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Elf Academy 3: The Enemy Within  by Fiondil

36: What the Twins and Serindë Get Up To

Elladan plopped his bag on the bed that would be his and sighed. The drive down from Wiseman was typical, meaning that it was slow and dull, especially in winter. By the time they were leaving Wiseman it was almost eight o’clock. They got as far as Coldfoot, about fourteen miles from Wiseman, when Elrohir suggested they stop for breakfast and fill up on snacks and extra gas, knowing that for the next two hundred and sixty miles there would be no gas stations or restaurants. However, it took them longer than anticipated to have breakfast and gather their supplies and then they discovered that the road south was blocked by the blizzard that came swooping down from the Brooks Mountains. Elladan was willing to try their luck but Elrohir convinced him that it would be wiser to stay put until the storm had passed, so they ended up spending the night there, all three chafing at the delay.

The next morning they lingered over breakfast again so it was nearly ten before they were back on the road and now, here it was going on five. He hated the drive to Fairbanks and eventually they would have to do it all over again in the opposite direction.

Taking a look around the room, he noted two queen-size beds, a TV, a small refrigerator, microwave and he knew there was also Wi-Fi. The bathroom was to the right as one entered with an open closet across from it. He went to the window to look out. The Alpine Lodge was situated southwest of the city’s downtown, not far from the airport and just south of the University in a country setting. From the window he could see onto the road that led to the airport. He turned as his brother and Serindë came inside and looked around. Elrohir was carrying two large bags, while Serindë held a small carry-on as well as her purse.

“Home sweet home it isn’t,” Elrohir said, “but I guess it’ll do in a pinch. I see you’ve already claimed the bed nearest to the bathroom, Brother, so I guess, Sarah, you get the window.” He placed one of the bags he was carrying on the second bed and put the other bag down on the floor by it. Serindë dropped her bag next to a chair and her purse on the table that was opposite the beds and sat.

“Do you think this is a good idea, the three of us sharing a single room?” she asked. “I can just imagine what the Mortals must think about that.”

“I don’t care what they think,” Elladan said in a distracted voice as he turned back to look outside. “It’s none of their business what our sleeping arrangements are.” He turned away from the window and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Elrohir asked, looking frustrated. Dan had been close-mouthed all the way down to Fairbanks, speaking only when asked a direct question and then mostly in short, rather uninformative sentences. It had been an awkward trip filled with too many silences.

“I’m going to check the place out,” Elladan said. “I’ll be back in a while.” With that, he left, giving them no time to object.

Serindë stared at her fiancé, a worried look on her face. “He’s still so angry, angrier than you.”

Elrohir gave her a rueful smile as he settled on the edge of one of the beds patting it and she got up from the chair and joined him. He put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a kiss on the temple before he spoke. “He was always the angrier one, at least on the surface. Mir and Ernie’s dismissal hurt him.”

“And you? Are you not equally hurt?”

Elrohir shrugged. “I guess, but it’s done and cannot be undone so what’s the point? Staying angry just gives Mir and Ernie more power over us. I learned that lesson with the orcs, though it took close to five hundred years for me to realize what my anger was doing to me, and to others. Loren helped me to see it. As long as I gave into my anger, the orcs won, even if they were all dead.”

“So what do we do now?” she asked. “We’re supposed to be getting married. We can’t stay here forever.”

“I suppose not,” he said with a frown. “Right now, I am just not in the mood to go back to Wiseman. We need to cool off, Dan especially. Give us a week, maybe two. I promise we will return soon.”

“I should call my parents or email them and let them know we’re okay. I know they must be worried for us.”

“Email them,” Elrohir suggested. “If you talk with them on the phone you’ll start crying.”

She gave him a scowl. “How do you know that?”

He smiled. “Because I know you.” He bent down and kissed her gently on the lips and for some time afterwards all thoughts of contacting parents or worrying about the future fled as the two enjoyed each other’s presence, though they went no further than kissing. After a while they broke apart, both trying to catch their breaths, looking and feeling a bit flustered.

“So, if I have this bed and Dan has the other, where will you sleep?” she asked coyly once they were calmed down.

Elrohir raised an eyebrow. “I plan to share the bed with Dan. We’ll take turns sleeping.”

She looked startled at that. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Someone has to be on watch.”

“I… I don’t understand. Why do you have to be on watch?”

