George took his seat beside Pepe and indulged in idle chit-chat with some boring old countess. There were the usual speeches, several toasts to the honoured guests, and the Emperor, of course. Boring! No wonder young Reginald was so mischievous, he was probably bored out of his mind! And Princess Jessica? She was probably day dreaming of something a lot more exciting. Poor girl had resigned herself to a life of boredom.
Finally, several drunken nobles stood up, made their apologies, and turned to leave. And found their boot laces tied to their chairs. They collapsed to the ground with brief curses, ever mindful that the Emperor was watching. Young Reginald at work again, George thought with a smile, seeing the grin on the prince's face.
No one accused the young prince who was sitting all so innocently beside his elder brother. My the boy was as slick as Pepe when it came to stealth!
One by one the guests left, each checking their boots before they stood up. George noted that none of the people carrying weapons had any problems. apparently the young prince respected people who wore weapons and didn't want to offend them.
George breathed a sigh of relief when Lady Rosita made her apologies and departed. "Something wrong sir?" asked Pepe.
"No, no. the woman who just left is the person I don't want to speak to," the knight replied.
"Oh, I see."
"So... Was your mystery Lady here?" George asked suddenly, anxious to change the subject.
"Yes."
"I trust she's well?"
"Quite well."
"Sir," there was a tug on George's sleeve. He looked down to see young Reginald. My Lord the boy could move fast! "Yes lad," the knight asked. The lad will make a promising warrior one day. He swore the boy had been at the far side of the room bare seconds ago.
"You must excuse my youngest," Bo'ston called from the other end of the table. "He is a good lad, and like all good lads, he idolizing his hero. I'm afraid he was a bit disappointed that you have grown since the last time you were here." What a polite way to call me fat, thought George. "Come here lad," the Emperor called. "Leave the knight to his meal."
"No need," George said quickly. "I am far too fulfilled to eat another delectable bite," he lied through his teeth. Like Hell, I'm starved and I've had rot gut that tasted better than this! "What was your question young majesty?" he asked Reginald.
"Could I see you fight?" he asked in a small voice.
"Reginald!" said Bo'ston harshly. the old man's hearing was sharper than ever.
"You could, but this is no place for a duel," George replied, hating to disappoint the lad further.
"The courtyard," Reginald suggested hopefully.
"Okay, but who am I to fight, and how for that matter? I would not want to hurt someone?"
"The Captain of the Guard," the boy supplied. "There is an contest that apprentice knights take part in. You try to cut you opponents boot laces," the prince said, glancing at the chairs where the unlucky ones had sat.
"I don't...Ó Bo'ston began.
"I see no harm in granting his Majesties wish, Emperor. I would enjoy a good contest," George said quickly.
George sent Pepe to fetch his armour and shield, and followed the grinning young prince into the hallway.
"Good to see you George."
I know that voice, swore George inwardly. She had been waiting in ambush for me! he turned slowly to face Lady Rosita. "Good evening Lady," he said through clenched teeth.
"You've been avoiding me. We really must talk sometime," Rosita said, betraying no emotion.
"Yes, we must, but I'm far too busy for," George paused. the prince had wandered happily ahead and was easily out of earshot. "For a gossiping woman who keeps gnawing on an occasion that happened twenty years ago. I have nothing to say to you other than good bye," George said flatly, hiding his discomfort.
Rosita turned red, and for once speechless. She raised a hand to slap him, but instead abruptly turned on a heel and stormed away. "That felt good," George murmured to himself, ashamed that he himself had been so cold.
"Best of three?" asked George, drawing his sword. The Captain of the Guard merely nodded and assumed a protective stance. This was going to be interesting, thought George. The captain was a formidable foe, not as great as George, of course, but a great opponent nevertheless.
George dodged in swinging short, clipped strokes, his training and experience telling him they were the hardest to parry. The Captain tried to ward off the knight , but wasn't fast enough. Leaping back, George gave the man time to recover.
Reginald and Bo'ston applauded. The present courtiers stood there stunned at how fast George had been. The Captain took a careful step backwards, giving himself more room to maneuver.
