By Matthew Aadland
Pesky little things, these weeds. If you didn’t stay on top of them, they’d ruin your whole garden. I grabbed the jagged little plant by the base and gave it a firm tug. It popped free, clumps of rich dirt still clinging to the mess of roots.
I straightened my back and surveyed my little patch with some satisfaction. With the last weed pulled, it looked ready to keep for another week while I traveled into the capital for the festivities. The midsummer’s festival would begin in a few days, and it just wouldn’t be right for me to miss the opening ceremonies.
I gathered up my gardening implements and stowed them in my little shed. I carefully brushed the dirt and plant matter off each one before putting it back in its spot. My ears caught a faint jingling while I worked, but whatever it was could wait until I was done.
With everything cleaned and put away, I closed the door and latched it shut. There was no lock, as no-one in their right mind would want to steal my gardening tools. Even if someone really needed gardening tools, Hank, the smith up the road a ways would make them a set just for asking. He made plenty of coin banging out spear tips and shield bosses for the Dark Army.
As I walked unhurriedly back to my front door, I finally spotted the source of the noise I’d been noticing. Three knights, or at least men in full plate mail, were riding up the road on a trio of fine stallions, making for a brisk trot. I stopped for a moment to watch them.
“Hullo, good sirrah!” one of them called as they approached my fence. My garden wasn’t much of a territory, but it was mine, so I guess that made me landed, and thus a sirrah.
“Good afternoon,” I replied. I leaned against my gate and heard a slight squeak. A quick jiggle confirmed that it was the top hinge. I’d have to oil it before I left in the morning. Undeterred by my examination of the gate, the knight continued.
“We are the Brotherhood of Light, come to slay the Dark Lord and free this land from his oppressive reign. We were told his palace lay within this vale by several folk at the inn over in Clearwater. It appears we have been deceived, for we have found no sign of life beyond this road and a small hamlet.”
I sighed. Clearwater had always been a thorny presence, with its dissidents and conspiracists and plots and schemes. That some folks from that town had sent these men here to seek out the Dark Lord was no surprise, though it was a bit of a disappointment. I watched the one who’d spoken quietly, waiting for him to ask me a question.
He was large and quite sturdy looking. Like many heroes before him, he had a strong jawline and a half a week’s worth of blonde beard to lend him a certain rugged appeal. Though this was offset a bit by the stink of sweat and horses the men carried with them. Still, with a bath in his recent past, I had no doubt the maidens would swoon all over him, as their peasant fathers’ breasts swelled with hope that, finally, the Dark Lord would be cast down and the realm set free.
Eventually, he realized that I wasn’t going to volunteer anything and so he continued. “Since we’ve little hope of finding the Dark Lord, I was curious if there was another inn in this town. We would like to rest and continue our search in the morning.”
I nodded and pointed up the road, in the direction they’d been traveling. “About a mile up that way. You’ll be riding out of town before you find it, so don’t worry you’ve passed it. There’s a wooden bridge over a stream, and a shallow rise. Once you top it, you’ll see the inn. They’ve ale and food and room for you and your horses. Perhaps even some music, if a bard is passing through.”
“My thanks, good sirrah!”
The three men conferred briefly, voices pitched low. I could still hear them, of course. I have very sharp ears.
“I was so certain they were telling the truth.”
“Have we searched the whole vale?”
“No, but did you see any Dark Lord’s palace when we came through the pass?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean it’s not here, somewhere.”
“Let’s just go get settled in at the inn. We’ll have a few drinks and relax, then we can find the damned place on the morrow.”
They all agreed to this and kicked their horses into a trot. I watched them leave, nodding to me as they passed. I watched them until they were a ways up the road, then I heaved another sigh and walked back into my hut.
I made myself dinner and ate slowly. They’d need time to reach the inn, eat, and down a few tankards of Frederick’s best ale, to make this easiest. As I ate, I watched the sun set over the mountains through my little window.
After dinner, I read a few chapters of a treatise on farming. It spoke of something called “crop rotation” that seemed like a good idea to try. Eventually, the stars had settled into the sky for the night and the moon had started to rise. I put my book away, and retrieved my axe, Soul Destroyer from the mantle.
I donned my horned armor and made my way out the door, latching and locking it behind me (I had things of considerably more value than a few gardening tools inside my home). Then I started down the road towards Frederick’s inn. Pesky little things, these heroes. If you didn’t stay on top of them, they’d ruin your whole kingdom.