“Because, whether you realize it or not, Sarah, we’re at war and we do not let down our guard. Dan and I will take turns standing watch while you sleep.”

She stood up, looking down at him in disbelief. “That’s ridiculous. We’re not at war. No one’s shooting at us or hunting us. We’re in a hotel in Fairbanks, not in the middle of the wilderness.”

Elrohir looked at her calmly, taking one of her hands and caressing it. “I told you once that you should never forget the fact that I am a warrior and always will be. Whether you realized it or not, the moment we met Lord Manwë in Santa’s Grotto when we went to find Zach and Nicole and her children and he told us what our purpose was in coming to Wiseman and Elf Academy, we were at war, though no challenges had been issued and no volley had been shot. That has become more evident over the last two years, especially now that Finrod and the others have come.”

“But no one even knows when the Dagor Dagorath will begin,” she protested.

“In many ways, it already has,” he replied. “Granted, the actual deciding battle or battles have yet to be fought and these are early days, but we are at war, my love, and so Dan and I will keep watch. We have no idea when or where the Enemy will strike, and frankly, we three are in a vulnerable position away from our power base and the protection of the Maiar.”

“What do you mean? What protection?”

“The protection that they afford us by watching over Wiseman. There is at least one Maia always on guard that I’m aware of, possibly two.”

“You are aware of them?” Serindë gave him a disbelieving look.

He smiled wryly. “Blood speaks to blood. Both Dan and I have felt their presence. It must be our Maiarin heritage that allows us to. Loren detects them as well, but with him it’s training and having been closely associated with them in times past when he lived in Valinor. I doubt anyone else is aware of their presence, except maybe Finrod.”

Serindë leaned down and kissed him on the lips and then said, “Maybe there’s a Maia watching over us here, like one of the Mortals’ guardian angels.”

“I have not sensed them,” Elrohir replied with a smile, “but you may be right.” He stood up. “Why don’t we do some exploring ourselves?”

She nodded. “Just let me freshen up a bit.” She reached for her carry-on bag and went into the bathroom, closing the door, while Elrohir went to stand by the window, pulling back a curtain to look out.

“I know you’re here,” he whispered, feeling a brush of something against his mind and he thought he detected the scent of balsam, but it was faint and elusive and he could have imagined it. He would have to consult with Dan and see if he had sensed anything, but he would wait until his brother was calmer and Sarah was not around. He had not liked lying to her but felt that it was for the best. If she knew at least one Maia was with them she might feel less safe, not more.

“All set.”

He turned with a smile as Serindë came into the bedroom. She picked up her purse and checked its contents before slinging it over her shoulder. Elrohir took her hand and said, “Let’s go then and maybe we’ll bump into Dan along the way.”

They exited the room and made for the elevators, which took them to the ground floor. The hotel was three stories with two wings in an L shape with one wing going west and the other north. Their room was in the west wing on the second floor. The reception area lay between the two wings. Leaving the elevator they wandered hand-in-hand through the lobby, admiring the airy openness of the architecture and made their way down the opposite wing following the signs that led to the hotel’s restaurant, The Finish Line. It was closed.

“Hmm… it’s only open from Wednesday to Saturday,” Elrohir said, reading the sign. “We’ll have to go somewhere else for dinner tonight.”

“Rather odd, only being opened four days out of the week.”

“It’s the off-season,” he reminded her with a smile, as they turned around to head back to the lobby. “Now somewhere around here is a sauna and an exercise room. I wouldn’t mind indulging myself in either one right now.”

“Yes, I’d like to work out a bit, too. Good thing I thought to pack my running clothes.”

Elrohir smiled. “That’s what I like about you, always prepared.”

“There’s Dan,” Serindë said as they came back into the lobby and they saw the older twin heading toward the elevators. “Dan!” She waved when he turned around and he stopped and waited for them.

“Restaurant’s not open tonight, but there are eateries nearby according to the concierge,” he said by way of greeting.

“And?” Elrohir said, giving his twin an amused look. Trust Dan to mention food before all else.

“The Chena River runs past here just to the north, depth unknown, but it’s frozen over so it hardly matters. There are woods all around, though we would have to cross several hundred meters of open space to reach them, and I have no idea how thick they are. Airport is just to the south of us, less than half a mile as the crow flies. I moved the car so it’s closer to our room. If we have to, we can jump out of the window.”

