The sound of his footsteps echoed like a dull resonance in the luxurious hallway. It was dark, and the dim lighting from the chandeliers seemed sufficient, though perhaps he had just gotten used to it over the years.
He had finished his usual sword training, at least for that day. Tomorrow he would have to guide the younger knights, showing them his skills and teaching them the tactics he worked so hard to perfect.
At this moment, he was heading to the throne room. King Cartman really enjoyed being dramatic, they could have talked anywhere else in the castle. Craig had been summoned just before dinner, which irritated him. One of the King's counselors had sought him out that morning, insisting that there was something important he should know.
As a knight who serves royalty, he should feel honored, the King wanted to speak with him in person, and although it had happened before, it only caused him annoyance. He was hungry, why couldn't he meet him after dinner?
The castle was huge, so vast and full of riches, but it was no surprise to anyone. The royal family ruled four towns in total, so they had a large number of personnel, including knights, guards, soldiers, servants, cooks... The list was endless. Craig was just one of them.
Once in front of the room, the guard blocking the entrance moved slightly to the right, allowing him passage. Craig entered with firm steps, although the tension in his rigid shoulders betrayed his discomfort. The place was more than ostentatious. The walls were adorned with sculptures, reliefs and intricate gold decorations while two imposing columns stood just at the back of the room.
More guards were on the banks, like shadows in the darkness, watching every step, he must always be cautious in the presence of the King. Speaking of him, he was sitting on his throne, located at the back in the center, slightly raised on some steps. The high backrest also had gold decorations.
The chandeliers, hung from above, projected a warm but deceptive light, making every detail of the room shine in an almost magical way. The King looked at him with a smile that Craig recognized as false. Although Cartman's countenance attempted to be imposing and threatening, he could not hide the fact that much of his attitude was just well-rehearsed theater.
Craig advanced with a firm step, and when he arrived in front of the throne, he knelt, placing one knee on the floor while his right hand rested on his chest and he bowed his head slightly. It was the protocol for greeting the King when he was on the throne, a ritual that Craig had repeated so many times that it was almost automatic.
"Your majesty, good evening," Craig greeted in a firm but respectful voice.
"Knight Tucker," the King responded, looking at him silently for a few seconds, as if evaluating him, before continuing. "Welcome to my room, I appreciate your presence."
Craig stood up again, maintaining a straight posture, the one expected of him.
"Counselor Broflovski asked me to come here before dinner, your majesty."
"That's how it is. I have a very important announcement to make to you," the King replied, smiling a little wider. However, his eyes were still as dead as ever. Craig knew that expression well, a mixture of amusement and contempt. "You have been chosen to carry out a mission in the town," the King continued, his cold tone trying to sound polite. "Apparently some villagers are causing a stir and disturbing the peace."
Craig tensed a little more, he didn't expect to be summoned to a mission outside the castle.
"We have decided that you are the ideal person for this case," the King continued, deliberately prolonging the silence. Craig was beginning to feel himself losing his patience. If this went on too long, he would miss out on dinner. "You are meticulous, rational, and have never failed in your duties."
"I sincerely thank you for choosing me, your majesty." Craig responded, with a slight bow. Damn protocols.
The King smiled even more, this time his eyes closed a little in a grimace of amusement. Craig knew that Cartman enjoyed those kinds of gestures, he loved feeling powerful, knowing that no one could touch him. And Craig, as always, would have to endure it.
"You will infiltrate and become one of them," the King said, a note of amusement in his voice. "So, when you discover them, you must bring those troublemakers in immediately. The dungeon will be his new home, at least until we decide their sentence."
The King was almost laughing, the amusement in his voice sickening him, but he couldn't let that show in his expression. Whatever it was, Craig was sure it wasn't that serious, but their psychopath leader was already imagining a public execution.
"Understood, your majesty. I'll do my best and bring every one of them." Craig responded, struggling to keep his voice steady. He noticed a slight tired and sarcastic tone in his words, and for a second, his heart stopped. He hoped the King hadn't noticed.
Luckily for him, Cartman had barely heard him, he was staring somewhere behind him, his twisted expression never leaving his face.
"That's all, you can leave. The same counselor who summoned you will give you the details later." said the King, without bothering to look at him. He rose from his throne, and a guard rushed to assist him. Craig almost grimaces in disgust.
For the little information he had given him, he might as well have sent his counselor to give him the details from the beginning.
"Thank you, your majesty." Craig bowed again before turning and leaving the room.
Once he walked through the door, he felt his muscles relax and he could breathe normally again. He wasted no time and quickly headed to the secondary dining room, where the castle staff usually ate. Maybe there was still some food left.
