Back at home again, Steven was not surprised to find Amie waiting for him. He was starting to get used to her showing up in his house uninvited and unannounced.

"You really should lock your door," Amie said by way of greeting.

"Hold that thought," Steven replied, and went over to the fireplace.

Steven threw the last of his venison in the cauldron, realizing unhappily that he'd need to do some hunting or fishing or something fairly soon, or else he'd be eating gruel again, something he'd sworn to himself that he would never do.

After spending so much time at the training yard, and then with Greta at the strategy table, Steven found his snack from the night before was history and he was well and truly hungry. Until he had a bowl of something to eat, he didn't have much interest in whatever Amie wanted now.

"Look, stupid, I'm just trying to say that I'm sorry," Amie said impatiently, "You got hurt because of me. Even though my spell worked fine, by the way. But I still feel kind of responsible, especially since I'm the one that set you up for a second fight after you lost the first time."

"Thanks for reminding me," Steven grumbled sarcastically.

"Here," Amie said, and held out a box to Steven.

Steven took it somewhat skeptically, turned it over, then looked at her questioningly.

"Healing salve," Amie said, "Should help a little. The stuff in the village isn't great, but it was the best I could do. Probably the best I could afford anyway, since I got this cool staff too."

She shook her new staff, which was an elaborate piece made of some kind of red wood and what looked like gold. The top of the staff had a gold eye with a spike on top, which was a little disconcerting. It looked almost more like a religious artifact than a magic one.

"More power," Amie explained, "Better chance of success at spell-casting."

"I see," Steven said, even though he didn't.

In his limited experience, Amie's spells had worked just fine, albeit not necessarily for the best where he was concerned. He just hoped this didn't mean she would succeed next time she tried to Curse him, which he assumed she would do at some point.

"So take the salve," Amie said, "And stick it on yourself, and... I dunno, maybe you'll feel better? I'm not a physician, I can't give you medical advice."

"But you can give me this box of goo," Steven said.

"I can give you that box of goo," Amie confirmed with a nod.

"Thanks," Steven said, "I think."

"Okay, now I've done that," Amie said, clearing her throat, "I'm off. I've got to go steal someone's spirit and do some scrying to see who needs to be Cursed."

"'Needs' to be Cursed?" Steven repeated questioningly.

"It's a wartime thing. Don't worry about it," Amie replied with a dismissive wave.

Steven felt like maybe it was something he should be worried about, but right now he just didn't have it in him, so he let the matter drop and watched Amie leave without protest. It wasn't as if he could have stopped her. Not in his present condition anyway.

In fact, right now there was very little he could do besides eat and sleep. That and visit the parlor in the main part of the castle. Rather than risk money on cards however, Steven opted to sit and read. There were a lot of books in the castle library, and Steven hadn't read any of them.

So he first sent out Firefly to hunt, and then settled on the couch to read.

For the next few days, reading filled the main portion of his time when he wasn't eating or sleeping or fulfilling his duties as knight. Passively, he watched over the top of whatever book he was in the middle of, observing as things in the castle heated up in more ways than one.

It seemed that Lord Spaulding was frantically trying to make the best mustache wax ever for some reason, and mostly ignoring the fact that his wife, Rhona, had gone back to wearing her guard uniform around the castle, even though she followed him from room to room as if trying to make some kind of statement without actually saying anything. In the meantime, Greta continued to make unwanted overtures to Krispin, who became increasingly hostile in his rejections.

Periodically Lord Spaulding would abandon his mustache wax efforts, and go write a new law, or perhaps issue a new edict. He'd learned how to get votes to go his way. Guaranteed Greta and Krispin would vote for different edicts, so if Lord Spaulding wrote in a downside to whatever edict one of them supported at the start, they would automatically switch over to the one he wanted to pass so as to avoid supporting the edict the other of them was voting for while also avoiding the downside to the edict they had originally been in support of.