“Jump out of the window?” Serindë echoed, looking confused. “Why would we do that?”

Both brothers sighed almost as one. “Civilians,” Elladan muttered, shaking his head.

Elrohir grinned and took Serindë’s hand, leading her to one of the comfortable sofas that graced the lobby, sitting her down beside him while Elladan followed, though he remained standing behind them.

“What’s going on, Roy?” Serindë demanded. “The two of you sound like you’re… you’re casing the joint.”

Elrohir grinned even wider and Elladan chuckled. “No, we’re not casing the joint, my love, but we are checking out all the possible exits in case we need to make a quick getaway.”

“But why?” she nearly wailed in frustration, though she had the sense to keep her voice down.

“Because, it is as I told you,” Elrohir replied. “We’re at war and we’re vulnerable here.” He looked up at his brother. “Do you sense them?” He asked the question in Urdu, a language he knew Serindë did not speak.

“One has been following me,” Elladan answered in the same language.

“And I felt one after you left, so there are at least two.”

“What are you two saying?” Serindë demanded, looking cross. “Please do not treat me as if I were an elfling. I resent that.”

Elrohir gave her a kiss. “Sorry, love. Dan and I were just discussing tactics. The only thing you need to remember is that if either of us gives you an order, obey it without hesitation or argument. It may save your life or ours.”

Serindë sighed. “Maybe coming here was not such a good idea after all.”

“It doesn’t matter, Sister,” Elladan said. “We’re here so we might as well enjoy ourselves. What say we hop in the car and go exploring?”

“Sounds good to me,” Elrohir said, standing and holding out his hand to Serindë, who hesitated for a moment before accepting it. “Why don't I go up and grab our coats? I won't be long.”

The other two agreed and Elrohir headed for the elevators. Ten minutes later he was back carrying their coats and they made their way to the car. Elladan insisted on acting as chauffeur, telling the other two to get in the back. Serindë started to ask why, but Elladan had a strange look to him and she hesitated. Elrohir simply nodded and so he and Serindë settled into the back together while Elladan took the driver’s seat and started the car, pulling out of the parking lot and heading back up Airport Way toward downtown Fairbanks. When he came to the traffic circle that connected Airport Way with the George Park Highway, he went around the circle and continued on toward Fairbanks, then took a left onto University Avenue, crossing the Chena River that meandered through the city. Ahead of them was the University of Fairbanks.

“Any particular reason why we’re heading this way instead of going into town?” Elrohir asked his brother, sounding almost bored but the moment they had turned onto University Avenue his senses had gone into hyperalert mode. He did not wish to alarm Serindë but he knew his brother was not acting normal. As angry as he might be, he would have at least asked them what their food preferences were. Elrohir was hankering after Italian himself and remembered a nice Italian eatery called Geraldo’s on College Road that served the best pizza. At first he thought perhaps Dan was heading there, but when he continued on University instead of turning right onto the Johansen Expressway, which would’ve been the quickest way to reach Geraldo’s, he knew something was not right.

“University section usually has some good places to eat,” Elladan said, not taking his eyes off the road.

“How about Geraldo’s?” Elrohir asked. “You’ve always liked it and we can be driving about forever looking for a restaurant in this area. I’m not familiar with it, are you?”

Elladan lifted his eyes to look into the rearview mirror. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Brother?”

They continued up University and when they came to the junction with College Road, Elrohir thought Dan would turn right. It was not the way he would have gone to Geraldo’s but it was one way. Instead, Dan turned left, driving into the university. Elrohir caught the street sign: Alumni Way.

“It’s very pretty,” Serindë said, gazing out the window and not paying particular attention to the conversation between the two brothers.

Elrohir looked out and nodded. “Yes, it’s pretty enough,” he said in agreement but all the while he was furiously wondering what Dan was up to. He seemed to know just where he was going, driving with a purpose. The only question was, whose purpose? He opened his mind, seeking the presence of the Maiar, but there was nothing, not even a scent, yet he knew they had to be there with them, perhaps somehow influencing Dan, and that level of manipulation both angered and frightened him.

He was wondering if there was some way through the twin bond that he could break whatever spell Dan was under, when his brother pulled to the side of the road and stopped the car. “We’re here.”

