The Helem territory was a lush, green beltway of trees, meadows, and yellow wildflowers. Where Perenenda’s father’s territory of Nathamaket was primarily rocky terrain with most of the greenery confined in the city of Salvasing, Helem had an abundance of growth in the open fields. They were a lower territory than her father’s, she knew, and benefited from the water channeling down from the mountain ranges known as the Marches. 

It had been years since she visited her uncle Helembasil, head of the Helem clan. He was a cousin of her mother’s, close enough in relation to call him uncle, but not close enough for her stubborn father to consider him family. Her father always held fast to the principle of purity in the family line, while it was known that when Lord Helembasil was young and before we was wed, he sowed his oats widely and had fathered many illegitimate children. Because of the moral transgressions of his past, he could not speak in favor of the king’s opinion of illegitimacy, to the dismay of King Burulgi.

To the king, there was nothing worse than a Rootless, a bastard born without a name and a true family tree. There were jokes that Helembasil shouldn’t even be called a Tree Lord, or a head of the family, as he had more Rootless than actual Tree. To Lord Helembasil, there was nothing worse than being a hypocrite. To him, he was the lord of all people, not just those who deserved it.  It was said that in his older years, Lord Helembasil remained a true father to all of his children, even though they could not bear the name of his clan. 

Perenenda only remembered him as an old man, and even then that was years ago. Lord Helembasil’s castle was low and sprawling, and almost humble. Cypress groves surrounded the stone walls. As they neared the castle,  Perenenda’s company was stopped by a dozen Helem guards, dressed in the brown and white colors of the Helem flag.

"I come here to see Lord Helem," she told them. 

“The lord’s castle is not a marketplace for anyone to visit, girl,” one of the guards said. “And with you bringing this host with you. What are your intentions, marching into here?”

“I’m afraid I don’t answer to you,” she said.

Big Tim approached the guards. “Do you know who this is?”

A different guard looked her up and down and elbowed the first guard. “Maybe we should get the Captain,” he said.

“Fine, you go get her,” the other replied. 

The guard retreated and ran off into a small circular single story building made of red stone.

“The Captain doesn’t take kindly to those encroaching on our Lord,” the remaining guard said.

The guard returned, followed by a woman in an officer’s uniform. She had short black hair and thick arms and legs. She marched straight up to Perenenda, and Big Tim started to intercept her. 

The officer stopped and bowed. “Your grace, my men have never ventured out of our territory and did not recognize you."

"But you did," Perenenda said. 

"Yes your grace," the officer answered.  "I have been to your father's court several times.  I was there when the Song Lord won your hand in the tourney.  I am Dao, and I lead this rag tag crew of Rootless in service to our Lord Helembasil."

"That is a unique bracer," Perenenda noted. 

Dao had on her left arm a black bracer shaped like a scorpion with various razers and spikes protruding from her knuckles.  She raised a scythe with a pronged tip, also black and fashioned like a scorpion.  

Kamfongil unsheathed his own sword until Perenenda told him to put it away.  It gave her comfort that the Butcher was protecting her.  She glanced over to Big Tim, who winked at her. 

"A scythe is an interesting choice for a weapon," Big Tim said. 

"This war scythe is my own design.  I modified a fauchard until I could use it like a scythe.  Best against a charging cavalry, I can also split a steel helm in two," Dao said, handing the war scythe to the princess. "I am the arms maker for my Lord Helembasil."

"Sounds like a prestigious role," Perenenda said.  "Are all your soldiers Rootless?"

"We are, as am I," Dao replied. 

“My father would not approve of Rootless being in position to guard a Lord, much less a woman,” Perenenda said. “His title-fur has over a hundred beads, each representing a proud generation of Burul warriors. Twenty-one of those beads have been kings of Neredun. That’s over six hundred years of rule. Tradition is important to him. But alas I am not my father. I was taught by the Lady Namsuren, the mother of my husband, that every person has a root, a stem, and the potential to bear fruit that benefits the world.”

“The Lady Namsuren was wise before her passing, but her words stay true today,” Dao said. “How can I be of service, your grace?”

"I seek an audience with the Lord Helem," Perenenda said.  "Often he had laid his title-fur beside my father and spoke of the Pyderi scourge.  My father had promised to one day help my uncle rid himself of this trouble.  I am here to make good on this promise."

"Do you hate the Pyderi so?" Dao asked. 

"They are thieves and deceivers, so yes," Perenenda replied. 

"My mother is Pyderi," Dao said. 

Perenenda blushed. "I...I meant no..."

"It is alright," Dao interjected.  "I share in your hate of the Pyderi.  I'll help you make good that promise. Come, your grace.”

Dao led them past the gates of the castle, where her traveling numbers stayed. Perenenda continued on with the two Tims and Kamfongil to the palace of Lord Helembasil.  It was a modest house, square and flat.

"This Pyderi business," Kamfongil said as they neared the house, "is it about helping your uncle, or is it about proving yourself?"

"You have sold your sword to me, why does it matter?" Perenenda responded. 