Maybe it was crooked, but refusing to vote for an edict just because you were mad at someone wasn't terribly straight edged either, so far as Steven saw it.

Steven saw nothing of Amie during this time, and very little of Rupert. It was a little bit lonely, but he rapidly discovered that Firefly was a great companion. Firefly the Falcon didn't talk much, but he did bring something to the relationship (specifically rabbits, pigeons, a variety of fish and the occasional dead parrot), and he didn't ask for much except his daily share of meat. In comparison to everyone else Steven had to deal with, Firefly's demands were ridiculously simple.

One day Firefly brought back a strange tooth. Not sure what it was, Steven looked through one of the castle books, which was about identifying animals by their teeth. He flipped through and found a sketch matching the tooth Firefly had returned with. It was the tooth of a dragon.

"Where did you get this?" Steven asked, but of course Firefly said nothing.

Right after he made the inquiry of the reticent falcon, Steven got a strange feeling of deja vu, for Adora the Under-spy appeared in the throne room, pretending not to be looking for Firefly. Steven tried to keep an eye on her and make sure she didn't take anything off him this time, but when he got home that evening he found that his dragon tooth had been pilfered when he wasn't looking.

"Someday, Firefly, I need to have a talk with that lady," Steven told the falcon.

Firefly's response was merely to flap his wings a bit. He wasn't terribly interested in what happened to his trophies after he had delivered them into his master's hands.

Eventually, Steven was well enough to fight again. He had replaced the heavy plate armor with some bearhide. It didn't provide much protection, but it was much lighter. He was prepared to decline Amie's spell, but she was nowhere to be found that morning. Steven couldn't really blame her. Having seen him fight and lose twice already, he couldn't imagine that she was eager to watch him fail again.

Steven had been willing to go three out of five, as Amie had tried to set up, but Sir Geoffrey insisted that this would be a fresh start, previous losses in dueling didn't count. It was a less than subtle hint that Advorton didn't want to win this tournament. In fact, the only thing standing in the way of their losing and being annexed into Freedonia was the honor of their champion, who could not help but fight with his all, as anything else would be dishonest.

It gave Steven a lot of mixed feelings. He felt that he himself had made a mistake in being dishonorable to start with. But the fact remained that he had soundly lost anyway. And the reality that neither Freedonia nor Advorton herself actually wanted Sir Geoffrey to win was one that couldn't be easily ignored. Officially this was a tournament held in the name of sport, but unofficially Advorton was in trouble and needed Freedonia's help, and this was the best way to get it without also sacrificing their pride in the process. It was ridiculous, of course, but that was politics, or so Steven had been told.

The bottom line for Steven was that he was here now, assigned to accomplish this task.

"Are you sure you have the correct armor for the occasion?" Sir Geoffrey inquired, "If I hit you, I will probably do more damage to you than I did last time. Possibly I will kill you."

"The key word, Sir Geoffrey, is 'if,'" Steven replied, adding with a grin, "It is not my intention to let you hit me."

"Very well," Sir Geoffrey shrugged, "Do as you will."

Despite his misgivings, Steven felt much better today than he had since before the tournament began. This time he intended to do things properly, both honestly and capably. He'd fought Sir Geoffrey twice now. The man was a decent fighter, but Steven was confident that he was better. With new light armor, he wouldn't suffer as much fatigue as he had before, and he would be able to move more ably. Sir Geoffrey still had the superior weapon, but that only counted if he actually connected. As Steven had told his opponent, he had no intention of allowing that.

Besides Amie, the only person missing from the crowd was Lord Spaulding, who had said he had terribly important diplomatic business to attend to. According to Greta, he'd last been seen entering The Cave, and she said she doubted he'd ever be heard from again.

