King Mansard Gregory II waited in the great hall. His dislike of the coming meeting was apparent on his face. Magan'est was one of his least favorite people. The King's counsel had dispersed, not that they would be allowed to stay in any account. The servants were hiding, except those that were forced to remain in earshot. Even his personal guard had widened the perimeter, giving Gregory's temper adequate room.

The great hall was built of stone, like the Goddess's temples. It sported four large hearths, two on north and two on the south walls. All were burning, along with ten wall-mounted candelabras with five candles each. The height of the candles made for a dull light that exasperated Greogoy's mood.

Gregory sat nearly at the end of a table built for twenty. His usual seat was at the head. He knew if he took it, Magna'est would take the opposite side and they would need to yell. Better to let the arrogant fool have the end by himself, even if it was insulting. He drummed his fingers on the table. Magna'est was late, as was the norm.

"His Eminence, the voice of the Goddess," a servant announced with a bow. Magna'est entered, followed by only one other of the Brethren. Gregory didn't rise. He chuckled at the shrunken entourage. Magna'est usually traveled with at least a handful of other Brethren.

"You fear this Red Demon that much?" Gregory said as he waved Manga'est to head of the table. Magna'est held up his hand and waited. Gregory knew he was waiting for all other ears to fully recede as instructed. A moment later, Magna'est was satisfied and moved toward the chair.

"The years have made me cautious," Magna'est answered. "Though we believe it to be nothing but a boy, it is better to be safe and not feed his cause." He took the offered seat at the end of the table, smoothing his white robes as he sat.

"And two is better than three." Gregory smiled, enjoying the idea of someone pushing Magna'est's buttons. Even if it was only a boy.

"You know well why it can't be three." Magna'est's eyes showed his anger. "You're getting older Mansard. Do you wish to risk your standing for a petty insult?"

"I find it entertaining that you've taken such precautions because of a boy. You can't really believe a prophecy from two thousand winter's ago."

"It's not the boy we fear, it's the commoner's mind we must remain wary of. It's what they believe that can unsettle things. It's best the boy dies, and we put an end to any heretic thoughts. On that count, you have failed us."

"Bah," Gregory groaned. "It's your hobbling of me that allows the boy to live. I lack the manpower to press a search. We thought we had him, but he slipped away into the forest. Somehow, he lost my best tracker." He raised his eyebrows at Magna'est.

"He is Unseen." Gregory smiled again at Magna'est's words. He thought he heard a bit a fear in them.

"So he'll need to be surrounded. You wish me to keep the Goddess's peace and track down one who can feel my men coming. Something will have to give. Which is it?"

"How many?"

"Two hundred."

"You can grow the King's Own by one hundred," Manga'est decreed.

Gregory nodded. He hid the satisfaction he felt. He was hoping for fifty. It was the first time the King's Own had grown in over a hundred winters. The Brethren had little tolerance for competition and had always kept the army well below threatening numbers.

"These commoners, the ones that fed the monster. What was their fate?" Magna'est asked.

"They claim it was fear that forced them to feed the boy. One, a woman, took us to a spot in the woods where the boy had killed her traveling companions. There were parts eaten off the bodies, and a head was missing. She claimed it was he who did it." Gregory thought it more likely a wild animal that did the eating.

"She's lying," Magna'est calculated.

"And she does it well, to anyone that will listen. She's also fertile, three little ones and counting."

Magna'est rose and paced along the table. He pulled at his cheeks, pursing his lips as he thought.

"Remind her of what happens when the Goddess is displeased. It is more than her neck on the line. The Goddess doesn't tolerate defiance or the spawn of those who defy." Gregory nodded. "Work her story into the others. Make sure that the commoners fear anyone with red hair."

"The barren tax is unsettling to the common folk. It's bound to cause more problems."

"We must encourage reproduction. The slavers bring us foreign-born, but there's a high failure rate. The language barrier is difficult to surmount, and their initial upbringing is questionable." Magna'est stopped pacing. "Our need will forever grow, and unless you wish to face armies the likes you have never seen, you'll encourage women to birth in greater numbers."

"The threats of forced beddings are more unsettling," Gregory added. Magna'est waved his concern away.

"The tax should be sufficient. I'll quell the other threats for now. Mayhap, we will work the idea into the liturgy over many years. Make a communal bedding into a blessed event, much like the Choosing. The Goddess knows we'll have to breed them quickly in the winters to come."

"Communal uprising most likely."

"Bah! They are sheep. Fear has kept them in line for thousand's of winters." Magna'est began pacing again. "You will learn this in time. It is a balance and heavily weighted to us. Our main concern is the growth of the Brethren and its correlation with the birthings."

"It can't continue forever," Gregory pointed out.

"It must. Everything depends upon it. In time you will come to see that."

"As always, I defer to you." Gregory sighed. There was little he could do to change things. Real power rested with the Brethren, and he was nothing but their thug.

"This boy travels with an old man. What do we know about him?"