“We’re where?” Elrohir glanced out the window. They had stopped just shy of a small traffic circle and on their right was a park of some sort, but otherwise there was nothing, no buildings of any kind, just an empty road. He noticed a number of other cars lined up along the same side of the street as they were and in the darkness he could see several figures apparently attacking one another in an open area of the park where streetlights shone upon the scene. At first he thought it was a gang war or something but then he noticed other people just standing around watching, and he could hear faint cheering.

“What’s going on?” Serindë asked. “Are those people fighting? I don’t see any restaurants here do you?” She gave Elrohir a confused look and Elrohir sympathized because he had no more idea than she.

“Well, Brother?” he said to Elladan, who simply sat there staring straight ahead, apparently unaware or uncaring of the action in the park. “Why are we here?”

Elladan, however, did not answer, just sat there like a zombie and Elrohir became seriously alarmed and very angry. “That’s enough!” he shouted. “Let him go, now!”

“Roy, what are you—?” Serindë started to say but Elladan suddenly gasped as if in pain and then he was looking around.

“What the… where are we?”

“Somewhere in the university section,” Elrohir answered. “Come on. Let’s find out why.”

With that, he opened the door on his side and slid out. Serindë got out as well and after a moment’s hesitation, Elladan opened his door and joined them, his expression one of confusion.

“I was heading for Geraldo’s,” he said. “I like their pizzas, but… where are we?”

“I don’t know, Dan,” Elrohir said, taking his brother into his embrace and hugging him. “You were in the driver’s seat but I don’t think you were the one driving. Do you remember anything after we left the hotel?”

Elladan pulled out of his brother’s embrace and gave them a frown. “I remember walking out of the hotel and then… I don’t know… it was like someone was speaking to me, but within my mind. I was thinking of taking us to Geraldo’s and was about to ask you if you wanted to go there for dinner and then someone asked me if I wanted to see something interesting.”

“Someone asked you?” Elrohir repeated, looking concerned. “Who?”

“Don’t know,” his twin replied with a shrug. “I just remember sort of agreeing.” He gave them a shy look. “I think I assumed I was just talking to myself, wondering if we would see anything interesting while in Fairbanks. And then… I woke up here.” He stared around, his attention on the people in the park where the fighting was still going on. “Wherever here is.”

Elrohir glanced at Serindë, giving her a significant look. She appeared to be calm, but he could see she was close to the edge of hysteria. He didn’t blame her. The whole thing was freaky. “Come on. As long as we’re here let’s go see what all the fuss is about.” He took Serindë’s arm and looped it around his while Elladan walked on her other side and the three strolled across the snow-covered park to where the people were congregated. As they got closer they could see that there were several people inside a ring of spectators fighting. They each wore padding over which was a surcoat with some sort of device embroidered on it and their heads were covered with helms, so that they looked something like medieval knights. They were attacking one another in a melee with what appeared to be foam weapons.

“Boffer fighting,” Elladan whispered, identifying the sport.

Elrohir nodded. Those standing around were either dressed similarly as the fighters or wrapped in cloaks, though underneath most appeared to be wearing ski pants and heavy sweaters. They all looked a bit cold, but no one seemed to care. All their attention was on the fighters, yelling out encouragement, clapping gloved hands when someone landed a good blow. Between the fighters and the spectators there were probably about twenty or so people, most of them young looking and the Elves assumed they were students at the university.

“What’s the deal?” Elrohir asked one of the spectators as they joined the group. She was a young Woman wearing a dark green cloak and a multi-colored knit hat with ear flaps and matching mittens. She turned to him, her eyes widening, probably at the sight of seeing identical twins.

“Oh, it’s fight practice,” she said, as if that explained everything.

“Rather cold to be fighting outside and in the dark,” Elladan commented, never taking his eyes off the fighters. “Why are you doing this?”

“War doesn’t happen only in high summer at noon on a cloudless day,” a young Man standing next to the Woman replied laconically.

“But no one fought in winter or at night in medieval times,” Serindë offered.

“Yeah, but these ain’t medieval times,” the young Man countered. “And Gwyn says fighting in winter and outside instead of in the gym like we normally do will toughen us up so when we enter the tournament in the spring, we’ll be that much better.”

“Who’s Gwyn?” Elrohir asked.

