Human workers in denim kneeled down, cutting off the leaves of the plants and placing them in baskets, which others carried to a nearby structure, at least, they did until two men with a poleaxe crashed into the brush.

Hardhat stood up, noting the crack of air in his joints, then smoothed out his arms to get rid of his wrinkles.

“Smells like a proper brew, that does. Oh, I got me voice box back.” He picked a leaf and sniffed it.

“Why?” asked Derek-Derek, floating atop the tea like a crowd surfer, albeit one with depression. “Why didn’t you attack them, helmet head?”

“Who are you calling helmet head, helmet head? Lad, listen. I really think we ought to have a word about your attitude back there…”

A circle of workers formed around them and said things.

“Those humans… they’re not in jumpsuits.”

“That one looks like a knight.”

“Are knights allowed to wear sunglasses?”

“Modern day ones, yeah. Otherwise they couldn’t fight when it’s sunny.”

“I thought they had to squint. More manly.”

“Are you saying women can’t be knights?”

“You’re both wrong. They’re supposed to save all their battles for a rainy day.”

“...Did he come to save us?”

“He’s come to liberate us from Lord Assam?”

“He’s a hero alright, all the heroes act like that.”

“What, spoil crops by lying on them?”

Derek-Derek jolted upright like a scarecrow struck by lightning.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Greetings, townspeople and populace!” he said. “I am the esteemed Derek-Derek, Barden Knight! Your hospitality is greatly appreciated, especially of the hot beverage variety, but I will warn you upfront that I cannot tolerate skimmed milk!”

The crowd mumbled the name Derek-Derek among themselves with what could only be described as restraint. They parted to let through a middle-aged woman, who looked like she’d earned her tan and muscles from years of hard labour.

“Someone else on the working class workout, I see,” said Hardhat.

“Everybody spread out,” hissed the agricultural gymgoer. She thrust a thumb at a watchtower jutting out the side of the field. “Back to work, chop chop. You too, Pumpledinker, get a move on!”

The crowd parted at her command, and soon the field resembled a human machine as its constituent parts picked away in unison.

“We can’t talk here,” she said. “Follow me.”

“That building up there!” Derek-Derek pointed to a palace sitting on a cliff at the end of the valley. “’Lord Assam’ lives there, doesn’t he? I, Derek-Derek, will complete this quest and save your village by ending his life!”

The farmer stared blankly at him.

“Lad, no.” said Hardhat, arm already on his shoulder. “Can you come with me and have a bit of a chat, first?”

“Fear not, noble peasant, I am sure my selflessness approach to justice has left you speechless, but I will surprise you once again: I will accomplish this task for free! Worry not about a reward--”

"I’ll use my magic, I will." Hardhat stubbed his pencil into his clipboard. "You ain’t going off like that till we’ve had a little touch base, alright?"

"I’ve nothing to say to a traitor who would turn their back on a fellow Barden Knight!" said Derek-Derek. "I am hereby slaying the evil demon lord of the first circle, and you can’t stop me!"

"OBEY", said Hardhat. "Sorry about all this, love. We’ll come with you now."

"Right," said the farmer. "Keep your heads down and don’t talk to anybody."

The knight shuffled alongside Hardhat as the farmer led them to a village of bunkhouses, most of which were smaller than garden sheds. He spent his time hollering at everyone he saw, so Hardhat forced him to run around a bunkhouse until he was out of breath. The farmers continued their work, affected as much by the shouting as, say, a brick.

"How can you force your will on me like this?" panted Derek-Derek. "It’s wrong! What’s more, aargh, how are you so goddamned powerful?"

Hardhat grimaced as he ducked into the farmer’s shed-domicile. "You were too busy trying to kill that Juliette to listen to her, eh? Words that resonate with us are stronger, and I’ll tell you now, young’un, I’ve spent me whole life following some bossman or other. Builds character. Now sit down and listen up."

"Oh, I listened, alright." Derek-Derek pressed his entire bodyweight onto the handyman’s foot. "And I know you can only use that word on me once. I don’t know when it’ll wear off, exactly, but you should watch your back." He crunched his metal boots down, like a kid squishing worms on the playground.