The Saxon reconnaisance group had been driven back from Polish teritory as expected without more losses than necessary. A small but proper victory for the allied forces of the baltic sea.

The battlefield a glen that was divided into two snowy pieces of rough land by a frozen river layed before the Swedish forces. Now they where taking position with their friends to face a slightly more dangerous enemy. Better in numbers only though as the Irish where still no match for German knights. Yet while the Saxons where trusting in their god an armour and their arrogance the Irish practiced a mixture of worshiping the old gods and black magic of their queens. People said their soldies had been murdered by the witch or transformed into brainless monsters that followed her into doom. If one saw the black cloud of birds of prey above the forces that were drawing nearer it was hard to not believe such tales.

Now only hours before the decesive clash of evil and rather not so evil the Swedish Konungr lead his stead in front of his men.

Soldiers of Sweden! I speak to you on a day people will remember. Many of you shalt not return and many a man will achieve his final call to Valhall today. See those around you. Gathered from all the world to erase the shadow of shame from their names and to silence the voice of the Muspelsons. See the shiny knights of Poland and the bold warriors of Lithunia. There is no surrender there is no retreat and if we should part from this field we shall remark the wounds our swords have bitten. And one day the Irish witch will burn and all her spell and casts with her. They may not be of human kind but we are neither normal mortal beings! We are the choosen of Thor and Oden!

Stand your ground. Sverige!

The men echoed with a thunderous cheer and the earth shook as they stroke their shields with axes and swords. Nobles and ordinaries alike. In front he saw the berserks of Bor crying themselves in rage. Behind the heavy infantry of the Svear preparing the shield wall. And on the flanks there was the newly formed cavalry group under his very own command. It would be a glorious day.

The day is won!
Oden!
Victory cries mixed up with the sound of people dying. The soldiers started to take their share of the plunder slaying the few remaining enemies that guarded the supplies.
Now dead reigned upon the field and blessed were those that had died from an arrow or an axe. For now unanmed cruelties and murder asked their pay.

They had been less than expected but well equiped. When they were just crossing the frozen river down in the glen the horns of war had announced the attack. Down the hill the Swedish warriors had run and down the hill the enemy had turned just to die on the banks of the river.
Countless footmen and two nobles had fallen to the konungr's axe and his men had defeated many foes alike.

At the dusk the last Irish and Saxon nobles were surrounded including their queen and her playfellow.
They had a last chance to escape if they would leave their men dying and take the fastes horses. Or they could surrender to the troops of Lithunia and Sweden they had insulted so much.

Tell Molly the harlot and Majestic the weakling they can surrender at any time. Dietrich den Uxi said to the commander on the scene and rode away to welcome his Polish friends.
In the last light of day he saw a Saxon troop approach the valley so small they could be there only for the purpose of delivering the capitulation of the Empire.

Molly looks up from the carnage of her once owner caused. She stood firmly. "I would rather die right now than to serve you any more! May God strike you down! With all the heretics that follow you." With that Molly continued once more through her pain to do an Irish jig. "Oh by the way Dietrich that wording is exactly why I hate you. It wasn't enough to own a nation, but to degrade them for the fear inside? Never is that acceptable no matter the race of people. You should be ashamed, and I will never surrender to the likes of you! Here is your chance just kill me you jealous slime."

Kill her? A weak and mad woman? Dishonour his axe by waisting one of his deadbringing strikes for such a shamefull creature? Never.
The Swedish Konungr was in disgust and amused at the very same moment.

He turned to a messenger always present at his side. Send word to the Polish and Lithunians.
I want to know if they feel owned by us. They are our friends and more than twice as big. If the Irish words are true we should have enslaved them totally by now. And please be so kind and add a question to King Leszczynski. If I am not mistaken the inquisition of his church searches for this hardly human being. He may want to inform Rome.


He turned to the lair of the demons again. I own but one nation you worthless scum. And you have underestimated it for the last time. You are too ridiculous to bother my men with you any further.
If you try to break out in our direction my men have order to set the meadow on fire so you taste the flames of catharsis.

King Wladyslaw, reached by one of his squires, headed to the Swedish camp in Lusatia. Accompanied by his council, he approached King Dietrich's tent.

"My friend! I am not surprised by your chrushing victory over the Green Witch's forces", said the Polish king, grabbing a chalice of wine from one of his servants, "One of your men reached our camp and gave ma a short letter from you. My answer is: Yes, we are most interested in taking this witch to face a trial". The king stopped for a moment, to take a sip from his chalice. "She will confess to everything, oh she will confess...", he smiled at king Dietrich.

