Thistle waddled through the junkyard. It was early morning, and there was no wind. Just a stifling quiet and the sharp scent of rust. Thistle looked around at the heaps of human garbage, all tucked away in the dusty foothills of the Upside mountains where it was out of sight. He glowered. You’d think he hated it here, but Oboe knew better. His good antennae twitched, and he scurried after something.

There was a coat hanger poking out from under a big pile of broken bicycles. He grabbed it and pulled, kicking his spindly legs trying to pull it free. It was stuck.

“Oboe!” He yelled. “Give me a hand!”

Oboe moped, sitting on top of a big mound of busted old wagon wheels. Getting up felt like the most difficult thing in the world.

“You want to help or not?!” Thistle said. “Get over here, kid!”

She slid down, curling into a slump at the bottom. Shoving herself onto her hooves, she slouched over to him. She pulled the coat Hanger out with a yank and the whole pile of bicycles came crashing down where they made a huge mess. Oboe didn’t think there was anything she could do to ruin the junkyard, but she was wrong.

“Perfect,” Thistle said. He snatched the coat hanger away and toddled up to his cart where he tucked it into his collection of other treasures.

This was something the old sylph did long before Oboe first met him. He would come out to the outskirts of the capital to pick through the things the humans threw away. He found things he liked, made them useful with magic, and then tried his best to sell them. It was his favorite thing. And, sometimes, when Oboe was upset, or bored, or very, very lonely, he would take her with him.

It stank here. Like rust, and mud, and rotten fruit. It wasn’t a bad smell. It made her feel nostalgic.

“Not that it’s any of my business,” Thistle said as he clambered up onto a mound of scrap metal. “But haven’t you got more important things to do right now?”

“No.” After what had happened, Oboe felt like this was where she belonged. “I’d just make things worse.”

Thistle starting digging through the mess. “Huh.” He said. “Doubt that. Can’t break what’s already broke. I’d rather have you mucking things up than any of those overgrown weeds on the council. At least you care if someone gets hurt.”

Oboe wasn’t sure she did anymore. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “They kicked me out. I went, and I tried, but the Titled are awful and I hate them, and thinking about it hurts so much, and nothing I can do will ever change any of it!!”

“Been saying that for years,” Thistle said. “Can’t say I like hearing it coming out of you. What’re you going to do now, then?”

“I’m not going to do anything!” Oboe said, sick of it being her problem. “They can fall apart for all I care! I’m done. I’m leaving Laien.”

“I see.” Thistle said. He let the moment hang. “So why are you still here?”

Oboe didn’t have an answer. “I just… I wanted to see you. I wanted to say goodbye.”

Thistle seemed to think about this, stuck out his lower lip, and shook his head. “Nope. I don’t buy it. You know better than to stick around for an old roach like me. How many times have I told you to leave? To go find someplace better than this dump? You never listen. Why start now?”

“I’m serious!” Oboe said, annoyed.

Thistle went back to digging. “The only reason you ever come out here with me is so you can talk to someone. If you’re really done, which you aren’t, good. Great. Go! May the Mother’s mercy follow you. But we both know there’s something else. So, start talking already.”

She let her mouth hang open. He was right. More than anything she needed to talk, but when she tried the words felt dry and stick.

“I think…” she said, with great effort. “I think I crossed a line with Theo. …Now I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh yeah?” He said. “You gonna tell me about it, or are you just going to keep dragging your hooves?”

She pinched her fingers. She needed to let it out, but she was terrified of what Thistle would think of her.

“I… kissed him.”

Thistle stopped digging. “You WHAT?” He spun toward her. “Kissed him? That face nuzzling tongue thing you fuzzy fairies do with creatures you want to mate with??”

“…Y-yeah.” Oboe felt hot all of a sudden.

“With HIM?” He squinted at her in disbelief. “Isn’t he kind of a grumpy asshole?”

“He’s not!” Oboe said. “He’s nice, and good, and he came to find me at the Circle! He forgave me when I was stupid and listened to my grandmother. He doesn’t care that I’m nameless, and he believes in me!”

“Okay.” Thistle rolled his eyes. “But he’s a human. That’s gross. Gross and weird.”

“I know that!” Oboe said, pulling at her mane. “He doesn’t have any horns. There’s only hair on his head, and they all smell funny! It’s weird and wrong and every time I look at him I feel warm and good and I want to be with him!”