—
The next day started like any other. Craig headed to the parade ground for his morning training. In theory, it would be the second time he would act as an instructor for the more inexperienced knights. It didn't bother him, but it wasn't his favorite activity either.
As he walked, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he met the calculating gaze of the red-haired counselor, Kyle Broflovski, whose impeccable robes and rigid posture reflected the discipline with which he handled all matters of the kingdom.
"Hello, Craig. Come with me for a moment, please." he said, without giving further explanations, and began to walk. Craig didn't really have a choice, so he followed him into the great hall. Once there, the counselor directed him to a room at the back.
Inside, there was a young man with a friendly appearance who was unfamiliar to him. There was a table in the center, with scattered documents and a leather bag next to it.
"This is Stan Marsh," Kyle began, pointing to the boy. "Castle ranger. He will guide you to your new home while you carry out the mission."
Craig observed the young man, noting his related posture and sincere smile that contrasted with the formality of the surroundings.
"Nice to meet you," Stan said, extending his hand to greet him.
Craig returned the greeting, squeezing his hand lightly, without changing his expression.
"Exactly what is this all about?" He turned to Kyle, with a questioning look.
"Didn't Cartman explain it to you?" Craig looked at him silently, slowly shaking his head. "That idiot... Well, let's see. Apparently the townspeople aren't very happy with royalty, which honestly doesn't surprise me. The King fears there will be a revolt, so he wants to make sure everything is under control."
"Our beloved King is a little paranoid lately," Stan commented with a smile.
"I suggested other types of more sensible solutions, but he preferred to send infiltrators to check each town," Kyle continued, massaging his temples with visible frustration. "In your case, you will go south, to the lake town. You will live on the outskirts, near the forest. As I mentioned, Stan will guide you there."
"How stupid," Craig finally said, to which Stan let out a small laugh.
"It is," Kyle conceded, "but there's not much we can do. A foolish move from the King is still an order we must follow. The objective is to identify if there are groups planning something against the kingdom. Cartman wants to put them all in the dungeon."
"Bring any criminal, it doesn't matter." Stan mentioned casually, as he handed him the leather bag. Craig raised an eyebrow, but took it without saying anything.
"You must make reports of what you discover and submit them every third night." Kyle added with a more formal tone. Perfect, Craig thought, just what he was missing, paperwork. "You start today, so go change your clothes. The armor will scare the villagers."
Craig looked at him, a little surprised. He didn't expect it to be so soon, but he couldn't complain. At least it didn't seem like a complicated mission, the sooner it started, the sooner it would finish.
—
The journey to his new house was relatively quick and uneventful. Craig brought a few belongings with him, not many, but he would probably need them later. He and Stan set off together, each riding his horse. Leaving the castle was not something Craig did often, especially since it was forbidden without direct permission from the King. His main duties were usually limited to daily training and guarding the towers. The last time he left was to see his family, and he didn't even make it all the way to their village, he simply met them at the edge of the forest.
They crossed the stone bridge that connected the main entrance of the castle to the outside. The musty smell emanating from the ditch beneath them was unpleasant, but once the horses stepped onto the dirt road, they quickened their pace a little. Even to leave there was a whole protocol.
The journey through the forest was, in fact, pleasant. The path was well defined, and the footprints of other travelers indicated that it was not a forgotten path. They had to go around the entire perimeter, the castle looked less imposing from a distance, more integrated into the landscape that surrounded it.
After a while, the forest began to open up, and the lake village came into view. A small house, simple but cozy, awaited him. It was situated among the trees, close enough to the village to not be isolated, but far enough to offer privacy. From there, Craig could see the houses and the silhouette of the lake in the distance, shining in the sunlight.
"What do you think?" Stan asked, breaking the silence. "I added and arranged several things so that you have a more comfortable stay."
"Thanks." He got off his horse and directed him to the small stable that was right next door.
"If you need anything I usually stand guard around the place." Stan offered, who was still on his horse. Craig just nodded.
"I live east, down this road." Stan continued while pointing to a dirt road. "That's all from me. Good luck Craig, see you later."
Stan said goodbye and quickly disappeared from his sight, the sound of the horse's hooves fading into the distance. He didn't dislike Stan, he seemed to be someone competent, maybe he could need his help later, he knew the place very well.
With a sigh, Craig gently pushed open the front door. Once inside the house, the air was fresher, and the faint smell of wood and dried herbs welcomed him. He began to arrange and put away the items he had brought with him.
