Mordred heaved a sigh of relief when she finished her call with her queen. Give her a death-defying battle with harpies and dragons any day over a mirror call to her majesty.

  You can't babysit a child. Pathetic. Her knees were still shaking from the woman's curt tones as she said those words to her. Fortunately, she was given a second chance.

  "Time for an ale break, then the next task." She dusted off her armor and checked her greatsword, which was still sharp enough to slice through paper with one swift slash.

  Her instructions were to visit the next closest settlement called Mud Sling Village, where she would meet with a contact there.

  Her shadow birds and ghost cats had cleared her path through the forest roads, which led to the village.

  As she approached a narrow strip of stone that bridged a dark, misty, gorge for miles. She saw an armored person in full black tin plate armor and squarish, oversized, helmet at the bridge's center. Their hands were resting on the pommel of a greatsword, which was standing upright on the ground like a post they were leaning on.

  As she drew closer to stand halfway on the bridge, the armored person swiftly drew the sword and pointed it at her face.

  You shall not pass. A male voice sighed. It was carried toward her like a foul stench on a breeze.

  The gorge's darkness thickened as a heavy mist rose to swell around them.

  Mordred scoffed and unfurled a magical whip, causing it to crackle and glow with an orange, fiery light. "It's like that, is it? I'll have you know that I'm a servant of Veronica's Secret Brassiere Fires. And master wielder of the Whip Flames of Iknockyoudown. So, stand aside, little tin man."

  You shall not pass. The male voice firmly stated again; his stance unwavering as he suffered her testing whip cracks at his boots.

  Mordred took a few firm steps toward him.

  Dark fire will never reveal the way. Flame of udon newdle! Go back to the shadows, witch! The tin man lifted and stabbed his sword into the ground to make the bridge quake.

  Her eyes glanced around the gorge and saw an alternative path lower down, semi concealed by the shadowy mists.

  You shall not pass! The tin man continued to shout.

  She rolled her eyes, coiled her whip and said a spell to make it disappear. She called her shadow birds to flap around her.

  The tin man was still spouting off curses as her birds flew her to the lower path, and she landed to the small ledge on the other side of the gorge. She raced up the path, which eased upward to the forest.

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  The man yelped when the bridge crumbled and collapsed at his feet to send him dropping into the gorge. "Bloody hell, not again!"

  His voice echoed and faded into the gorge's depths, and was soon silent.

  Mordred resumed her journey through the forest to the village. She arrived at a set of shacks in mud pits. Locals were flinging mud around the foundations and on the walls to make them muddier. The shacks were huddled around a gallows at the center. A note was pinned to one of the beams.

  "Monday - Thursday: Hangman Game Night with real men to hang! Friday: Bingo with real men to hang. Saturday: Ladies Night, free drinks and pot luck hangings." One of Mordred's shadow birds read and relayed into her mind.

  A small group of soldiers in steel plate armor walked around the gallows' stage to stand before it.

  When she was close, they parted to make way for a noble to trot toward her on a dark steed, which seemed to be groaning beneath his weight. The nobleman was a roundish looking fellow in a lavish robe with gold and silver trims. An oversized feathered hat was over his head and a pointy brown mustache to his upper lip, where the tips curled towards his piggy cheeks.

  "Well, you certainly are a powerful lady to pass the Tin Man on the Bridge." The nobleman chortled.

  "Naturally," she answered.

  The noble clicked his fingers and two soldiers rush onto the scene carrying a table and two chairs. They placed it in the space between them and began setting up high tea.

  "I think it's time for tiffin. Spot of tea?" The noble was assisted off his horse and to one of the chairs.

  She shrugged her shoulders and accepted her place on the other chair.

  "I say, your queen is a most becoming ruler. I look forward to our business together." He raised a fine bone china tea cup in a salute.

  Mordred nodded and allowed him to introduce himself. She nodded upon learning that his name was Gawain. Baron to the lands and second cousin of a second cousin to Chancealot's king and (most importantly) intending to usurp the man's rule. Of course, in order to kick out the king, he needed the support of a powerful queen. Naturally, the Witch Queen was his first pick at being his business partner. Morgana had sent him a message earlier via pigeon post; alerting him of Mordred's visit to aid his cause.

  After tea and talk were shared, Mordred was on her way to complete her next set of actions.

  "Follow her in secret and see if we can exploit an opportunity to our further advantages," Gawain said to his most trusted warrior, who was an excellent dancer.

  The warrior bowed and left to do his bidding.

  Tea was packed away, and the men left the village.