Author's note: Finally decided on a title. Be ready for the old update speed, or even faster. It was killing me to not update.
Gunther was sparring with Sir Bedwyr. The large Welsh knight was fearsome with the spear, but when armed with a sword, Gunther won every time. In fact, Gunther was defeating Sir Bedwyr and thinking deeply. His thoughts first turned to his wife, Fiona, now ripe with child. Her blazing red hair, her delicate face, her emerald green eyes, the stance she took when fighting. Wait, he ended the train of thought, wrong red-head. But it was hard to end that train of thought. He had truthfully loved Jane, even though she had made it obvious that she did not feel the same way.
Even thirteen years afterward, he still somewhat hoped that she would realize her folly. But at this point, he believed that they could be friends as they never were, and he didn't want to damage that by thinking about her like he thought about his wife. Truth be told, that just might be the best thing that Gunther could do, considering how he felt about the two women. Think of Jane like Fiona and Fiona like Jane. That way, he could perhaps love the sewing, embroidering, dancing, proper wife that he had, and look upon the graceful, beautiful, fighting, amazing Jane with friendship. He tried to do so for a few moments, and failed. He didn't think he could do that.
He tore himself away from his thoughts in time to realize that Sir Bedwyr had become slow drawing his sword back to the defensive position, leaving an opening. Gunther took advantage, sending Sir Bedwyr flying to the ground.
"Good. Ya needed to be a goin' to yer duties in thah market, anyway," rumbled Sir Ivon from the knights' quarters.
"Very well, Sir Ivon," responded Gunther, taking his leave. He silently cursed his duty, as it would only leave him more open to his thoughts, but every knight had to serve watch at some point during the Grand Market, and his was today.
The Grand Market was a Kippernia tradition: Every year, vendors from all over Kippernia would make their way to the square just outside of the castle for the weeklong event. At this location, you could pay a minor fee for a stall, but you would still need to provide anything beyond the location itself. Naturally, people who sold booths arrived first in order to take advantage of everyone who forgot a table, as the space was much too small for a cart. Every Inn in town would be busy, and so would every thief. Everyone would be coming to the Grand Market, so every knight had to try to restrain the thieves
He was really quite bored of standing with his hands on his sword intimidatingly when he finally noticed someone picking pockets. He moved silently, making his way to just behind the young man. Or he at least thought it was a young man.
When he placed his hand firmly on the man's shoulder, an "eep" was sounded with a voice deeper than any boy's. Gunther, only holding him with one hand, picked up this curiosity. The man, for he now knew it to be a man, was the shortest he had ever seen. He barely made it to Gunther's waist, a perfect height for a thief, but he also had a head more than large enough for Gunther. He had tousled brown hair that looked like with a good scrub could be white-blond, his eyes were the color of the blood, and his skin was absolutely white. Must be an albino, thought Gunther. Still holding the Halfling with one hand, Gunther began to pat him down for weapons.
Gunther found an assortment of knives, lock picks, change purses, jewelry, and items that Gunther was sure were contraband. He quickly confiscated all of these and took the albino Halfling to the prison cart, telling the man guarding it of the small man's crime. Gunther stood his watch until noon, at which point he made his way up from the square into the castle.
He turned the gold and jewelry in to the Chamberlain and brought the knives and lock picks to Smithy to be melted. As soon as he entered the forge, Smithy noticed the contents of his arms and gestured towards the pile next to the fire. As Gunther was putting them down, he noticed a flash of white among the metallic colors. He reached for it, avoiding blades, and found a knife with the blade sliding off. He called to Smithy, wondering what this thing was. He removed the blade before Smithy had finished with whatever he was doing and unwrapped the animal hide on the hilt. He heard Smithy approach more than saw it, as he was enveloped by this whiteness, and also heard when Smithy stopped abruptly.
"Please tell me that thing is not yours," said Smithy, obviously disapproving of this object lying in Gunther's hand.
"It is not mine, some thief at the market had it. Why? And what is this white material?" asked Gunther, quite curious.
"It is good that it is not yours. That is a bone knife." Seeing the puzzled look on Gunther's face, Smithy elaborated. "Do you remember when Pepper was injured by that rapist about a year ago?" Smithy began.
"Who could forget! That horrible gash on her hip! That man deserved to die! It is a shame that he was only sentenced to life in the dungeons," Gunther began to look angry.
"Do you know why she had that gash?" Smithy continued.
"No, but I have a feeling that you are going to tell me," Gunther responded, beginning to look at the material in his hand questionably.
"He was going to make a bone knife." Smithy let that sink into Gunther.
"So this…?" Gunther asked, gesturing towards the knife in front of him.
"Used to be someone's hip." Gunther dropped the pieces with disgust.
"We must tell the King! We must ask who the Halfling got it from!" Gunther left the forge quickly, leaving Smithy to pick up the remains that Gunther had left on the floor.