After having been soundly and repeatedly trounced at military strategy by the Royal Adviser, Steven felt a little shy about intentionally picking a fight with a pirate. But orders were orders. Besides, he was getting a little hungry, and it seemed like he should fight the pirate before he ate, rather than after. Oh, and he needed to go hunting too. That wasn't a daily task, it was just that he didn't actually have anything on him that could be rightly considered food.
It seemed like maybe he ought to hunt first, before inviting a pirate to try beating the stuffings out of him. But if he was going all the way to the forest, he might as well lure Witch Celeste out there, and hopefully kill two birds with one stone. Either that or get killed himself, in which case the hunting and the brawling would both be moot points.
Along about that time, it dawned on him that he'd told Guard Rupert that he'd offer a few combat tips today. He couldn't very well accomplish that if he was dead. He'd be in no shape for anything if he put off eating much longer. But he really didn't want another bowl of gruel. If he never ate another bowl of gruel for his entire life, he would consider himself blessed, which he supposed would mean he would have to take up a religion of some kind. But who had time for religion when there were so many things to be done for king and country?
He decided that he should head out to the training yard first. Maybe Rupert would have some ideas about how Steven might lure the witch to the forest. It also seemed possible that Rupert could actually help. That is, if he could be dragged away from the tavern long enough.
Steven found Rupert already in the training yard, clumsily swinging a sword at one of several training dummies. As Steven approached, Rupert took a wild swing that sent the blade of the sword deep into the side of the dummy. This proved problematic as the sword became firmly stuck there. Rupert had clearly expected to be able to pull back with the sword, and wound up yanking hard, losing his hold on the sword, and stumbling back a few steps. Doggedly, he reclaimed the blade and worked it slowly out of the side of the dummy.
"It helps if you pull back with the same determination you used to swing forward," Steven observed, interrupting before Rupert could take another run at the dummy, "A sword won't do you any good if you lose it in the other guy's armor partway through the fight."
Instead of responding, Rupert looked Steven up and down, "You look a little rough. Trouble sleeping?"
Rupert's guess was not entirely inaccurate, but Steven didn't want to admit that, so he replied, "Strategy session with the Royal Adviser."
"Ouch. She can be pretty brutal," Rupert sympathized.
"It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the victory dance, the song, and the fact that she kept trying to kiss me. I think that last was her way of unbalancing me before the next round, so I'd be too distracted to see what she was doing."
"Better not let Build Master Krispin catch you kissing Greta," Rupert advised, "Speaking as someone who's been assigned to guard the Throne Room before, things can get pretty steamy between those two whenever Lord Spaulding isn't around."
"What's Lord Spaulding got to do with it?" Steven asked, well aware that of all the women Spaulding had his romantic eyes on, Greta was not one of them.
"Nothing," Rupert answered, "Except that, according to Krispin, it would be unseemly for the monarch to see him and the Royal Adviser kissing passionately when they're supposed to be strategizing. There's a war on, you know."
"Between Tredony and Aarbyville, sure," Steven replied, "But Freedonia is largely neutral."
"And Lord Spaulding wants to keep it that way," Rupert said, "We can't afford to pay higher guild prices, but we haven't the defensive capabilities to hold off angry pirates either."
"I'm well aware of that, but I don't see how Lord Spaulding catching his Adviser and Build Master making out in a hallway would affect anything. Isn't the more important thing the fact that they're not doing their jobs, not whether or not anybody sees them not doing their jobs?"
Rupert sighed, "You poor, simple man. You really haven't spent much time in the castle, have you?"
"I was only made a knight yesterday," Steven reminded him.
"Let me break it down for you: everyone knows that the only way the loyalty of annexed territories is increased is by the passing of edicts and the patrolling of borders. Those are things Lord Spaulding does when he feels like it, apparently according to whim. He almost never talks to his Adviser first when it comes to things like that. Even less so when he decides it's time to annex another territory. The strategizing the Royal Adviser and the Build Master do is just for show. It doesn't mean anything."
"That can't be right," Steven protested, "Why, it was one of my duties today to attend a strategy session with Royal Adviser Greta. Why would I get written orders to do that if it didn't matter? That doesn't make any sense."
"Did you learn anything at the strategy session?" Rupert asked, "Like where Gastrobury is on the map? Or what Advorton's leader wants in exchange for agreeing to annexation?"
That brought Steven up short. He realized that Rupert seemed to have a point. Steven had learned the names of the various models in play, and he'd figured out how to use that weird stick to push them around the table, and he'd learned a lot of rules (many of which he suspected Greta had fabricated) as to how the pieces moved and were taken off the board... but none of that seemed to relate back to the actual military state of Freedonia and the territories surrounding her.
Seeing Steven's faltering expression, Rupert drove the point home, "See? What have you done this morning? And would things be any different if you'd spent the same amount of time engaged in..." there was a pause, before the slightly lame conclusion, "Passionate kissing with a beautiful woman?"
Distracted, floundering again, Steven murmured, "You think Greta's beautiful?"
Rupert didn't answer. Steven looked at him, and realized that Rupert had seen Minstrel Rhianwen on her way to shopping at the village, at which point he had entirely forgotten the conversation, and indeed everything besides Rhianwen. Steven did have to admit that the woman was strikingly beautiful. Moreover, she was nice to everybody and consequently was almost universally liked, and these days her musical aptitude was second to none.
Rupert gave a fluttery sigh as the dark-haired beauty disappeared down the path. At this point, Steven realized that Rupert wasn't going to be any help at all when it came to dealing with the witch.