"Little," Gregory admitted. "A storyteller by trade, though he kept no set pattern that we could discern. Rarely working a tavern more than once and many seasons between them."

"One must eat." Magna'est stopped pacing and raised his eyebrows.

"Hunting possibly, and rumors of private tellings. Ones where money and things have disappeared." Gregory shrugged his shoulders.

"A thief?"

"I understand he is entertaining. Could be used as a diversion."

"He may be the key to the boy. Interrogate other tellers. They must talk to each other. Mayhap, they know of this one and have some idea of where he would go."

"Somewhere north, if they stick to their path."

"If they are smart, they will turn." Magna'est started pacing again. "You will need to move quickly and attempt to be where they are going before they get there. The boy may shave his head, but we can be more diligent. Stop all those with red hair and of the proper age. Check the nether regions of any young bald boys. To be safe, dispose of anyone who fits the description."

"You would make having red hair a crime?"

"And do it publically," Magna'est continued, ignoring Gregory's question. "Display the bodies so that all will see, someplace well traveled. Let the common folk know that you hunt a demon and will leave no stone unturned. It will encourage them to assist."

"You grow the population with one hand, and shrink it with the other."

"It's a balancing act," Magna'est said with a nod. "A farmer does little different with his herds. Cut away the disease and encourage procreation with the healthy. Make no mistake that this boy is a disease, and we will stop at nothing to end it before it festers into a plague."

Gregory held back the words he desired to speak. He knew they would be fruitless and only lessen Magna'est's trust of his leadership. His position, his future, was dependant upon the Brethren's good graces. Wishing it to be untrue was a useless dream. He could easily be replaced and find himself a dead example displayed for all to see. The sheep had more freedom.

"Someone comes," Magna'est said as he returned to his seat at the end of the table. Gregory knew there could only be one person who would violate orders he had given. He was correct. Queen Margaery entered with a smile she never wore for him. Her graying hair was wrapped in circles atop her head, pinned in place with a sapphire laden butterfly. Her green silk dress flowed gracefully, hiding her aging walk.

"Your Highness," Magna'est said with a smile. He rose and gave her a deep bow. Gregory rolled his eyes at the show.

"So nice to see you again, your Eminence," Margaery replied. She held out her hand. Magna'est took it and kissed the ruby ring that signified her position. "Had someone informed me of your visit, I would have surely prepared a meal for you." She glanced at her husband and let her smile fade.

"I gave little warning to his Highness, my Queen. The Goddess doesn't always consider the finer things when she calls me to duty."

"Your sacrifices are well known to us all. The Goddess has chosen her servant most wisely." Margaery's queenliness was well tuned. Gregory still marveled at the way she could make her compliments sound sincere. Preserving their position was always on her mind, and she could play the part when called upon. Even her interruption was well timed. Gregory was moving toward anger the more that Magna'est spoke. Now, that anger had been diffused with idle formalities. Anger was a useless emotion when dealing with the Brethren. "Would you like me to put together some bread and cheese for you and your man?"

"Alas, a meal with you is a pleasure I have to forgo. My time is limited, and I must move on. I believe our talks are at an end, your Highness?" Magna'est continued with the faux formality, bowing to Gregory and waiting to be dismissed.

"They are, your Eminence." Gregory playing along, nodding his head to unnecessarily grant Magna'est permission to leave. The silly act was preferable to sharing a meal with the man.

"I promise to give fair warning on my next visit, my Queen. There is nothing I treasure more than you hospitality." Magna'est bowed again, kissing Margaery ring once more before heading toward the door. His entourage rose silently, bowed, and exited with him.

"More dictates?" Margaery asked her husband once the room was clear.

"It's now a crime to be a young man with red hair." Gregory sighed. "This red demon boy has them all tied up in knots. They fear the hope he could bring and want to crush it before it begins."

Margarey folded her hands under her bosom. Gregory had become used to the way she held him at arm's length. It was shared. The love had long died between the two. It had faltered well before the deaths of their two boys, though the incident had sealed it away forever.

"What will you do?"

"What he asks of me. You act as if I have a choice. At best, I can adjust the degree to which his demands are applied. You know this." Gregory firmly believed that Margarey enjoyed pointing out his weaknesses.

"Good. I'm too old for the Wilted Rose and too young to die." Margarey turned now that Gregory had confirmed that their position would be preserved.

"One day he'll take it too far," Gregory warned. It was a weak display of strength. An idle threat that would never materialize. It cost too much and, and at best, only slow the inevitable execution of Magna'est's decrees.

"Warn me before you embrace such stupidity," Margarey said and moved out of the room without looking back. She voiced her disdain clearly using the tone she reserved for a clumsy servant. For a brief moment, Gregory wondered what it would be like to run his sword through the woman. It wasn't just her death he was after, it was the surprised look on her face he desired most. To see her eyes wide with disbelief in place of her contempt would be a pleasure. The idea vanished as quickly as it came. Death was the Brethren's tool, and he was tired of deploying it at the moment.

In time, Gregory would make sure Margarey received her due. Her form of evil deserved no less.