Thistle went back to digging. “Suppose beggars can’t be choosers. A human, huh. I always hoped there’d be a miracle, and some foreign buck would whisk you away before learning the details. Just proves the Mother’s a real prankster.” He looked up after a moment, mortified. “…HIM?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Oboe said. “Nothing matters. I asked him to leave with me. …He said no.” Her stomach twisted in knots remembering it. “He wants to stay and fight and save everyone, and I don’t. I can’t! I’m not good like him. And now he knows that.”

“Hold on a second.”

Thistle stuck his arm deep into the scrap pile and rooted around. He pulled out a small golden ring, which glinted in the sun. Nodding, he chucked it across the junkyard and it landed in his wagon with a sharp ping. He fluttered down from the pile, brushing his hands off.

“You remember that time you wanted to go to Red Spire?”

“What?” Oboe was bewildered. Annoyed. “What are you talking about? No!”

“It was like a year after they took your name,” Thistle said. “First year was hardest. Or maybe it was just when you threw the most fits. I don’t know. Anyway, I told you we should find you a new Circle to call home, and you got it in your head that the Circle in Red Spire was the one for you.”

“I should’ve gone,” Oboe said, bitter. “Why didn’t I?”

Thistle shrugged. “We packed bags full of everything you’d need. Right when we were about to go, you changed your mind. Told me this was your home. If there was a chance things would change, and I told you there wasn’t, you wanted to stay.”

“I was stupid,” Oboe said.

Thistle glared. “No. Shut up. Just shut up and listen to me.”

Oboe stopped talking. She waited for Thistle to say something else, but he didn’t. He stood there, flexing his twiggy fingers, his mouth opening and closing like he was always half way to starting.

“That was important. …Important to me, anyway.” He stopped looking at her. “You were just this kid. The Circle shat on you. Maybe it would’ve been kinder if they killed you, but they didn’t. They did their worst, but that didn’t matter. You had hope things would get better. …That’s not something you learned from me, and you sure as hell didn’t learn it from them.”

Oboe listened. Thistle struggled to get the rest out.

“…No matter how bad it got, you always had that… hope. That… Seeing that broke me.” He cleared his throat, and focused. “It CHANGED me. Got me to try talking to the Mother again. It was like, no matter what the world was like, I could just look at little Oboe and I’d see hope. It was just inside you, it was PART of you. And… that always kept me going.”

Whatever hope Thistle had seen inside Oboe had dried up. It was dead. Killed by the Circle. She looked at the old bug, feeling like this conversation was another mistake.

“I was a kid and I didn’t know any better,” she said. “Now I do.”

Thistle didn’t say anything.

“Thank you for being there for me,” Oboe said. “I hope we meet again someday.” She turned to leave.

“Hold on!” Thistle said. “Get back here! You aren’t going anywhere!”

Oboe marched away. “Watch me.”

Passing through the shadow link was like walking through a split ore of amethyst. Jagged shapes of lavender glimmered around them, lighting Theodore’s way inside a sea of black. Wisps of vapor churned around them, drifting along forking paths.

“We will arrive in the capital shortly,” the Tall Man said. “Do you have a plan?”

Theodore nodded. “If I can get the city Watch to evacuate North Manor, the villagers will be safe. Then I can find Beira and talk her out of this attack.”

“I see.” The Tall Man leered at him in silence as they walked. “While it is good you have become more… diplomatic since you dealt with me, I fear that talking will not be enough. You need to kill her.”

“No,” Theodore said. His breathing quickened. “Are you insane? There must be a better solution than that!”

“The countess is beyond listening to anyone now,” the ghast said. “Others have tried, but she has only grown more resolute in her madness. She is prepared to sacrifice everything for the independence of fairies.”

They came to a stop in front of long oval of tinted black glass. On the other side, Theodore could make out a city street busy with the traffic of silhouettes.

“This is our fault,” Theodore said. “If the human government would just treat creatures with respect, things like this wouldn’t happen.”

“I will not argue with that,” the Tall Man said. “The cruelties of kings, and dukes, and knights are all poison in the hearts of the Whirlwood creatures. …And to be honest, I still have not forgiven you for what you did to me.”

His mouth dry, Theodore squeezed the ring on his finger.

“However,” The Tall Man went on. “Our ancestors made a promise to one another. My people turned against their king and turned toward yours, because they dreamed of a world where all the Mother’s children might live in peace. It is a dream now worn and frayed, ready to tear, but it is still a dream I wish to believe in.”

“We swore to protect and aid you.” The First Treaty ran through Theodore’s mind. “We haven’t. We’ve ignored you, or worse.” He realized he was shaking. “I don’t want to be like those other knights. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to make things better.”

