Two horses came over the saddle between Peak Two and Peak Three (1) Princess Suzette was mounted aside on Buttercup, her white skirts shining like new snow and gilt crown sparkling, but no brighter than her golden curls. Prince Feodor on Steel was an altogether more mundane figure in his aging leathers with Krystina riding pillion behind him. The tiny kingdom of Grenfell lay before them.

It sloped in rugged fells from the skirts of its four mountains down to the Tumble river and was bounded turnwise by the Cutshade forest with the equally small kingdoms of Riverdell and Coll rimward and widdershins. The land was green with summer grass and dotted with flocks of sheep. Smoke rose from hamlet and homestead.

Suzette pointed. "There's the castle."

It stood on the high ground near the base of Peak Two, a square of walls with a tower at each corner and a turreted keep in the middle. A fairly large town clung to the hillside below, snug inside its own walls. It wasn't until they'd gotten much closer that they saw the black pavilion set up on the fairground commanding both castle and town gates.

Suzette reined in sharply. "Oh no! He followed us!"

"No," Feodor, corrected, "He got ahead of us. If he'd been following we'd have led him right into the Elves. Pity we didn't."

"That's the Demon Knight?" Krystina guessed.

"You got it," said Feodor.

"What are we going to do?" Suzette wrung her hands. "He's got the castle and town blockaded!"

"Excuse me, I think I'm missing something here," said Krystina. "He's only one man."

Suzette looked at her. "He's a demon!"

Krystina looked at Feodor, or rather the back of his head, which nodded.

"Believe me, he can make it impossible for either the castle folk or the townspeople to leave the protection of their walls."

"But you got into his castle," said Krystina.

He shrugged. "That's different. I'm a hero."

"Do something!" said Suzette.

"Right. Get down, please, godmother."

Krystina slid to the ground. "What are you going to do?"

Feodor shrugged, "Parley of course."

-----

He rode alone down the hill to the fairground. A black shield hung on a pole a short distance from the pavilion, he struck it with his fist.

The Demon Knight of the Peaks emerged, encased from head to foot in light swallowing black armor his aura of evil perceptible at a hundred yard distance. "Who dares summon to summon me?"

"That would have been me," Feodor answered calmly. The Black Knight stalked closer, the waving plumes of his helmet almost level with Feodor's head despite the latter being mounted and the former afoot. "Forgive me if I seem unduly inquisitive, but may I ask why you are blockading this castle and town?"

"I wait for the champion who stole my bride from me," the booming voice replied.

Feodor cleared his throat. "Uh, that's me again."

"YOU!" Demonic incredulity fairly echoed off the defensive walls and was clearly audible to Krystina and Suzette a quarter mile away.

"Afraid so," Feodor said apologetically. "Not quite what you expected?" He sensed he was being studied from behind the hideous mask-like visor.

"YOU penetrated my wall of poisoned thorns?"

"That's right."

"You passed the sphynx guarding the first gate?"

"I love riddles."

"Slew the Wraith Knights on guard in the barbican?"

"I'm not sure 'slew' is exactly the right word -"

"Deprived my chimera of its sting?"

"They make much better pets that way."

"Passed through my gallery of madness?"

"It helps to be a bit mad already, I think."

"Faced the terrors of the Eight Locks?"

"Now that part was a bit iffy."

"YOU claim to be a knight and champion??"

Feodor abruptly dropped the mild manner, his eyes gleamed like glacial ice. "I do not 'claim', Demon. I am Feodor de Apel de Serap of the lineage of Drago the Badass. The blood of the First King runs in my veins and Blind Io himself is my patron. Your so-called bride was taken by force, I rescued her at the behest of her father King Roi. Go now, or face the consequences."

"And those would be?" the Demon demanded scornfully.

Feodor smiled and the Black Knight took an involuntary step backward. "Me."

The Demon recovered. "I will hurl you into the fires of Hell!"

Feodor's smile widened. "Already been, they couldn't wait to let me out."

-----

"What now?" Krystina asked worriedly as Feodor dismounted in front of them.

He shrugged. "Business as usual."

"Which is?"

"They're going to fight," Suzette said flatly.

"I did offer him a chance to retreat," said Feodor. "Armor, please, my dear."

"Help me," Su said to Krystina. The witch assisted her in taking Steel's saddle bags off his back Su opened one and pulled out a slightly battered and not very bright breastplate that was definitely too big to have fitted inside.

Krystina was to absorbed in the evident insanity going on around her to pay any attention to such a minor paradox. "You're going to fight this Demon Knight for Su?"

"That's the idea," Feodor said calmly.

"It's the standard procedure," said Suzette, piling breast plate, an equally plain and battered helmet and some unfamiliar pieces of boiled leather armor on the ground then going to help Feodor off with his cloak.

"I don't call that sensible!" Krystina snapped.

The prince spread his arms with a rueful grimace. "Welcome to my world."

"Those are the rules," said Suzette holding out her hands for the breastplate.

Krystina gave it to her. "That's idiotic."

"That's chivalry," said Feodor as his princess fastened him in.

"Pauldrons please," said Suzette. "The wide ones."

"It's insanity!" Krystina handed over the scaled leather shoulder guards. "Let me fight him. I'm a witch and I've got the wand!"

Feodor shook his head as Suzette frowned over the little buckles. "I can't, this is my quest. Su is my lady, protecting her is my job."

"And what happens to her if you lose!" Krystina demanded.

He grinned wickedly. "I wasn't planning on losing, godmother."

"Cuisses," Suzette ordered, holding out her hands.

"But, but," Krystina stuttered, outrage clogging her throat so coherent words couldn't get out. She handed over the leather thigh pieces.

The Princess knelt to fasten them on. "Look, Krys, I don't like this any better than you do. I don't want Feodor getting killed over me."

"Here now, have a little faith in your knight will you?" he protested.

"I do, but he's a demon." Finished with the arming Suzette stood back, cradling the helmet in the crook of her arm. "We can't do anything else, Krys, that's all there is to it."

"But...!"

Abruptly Feodor turned serious. He took the witch by the chin and tilted her head up to meet his steady gaze. "Krystina, all this world of ours is a tale in which each of us has his assigned role. We are bound by the rules of narrative. I am a hero, there are certain things I must do - no matter how idiotic they seem."

"He's twice your size!" Krystina cried.

A corner of the Prince's mouth rose in a crooked smile. "The bigger they are -"

"You think?" Suzette asked a little grimly.

He nodded, serious again. "Oh yes. Did you see the way he moves? Massive, but slow."

"Keep him at a distance," the Princess warned, handing over the helmet.

"Don't teach your knight how to kill giants," Feodor said mildly putting it on. He went to un-sling his axe from his saddle.

"Oh no, you're not using that!" Suzette protested.

"Damn right I am! You wanted me to keep my distance didn't you?" He pulled a sword with a highly ornate hilt and bright, shiny blade from a sheath on the other side of the saddle and held it against his axe, the latter was at least a foot longer.

Suzette bit her lip. "That's the King's sword of Grenfell!"

"And a very good sword it is, I'm sure," Feodor answered soothingly. "But I'd rather stick to the weapon I'm used to."

"You're both completely mad," Krystina said bleakly.

"Of course," Feodor answered calmly. "That comes with the territory."

----

Notes:

1. Grenfellers don't have a lot of imagination when it comes to names. By an interesting coincidence Leonard of Quirm's mother was a Grenfeller, his father's family having had a summer residence in the kingdom.