Just as Steven was finishing the training session with Rupert, he spotted Witch Celeste near the well. She seemed to be spell casting, but without a great deal of success. Even though his empty stomach would have had it otherwise, Steven decided that he had to get the witch now, before those failing spells started actually working as intended. Steven wasn't entirely sure what Celeste was trying to do, but -having seen the bodies in the woods- he didn't really want to find out.
Finally, he did know just how he was going to lure the witch to the forest. Perhaps that strategy session with Royal Adviser Greta had taught him something after all.
Dodging around the latest in a long line of suicidally loud town criers, Steven approached Witch Celeste from behind. As he came towards her, she seemed to sense him, and turned to wait. Now he had a plan, Steven was more confident than before. It was a good plan, and it would work. He felt certain that he was well prepared for a fight. Perhaps if the kingdom had had a wizard to warn him about what witches were truly capable of, he would have felt differently.
"Sir Steven," the witch said cordially.
"Witch Celeste," Steven replied with equal politeness, even bowing slightly.
"Oh, you do come up with such creative prefixes, don't you," Celeste said, "Makes a girl want to blush. But you did not come here just to flatter me, did you?"
"No, I came here with a proposition for you."
"Really, Sir Steven," Celeste said, with honeyed sweetness, "You would try to make romantic advances now, even knowing that I might be awaiting a love letter from Lord Spaulding?"
"It's not a romantic proposition," Steven said, "It's a business one."
"Come now, Sir Steven. I'm not that kind of girl, and I'm quite certain you aren't that sort of man either," Celeste responded coyly.
"Stop making my words what they aren't, and listen to me for a moment," Steven snapped, forgetting public civility for a beat, "You want to stay here, and I want you to leave. So I propose that we go out into the woods, and whichever of us can capture a live dire chinchilla first will be declared the victor. If I win, you leave Freedonia immediately, never to return."
"Fine for you, but what about when I win?" Celeste inquired, her red eyes glittering evilly.
"If you win," Steven emphasized, "I will recommend you be appointed the kingdom's wizard, with all the privileges and trappings thereof."
A slow, wicked smile spread across Celeste's face, "I knew I liked you, Sir Steven," she paused for a breath, then said, "You have a deal. It will have to be somewhat later, however. Right now I'm expecting a letter."
"I have some duties to attend to, myself," Steven told her, "So how about we meet at the forest entrance, say... an hour from now?"
"Two," Celeste decided firmly, then smiled that sickly sweet smile of hers again, adding, "Wouldn't want to rush dear Lord Spaulding's letter writing, would we?"
"As you wish," Steven answered, for truly it didn't make a lot of difference to him.
Two hours was plenty of time. He could make a trip to the village, followed by a stop off to his new living quarters for a meal and still make it to the forest before Witch Celeste. He decided against the hunting in the forest option, figuring it was inherently more hazardous, and deciding that going out there alone where the witch knew he would be was unwise if he was not prepared to face her. In the village he'd have to pay for his meat, but he hadn't yet figured out what to spend his new wages on anyway. A whole world was opened up to him by having a place to live and a regular salary, and he wasn't sure what to do with it, especially in such small living quarters.
As he was paying for some fowl meat in the village, Steven's attention was drawn to sounds of excitement some little distance down the street. A great deal of shouting was going on, and it sounded a bit like there might be a fight. With half a mind to break it up, and the other half set to watching the battle for his own amusement (depending on who was doing the fighting), Steven went to investigate.
What he found was several villagers throwing rocks at a young elf girl. Other citizens were merely watching or even cheering them on. The girl looked very small and very frightened, surrounded by the jeering crowd and doing her best to duck the projectiles hurled in her direction.
Steven was angered by this sight, as there clearly could be no decent excuse for the crowd's behavior. Even if the girl was some kind of criminal, like a thief, it was clear she was helpless to defend herself or escape, yet instead of taking her in for judgment, the crowd was meting out their own punishment on a young girl that, for all Steven knew, was completely innocent of any crime.
Furiously, he dove into the fray, shouting at the mob to stop, and to leave the girl alone. Apparently not recognizing the authority of their newly appointed knight, the mob simply turned and began to throw stones at Steven instead. Fortunately, these people had no skill in combat, so it was relatively easy for Steven to dodge the rocks, come up to one person after another and thrash them until they pleaded for mercy and fled, before he turned to the next offender. He made short work of the mob in this fashion.
Seeing their fellow villagers losing the fight, some of the bystanders suddenly got in on the act, and began to throw produce at him. Specifically potatoes. Their aim was considerably better than that of the rock throwing mob, and numerous potatoes struck home. One even hit Steven right above the eye, temporarily half-blinding him, and leaving him with a nasty gash that would eventually scar.
By this point, the elf child was long gone, and Steven soon found himself hopelessly outnumbered and surrounded by potato hurling ruffians, the very people he was meant to be protecting. He could not hope to defeat them all without drawing his sword, and he had no wish to risk harming ordinary citizens extensively. Besides which, that was the sort of behavior that got you tossed into The Pit. Even so, he found any chance of escaping without committing to extreme violence rapidly slipping away.
Then, out of the crowd, someone shouted, "Lord Spaulding is coming! Run!"
As suddenly as the violence had started, it was at an end. Dazed and bruised, Steven was suddenly alone on the street, standing amidst a pile of potatoes, as Lord Spaulding came strolling around the corner. Lord Spaulding stopped to take in the scene.
"Well," he observed in some surprise, looking at the potatoes all over the ground, "The villagers certainly seem generous with their produce today."
"Too generous, I feel, my Lord," Steven replied wanly.
Upon reflection, the forest may have been the safer option.