Greta herself was in the crowd, determinedly chasing Krispin around and trying to hug him. Minstrel Rhianwen had turned out again with the town crier (a new one Steven didn't recognize, meaning another crier had probably been fed to The Beast recently) to provide musical accompaniment, and of course Rupert was there "for security purposes." Rhona was also present, determinedly dressed as a guard, her son, Prince Jeffrey was playing with another youngster, the two children with their wooden swords mimicking the moves they'd seen the guards practice in the yard.

There was an air of frivolity about that belied the seriousness of what they were here to do.

After politely waiting for the young prince and his opponent to fight their way over to the far side of the yard, Steven and Sir Geoffrey turned to face one another.

Steven was inexpressibly relieved to see Sir Geoffrey seeming to move in a normal way, and even more relieved to find that his own limbs responded to his commands as he anticipated.

Though normally Steven would not mind closing with an opponent, he knew that with Sir Geoffrey it would be a deadly mistake, so he kept his opponent at arm's length. Sir Geoffrey kept trying to move in close, but Steven circled and maneuvered so that he was always beyond reach. He would stand for a moment as if he was going to allow Sir Geoffrey to close, then with a lightning quick dodge he would move around Sir Geoffrey and out of range without leaving the unmarked fighting arena.

With his weaker armor, Steven knew he needed to pay particular attention to making sure Sir Geoffrey never got a lick in. That meant he passed up several opportunities to strike his opponent, much to the annoyance of the crowd, which booed noisily. But Steven didn't listen to them. After all, they weren't the ones doing the fighting. The majority of them didn't even own swords.

For a time, it was less a fight and more a dance, as Sir Geoffrey continually tried to close so he could use his scimitar, and Steven continually refused to let him do so. Finally, Steven saw the chance he'd been looking for. Instead of dodging, as Sir Geoffrey by now expected, Steven feinted to the side. Sir Geoffrey moved to compensate, leaving his weapon arm open. Steven grabbed this arm and twisted it, bringing Sir Geoffrey in close and throwing off his balance. Neatly, Steven smashed the hilt of his sword against the back of Sir Geoffrey's helmet, then let his opponent fall.

It was the beginning of the end for Sir Geoffrey, who from that point on was off his game. As Amie had said back during the first round of dueling, hitting Sir Geoffrey once made each subsequent hit easier, as the champion of Advorton became progressively more weary and dazed. The first strike was the one that ultimately won the fight, though it took Steven several more such maneuvers before Sir Geoffrey finally surrendered.

Impressively, it seemed that the Advortonians didn't really care who won, they just cheered for a good show regardless. Or perhaps they loved an underdog, and Steven had taken two severe losses and managed to turn them to a victory at the last second. In either case, the response from the crowd to Steven's victory was deafening and not a bit overwhelming.

Lord Spaulding was wearing a mustache. To clarify, he was wearing a mustache on his mustache. He refused to explain why he was doing this, or where the mustache had come from, saying only that Freedonia had never been in safer pincers. Nobody understood what he meant by that.

There was a a celebration on in response to Freedonia's new relationship with Advorton, or perhaps it was a party thrown for the champion of Freedonia in honor of his hard-earned victory. Or maybe they were celebrating about crabs for some reason. Anyway, there was a man in his underwear dancing in front of Minstrel Rhianwen for some reason.

Guard Rhona had used the occasion to formally demand her posting back. Lord Spaulding had said nothing, but nodded approvingly, wearing the mysterious mustache. Steven felt he had no choice but to formally reinstate Rhona as a guard, not that he had really objected in the first place. The man in his underwear danced.

There was a keg of ale which Irving the Servant refilled several times over the course of the evening, but Steven refused to get anywhere near it. Sir Geoffrey the Inebriated lived up to his title, drinking heartily and then singing lustily out of tune with the song Minstrel Rhianwen was playing at the time. The man in his underwear danced.

Adora the under-spy slipped delicately in and around the crowd, neatly pilfering bits of this and that off the persons of Freedonians and Advortonians alike. Greta cornered Krispin in the study and gave him a smooch that caused his face to go beet red, though whether from anger or embarrassment nobody could say. The man in his underwear danced.