When he finished unpacking, he sat down on one of the wooden chairs that creaked slightly under his weight. He rested his elbows on the table, letting his eyes scan the interior, which was simple but functional. Despite the quietness of the place, he couldn't help but feel a little out of place.
What was he supposed to do now? It was the first time he had so much freedom to carry out an order. He was used to direct orders, always with someone behind him.
He sighed briefly, rising from his chair. The day was not over yet, and there was much to explore. He sighed briefly and with one last look around, he walked out the door. It was time to go exploring, familiarize himself with the surroundings, and begin gathering the information he would need.
The lake village was the smallest of the four, yet its size was still considerable. It was clearly named after the lake in the village's vicinity. Craig knew that thanks to that, the locals produced a large amount of beer, as well as benefiting the fields of crops and farm animals.
He had never been there, and the first person he crossed paths with surprised him a little. He was used to the formality of the castle, but the older woman who looked back at him seemed completely unconcerned, with a kind expression and dressed in simple, worn clothing. Craig looked away, remembering the comments he had heard about the villagers. 'Wild and ill-mannered' the knights who had regular activities in the villages called them.
He walked between several houses until he reached the central square. A large market greeted him with vibrant colors and a constant murmur of voices. He felt slightly overwhelmed by the bustle, although the energy of the place also piqued his curiosity. There was much more life here than in the castle corridors. He observed stalls filled with clothing, food, crafts, medicinal herbs… There was just too much stuff.
Craig approached one of the stalls selling fruit. He had no intention of buying anything, but he examined the fresh apples for a moment. The vendor, a robust man in a dirty apron, smiled at him in a friendly manner.
"Looking for something in particular, friend?" he asked in a jovial tone.
"I'm just looking," Craig replied, his expression impassive.
The vendor did not seem to be discouraged by his coldness.
"These apples are the best, we harvested them near the lake. Perfect for a snack or for cooking. If you change your mind, I'll be here," he said, kindly before serving another customer.
Craig nodded slightly and stepped away from the stall. As he continued to walk through the market, he noticed how conversations flowed between the villagers, some joking as they exchanged goods. It was a very different atmosphere than he was used to, but not entirely unpleasant. Although he preferred solitude, he couldn't deny that there was something captivating about the warmth of the place.
He continued to wander a little further, he had been at the market for quite some time now, but he couldn't help it, it was a really interesting place. He stopped short when he came across a familiar face. In front of a stall displaying clay tableware and decorations and detailed paintings of landscapes, he recognized the young lady behind those impressive objects, Wendy Testaburger.
He knew of her because of her reputation as a trusted artisan for the crown. The King would sometimes request specific pieces from her, and Craig remembered hearing some nobles praise the beauty and quality of her work. Although they had never directly exchanged words, he knew she did not know him, as he always wore his armor.
Wendy moved with precision as she arranged the tableware, as if each piece was a treasure in itself. The young lady seemed to notice his presence as she gave him a polite smile.
"Are you interested in anything?" she asked pleasantly.
Craig kept his expression neutral and shook his head slightly.
"This market is a good place to explore," she said casually. "If you need any special pieces, I can work on custom orders."
Craig simply nodded and while feigning interest in one of the dinnerware sets, made a casual comment, trying not to seem too suspicious. "I see this place is quite lively. Everyone here seems to get along," he said, his tone neutral as he watched the bustle in the square.
"In general, yes. It's a close-knit community, although, like anywhere else, there are always differences," she replied, as she adjusted one of the pieces on its stand. Craig nodded slowly, as if reflecting on his words. It was time to use a false identity.
"In the town I come from, differences often cause problems. Here it seems quieter in comparison." Wendy watched him for a moment.
"Well, appearances can be deceiving. There are tensions here too, but they are handled in a… discreet manner" she said in a tone that suggested more than it said.
Craig remained calm, sensing that the conversation was taking the direction it needed.
"Discreet?" Craig repeated, feigning casual interest. "Where I come from, they were anything but discreet, that's why the King sent them to the dungeon."
"Here we prefer to keep a low profile, especially if it involves discontent with the King." Wendy replied with an amused smile, as she leaned a little closer to him. "Was it some rebel group?"
"Something like that. When I heard about them, I wanted to join, but they were too unruly. I wasn't going to risk my life for people who don't know how to keep calm" he lowered his voice a little, making sure that only Wendy could hear him despite the noise.
"And you're still interested? Joining a group like that?" Wendy asked with a slight smile.
"Do you have any suggestions?" Craig answered, feeling that he was getting closer to the information he needed.
