Age of Faith

Episode 7's

On speaking it as a whole. He lowered his gaze. “Although I cannot speak for my uncle, is it not enough that he did not besiege Lillia Castle?” The silence, and the longer it grew, the more terrifying it felt.

Wondering where he was wrong, he looked up. Henry's face flushed. "That's not enough." He swallowed. "What is enough, my lord?" "From his own lips he will renounce his loyalty to Stephen." And if he doesn't? “As you know, my uncle is weak.

If you ask him this, I'm afraid it will break the already broken hearts in many places. ” “You want me to leave Aillil with his master who is still firm on Stephen? I didn't come in here just to quench my thirst and hunger, Annyn Bretanne.

I came to take this baron from Stephen.” To whom it did not belong for several years, though Uncle was unable to force himself to precede the false king. Once again, Annyn wonders if she was wrong in supporting the duke, but that means Jonas has made a mistake.

And that's not possible. “There's another way, Annyn Bretanne.” "My lord?" “Ya, and most satisfying. You will marry the man of my choice.” Realizing that she was not referring to her marriage after she became king, but rather sooner, Annyn's boot legs stuttered from under the bench. “And for that, your uncle might hold on to Stephen if that's what he'll do. We agree?” As if it was so simple.

Like he had a choice. But even though she hated it, marriage was inevitable. As Uncle's heir, she must marry; as Henry's subject, she must make an alliance with one of his. "agreed. You'll send word when a suitable husband is found?"

"The offer I made was you get married tomorrow." She's surprised. “Besok?” His eyes sparkled, and he realized that this proposal had not come to him all of a sudden. Perhaps no one deserves to wear the British crown, he was angry before punishing himself for judging him only on how his rise affected him.

For all that is told about Henry, and with his actions, he will be a worthy king—better than Stephen and far better than Stephen's brutal son, Eustace.

"I'll get your answer now, Annyn Bretanne." He looked to the hall dwellers, one of whom Henry would choose to make his possessions—trepery, the servant who directs the servant, the body to shed ****man, the uterus to breed. That's all he wanted

One of these drunken sots. Worse, it means her brother's death is not avenged and Wulfrith will never know Jonas's pain. He struggled but turned away from the dark desire.

He would not let Uncle Artur suffer any further. "I accept your proposal, My Lord, but if I am a man, such a requirement is unacceptable." She laughs. "Are you a man, Annyn Bretanne, there's no point in me giving such a term to you."

Under the cover of the very long sleeves of her mother's bliaut, she clasped her hands tighter and rebuked herself for speaking with the tongue of a child. Henry won his cup. “It's been completed. Tomorrow you will marry.”

He swept his gaze around the hall as if searching for the groom, and his eyes were fixed on one further down the master's table. A baron, he believes, and young, maybe one score and five. Although he knows he should be grateful he's not decrepit—indly, he's handsome—he seems to like his beer, as evidenced by the weaving on his head and the stains on his tunic. If there's one thing Annyn hates, it's excessive drinking.

“Next, there will be no more swordplay, no more tilt, no more hunting.” He knows. Something inside him shriveled. Not married and tied up.

There was nothing left for him other than boring female tasks, which he could only do a little. "Yes, my lord." "Also, my dear wife, Eleanor, would suggest that sandals are a better choice under women's skirts." He curled his fingers into his palms, his toes in his boots.

“And he will be right, my lord. Is there anything else he would suggest?” "That's all." He knew he had to stay in the hall to direct the servants, but he could not. He would attend Uncle Artur, then retreat to his own room. While he was in the middle of the hall, Henry's captive once again fell to his attention.

The bodyguard slumped with his hands upside down, unaware of the noisy escort that had been brought with him. If it wasn't for his arrest, it would have belonged to Wulfrit

the hall where he sat, the Wulfrith he answered, Wulfrith—

He must have only thought about Uncle Artur. Before long, he entered the sun. It was shining, the fire in the fireplace painted the walls orange and yellow. Although nowhere in all of Lillia was warm and excited, the bargain Henry made left her numb.

He looked to where Uncle was lying on the colonnaded bed, then to Rowan who was sitting on the chair beside him. "He's sleeping?" Before he could answer, Uncle's eyelids lifted. “Anni.” He rushed forward, sank to the edge of the mattress, and kissed his eyebrows.

"I'm here." "You ... look at that woman." As he rarely does. "I've tried." He touched his sleeve. “I remember the last time your mother wore this dress. Such a beautiful woman.” That's how everyone remembers Elena Bretanne.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Annyn was unable to find the woman who gave birth to her. Uncle Artur sighed. "Aillil belongs to Henry now." Although it was as Annyn wanted, she felt a hint of satisfaction. “This.” “Jonas I was right. Better king to be made Henry.” Annin cupped his face. “Rest, Uncle.”

“Baron better that Jonas.” will make If it wasn't for Wulfrit. His eyelids were shaking down. "And I'll be a better husband." He was surprised and glanced at Rowan who was also shocked in shock. "We love," his uncle sighed. Annin shook her head. "Uncle?" Rowan let out a short and bitter laugh. “So it's the way.” Annyn met the gaze of the one who first became her father's knight, who was always close to removing bumps and bruises regardless of whether it was unintentional or caused by her master's bad temper.

She grimaced remembering the bad humor that did not escape their mother. Although Father Cornelius would say Annyn and Jonas were evil, they were relieved after the death of the man who sired them. Soon, they come with their mother to Lillia, and Rowan takes them.

No one trusted Annyn more. Everything he taught him: horses, peddling, swords, spears, bows. He will never know her like Jonas knew her, but he is a friend. He squeezed his temple. “She is the one.”