Gradually, as the party was on its second or third keg, Steven became aware of a certain absence in the crowd. Adept Amie had not shown up to the party.

Concerned for her, wondering if maybe she was in trouble somehow, Steven slipped out of the castle and went in search of Freedonia's wizard.

He found Amie at home, on the third floor of her tower, pouring over her archives.

"You didn't come to the party," Steven remarked, looking around the quite bare interior of the room in which Amie was working.

Amie looked up from her reading and replied, "I didn't think I'd be wanted. As you said, my part in this is unknown, and will stay that way. And anyway, it's partially my fault you got hurt the first time. If not for my interference, you would probably have won."

"If not for you, I would have been finished before the end of the kingball match," Steven pointed out reasonably, "And so what if you don't get the credit? Adora's there and the only thing she's done in the last week is steal a dead chinchilla in a bag and a dragon's tooth. You can't tell me she deserves to be at the party if you don't."

"People like Adora," Amie said, "She's nice to them. Or she pretends to be anyway."

"So?" Steven asked.

"So," Amie replied, "She was invited. I wasn't."

"Well," Steven said, thinking that over for a moment, "The party seems to be partially in my honor. Therefore, I think I have the right to invite a friend to join me."

"Friend?" Amie inquired with a crooked smile.

"You're the only person who brought me anything when I was hurt," Steven told her, "If that isn't what a friend does, I don't know what is. So... will you attend this raucous party with me? There's a half naked man dancing there, and another one singing out of tune."

"Sounds unmissable," Amie said with some sarcasm, but Steven was quite certain there was gratitude in her eyes behind the mask.

Steven held out his arm and, after Amie took it, he escorted her back to the reception hall, where the party was still going quite strongly.

"Steven!" Rupert, clearly a few mugs into becoming sloshed, staggered over and clapped a hand on Steven's shoulder, "I've been looking for you all-" he broke off and apologized to Amie, "-Excuse me-" he returned his attention to Steven, "-I've been looking for you all evening."

"I only left five minutes ago," Steven said.

"Then I haven't been looking in the... the right places," Rupert slurred, "Anyway, anyway... that doesn't matter. What matters is that I tell you."

"Tell me what?" Steven asked.

"You were right."

"About?" Steven persisted, and Amie looked on with amusement.

"About the village path," Rupert replied, "It worked! Rhianwen's doing this thing, becoming a great playwright, and apparently that involves a lot of kissing and-" he broke off giggling.

Steven and Amie exchanged looks, saying nothing.

"Anyway, anyway... anyway... now we're engaged to be married!"

"If that doesn't call for a drink," Amie declared dryly, "I don't know what does. Excuse me, Captain Steven, I'll be back in a moment."

"You know," Rupert said, leaning quite heavily on Steven, "You should get married. Have... have little..." Rupert held out his hand to indicate how little, "Little... uh... small humans."

"Where would I put children?" Steven asked incredulously, "Have you seen my room?"

Rupert looked at him a bit queerly then, but whatever he might have said next no one would ever know, for he suddenly pitched forward and passed out drunk.

Amie returned with her drink, stepping lightly over Rupert's inert form.

"So, when's the wedding?" she asked politely.

Steven stared at her for a moment, slightly stunned, then he blinked, realizing where the conversation had been when she left, "Oh... uh... he didn't say."

"Well," Amie said, sipping her drink and looking over Rupert at where Rhianwen was playing some particularly raunchy number, "I'm sure they'll be very happy together."

"I hope so," Steven replied, "They're good people."

Amie nodded, seemingly to herself, and was quiet a moment.

Then she looked at Steven and said, "You know you have a second floor, right?"

Unable to figure out how to react, Steven simply stared at her blankly, while Rhianwen continued to play her lute, and gentle snoring began to come from Rupert.

And the man in his underwear danced.