There were several things about going to the front lines that they didn't teach you about in class. First was the cheesy training play retired soldiers would put on to go over proper uniform and protocol. The ability to suspend one's disbelief was thoroughly crushed by the fact no one wanted to be in the play and they were all bad actors. The costumes weren't too bad though.
The second was the living conditions. Every convoy was accompanied by a chorus of grasshoppers getting crushed under the wheels of the carts. There was no such thing as a good cup. You needed at least two if you didn't want to see your hot beer melt through the bottom and onto your shoes. Being too picky about things was a sure way to have wages garnished for an extra blanket, so most soldiers held their tongue and reminded themselves this was temporary.
The third was regardless of whatever assignment came from the crown, there was no escaping a fool's errand from their commanding officer. All of them were flawed, Harv just had the displeasure of working for someone particularly keen on abusing power. He would sooner stomach five more months of guarding against the empty horizon than be sent off to settle someone's personal grievances. Nobles just loved inventing foes when they had none to face and the young Lord Radner was no exception.
So, it was a great displeasure to find he held the shortest straw out of the group that morning. His peers were more than happy to offer pity rather than spare him the indignity of going on a 'witch hunt' by taking his place.
"Just say you did the best you could and then visit your family." Said Cliff. "There's no way to get in there without getting caught."
"I'm not going to lie." Harv threw the straw on the ground. He took one last longing look at the sunbaked fields before trudging into the tent of their commanding officer.
"Took you long enough." Darren didn't so much as look over his shoulder when addressing Harv, too busy with a wide board covered in scraps of paper connected with strings. In the center was a map of a looming castle in the woods near town. "The Princess's fourteenth birthday is a few weeks away. It'll be too tempting an occasion for the witch to stay dormant much longer." Darren put away a box of pins into his desk. A damned heavy thing everyone had to carry with them when they changed posts. "We need to-" Darren frowned, having looked up above Harv only to find his face a few feet down. "Weren't you taller last time?"
"No sir." Harv said. So the rumors were true, Darren couldn't tell his own men apart on most days. "What is that?" He lifted his chin toward the strategy board overtaken by slips of paper.
"I've been tracking the movements of the witch of Cailburry for years now." Darren said, he motioned for Harv to come in closer. "I had a feeling once I left for service, she'd try something. I'm kind of the only one in the kingdom willing to do something about her. Sure enough, once I left, her behavior became more erratic." Darren gestured to the lower left hand of the board. There were drawings of fish with sharp teeth, spider clowns, and other vaguely mystical things. "She's been summoning all kinds of monstrosities, no doubt trying the best way to sabotage the Princess's party. Every time my informant's come back it's been something new." Or, more likely, each of Harv's friends had made up something different and never set foot near the place.
"Have you considered these leads aren't worth it?" Harv couldn't throw his friends under the bus, but he was starting to feel bad for the guy. Wanting to protect the Princess was a far nobler goal than mere petty grievances. "If she ever found out you were sending people to spy on her, she could do something far worse. We could always provide extra guard to the princess the week of her birthday."
"Of course." Darren said, with a sparkle in his eye that almost made him look mad. "She must have found out I sent spies and deliberately led them astray. No wonder nothing adds up." He paced back and forth. "I need a fresh set of eyes on the situation back home. And the guard thing, that's not a bad idea either."
"Thank you sir." A small part of him had hoped he'd be able to weasel out of going to the witch's house.
"I'm so glad someone is willing to take this seriously." Darren sank back into his office chair with a heavy sigh. As far as he was concerned, they were starting back on square one. Well drat, now Harv really felt bad for the guy. "Three days; get in, find out what she's doing, get out. Understood?"
"Yes sir." Harv saluted and left the tent. He wasn't going to make stuff up just to pacify his superior, but he was going to try his best and then visit his family.
The witch's castle was an impressive stronghold. Winding rose bushes grew to heights that rivaled trees, and conveniently in the way of most windows. The thick stone walls were glazed in coral paint, making it hard to scale them without leaving evidence behind. The surrounding woods were known for all kinds of rumors, but the one that left Harv anxious was about missing travelers. People who went missing without a trace on moonlit nights.
He still had a few hours before sunset, barely enough time to get good intel, but maybe even a little would be enough. Harv circled his way around the castle grounds until he found a rose bush with wide, thick branches he could use as a foothold. Carefully, he pulled himself up until he was nose level with the windowsill.
The interior to the witch's study was mostly obscured by thick curtains. He could make out a room dimly lit with colored candles, almost red, but not quite. They surrounded a crystal ball playing scenes from someplace outside. A woman walked by to a wardrobe of walking sticks adorned with gems. She seemed to hesitate on which to choose.
"What are you doing?" A cold, shrill voice asked. Harv lost his balance and fell into the rose bushes below the window. Harv groaned and rolled onto his stomach at the foot of a lithe figure clad in purple. "Did Darren send you?" Harv looked up at a blond spellcaster holding a fistful of white hot flame.
"No." Running on pure adrenaline and loyalty, Harv struggled to think of a reasonable excuse. One that wouldn't welcome too much questioning.
"Then what are you doing here?"
"I was... looking for you." Harv grabbed a red rose and offered it to the stranger. "To confess my feelings." The flame died in an instant.
"Feelings? What feelings?" Shock melted into a shrewd evaluation of Harv's appearance and supposed gift. This wasn't the witch, couldn't be Darren had used 'she' far too often. However, they clearly were close to her.
"I love you?" Harv blurted out of pure desperation. The blond used his hand to hide a fraction of mirth and laughed.
"Oh that's a good one!" They grabbed their side. "You? In love with me? I don't even know who you are."
