The morning of the Kathryn the Kind Beat the Onyx Wing So Let's Celebrate and Get Drunk Festival, the guards awoke everyone long before the sun rose.
DJ rubbed the sleep from his eyes and armed himself. Kathryn wouldn’t appear at the Festival until dusk, but the guards had their orders to patrol the festivities throughout the day. DJ and Steve were requested to stay at the governor’s manor and watch Kathryn while Riley and Francis patrolled the festival with the rest of the guards.
“Don’t worry,” Riley said. “Francis and I will stick together. No one will try anything on a seven-foot orc.”
Francis held DJ’s shoulder. “Be wary, young knight. Stay close to Steven.”
They left the manor to patrol with the other guards. DJ and Steve stayed in the manor’s common area. Kathryn leaned back in an armchair, resting her feet on a nearby table. Everything about her manner spoke relaxation, but her face betrayed her demeanor. There was worry etched in those features. DJ could see them across the room.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” she said. “The festival’s best ale is brought out at dusk, and that’s when I’m supposed to have the special Drink to Freedom. It’s easier to keep me alive in one room, right?” The question came with a weary smirk.
Guards kept their eyes on windows and doors. They played cards. They sharpened their weapons. Stories and chatter were sparse. Any attempt at levity was short-lived and feeble. Frequent glances were taken toward their leader, and she did her best to keep up the nonchalance. DJ knew she was thinking about the notes she had received. Revenge is ours. We’ll rise again.
It didn’t take long before Steve prodded DJ. “Sir DJ! We must meditate together!” The friar sat down, crossed his legs, closed his eyes, and breathed. DJ felt everyone’s eyes on him, and normally that would make him self-conscious. But given the circumstances and Steve’s experience, DJ knew it was foolish to resist. He crossed his legs and closed his eyes.
Time ticked slowly by. Itching impatience grew in him—as well as a rumbling stomach—so after a while, he got up to retrieve some rations. DJ finished a fist of bread and an apple, and all the while, Steve kept meditating.
This could be like the House of Phillip all over again, DJ thought with anticipation.
Hours passed. Steve never stopped. Guards came to the manor to report on the Festival. The day had started off with general unease, but as the Festival went on and the people drowned themselves in cheap liquor, their spirits turned high. And there were no sign of the Onyx Wing yet. Guards frequently checked visitors and locals for black wing tattoos, but there were none.
“Maybe they’re just trying to scare you,” one guard said.
“Or they’re hiring someone else to do their dirty work,” another guard replied.
“What say you, Lady Kathryn?” a third guard asked.
Kathryn twiddled her knife and said nothing for a time. She gazed at her reflection in the blade, then said, “The Onyx Wing came to power through cunning and force. So did I.” She paused. “Does that make us the same?”
Everyone held their breath and traded nervous glances. The soldier named Lyle knelt by her side and frowned seriously. “You stand for freedom, not oppression, Lady Kathryn. You cut them down because someone needed to. You’re a hero.”
Kathryn gave another tired smirk. “Hope it always stays that way.”
No one knew what to say to that.
The hours felt like days, but at long last, the sun turned orange and red in the windows. Lyle stooped down by Kathryn’s chair. “My Lady, it’s nearing time for the Drink to Freedom.”
Kathryn put on her best smile. “The mead better be good this year. Ready, all?”
Finally, Steve opened his eyes. There was a steely focus in them DJ had rarely seen. The friar stood and everyone assembled by the door. Together, they surrounded Kathryn as they marched rhythmically through the courtyard and out the gate. As they traveled toward town square, the dull noise of the crowd grew. The smells of sweet pastries drifted through the air, along with shimmering music. When they broke into the open, the noise transformed into a raucous cheer.
The entire concourse was illuminated with lines of tall torches flickering with light. Bards broke into a celebratory song. And as the city celebrated, DJ noticed that most of the townspeople had colored their hair red. Some of them even painted fake scars across their faces and wore ranger cloaks. He scrunched his nose at the lot of them and thought of how strange it was to worship a politician, even if it were someone like Kathryn the Kind.
Surrounded by over a dozen guards, Kathryn smiled and waved all around—most likely scanning for threats. DJ and Steve stayed on either side of her. DJ kept both hands splayed and ready for magic. All the while, the city vibrated with joyful noise.
In the middle of the concourse was a stage loaded with an astonishing number of mead barrels. One of Kathryn’s close guards gave her a tankard. She carefully picked a barrel to draw from, then stuck her tankard under its spout and filled it with rich, frothy drink.
Her guard detail created a tight circle around her. DJ and Steve stayed close, along with two other guards. DJ studied the crowd, watching for anyone suspicious. He saw Riley and Francis at the edge of the crowd. Riley waved. DJ grinned.
Kathryn held up the tankard and the city quieted.
“People of Blight’s Respite,” she said. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the third annual Kathryn the Kind Beat the Onyx Wing So Let's Celebrate and Get Drunk Festival!”
A swell of cheers and one errant, “Marry me Kathryn!”
