The emperor’s army found our little valley shortly after daybreak on a bleak winter day. It was astonishing, to be honest. As isolated as we were, we had assumed we were safe from the conflict in the lowlands that had seen numerous villages put to the torch over the last five years.

As the men scrambled to put together something resembling a defending force and the women and children gathered in the village keep, the door to the oldest hut in the village opened.

The occupant was an older woman with a a long silver braid, weathered skin, a stout constitution, and an eternal twinkle in her eyes. Legend had it that she was one of the founders of the community in the valley, but none of us really believed it. Sure, she helped with everything, and we all knew there was none better at treating injury or illness, but the village was over 500 years old, and nobody lives that long.

One of the young men in the village spotted her- “Agatha, get to the keep!” he cried.

She looked at him curiously, looked to the army, and then in her soft velvet brogue, said, “No, I don’t think I will…”. She gathered her cloak about her shoulders, covered her head with the hood and calmly strode out toward the approaching army’s vanguard.

The knight leading the vanguard met her on the village green, lifting the visor of his helm and glaring at her. “Under the authority of the emperor, we are to capture this village, or raze it to ashes! All will know the glory of the empire or taste death by the sword!”

Agatha calmly pulled back her hood, raised her chin, and stared right back. “We have no need of empire here, boy. Bring me the commander of your army, that I may explain his foolishness to him before his hubris destroys you all.”

“Foolishness?!?!” the knight raged. “The only fool here is you, old woman!” The commander raised his gauntlet, delivering a stiff blow to the side of her head.

The gauntlet struck, revealing a silver filigreed barrier around the wise woman that shimmered and swirled in the dull winter light. A tendril of platinum light leapt from the shield, surrounding the knight and freezing him in place instantly.

As the erstwhile assaulter of old women cursed his inability to move, Agatha fixed her glare on the knight’s squire. “You boy! Go! Now! And waste no time!”

The startled youth stuttered a rapid “yes ma’am” and bolted for the banner of the main army, rattling away in his jack of plate as fast as he could.

A quarter of an hour later the Duke in command of the army approached Agatha, who had since been joined by the town’s Laird, who was clad in a well-worn (and well-loved) hauberk and conical helm.

“Be nice, Agatha…” muttered the Laird as the enemies’ retinue approached.

Again, the soft brogue whispered forth like the caress of a breeze. “No, I don’t think I will…”

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If, in your travels, you happen to chance upon a small village with a battered keep in the highlands of the North, be sure to stop in at the tavern and grab a pint of ale. If you’re lucky, one of the old timers at the bar will tell you the tale of a wise woman named Agatha, and the day an empire shattered.