Switching hands, George pressed in again, leaving his left foot as bait when he withdrew. The Captain dodged in, taking the bait. George lifted his foot, and with a show of bravado under his leg from his left hand to his right.
Totally caught off guard by the stunt, the captain leaped back his boot snagging on something and tripping him.
George bowed extravagantly and offered the Captain his hand. The man took it and George helped him to his feet, giving him a good natured slap on the back. The two squared off again, and this time George decided he had showed off enough and promptly cut the other boot lace.
Reginald was and his father were clapping their hands off and both had a grin from ear to ear. Prince Bo'ston yawned.
"You need to practice parrying quick jabs," the innkeeper said to the Captain. The man nodded graciously and looked at the knight thankfully. George always had a strange feeling when he helped his comrades out. It was a good feeling that he never tried to explain.
"I've had enough of these damn formalities," shouted George angrily. "I want to speak with the Archknight!"
Pepe rolled his eyes, and pointed out the window at the moon for emphasis. "He's asleep! We'd never reach him at this hour!"
"Don't be so sure," said George. "Burglar," he added with a wry gin.
"You're kidding me! We can't break into the Knight Compound!" shouted Pepe.
"Hush! The servants will here you! And yes, we can break into the compound. The knight's don't patrol the walls, don't you know?"
"But anyone who tries to break into the compound gets caught!" protested Pepe.
"Traps," shrugged George.
"Traps?"
"A whole army could scale the compound, but they'd all get trussed up in traps, unless they followed certain instructions, of course."
Pepe looked from the tall walls of the Knight's Compound to George beside him. "Are you sure you want to come with me?" he asked.
George crossed his arms. "How would you avoid the traps and how would I get to speak with the Archknight?" he asked, trying to avoid the sarcasm that came unbidden into his tone. Pepe didn't answer. "Well, then," said the knight, dismounting. "Follow me, and don't do anything I don't tell ye to!"
The squire dismounted and followed George around the perimeter of the compound until they came to a catapult tower. "Now there's a story behind this entrance way, but since we're in a bit of a hurry, I'll skip it," explained George, walking up to stand in front of the wall. "Give me a boost will ya?"
"But-"
"No 'buts', I'll explain later," snapped George. "Now hurry up and give me a boost!"
Pepe hastened to obey. Feet firmly planted on Pepe's shoulder, George pushed on a stone with a tiny shield engraved in it. It didn't budge.
"Damn it," swore George. "Maybe they don't oil it anymore?" he said under his breath, while punching at it with his gauntlet. It only swiveled it a little.
"Try this," suggested Pepe, handing up a platinum mace.
"Where in Hell did you get that?" demanded George, taking the great mace.
"Family heirloom," came the reply from below.
"I'm not going to ask who's family," said George. "Lord!" he swore, hefting the mace. "This is the lightest platinum mace I've ever held! Is it hollow?"
"It's palladium alloy," replied Pepe. "It's lighter and stronger than platinum. Could you hurry up?"
Gee, he's a well of knowledge, thought George. "How'd you know that anyway?" he demanded, banging the mace into the stone.
"I asked a smith before I stole it," answered the burglar truthfully.
Finally there was a response from George's hammering when a section of wall grated open with a sound George thought resembled an avalanche.
George cursed himself for the fourth time for not bringing a lantern, and bent over to feel what he had stubbed his toe on. It was a skull. He immediately pulled his hand away. It was a human skull.
Pepe bumped into George from behind. "Why'd you stop? What is it?"
George turned to face the squire even though he couldn't see him. "It's a skull," he said gravely. "I nearly tripped on it."
"What's a skull doing in here? Are the knight's trying to ward off visitors?"
George didn't know, he didn't want to know, but he had a feeling he was going to find out. "I don't know," he finally replied, before stepping over the skull to continue on.
When they finally emerged from the dark passage, George led the way through a dimly lit hallway with sputtering torches until they entered the pantry. The place still had all the trimmings as far as the knight was concerned. The traps in the tunnel still worked.
