Sir Jesa pressed his fingers together and listened to the tale Judd, seated in his throne-like chair with Cleric O’Dear hovering nearby. Caste stood in the same position behind Judd as the young man explained the tale of adventure they had stumbled into.

“In the end,” Judd finished, “it was the farmers who really dealt with the goblin infestation. And as such, I was hoping that they would be granted clemency from their unpaid taxes and be allowed to return to their orchards.”

Sir Jesa had not been surprised at Judd’s return, expecting Judd to lament that the bandits were too strong or the task was too difficult for a knight in training. He was not expecting Judd to arrive with stories of poison water, of farmers turned warriors and of a goblin hoard making itself at home within the borders of his land.

“This is a rather extraordinary tale,” Sir Jesa said at length, “and seems a little…embellished and unlikely.”

Judd didn’t argue. He knew it would sound that way. “I appeal to the testimony of my cleric who witnessed most of what happened.” Judd replied, quoting what Caste had told him to say.

Sir Jesa eyed Caste. “Even clerics must have imaginations…”

“As clerics of the Order of the Grail, we are conditioned to only speak the truth,” Caste looked at O’Dear, “is that not true?”

“Ah, yes it is, in point of fact.” O’Dear stammered at Sir Jesa’s glare.

“Well,” Sir Jesa cleared his throat, “while I commend the efforts of the farmers, I cannot simply wipe out their debt to me from Fort Faine’s accounts. I will no longer brand them as bandits and punish them accordingly but their debt still remains.”

“Even though the goblins were releasing a toxin into the water supply that poisoned the orchard?”

“That can hardly be proved.” Sir Jesa retorted.

“Goblins that were amassing a force within the borders of your land that you claimed were ‘monster free’?” Judd used Caste’s quotation mark finger wiggle to emphasise his words. Sir Jesa’s gaze darkened. “It is my understanding that knights who were honourable and competent enough to be allocated land and a fort were expected to protect the people within his purview.”

“You arrogant little upstart!” Sir Jesa roared, his face becoming red and he slammed his fists on the table. “You have the audacity to come into my fort and start making accusations and demands? I’ll have you thrown into the stocks!”

“If I may interject here,” Caste held up his hand, “one of the functions of my role as Judd LaMogre’s cleric is that I keep a detailed journal about all travel, monsters slain and interactions records. These journals will become part Astaril’s historical annuals, regardless whether Judd LaMogre survives his knighthood quest. And before they are relegated to dusty shelves in a forgotten library, all words within will be scrutinised and any,” Caste paused thoughtfully for a moment, “injustices…will be made known.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Sir Jesa’s eyes were bulging and his jaw was tight. Judd swore his knuckles cracked several times over, his fingernails possibly drawing blood from his palms.

“My lord…” O’Dear said softly and leaned down to whisper in Sir Jesa’s ear. Judd and Caste tried to respectfully not eavesdrop.

Sir Jesa waved O’Dear back, his fingers still hooked, unwilling to give up the fist clench.

“You’re a child playing a grown man’s game, Judd LaMogre.” Sir Jesa said darkly and stood up. “However, as a gracious knight of integrity I will scrub the debt of the lease to the orchard for last season and this one and allow the farmers to return without fear of punishment or reprisal.”

“Thank you, Sir Jesa.” Judd stood and bowed. “You have been most patient and understanding.” He turned to leave.

“What about your broken sword, Judd LaMogre?” Judd turned back to Sir Jesa who had stood up. “After all, you did deal with the bandit problem. Aren’t you going to demand your payment?”

Judd’s smile was a crooked one. “I thought that might be pushing things a little too far.”

“Oh no, I insist,” Sir Jesa loomed over him, “because, one day, if you do indeed become a knight and a worthy opponent, I will challenge you to a duel to the death,” he leaned down, his eyes like flint, “and I promise you, you will need a sword that day.”

He paused for a moment to let his words sink in then strode out of the hall, O’Dear waddling after him making apologetic noises.

Judd’s breath was shuddering and he looked at Caste. “Did he just threaten me?”

“That is what it sounded like.”

“Oh…well then…” Judd shivered. “Can we just go to the weaponsmith and get out of this place?”

Paxt, Fort Faine’s weaponsmith, while admiring the hilt Judd had pulled from the goblin trove, swore there was nothing he could do to fix it.

“It’s a shame really as it would have been a very fine blade in its day but there’s no one in Terra who can turn that hilt into anything more than a paperweight. I’ll buy it from you…”

“Thanks, but I’ll hang onto it for now.”

Paxt reforged Judd’s sword and showed him how to keep it sharp. When he handed it to Judd, Caste leaned over.

“Just don’t cut yourself on it now.”

In the marketplace, Aalis, Claud and Verne waited for them.

“I thought you’d be back in your orchard by now.” Judd clasped his hand.

“I couldn’t let you go without thanking you again for all you did.” Claud insisted. “My family is well, we are back where we have always wanted to be and the water is safe to drink again.”

Caste retched and turned away.

“Ah memories.” Judd chuckled. “I’m very glad to have been of service, Claud. If we pass this way again, we’ll visit.”

“You’ll always be more than welcome.” Claud patted Verne on the shoulder and strode out of the marketplace. Judd watched Claud go then looked at Verne quizzically.

“You’re not going with him?”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing some of Terra and less of Fort Faine,” Verne explained, “and you could use an archer in your party.”

“Well, I know I need no convincing but you ought to know that Caste doesn’t tend to welcome newcomers…”

“Oh please,” Caste snorted, picking up his pack, “at least Verne has proven somewhat competent in battle…even if we don’t even know his last name or where he comes from.”

“Sachon, Verne Sachon,” Verne replied lightly, “and that’s all you’re going to get out of me for now.”

“It’s more than enough for me.” Judd insisted.

“So, where are we headed?” Aalis asked.

Judd shrugged. “I’m not sure. We have a little money and I finally have a useable sword…”

“Fort Bastil is known to host sword fights and archery contests.” Verne picked up his swag. “I’ve heard it’s a great place to learn even if you don’t win.”

“Huh, Fort Bastil…Caste?”

Caste already had his map out. “It’s on the eastern coast to the south. We’ll have to go around the mangrove swamp in order to reach it…and there might be monsters along the way.”

“Then we’ll just add them to the list.” Judd chuckled then paused. “You did get confirmation of the goblin kill for my quest list, right?”

Caste snorted. “In lists I am proficiently competent.”

“Then, on to Fort Bastil!”