“There is still much work to do,” Kathryn continued. “But together, we will keep building a happy and free Blight’s Respite, far from the grasp of those greedy, murderous, Onyx Wing bastards!”
A louder swell of cheers. No marriage proposals.
She gestured to the barrels behind her. “Are you ready for the best mead in the city?”
The city roared.
“Are you?”
The city roared louder.
“Then let’s get on with it!” She raised her tankard. “To freedom, to peace, and to the City Over the Water!”
Hesitating, she tipped her head back and drank.
That’s when the strike happened.
Half of her guards turned with military speed. They shot arrows. They flung knives. A traitorous assault of projectiles aimed at Kathryn the Kind.
It was fast, but Steve was faster.
His arms moved like snapping cobras and his lips spoke magetongue with godlike precision. A dome of translucent blue materialized around Kathryn and the close guard detail. Knives bounded off. Arrows severed in two. The nearby guards ripped their weapons from their holsters. DJ crouched down, hands outstretched, heart pounding, ready.
Outside the protective dome, Blight’s Respite burst into chaos.
Townspeople screamed and ran. Guards wrestled other guards to the ground. Riley and Francis jumped the traitorous guards nearest to them. Francis subdued one, but his shoulder was horribly gashed in the process. Riley failed with her prey—the guard trapped her in a headlock. In the struggle, Riley knocked his helm off, but she was still helpless in his grasp.
DJ’s fingers twitched. Magetongue stayed on the tip of his teeth. He remained trapped inside the protective dome, unsure of what to do. Most of the traitors had been subdued, but others snatched innocent townspeople and pointed knives into them, holding them hostage.
But the traitor who captured Riley stumbled into the open, holding a sword to her throat, stomping all around.
“Silence!” he cried. “Silence!”
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That voice. As the guard clutched a resisting Riley, DJ recognized him. The handsome face. The parted black hair. The strong chin.
Vennick. And the blade pressed against Riley’s throat was DJ’s own knight sword. He sneered horribly. “The Onyx Wing sends its regards.”
Rage flared in DJ’s chest. “Let her go!”
Vennick laid his eyes on him. That sneer became even worse. “Well, I’ll be… the sniveling, pampered son of Sir Dashing. I thought I killed you months ago.”
“Should’ve tried harder,” DJ seethed.
“The night is still young,” Vennick’s voice slithered. “By the way, I thought of pawning this blade of yours, but grew rather fond of it. It’s finely made. Besides, the word Junior decreases its value.”
Riley struggled against him. Vennick held tighter. DJ’s hands trembled.
“Release her, you coward!” Kathryn put her hand on the sword by her waist. “Fight me yourself!”
“Ah, but you’re in there, and I’m out here.” Vennick motioned to the blue dome with his chin. “Creates a bit of a predicament, doesn’t it? Not that I would fight you to begin with. I’ve heard you’re quite the specimen.” His eyes seared. “How about this: for every ten seconds you stay alive inside that dome, we kill one of your people? I’d be happy to start with this one. She was never terribly bright to begin with.”
Whimpers from the other hostages. A bead of blood trickled down Riley’s neck. DJ tried to formulate a plan, but he was still reeling with shock and anger.
“I’ll make it easy for you,” Vennick said. “I’ll count down from ten. Ten.”
Riley’s eyes were wild. They locked on DJ.
“Nine.”
DJ shot a look at Steve. The friar stood frozen with worry.
“Eight.”
DJ turned to the guards behind him. Neither of them budged.
“Seven.”
DJ bore his teeth and looked back at Riley.
“Six.”
Riley stayed insanely focused on DJ. She puckered her lips.
“Five!”
Riley was sucking her cheeks in, like she was getting ready to spit in the air.
“Four!”
Spit into the air. Spit into the air.
“Three!”
The sudden realization hit DJ like lightning. He nodded.
“Two!”
Riley spat out a wad of saliva. DJ planted his feet.
“One!”
DJ shot out his arms. “Glaci-talum!”
Before that wad of spit could hit the ground, it transformed into a pick of ice and shot into Vennick’s eye.
The mercenary cried out. He loosened his grasp. Taking her opportunity, Riley twisted around, disarmed him, and slammed the sword’s hilt into his temple. The handsome mercenary crumpled into an unconscious heap.
As a collective gasp flew through the town, and the guards acted quickly. They subdued the murderous guards with fists, weapons, and tackles. The hostages were freed.
Riley stood in the middle of the crowd, clutching DJ’s knight sword, breathing heavily. Feeling all of Blight’s Respite watching her, she looked at Vennick and a swell of victory grew in her. She raised DJ’s sword and planted her foot on Vennick’s unconscious body. “Down with the Onyx Wing! Blight’s Respite remains free!”
Deafening cheers.
As the guards tied up the surviving traitors and hauled them away, townspeople threw vegetables and half-eaten pastries at them. Riley hurriedly pulled a wizard waffle from her pack and threw it at Francis. The orc ate it and the wound on his shoulder stitched up. He struggled to stand—his green face was paler than usual and his arm was caked with blood.