"Are there any other secret passages that I don't know of?" Pepe asked, crossing his arms.
"Yes, why?"
"Well, let's go see 'em!"
George glanced at Pepe. He wondered if his accent was wearing off on Pepe. "We can get into any room in the compound with this passage. Did you have a particular place you wanted to see?" the knight inquired.
"Who was it you dragged me out here to see again?" Pepe asked sarcastically.
"Saucy lad?" he mused. "I didn't think a Pavolian could be saucy. They're usually too busy with formalities!"
"Oh Great Sir, I beggeth thee to leadeth me onward to greater glory and to meet with the esteemed Archknight Marel Trainic," Pepe preached, hiding his grin.
"That's much better," laughed the innkeep.
"Well, I'll be the south end of a north bound mule!" Pepe winced at the Archknight's oath, but quickly regained his Pavolian stoic face. "George Waycot, what in cursed Hell are you doing here at this time of night?"
George opened his mouth to speak, but Marel interrupted him. "I've got a feeling of why you're here. Too much formality, eh?" George nodded and opened his mouth to speak again. "Aye, I thought so! How-Ó Marel stopped to look at Pepe who was regarding him with sour disapproval
The old knight shook his head and stood up straight, slammed his fist on his battered breastplate in a salute and recited the traditional greeting: "Well met brethren, I pray your deeds have been honourable in the eyes of the Lord, that you have humbled the arrogant and aided the feeble. May your days remain bright and pleasurable."
George quickly repeated the ritual and hugged his battle worn friend. Marel was five winters older than George and though he looked much older and brittle, the Archknight had the appearance of an old bald fox, and it shone in his character; Sly and shrewd.
"I see you've maintained your southerness, I would have thought these Pavolians would have gotten to you by now," George remarked cheerfully.
"And I see you've gained a second stomach," Marel chuckled, looking pointedly at George's paunch.
"Excuse me," interrupted Pepe, "But the reason why we're here-Ó
"Shut up Pepe!" George snapped, hiding a grin. "Can't you see this is a solemn moment?"
Pepe turned away angrily and inspected their surroundings. Marel's study was more of a library than a study. It was so teeming with books, scrolls, and maps that in some places they had been stacked on the floor, having run out of shelves.
There was plenty of walls space for more shelves, but you'd have to get rid of Marel's display of battleaxes and throwing knives. All the chairs had been used as shelves so Pepe leaned on a table which had a model of the city complete with miniature warriors, catapults and trebuchets, loaded and ready too!
"Why are you up so late?" George asked suddenly.
"Same reason you're in Pavol to begin with," Marel said with a sigh, suddenly looking very old. His office had prematurely aged him and it wasn't because of the mess.
"May I tell him, Lord Marel?" Pepe asked. "He's been bugging me for the reason why we sent for him ever since we left Windpeak," he added with a snort.
"Of course, you may," Marel said, looking as if a great weight had been taken off his shoulders. as he sat down.
Pepe turned to George, his face grave. "There is a renegade knight who has been systematically killing off all other knights. The number of knights in the brotherhood has been cut by half, and many knights have went into hiding," he explained.
"Forty at least," Marel added.
Pepe continued: "No knight known has met the renegade and lived. Emperor Bo'ston is genuinely concerned with the loss of this many knights and demanded that you bring in this renegade so that he may be put on trial and most definitely hanged."
George was shocked, there was about four thousand knights! surely no single man could kill two thousand knights! George could have done it twenty years ago, but not now. It was a seemly impossible task for George to take on a knight who would have been his match twenty years ago when he was younger and quicker, but now? And Bo'ston demanded it, did he? "Sounds like I've been drafted into the bounty hunter business," he almost snarled.
Marel nodded. "There's another reason why I requested you. you haven't forgotten the reason for your self imposed exile, have you?"
"Bureaucrats," George spat.
"This Black Knight as he's been nicknamed also has a similar belief that you and I have, only he believes in killing them," the Archknight explained.
"Bravo!" George cheered.