"If you want to prove a point, I can make sure that point is well proven," he said.  "We are the Butchers for a reason.  I have a contract with you, and no oath or bond is greater than a contract.  As long as we are under contract, others will not be able to tell the difference between what is sworn and what is sold.  But for you, you should know the difference.  There will never be a need to get your own hands dirty so long the Butchers have our contract."

"You make me nervous," Big Tim said. 

When they reached the house, Dao directed them toward the entrance. 

"You will not come with us?" Perenenda asked. 

"Alas I am not allowed inside," Dao said.  "This is the station of the Rootless."

A servant led them into Helembasil's hall. It was a small but open room filled with plants. The Lord was a long faced aging man with a bald top and long hair on the sides of his head. He sat with his wife on a cushioned seat with a small blanket on his lap, sipping on tea. The Lady had a round face with thin unhappy lips and short grey curls. When the Lord saw Perenenda , he clasped his hands in joy.

"Nendi!" he called as he rose and embraced her.

"You call me that as if I am still a child," she said, returning the embrace. 

“You’re always a child to me,” he smiled. “Nendi, what are you doing here? Does your father know you're here?”

"I am passing through, uncle. I travel own my own accord, not my father’s. I am in command of my own army. Seventy, here with me.  Let me introduce Captain Kamfongil, Big Tim and his son, Little Tim."

"Your son, eh?" Helembasil said. "You don't look too much alike. Why would you need an army, Nendi?”

"And what do you mean, passing through?" his wife asked. "Passing through to where?"

"To join my lord husband in Kienne," she said. “Our numbers are few, but I look to aid him with whatever strength we can provide.”

"Oh your father would not approve," Helembasil said. "Such terrible business for Sarengerel to leave after the wedding day.  A general's place is with his army, in defense of his country.  A husband's place is with his wife, to build a family."

His wife crossed her arms and stared out the window. 

"Tell me about the Pyderi," Perenenda said. 

"Oh the Pyderi!" the lord's wife spat while still looking away. 

"Nona!" Helembasil protested.  "You spit in your own house!"

"The Pyderi nest where they can in the foothills, roaming from place to place where we can't find them, and they wait until harvest and they pillage from decent folk," Nona said, trembling from anger.  "If your uncle only could spare the men to go hunting for them."

“Why have you not taken action against them, uncle?”

“Because of that girl outside!” Nona snapped. “Because her mother is out there, and your uncle will not let any harm come to the girl’s mother. Meanwhile they take advantage of your uncle’s inaction and continue to raid our villages.”

"I have men to spare, and I will go hunting for them for you," Perenenda said. 

"Good!" Nona exclaimed.  "And take that Pyderi half breed girl with you.  Unite her with her mother and send them both to the Field God for judgement."

"Captain Dao?"

Helembasil placed his hand on Perenenda's arm.  "Niece, this is terrible business, all of it.  I don't place your father's duties in your hands."

"Uncle, with your leave I will have Captain Dao aid me in cleansing the Pyderi scourge," Perenenda said.  "Sol's Day is coming, and I have limited supplies.  With your permission I would like some supplies from your food stores and wine from your cellar."

"Of course, all men should participate in the celebrations. I’ll give you a wagon of supplies to help you on your journey," Helembasil nodded, motioning to a servant. “Nendi...Dao has no love for the Pyderi.  But she can try too hard. She may be reckless, even.  Watch her for me."

Perenenda kissed the cheeks of both the Lord and his wife. “It has been good to see you.”

“I wish I could have come to your wedding,” Helembasil said. “These old bones are not built for traveling.”

She bade them farewell and walked out, meeting with Dao. She hadn’t moved from her spot. 

"I hope that fancy weapon of yours has seen the field," Kamfongil told Dao. 

"Take us to the Pyderi, by order of your Lord," Perenenda said.  "How many rag tags do you have?"

"A strong seventy, my lady," Dao replied. "If that is the order of my Lord, I go to make them ready now."

Dao's soldiers did not take long to be ready, marching out with various shields, armor and weapons.  While Kamfongil’s Butchers at least had a semblance of uniformity, Dao's Rootless didn’t appear to have anything in common except being armed and armored from head to toe with forged black steel.

The servants brought a wagon full of supplies, food, and wine, pulled by two fresh horses. 

“Lord Helembasil is generous,” Big Tim said. 

“Don’t mistake this for being free,” Kamfongil said. “It’s to be paid for by the blood of the Pyderi. As pleasant as these Tree Lords seem, they’re all about one thing, preserving their precious clan family tree.”

“It’s what kept these Tree Lords in power,” Perenenda said. “They believe even the mightiest storm cannot shake powerful trees with deep roots. It’s all those that cannot be sheltered from the storm that we need to look after now.”

“And what about you, Butcher?” Big Tim asked. “What of your own family tree?”

Kamfongil straddled his horse. “Family was everything to me once. And now they’re gone. Now I hunt in their memory. It’s time to go hunting for some Pyderi.”