“He’s our Captain,” the Man said. “There he is.” He pointed to someone who was standing to one side of the list. He appeared to be young, perhaps not more than twenty. Like the other fighters he was wearing padding under a surcoat, a foam sword on his hip, but he was helmless and his fair hair was long, held back by a strip of fabric.

There was a collective gasp from the spectators as one of the fighters went down after another had landed a solid blow. Elrohir turned at the sound but missed the action. Someone acting as a Marshal stepped forward and yelled, “Hold!” and all the fighters froze. “Gareth, you may get up.” The fighter who had been lying supine struggled up, one of the other fighters standing near him offering him a helping hand. When the ‘dead’ fighter had removed himself from the list, taking off his helmet and accepting a hot beverage poured from a thermos by one of the spectators, the Marshal turned to the other fighters, stepping back. “Lay on!” he called and the fighters obliged by striking each other with wild abandon to the cheers of the watchers.

“So is this a group or what?” Elrohir asked the two Mortals with whom they’d been conversing.

“We’re the College of St. Boniface,” the Woman explained. “We’re part of the Barony of Winter’s Gate.”

“SCA,” her male companion offered. “Society for Creative Anachronism. Officially, we’re known as Students for Creative Anachronism Campus Club. That allows us to meet on campus with Administration’s approval. In other words, we don’t get hassled by Campus Security when we’re out here beating the daylight out of each other.” He chuckled as if he’d made a joke and the Woman next to him smiled.

“And this SCA?” Serindë asked.

The young Man answered. “It’s a medieval and Renaissance re-enactment group. We dress up in medieval clothes, hold medieval-style feasts and tournaments and take on personae of the times. I, for instance, am Lord Dietrich of Prague, and this is Lady Melisande de Vincennes.” He gave them a short bow and the young woman actually dropped them a brief curtsey.

The three Elves exchanged amused looks. “So everyone’s a lord or lady, are they?” Elladan asked with a knowing grin, but the two Mortals shook their heads.

“Award of arms and the right to style oneself as ‘lord’ or ‘lady’ are earned and granted by the king,” Dietrich said in all seriousness. “If you do not know if someone has an AoA, you can address them as ‘milord’ or ‘milady’ out of courtesy.”

“Ah,” was Elladan’s only comment, raising an eyebrow at his twin, who simply grinned back, and then they both turned their attention back to the fighters once again. “Looks like fun,” Elladan commented. “I could use a good fight right about now.”

“If you’re interested in joining, we have regular fight practice on Sunday afternoons in the gym at the University Park Building over on University Avenue. Visitors are always welcome and we usually have spare armor and weapons for newbies to try on.”

Elladan shook his head, not taking his eyes off the fighters. “No. I mean right now.”

There was an awkward silence and after a moment Elrohir turned to Dietrich. “You do not fight?”

“Nah. I’m a rapier guy myself. It’s more civilized.”

“Lord Dietrich is our Rapier Marshal,” Melisande gushed and even in the dark the Elves could see the young Man blush.

“So, you’re just the cheering squad for these fighters then?” Elladan asked.

“Something like that,” Dietrich muttered.

There was a shout and groans and clapping and the Elves turned to see three fighters down at once, leaving only two still standing. The Marshal called “Hold!” and everyone, even the spectators, froze while the three downed fighters got up and walked to the edge of the ring.

“Sir Llewellyn ap Daffyd and Roger of Norfolk,” Dietrich said, pointing out the two fighters who were left.

“So all knights are fighters but not all fighters are knights?” Serindë asked.

“That’s true, though I think Roger may be knighted at the Midsummer Coronet.”

“What’s that?” Serindë asked.

“It’s the tournament that determines who is the new Prince and Princess of Oertha,” Melisande answered. “We’re in the Principality of Oertha in the West Kingdom. The prince is determined by trial by combat and he and his chosen lady rule for six months. Then there’s the Midwinter Coronet.”

“Interesting,” Elladan said. “What say you, Brother? Two against two?”

“But you have no armor,” Melisande protested, “and I don’t think anyone brought any spare armor or weapons.”

“Perhaps someone can lend us their weapons,” Elrohir suggested. “We’ll dispense with armor for now. I agree, Brother. I have a feeling this is one reason we were brought here. I prefer live steel but I’ll take what I can get.”

“You two are serious, aren’t you?” Serindë demanded.

“Yes,” Elrohir replied and his voice went cold and his eyes went dark and there was almost a feral look to him that caused not only the two Mortals but Serindë to take a step back. Elrohir ignored them. “Let’s go speak to Gwyn.”