It's been some time hasn't it.
The Konungr smiled with grim satisfaction on his face as his Polish friend entered the door.
I didn't hear much about your treatment of heretics but what I heard should suit to what this creature deserves.
He made a short break to taste the Polish wine as well and a pleased grunt showed the audience he liked it.
Yet it is upon the Lithunians to decide wether they take them prisoner or hunt them in the woods so they flee west and bedevil Saxony.
I was on the Southern flank where our cavalry crushed their lines. They had not enough pikes and no coordination. A bunch of savages one would say. Not the grand brigades in the colours of their kingdoms anymore. Her sister was a high Banrion of Ireland and when we fought Saxony the last time I saw men from all the places of Ireland. Now there are hardly enough to fight brigands on the street and the colour of Ulster where lacking totally in this battle while Connaught seems to have send only farmers. Only Laigin and Muman where to be seen in full strength. This aren't the Irish I knew anymore and it's a shame what has been done to them by this demon.

King Wladyslaw nodded. He took another sip of the wine, and by a gesture of hand ordered his servant to pour more of this red drink into his and King Dietrich's chalices. "If we will finally get rid of this witch and free the nation of Ireland, we will need to find a suitable successor to her rule. I am afraid that Minister Majestic would not be able to handle the crown of Ireland. I am looking forward to see a real christian ruler on the throne of Ireland. Those people deserve better than a mad witch to be their leader". King Wladyslaw called in one of his advisors, Count Kazimierz Wisniowiecki.

"My friend, I hope you will not mind, if I will invite the honourable Grand Duke of Lithuania to join us here...", after a moment of pause, he adressed his advisor, and said in Polish:

"Panie Wisniowiecki, badzcie tak dobrzy i sprowadzcie tu do nas w goscine szlachetnego Wielkiego Ksiecia Litewskiego. Sa istotne sprawy do omowienia i dobrze, by zasiadl i wieczerzal tu wespol z nami". *



Translation: "Lord Wisniowiecki, please be so kind and ask the noble Grand Duke of Lithuania to join us. We've got important matters to discuss, so it is most desired that he sat with us and had his dinner here".

Right I hope he will be here in time for I have to inspect my men before the Saxons attack.
I intend to enjoy this little skirmish with them.
Yet one comment had left a bitter taste in the mouth in the Konungr's mouth.
A Christian king you say... I assume there are families of noble blood that could claim the throne at the moment. Yet christianity came to that land with Seighin Cumhaill and all those converted under her reign seem to be with the army we have just defeated. I fear there is no christianity in Ireland but an excuse for a cast of nobles to sit on the throne while the heathen population is supressed. It is to be doubted if there is anyone christian capable of cooperating with us.

He emptied the cup once again.
Sure you can try. If it helps bringing stability to Ireland. But be aware it may be needed to destry evil from the roots not only defeat there armies here if you intend to change their rulers.

Molly shook her head to listen to the fools speak. She stood her ground not giving in for a single moment. These same fools who would judge her for Andulsia war. Oh a larger country out numbering their enemy. Bullying them, and yet this is exactly what these fools have done.

Molly would never give them what they wanted. Already she smiled to see her entire eleven knights in jail with her. "Oh right what a grand force the royal defenders were. So massive, and such a threat." She sarcastically spoke to her fellow captives. "Shame they can't see past the end of their arses. It is me they wanted. They had me, but had to continue to abuse all Irish. They have the nerve to call themselves good people." Rolling her eyes Molly moves around in the dark underground hole they crammed the prisoners in. She looked at the tools of torture. "Let them do their worst. Take away our nature, our light, and our freedom, but they will never break me. They will never make me subservient to any but God himself! Hear their claims echoing. Hear them planning on placing their king to rule the Irish. They are shameful in their obvious efforts to control another country. All while claiming not to. Idiots are fools and blind."

No sooner had Molly finished speaking than the cover over the under ground hole was lifted. Molly found herself grabbed by her red locks, and lifted her from the hole. She was helpless to stop such treatment, but it was beyond atrocious for any to do to another of royalty and rank.

The pain shooting through her was unmistakable to her. Her focus now went to preventing herself from crying out. Hearing the cover again slammed shut, and her still being manipulated around by her hair as if she was some sort of doll in a child's hands.

What would come next even Molly wouldn't have guessed they would stoop to. Taking a cold knife to her top the sounds of both her armor and clothing being shredded from her body could be heard even through the barred cover of the pit. Another guard proceeded to carry over strong silver chains, and Molly was then chained to a large wooden box with boulders of steel with in it.

Finally her scalp collapsed to her skull as her knees crashed to the floor. Molly instantly fell hunched over attempting to cover her body while the knife went to work upon her hair. Chopping it very short, and removing her flaming glory. Molly could see from the sides of her eyes a pair of leather boots. Belonging to a man who would speak.

"Molly Cumhaill, Murderer and rapist of Ireland, you stand accused of witchery. Working against God almighty with your black arts, and fighting the Pope himself in his efforts to heal your tattered soul. Do you confess your crimes?"

Molly remained upon her knees curling over to hide her privacy as much as she could. "No I will never." Molly spoke quite clearly. With in seconds the lashing sound of a whip being used rang around the dungeon. Over and over again until her flesh broke and bled. This would continue through the hours to come, and Molly would forever be scarred at the hands of the Polish, Swedish, and Lithuanian inquisitors.