"Come to the Bear's Tavern in the afternoon, before the sun sets, there's something that might interest you." Wendy answered, in a lower tone, before turning around, a young woman with curly blonde hair had approached her.
Craig turned around, making a mental note about the Bear Tavern. He had no idea where it was, so he would use the remaining time to locate it. The sun was barely at its highest point, giving him room to explore a little more and make sure he had everything ready.
Wendy hadn't revealed much, but she had given enough to confirm that there was a group with not-so-good intentions against the monarch. Now he just had to be cautious and not rush. Getting in good with them could open many doors for him, but it could also close others if he didn't handle the situation carefully.
Back at the small house, he decided to take a break. The silence of the place contrasted with the bustling square. After a while, he pulled out one of the sheets of paper that had been handed to him in the leather bag and began to write down his first discoveries: the information he had obtained and the potential meeting point. As he did so, his mind was already planning his next steps.
With the sunlight still streaming in through the window, Craig leaned back in his chair, wondering, What would happen next?
—
As evening fell, Craig arrived just in time. Wendy saw him enter and, without saying anything, led him to one of the tables at the back, where the dim light and the shadows cast by the candles danced to the rhythm of the flickering flame, giving it an air of discretion.
The smell of old wood and beer permeated the atmosphere, enveloping Craig. Although there were not too many people in the tavern, the bustle of conversations and the clink of glasses clinking filled the place.
He stayed alone for a moment, observing the faces of those present, who seemed to be having quite a bit of fun. Suddenly, a waiter with an orange hood appeared at his side, offering him a drink. Craig accepted with a slight gesture and was soon given a jar of beer that made him raise an eyebrow at its size. It was huge compared to the small glass glasses he usually used in the castle.
As he lifted the jar, he noticed its weight. He took a curious sip and immediately noticed that the taste was different, more intense, with a hint of sweetness that he hadn't expected.
As he savored the drink, a group of people sat at the table next to him. He didn't pay attention to them at first, focused on his own thoughts, until he saw Wendy approach them with familiarity. Craig turned his gaze toward the group. There were three blondes: a woman and two men. He recognized the woman immediately, she was the same one who had spoken to Wendy at the market earlier. One of the boys, with golden hair and a little disheveled, stood up from his seat, turning his back to him.
Craig turned his gaze to the jar, feeling a slight dizziness. He had drunk a little more than half of it, but the intense flavor and the dense atmosphere of the tavern were taking effect on him. A noise nearby brought him out of his thoughts, someone had knocked over a chair, and the creaking of the wood dragging on the floor made him turn around.
He met the blond who had stood up from the table next to him. The boy sat down next to him with tense movements, as if he wasn't entirely sure he was doing the right thing. As soon as their eyes met, something inside him stopped, as if the world around him vanished for an instant, leaving him only with those big emerald eyes that looked at him with a mix of nervousness and uncertainty, clearly waiting for him to say something first.
'What the hell is wrong with me?', he thought, feeling his throat suddenly close up. He had never been at a loss for words before. But now, with that young man in front of him, he seemed to have forgotten how to speak, how to act. Craig noticed that the boy's hands were shaking slightly as he bit his lower lip, he couldn't look away.
There was something about that boy that completely threw him off. The pale skin, the big, bright eyes, and that golden hair that seemed to capture the candlelight in a way that was almost magical. Craig thought he looked like the angelic figures in the paintings that adorned the castle's halls, those he had always considered exaggerated and out of place. But now, seeing him in person, he found it dazzling.
"Are you okay?" The blond's voice broke the silence with a soft, melodious tone, which made Craig feel even more disoriented. It was a voice that, in his clouded mind, could very well belong to a celestial being. Everything seemed unreal, maybe that beer really was playing havoc with his judgment.
"Yeah," Craig replied, his voice barely audible.
"Are you drunk?" the blond insisted, leaning slightly closer.
"No," he answered quickly, though the truth was that yes, he was more than a little dizzy. "I don't know."
The blond smiled in amusement, which made Craig feel as if the air was escaping from his lungs.
"Man, I think you've had too much to drink. Go home and come back here tomorrow," the blond said with a soft laugh that rang like a bell in Craig's ears. He himself felt his lips curl slightly in response, and for a moment he thought he must be dreaming.
"I only drank… half, half a jar," he replied immediately, closing his eyes to concentrate. "But this beer… it's very concentrated…"
The blond let out a light laugh, seeming to be a little more relaxed than at the beginning, although his fingers played with the edge of the table.
"Don't you usually drink?" he asked, looking at the huge jar Craig had in front of him. "Besides, they brought you the largest measure."
