“You still alright over there?” he asked, feeling a twinge of guilt over his inability to put his real feelings into words.

Amanda sighed and made eye contact again. “It’s not like the manor,” she said, “I feel like a refugee. Still no hot water and the food is as stale as ever, but at least we’re sleeping on mattresses rather than the floor now…”

“Man, that’s rough,” Theseus ruffled his hair, unsure of whether he should be feeling guilty for Godhand’s condition or not, “They not even got themselves new digs yet?”

“It’s all politics,” replied Amanda, biting her lip to try and discourage the increasing curve of her frown, “I don’t hear a lot officially, but I’ve done my fair share of ‘research’. Bishop Wotan held everything together, but since he was exposed many of those loyal to him have fled, and those who remain carry the burden of his dishonour. You wouldn’t believe how much family politics plays in this. The Garland name is permanently disgraced; Astrid has gone from highly respected daughter of a Bishop to laughing stock with robes black from dirt. Along with anyone else associated with the Bishop or those who supported, she’s been reduced to slave labour, while those now leading our contingent are hoarding supplies for a counter-attack to ‘reclaim their honour and standing’ in the eyes of the Patriarchs…”

Amanda’s image flickered, shifting from a red-hue to a green one as the system re-encoded her transmission. While her former friends had been running around chasing rumours and whispers, she had been living rough, a slave to politicking families, and all in part because of the actions of those very friends. Why couldn’t things be as simple as good and evil were in movies?

“Damned politics,” sighed Theseus, not knowing what else to say, “More crap goes way over my head. Johno’s been moaning about it too. Sounds like the Academy is just as bad what with all this mercenary SEELIE crap…”

Amanda perked her, inquisitive light flashing in her large eyes. “SEELIE?”

“Yeah, apparently some mercenary group that runs the place. Didn’t have a clue that’s what we’d signed up for, though it makes a lot more sense now…”

“I’ve heard the name before. Some of the higher-ups talk about it. Bishop Wotan said they raised child armies to fight demons. Sometimes wonder how that’s different to Godhand, but…”

Theseus shook his head. “Man, it’s just everyone doing the same thing with different names for it. Just a bunch of old men making us fight their battles for them,”

“To be fair, Bishop Wotan was against that sort of thing. But then again he ended up betraying the church, so… I don’t know anymore. I just want to live in peace,”

“Yeah, same. Just wanna make sure this town’s protected, you’re safe, everyone else is safe. I trust this SEELIE as much as I trusted Godhand. Hell, it’s like no one gives a shit about us normal peeps around here…”

***

“At least the town is safe for the time being,” said the Chief, his old leather chair creaking as he leaned back, “No word from the council about further support, though. Since Rosencrantz died and his supporters fled they’ve lost all sense or order,”

Tes grunted her disapproval, though she learned not to be surprised by SEELIE’s lack of kindness. She’d signed up to the mercenary group after hearing their promises of adventure, travel and heroics. The reality did not reflect her teenage dreams.

“There’s not enough of us to deal with this,” she said, “Can’t SEELIE understand we’re going up against renegade faeries – from the Royal Courts no less?”

Chief Payne raised an intrigued eyebrow. “Since when was SEELIE a charity, Lieutenant? If the local council won’t provide us with the support we need to run further cells, we won’t receive them.”

That was the frustrating reality: SEELIE deployed mercenary cells to areas where they were provided with homes and supplies. Torsten’s council supplied them with the old school building, a variety of houses peppered around the eastern fringes of town, and a weekly shipment of food brought in from local farms. It was the bare minimum to maintain the organisation’s presence and the council could, at any time, cut them short and have them shipped out.

Chapter 57
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