The bogeyman wrapped his slender fingers around Theodore’s shoulder. “Good,” he said. “Then protect us from Beira. Be our voice and rally your people to stop her. She cannot be allowed to throw everything away in anger.”

“But why does she have to die?!” Theodore said.

“I fear the time to talk has passed. Her mind is set and she will not rest until there is war. Do not forget why we need knights at all. There are times when we must protect the things we care about, and there are times that calls for violence. If you cannot do this, if you cannot slay the Countess and stay the wrathful hand of your people, then she will be proven right: The dream is dead.” His grip tightened. “Kill her and prove her wrong.”

Theodore watched Oboe stab Bassoon again in the theater of his mind, and how he wasn’t strong enough to be the one to do it. “I don’t think I can.”

“I saw your eyes when you chased me with that knife.” The Tall Man let go of him. “I can sense the fear you have of opening yourself to the monster inside you. I know you are fierce enough to do what needs to be done. Do not be afraid.” He reached out and pulled back the curtain of glass to create a door to the city. “Your mercy is still a part of you, just the same. Right now, Beira needs to be stopped, and that means I need you to be the bigger monster.”

The bank teller put a thick envelope of thaler bills down on the counter. Oboe checked that it was money, all the wages she’d earned, then crammed it into her drawstring bag.

Flying away wasn’t enough. The kingdom was large and stretched in all directions, except one. Sea gulls shrieked overhead and a salty breeze blew across the docks and ruffled her fur.

“We don’t take fairy passengers.” The ship captain was round, unshaven, and ragged. He smelled like tar and old fish. “You’re bad luck.”

Oboe opened her purse and made him change his mind. The sailors brought out a bench for her to rest on while the boat was made ready, and men begged to carry luggage she didn’t have.

It was a big wooden ship, old and battered, with an angry engine that could chop through the ocean with propeller blades when there wasn’t wind for the sails. They called her the Grand Mule. Once she was loaded with barrels of magic and goods to trade, she would take Oboe to Red Spire. There, she could start a new life and forget the one she left behind.

“Oboe?”

The hair on her back bristled. She turned her stiff neck and saw her brother Fife, with his thin scruffy beard and curled horns.

“…What are you doing?” He said.

Oboe felt as if the sailors had chained the ship’s anchor to her back. There was a betrayed, scared look in her brother’s eyes.

“I’m leaving,” she said, trying to sound strong. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“Thistle told me,” he said. “He was looking for Theo but found me instead.” He glanced up at the Grand Mule and back to her. “It’s true then? You can’t. We need you!”

Oboe felt angry and grateful and tired beyond words. Everything needed to stop, but nothing could be that easy, could it? “I don’t care. I can’t take it anymore. I don’t care what happens, I’m DONE.”

Fife bent down and took her hand. “Sister,” he said. “I just got you back in my life, and I won’t lose you. Not again. Let’s go back to the Circle and talk about this.”

Oboe yanked her hand out of his grasp. “I am not going back there! I hope the humans burn it to the ground!”

Fife winced at those words. “Oboe, please. That’s my home you’re talking about.”

“Not anymore.” She glared, feeling cruel. “They kicked you out, just like they kicked me out. Maybe they’ll take your name too, and then you’ll know what it’s like!”

He tensed, no longer able to look her in the eye. Standing, his arms fell to his sides. “I heard about what happened at the council. …I know you’ve been through more than I can imagine, but please don’t give up on the Circle.”

“Every bad thing that’s ever happened to me is because of the Circle,” she said. “I used to blame myself, but that was just another trick. The Circle is rotten. It deserves whatever happens to it.”

“There is a lot wrong with us,” Fife said. “I know. I worked in the palace and… I let a lot of things happen that I know I shouldn’t have.” His face scrunched, pained. “But not everything in the Circle is broken. There are a lot of good creatures that live there, ones that don’t deserve to suffer because of the Titled. Do you think little Oboe, your niece, my daughter, deserves to get hurt because of where she was born?”

Oboe couldn’t say anything.

“When you came back, you opened my eyes,” he said. “You made me realize what I was tolerating. That’s why we need you.”

“Nobody needs me,” Oboe said.

“You’re exactly what we need!” Fife said, eyes fierce. “You’re one of us, but also aren’t. We all pretend to be good and just and righteous, but you! That’s just how you are! I’ve seen it. You talked to a useless, puffed-up clerk like me, and you convinced me to stand up to the Fair Lady! If you can do that, if you managed to wake me up, then I think you can find the goodness buried in the rest of us and do something with it!”

“There’s nothing good inside the Titled,” she said, but the words were weaker than before.