"A little, but… the beer where I come from is smoother." Craig tried to focus his eyes on his drink, every time he looked around, he felt like everything was starting to spin.
"Oh, you're not from the village?" the blond asked curiously, tilting his head in a gesture that Craig found, strangely, charming.
"No… I come from the mountain village up north." Craig answered. Well, that was true, that's where his family was from and that's where he had been born.
"No wonder," the blond said between laughs, Craig felt a slight warmth in his chest. Hearing that laughter caused him a strange agitation. "Take it easy then, the drink here is usually stronger."
"Thanks, I wish I… knew that before." Craig ran a hand over his forehead, trying to clear it while he looked back at the blond, who continued smiling warmly.
"I arrived today. I explored the place a bit, the market is… very lively." Craig tried to focus on the conversation, remembering the bustle of the morning.
"Are you planning to stay here?" Tweek's curious look distracted him a little, but he tried hard to keep his composure and answer.
"Yes… that's the idea."
"Excellent, by the way, my name is Tweek Tweak, sorry I didn't introduce myself at the beginning." The blond now had a slightly embarrassed expression, as if he had just realized his oversight.
"Craig Tucker, nice to meet you." he said, extending his hand towards Tweek. Upon feeling the blond's hand, a soft tickle ran down his arm.
"I'm one of the village's bakers, when you need to buy bread, you can stop by my shop. It's near the market." Tweek smiled enthusiastically.
"Sure… I'll probably stop by tomorrow for a while." Craig nodded, although inside he reproached himself for not exploring more during the morning. Maybe if he had, he would have met Tweek a little earlier.
A person near the bar started laughing loudly with someone else, a slight headache was starting to bother him, maybe it would be good to leave and come back tomorrow. The dizziness wasn't going away and for a moment he had the feeling that if he moved too much he would end up on the floor.
"I'm sorry, I think it's time to go," he said as he slowly stood up, pushing his chair back. A pang ran through his head, forcing him to close his eyes for a second.
He sat back down and Tweek looked at him curiously. He rested his elbows on the table, holding his forehead with the palms of his hands. His heart was pounding and his thoughts were spinning quickly, why did he keep drinking from that jar? Now he couldn't even stand up.
Without opening his eyes he focused on his breathing, he was indeed drunk. A few gentle touches on his shoulder made him look up. Tweek was offering him another drink.
"It's water, it sure helps you feel better," Tweek said with a compassionate look.
Craig just nodded and drank a little, the blond kept talking to him but he only heard it as a murmur in the distance. At some point, without realizing it, he fell asleep, with his head resting on his crossed arms, which rested on the table.
"Are you okay, man?" he asked with an amused expression on his face.
Craig nodded without much energy, straightened up, let out a sigh and looked around. Tweek was still sitting to his right and looking at him with intrigue, maybe he was still dreaming.
The tavern was much emptier, there were only about six people left, counting him, the waiter and Tweek.
"If you like, I can keep you company for a bit. It seems that real beer affected you," Tweek offered kindly.
"I think I can go back alone," Craig replied, running a hand over his forehead.
"Oh, okay, I hope to see you here tomorrow, maybe we can talk a little more about why you came, Wendy mentioned something to me but it will be better to discuss it during the day." he said quietly.
"Sure." But, in reality, Craig barely remembered why he had come to the tavern. The mission, the orders... everything seemed to be eclipsed by Tweek's presence. He had never felt like this, so out of control. He stood up again and this time he didn't lose his balance. "See you tomorrow."
"See you." Tweek gave him one last smile. Craig couldn't help but return the gesture.
He left some coins next to the jar and started walking towards the exit. Tweek had stayed talking to the waiter.
Once outside, the cool night air hit his face and he had to lean against the wall, closing his eyes. Hell, maybe he was a little drunk. He let out a sigh and started walking.
The moon was in all its splendor, illuminating the streets a little, the tranquility of the town made him feel a little relaxed. Seeing everyone moving so fast and talking to each other can be entertaining, but also exhausting.
Craig concentrated on each step, avoiding stumbling. The cold of the night cleared his mind a little more, although the slight dizziness was still there.
When he arrived home, he gently pushed the door open. He crossed the small space to his bed and let himself fall on the mattress. The accumulated tiredness mixed with the memory of the laughter and conversations that still echoed in his head. For a moment, the image of that blond boy's face, illuminated by the candlelight, crossed his mind.
He settled on his side, allowing the darkness of the room to envelop him. He closed his eyes and smiled weakly to himself as he felt the weight of sleep take over him.