As one, he and Elladan circled the spectators with Serindë and the two Mortals following. “Excuse me, Captain,” Elrohir said and Gwyn turned to them, his eyes widening, no doubt at seeing twins.

“Yes?”

“We were wondering if, when those two fighters are done, you would grant my brother and me permission to…um… play.”

Gwyn’s fair face creased in a frown. “You wish to be given lessons in sword-fighting? We have regular practice—”

“You misunderstand me, Captain,” Elrohir interrupted. “My brother and I do not need lessons. We just need two swords.”

Gwyn stared at them for a long moment and whatever he saw in their eyes caused him to raise his eyebrows and there was almost a shocked look on his face. He turned to the Marshal. “Killian,” he called, gesturing to the young Man who sauntered over. “Stop the match.”

Killian gave him a shocked look. “But, it’s almost over, Gwyn. Lew’s bound to—”

“I know, but I have something else in mind. Stop the match.” And such was the authority in his tone that Killian actually gave him a proper bow.

“As you wish, Captain,” he said formally, then turned, taking two steps into the ring. “Hold! Hold!” It took a few seconds for the two fighters to heed the command and they stood there panting. One of them removed his helmet, glaring at the Marshal, but before he could utter a protest, Gwyn stood forth.

“We will have to wait to see who is the better fighter some other time,” he said. “Lew, Roger, lend your swords and shields to these two gentlemen. They wish to spar.”

The second fighter removed his helmet, giving Gwyn a look of disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, Lew, I am not,” and there was a sense of velvet on steel in Gwyn’s voice that reminded Elrohir of Glorfindel.

“We were thinking of sparring with these two,” Elladan said to Gwyn, nodding to the two Mortal fighters.

“I prefer to see you spar each other,” Gwyn said. Both Twins started to protest, but Gwyn gave them a brittle smile. “My group, my rules. Take it or leave it.” After a moment’s hesitation, the Twins nodded.

The spectators, in the meantime, were murmuring, most of them with looks of confusion on their faces. The fighters were all staring hard at the Twins, apparently trying to size them up. “Hey, Gwyn, what’s up?” one of them demanded. “This isn’t kosher, man.”

Gwyn shook his head. “I have my reasons, Marcello, and I wish to see how these two fight with sword and shield.”

“Just the swords,” Elladan said. “We don’t need shields.”

Gwyn nodded. “Fine. Lew, Roger, your swords.”

Both fighters sighed almost as one but they obeyed. Lew handed his sword to Elrohir while Roger gave his to Elladan. Both Elves checked the balance of the swords. Elladan frowned. “Balance is all wrong for me. Here, Roy, let’s switch.” Elrohir shrugged and they switched swords. “Better, but still not all that good.”

“No.” Gwyn said.

“No what?” Elladan asked.

“No, you’re not going to ask to find another sword that is more suitable. You want to fight, you fight with these swords and no other.”

“Come on, Dan. You’re wasting time,” Elrohir said as he undid his coat and handed it to Serindë with a kiss before walking into the list. “Let’s show these children how it’s really done.”

“It should be done with live steel, but fine,” Elladan said, removing his own coat and handing it to Serindë to hold as he joined his brother in the list. The two began circling each other, not bothering to bow first.

“Er… lay on?” Killian said, giving them all an apologetic shrug.

Elrohir just grinned, keeping his eyes on his brother as they circled one another with the Mortals looking on. At one point he found himself opposite to where Serindë was standing beside Gwyn. Her expression was one of dismay for some reason and he thought perhaps she did not approve of what they were doing but Gwyn’s expression was one of deep interest and there was a calculating look in his eyes that Elrohir could not interpret and he wondered if perhaps he and his brother were in deeper trouble than they knew.

And then, without warning, Elladan attacked.

****

Note: There actually is a Barony of Winter’s Gate that is part of the West Kingdom in the Society for Creative Anachronism, located in Fairbanks. The College of St. Boniface is part of the Barony, situated at the University. All the information about the barony is accurate, however the people described as belonging to the barony and their Society names are completely fictitious and bear no resemblance to anyone who is a member of the barony or the SCA, past or present. You may find out more about the SCA and the Barony of Winter’s Gate online at their respective websites, just google them.





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