“Then don’t talk to the Titled.” He planted his hands on her shoulders. “Talk to someone, anyone else. Do something! You’re right, the Circle is rotten, but you came and you changed something, and I’m begging you sis, keep helping us change things so something can get better! We need this, and I need you!”

Oboe looked into her brother’s pleading eyes and felt something. She got up and looked up at the Grand Mule. It was her escape from a life of pain and heart ache. It was her chance at freedom. She imagined her life across the sea, and it tasted as bitter as her years in exile.

Oboe hugged her brother. She was being stupid, but she was lucky to have him, and Thistle, and Theo, and everyone else.

“Thank you,” she said.

Scanning the tree line through binoculars, Theodore saw the creatures gathering. He counted two dozen, but there could be more. Hardly an army, but enough to do some damage. There were a few ghasts, but most were fairies. Their faces were sneering and anxious. Theodore recognized Curdie the goblin and Fern the crone among them.

Watchmen sharpened their swords and loaded crossbows around him inside the manor’s upper floor. With luck, there would be no battle, but preparations were made just the same. Theodore was lent a sword and armor from the battered leftovers of whatever was at hand. A scratched iron cuirass with too-big chainmail and mismatched leather greaves and gloves. It made him look ridiculous, but it would serve.

He moved to another window to spy and caught a glimpse of Beira behind the trees. She was giving an impassioned speech. The scene was too far away to hear, but he could infer the tone. Beira stomped back and forth across the meadow, whipping her tail and throwing her head back with dramatic flourish. Whatever she was saying, it was loud.

“How is the evacuation going?” Theodore said, handing off the binoculars.

Lieutenant Fritz looked harried, like he was still thinking about a long nap he planned to have but would no longer get to take. “We’ve got everyone out and on the way to the city walls.” He fingered the hilt of his sheathed sword. “You think they’ll back off now that we’re onto her plan?”

Theodore shook his head. “It doesn’t look that way.” There was no way Beira was oblivious to the evacuation. Perhaps a real battle was what she was after all along. “If I can’t talk her down, then we’ll have to fight.”

“We don’t have enough men for this!” Fritz said. “Why’d this have to happen when most of the Watch is tied up babysitting the Fairy Circle? It’s going to take hours for the other knight orders to gear up and help us!”

“Lieutenant!” One of the scouts called, still kneeling at the window and keeping watch. “Something’s happening!”

They didn’t need binoculars to see it. Beira came galloping out from the forest, her followers marching after her. She climbed to the top of a hillock and pointed her horn at the village.

“What’s it doing?” Fritz said.

There was a glint of light off her horn. Thick, gray clouds began to form and gather around its point. A wind picked up, growing in speed and rattling the window shutters. Theodore could not believe how fast the clouds were gathering around Beira’s horn, growing so wide and long that her forces could no longer be seen. All at once, the clouds raced forward riding on howling winds. Hunks of hail the size of cannon balls crashed through the walls and windows. Lightning stabbed at the buildings, and a typhoon swirled around them. In only a few moments, the storm engulfed the whole village and blotted out the sky.

“Shit!” Fritz shouted as icy wind blasted through the window. Theodore struggled to keep his balance as frost crept along the walls and floor.

Everyone pulled back, retreating down the stairs to the first floor where the knights who weren’t caught outside were arming themselves. Swords were hooked to belts, helmets strapped, and armor fastened. The storm raged, shaking the walls around them. A barrel was cracked open, filled to bursting with calcified magic shards. The mages scooped the ammunition into holsters, then each snapped the brittle stones in their hands to ready their first spells.

“I told you I want to try talking first!” Theodore said as Fritz shoved a sword into his hands. “There’s a chance we don’t have to fight!”

“Yeah! That worked SO WELL back at the Fount,” Fritz said, sarcastic. “This is a Code Fang! A full blown wicked assault on civilian land! Either help us, or stay out of the way!”

Theodore’s breath could be seen in the now freezing air. He wanted to say something to stop the fighting, but the Lieutenant was right. The attack was already underway. Beira was not going to listen.

“Alright patrol!” The lieutenant’s voice cracked as he addressed the men and women under his command. His aloof tone replaced with panicked leadership. “We’ve only counted 26 of them! Which is… We can handle this! It’s fine! Stick close to your assigned wizards! Keep your swords charged! Silver and iron! We just got to hold out until back up arrives, alright?! Show them why you don’t mess with Laien!”

