. A roll of bread with pinkish seeds and a sort of salad that had an assortment of bright purple leaves and a green salad dressing with flowers and some kind of bean. I was offered so much I could barely see the edges of my plate. On the table were jams, sausages, all kinds of cheeses and other more normal looking foods. 

Everything smelled so good, the roll was steaming, fogging up my glasses and butter oozed in glistening rivulets. My mouth was swimming in saliva and I grabbed the pronged thingy that looked like a fork and dug in immediately. The meat was flavorful, to my surprise it didn't taste much like chicken, rather it was more tender and not dry at all, it almost seemed to melt on my tongue and had a slight sweetness. Remembering I was in company I stopped scarffing down the food and looked up. Oliver, Isolda and Baron Knolend where too engrossed in private conversation to notice my eating habits so I happily carried on.

After a while with only the clinking of goblets and forks to fill the silence I sat back, nearly full till bursting and quietly sipped the strange liquid in my cup, it was smooth and clear, slightly minty with some kind of spice. It was cool down my throat but warm in my stomach. I liked it immensely. I tuned into their conversation but didn't really know what was going on. 

"-near towards South Marlboke."

"High One told-"

"Battered head."

"-emory loss?"

I jolted. Were they talking about me? I sat straighter, alerted. Sure enough they glanced in my direction briefly and I shrank a little in my chair feeling a little fuzzy, not warm and fuzzy, more like static or an electrical shock kind of fuzzy.

My insides began to churn.

Isolda and Oliver both sat towards my right and the Baron sat towards my left. I was seated at the foot of the table and nobody sat at the head of the table. Which I now thought was odd. There was an empty seat towards the left, next to the Baron and nobody sat at the head. Did that mean I was sitting at the head?

The bird squawked and coughed. I looked at the bird, horrified at the oddly human cough. Its three beady eyes blinked at me and it squawked again.

"Myra dear," began Isolda, looking pensively at me, "I was just tellin' Knolend here about tha' situation yer in."

I snapped to attention and held my breath as she continued. 

"Yer head. I know its been few days past, it was a pretty nasty bashin'; do ye find memories slippin'? Or has ye been all sorted out?"

Ah. I know why she's asking.

I reach up and massage the side of my head, the scar is still tender, thick; no hair covers that side. I nod. "I have been having headaches a bit. But I am recovering. I'll be fine. I'm just a little out of sorts."

The truth was, I had no headaches. They wanted to ask me who I was and how I came here, but if I had memory loss from my injury, then all my odd behaviors could be explained away and they would ask no further. It was at least partially true, who was I? Really? And why was I here? I couldn't tell them even if I wanted to. Would they lock me away as a lunatic if I told them about the old crone?How I got here? How did  I get here?

Isolda gives a knowing nod, her mind made up.

Baron Knolend shifts to face me, "What be your name child?"

Out of the corner of my eye I see Oliver beckon encouragingly for me to answer.

I fiddle with my skirts and try to maintain eye contact when all I want to do is stare at my plate. "I- my name is Myra Adler-" I clear my throat, "-Sir."

Both the Baron and the Woodfords look a bit taken aback and I bite the inside of my cheek nervously, did I say something wrong?

The Baron coughed into his fist but I hear his laugh, " You may address me as Lord Knolend but simply Knolend will do."

Oliver interjects, a hint of harsh surprise in his voice, "Ye have a surname?"

I flinch. Is that bad??

"Ye are Myra of Ade Ler" Oliver said more composed but with a confused and distant look on his face, "I ne'er heard of Ade Ler."

"No!"

They all look at me and I swallow the unease clawing up my throat, " No- no, My name is Myra Adler. I am not Myra of Ade Ler. Just- just Myra Adler." 

Lord Knolend shares the same look of confusion on his face. Isolda reaches for my hand with a look of pity. My stomach turns. I quickly put my hands under the table.

"So you are of Noble blood? Gentry?" asks Lord Knolend.

"Who are yer parents dear." coos Isolda, her carefulness of tone shriveling what little ease I had felt since I had first came here.

" I- I don't know my mother, she left when I was young. My father is- is." I cannot swallow past the lump in my throat, the words in my mind but not on my tongue.

The Adults all exchange glances. I glower and my eyes burn as I furiously gulp and say,

"He's not dead. But he might as well be. He does not live but merely exists, never stirring from his self inflicted misery."

I stare hard and will myself to relax, I gaze at them unflinchingly, willing them to ask something else.  

The Baron's eyes soften and he says softly to me, "Brave girl you are."

"So you are not gentle?" asks Oliver, still very confused.

"No. I'm not particularly gentle."

Lord Knolend chuckled with a snort, "he means are you noble. That you are not I presume?"

I merely nod.

The baron muttered to himself quietly but I still heard him say, "Yet You speak well if a bit oddly and have a surname."

I try not to tremble but my hands shake. What will happen now? 

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Thanks for reading!

annddd 

the interrogation continues next chapter!