"You don't have to be so cruel about it." Harv scooped himself off the ground, a little alarmed at how such blatant rejection stung. He should just consider himself lucky he could escape unharmed.
"Wait, wait," The stranger wheezed, "I have to know why." Harv looked back at them with a sullen expression. "What possessed you to say such a thing?" Well, the easy explanation was to avoid suspicion, but saying so would blow his cover.
"Well, if you're going to just laugh at me again..." Harv tried to walk away again.
"I won't, I promise." They had collected themselves and frowned in some form of performative seriousness. "Well then, out with it." Harv looked them over and tried to find something worthy of a compliment.
"Your eyes." Harv was more ashamed he had to lie so much to a stranger than bashful, but he hoped he came off as somewhat believable. They blinked back at him, somewhat surprised.
"What about them?" Again they waited.
"They're pretty." Harv watched them mull over his words like a bitter pill. "They are. It's a color I've only seen in sunsets before."
"Is that all?" They pouted. "It's kind of a vague, superficial thing; anyone can have pretty eyes." He gave them a shrewd look and Harv's heart stopped. Had they caught on so quickly? Harv wasn't sure what else he could say convincingly without making it obvious he knew nothing about this person. For someone who dressed so flashy, he assumed appealing to vanity would be enough. He should have figured they collected words of affection like coins.
"Well what else do you expect me to say? Sometimes you just know." Harv dug deep, dusting off a few memories from his childhood he tried to bury out of sheer embarrassment. "Sometimes you see someone, and you want to see them every day, and anytime they speak... it's like words to a song you didn't know you were writing. I may be making myself look like a fool right now, but that pain pales in comparison to the thought of never seeing you again." His parents could be quite affectionate, he promised himself he'd never stoop to such embarrassing platitudes. Yet here he was, pouring his heart out to a sour-faced blond. A sour-faced blond that could probably kill him without a second thought.
"...Do you want to come inside?" They asked. Maybe it had worked too well? They appeared reserved, but a light rose dusted their cheeks. "Your peasant poetry was... torturous, I can only imagine what it felt like to say such ridiculous things. Clearly, you're desperate. But truly liking me is a quality I find quite attractive." He had an open invitation to the witch's house, it could be his only chance to get real intel on what the witch was up to. Even if it did feel like he was walking into a pit of vipers. Their tone was sweet, but something in their eyes shouted danger. "I'm Finn by the way."
The interior of the castle was vast and covered in grit. Larger homes required more care than others, but there wasn't an echo of a footstep other than their own. The walls were decorated with fine things, some obviously stolen from the royal court, all garishly colorful and tinged with soot. Harv tried to pay attention to the numerous dark corridors, the location of the exit firmly planted in his memory. Should things go south, he'd need to get out fast.
"MOTHER!" Finn shouted up the stairs. "I'm taking a strange man into the kitchen!" Surely in a magic castle, there had to be a more sophisticated way of communicating.
"That's nice dear," a soft voice shouted back, "just make sure he doesn't leave a mess." So the witch's lair was somewhere upstairs. She didn't sound like a hag, but then again, rumors seldom could be trusted.
"Umm-" There were protocols nobles typically followed. Greetings and special ways of apologizing for showing up unannounced, but Finn waved him off.
"Hush, this way." Finn led him deeper into the castle to a cramped kitchen. Knives hung from the ceiling like a mobile, reflecting the dim candlelight off their blades. Something from the sink gurgled and for a moment Harv thought he saw something scurry out from the drain and into the shadows. Splotches of colorful spills had been left to dry all over the place. Finn stepped out of the doorway and motioned for Harv to enter. "Go ahead."
"What?" Harv stared at him dumbly.
"Cook for me." Finn rolled his eyes. "Your flower was… well meaning, but let's face it. It's dead." He narrowed his eyes, the fact it came from his garden went unspoken. "Do something useful for me and I'll take your feelings into consideration."
"O-of course." Harv said. Finn tapped his foot, staring at him as if he was choosing to be lost in someone else's home. "Where's the food?" Finn pointed to a large wooden casket.
"In the fridge." Instantly, Harv thought of the thing opening up and swallowing him whole. He'd heard about what happened to Gretel. There was no way he was opening or going near anything in the kitchen with doors. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go powder my nose." Finn turned heel and walked out the door leaving Harv to fend for himself.
He was quite literally backed into a corner. Were he to try to slip out and investigate, there was a good chance he'd run into Finn while doing so. He'd just have to keep up the ruse until there was a more acceptable chance to slip away.
-v-
The minute the peasant was busy, Finn ran out of the dining room. He slipped upstairs to his mother's bedroom door and knocked as quietly as possible. He glanced at the shadows downstairs to make sure he wasn't followed.
"What the heck are you doing?" His mother shouted.
"Shh!" He took that as permission to enter, taking care to not make noise with the door. "Darren sent one of his friends here… again." Finn said. Leenan was preening at herself in the mirror, the news no stranger than if he said the sun would set in the evening.
"So?"
"So," Finn half chuckled, "this one thinks if he's nice enough I'll roll over."
"HA!" Leenan almost knocked over a perfume bottle. "That's cute. He's started to train them to have a brain cell."
"I just wanted to see if there was anything pressing you needed done before I see how long it takes for him to crack." It would also give her a chance to lock up her things before the warrior tried to pull something.
"The sunroom's still a disaster from the storm." Leenan said. "If he messes anything up, you'll have to fix it." Finn nodded and turned to leave. "And no blood in the house. The smell lingers forever."
"Yes mother." Finn said before closing the door.
AN: Just a short little two-shot. I had aspirations of making this longer, but I ran became enamored with other concepts. So, rather than having this rot in my drafts, we're posting as is.