DJ took a deep, heaving breath and turned to Steve. “I thought you were going to do something there—like, stick them all with Shockthread or something!”
Steve shook his head. “I could not risk the lives of the captives! But the Goddess spoke peace to me, saying there was another way! You were the other way! Goddess be praised!”
That pulled DJ’s lips into a smile.
Riley approached him. “Hey. This is yours.” She held out his sword.
DJ had to admit Vennick took good care of it. It was polished and sharpened—even his name on the cross guard was in pristine condition. But inwardly, he wondered what awful deeds were done with it. He tried not to think about it. Instead, he lashed his knight sword on the other side of his waist.
“I was worried you weren’t going to catch my idea,” Riley said.
“Almost didn’t,” DJ replied. “Totally saved your life, though.”
“If you weren’t so dim, you would have saved it sooner.”
DJ broke into a smile. She hugged him, and he held her back.
For the rest of the night, DJ and Steve stayed close to Kathryn the Kind in case there were other threats. She had enough mead to turn pink in the cheeks. The rest of the town, however, got absolutely shitfaced. Strangers approached Steve and DJ to drunkenly offer drinks and thank them for protecting Kathryn, which made DJ feel a bit uncomfortable. He and Steve were only doing their jobs after all. But several locals swore that they would reward the mages somehow for their service. DJ didn’t think much of it—drunken promises are hardly more than fleeting ideas. The people of Blight’s Respite didn’t retire until very late, staggering home like a host of undead. And by that time, DJ’s body demanded sleep.
When they returned to the manor, they learned that the traitorous guards were never guards to begin with. They were mercenaries who killed guards the night before and stole their armor to blend in with the crowd. That’s how they were able to walk around Blight’s Respite so freely.
That morning, DJ and the others took their time waking up and helped themselves to modest portions of cheese and bread for breakfast. As they finished their meal, a guard approached them.
“Hey,” the guard said. “Lady Kathryn wants to see you four.”
The four adventurers made their way to common area. Kathryn was already fully dressed and waiting for them, lounging in her favorite chair. Her face brightened when she saw them.
“Morning,” she said. “Hope you all slept well. I definitely did after last night. The waffle wizard was right, as usual. You were brought here for a reason.”
Everyone sat with her, filling up the couch and armchairs. They noticed four trinkets laid across the table.
“You two saved my life,” Kathryn said to DJ and Steve. “And because of that, the town adores you. Some of these gifts come as donations from them.”
Suddenly, DJ felt a little guilty for harboring salty feelings toward Blight’s Respite. Seems like under their hard shell, the locals were a little soft after all. And it seems like they still keep their promises, even when they’re rip-roaring drunk.
“Friar Steve,” Kathryn said. “From the chef at the Purple Pony, this frying pan is enchanted to work without fire. You can cook anything in it without heat. And if you hit someone with it, it’ll likely burn them.”
Steve took it and turned it around, admiring it. His hands cautiously explored its surface, but it was cool to the touch. He bowed gratefully. “May the Goddess bless the people of Blight’s Respite!”
“Sir DJ,” Kathryn said. “To you, the local mage guild has donated these mage robes. Wearing them will increase your magical capacities.”
The sparkling purple robe was like water in DJ’s hands. It definitely wasn’t woven from human hands, and DJ was sure it was worth a fortune. He bowed his head. “This is… awesome. Thank you.”
Kathryn turned to Francis and Riley. “The town also heard about you two—how you’re close friends with the two heroes. They didn’t want you to feel left out.” She pointed toward a book on the table. “Francis, the town library is donating its copy of Withered Leafs. It’s hundreds of years old.”
Francis’s eyes grew to saucers as he took the book. His green hand traced the cover as if it were something holy. “The orc poet, Unlef! His works are rare finds.” He held it to his chest. “I will cherish it until my dying day.”
“And for you,” Kathryn’s eyes sparkled as she addressed Riley. “This is from me personally. It’s called Windfeather. It was with me during parts of my journey across the territory. It’s yours now.”
A fine hunting bow. Riley’s eyes positively sparkled. She traced its smooth, worn wood and taught string. She swallowed and said, “This is the best thing ever. Thank you.”
“You can stay for as long as you like,” Kathryn said. “You’re heroes to this city. But I know you’re eager to reach the Amulet of the Goddess, so I won’t keep you. You have my thanks, and the thanks of Blight’s Respite.”
The party thanked her again. Riley even gave her a hug, which she returned warmly. But they felt no need to needlessly linger. They took their time packing their things, but before long, they were on their way.
As they ventured north, people battled raging hangovers to hail them in the streets and shower them with praise. They called the travelers the Heroes of the First Drink. They handed the party bread and apples and gold pieces. One woman even offered to perform very un-Stewardly acts on Steve. But her euphemisms went right over the friar’s head, much to his friends’ amusement.
The Great River greeted them to the west as they left the city. The party followed its edge, feeling its cool breeze nip their bodies as it flowed southward.
The next stop was the Library of Artak. Francis couldn’t have walked with larger strides. And he managed to do it with his face buried in Withered Leafs.