A cheer went up through the room. The combat mages channeled their spells and threw up translucent pink barriers around their squads. Theodore tried to keep pace as he followed his team out the door and into the raging weather. The spell protected them from the wind and ice, and let them charge out into the manor yard, boots crunching on new fallen snow, as fairies and ghasts tore through the village knocking over carts and smashing windows.

“Kill them!” Someone shouted. Theodore wasn’t sure if it was a knight or a creature. Both sides collided. Claws raked along the ground and tails whipped. Gnomes danced around sword swipes, and a fury pounced on a man to tear at his face with beak and dagger. A magic crossbow bolt zipped through the air to impale the fury, pinning her to the ground screaming. Shining silver swords hacked a werewolf limb from limb, but not before he tore a woman’s head from her shoulders.

After first blood, the forces pulled apart. A rain of crossbow bolts sent the creatures darting behind cover. There, they threw rocks and taunted. Someone gave chase, jumping out of their wizard’s bubble, only to get grabbed from behind and as he rounded the corner.

“Stay in formation!” Fritz yelled over the wind. “Don’t let them draw you out!”

Shield up, one of the soldiers moved to the center of the battlefield. The fury was there, still screaming as blood pooled on the ground. He slit her throat and there was quiet. Theodore’s stomach turned. He looked out to the hillock, at Beira absorbed in concentration conjuring the storm around them. He tightened his grip on his sword. She was the reason this was happening. The Tall Man said he needed to kill her to stop this.

“We need to go after the unicorn!” Theodore said. “She’s distracted with her spell!”

“I don’t care!” Fritz said. The archers worked to reload their enchanted crossbows. “We’re got enough trouble right here! I want everyone to turtle up until our back up gets here!”

“We have a chance to take out their leader!!”

“You’re not in charge here, ‘Deputy!’ We’re not coming after you if you want to make a suicide run!”

Growling, Theodore swung around and pushed his shoulder through the membrane of the barrier. The cold was sharp needles pricking his skin through his armor. A troll crashed out from behind a cottage and tried to grab him. Theodore jumped back and brought his long sword down on the troll’s reaching arm. It chopped deep but did not sever it. The troll howled in pain as Theodore pulled the blade free and ran. Racing against the gale in his face, Theodore tried not to think of the blood racing down the troll’s arm. He tried not to think about sutures or gangrene or whether he’d fractured the bone. He locked his eyes on Beira, his teeth grit, and dashed as fast as he could with hot tears streaming down his face.

Pushing through the funnel of freezing wind, Theodore kept low to the hillock and crept closer to his target. The Countess was focused, her head bowed to aim thunder bolts, gales, and the steady crawl of frost across the battlefield. In the distance, Theodore could hear knights shouting as their feet were locked in ice. Creatures shrieked and roared as they went on the assault. He tried not to look back. If he could just sneak up on the unicorn, he could end this war before it truly started.

Toe to heel. Crouching along the slope of the hill, biting his jaw shut to keep his teeth from chattering, he advanced slow and silent with his iron sword ready. Its magic charge had faded, but it could still be used to kill if he could just move to the crest of the snowcapped hill.

He needed to be the bigger monster. He remembered the thrill of hunting the Tall Man. The rush of cutting down Ella. How powerful he felt leading the knights to stop Bassoon.  He prayed to the devil inside him for strength, for that wicked hunger to help him now and then never again. Standing, he raised the sword and took aim at Beira’s neck.

Theodore hesitated. In his mind, he saw his father’s blood covered face looking down on him in the depths of Crookhole Mine. He remembered how terrified he felt in that moment, how sick, how horrified he was that his father was a monster. His hand shook, rattling the loose blade of his sword in its hilt. The wind died. Heart stopping, Theodore swung the sword down as hard as he could.

It was too late. Beira’s ears flicked. She leapt out of the way. Her spell burst into a flurry of fat, fluffy snowflakes that danced around them both.

“Well,” she said, trotting just out of reach. “Here’s something I had not foreseen.” She pointed her horn at him.

Theodore took plow stance to protect himself. “Surrender, Beira! We have you outnumbered! Reinforcements are coming! You can’t win this!”

“Good,” she said.

He kept his guard up. “Your allies are going to die if you don’t stand down!”

She stabbed at him, a feint he saw through. He lunged, but she was ready to dodge. The unicorn was toying with him.

“Do you think I’m stupid enough to think I could storm the doorstep of the King’s city with a handful of angry misfits?” She let out haughty laugh. “This is a sacrifice for our future.”

Theodore watched, looking for a window to attack. “What are you talking about?” She was too cautious. He needed to bait her.

“You met the Titled,” she said. “A gaggle of old shrews too frightened and too stubborn to do anything. We have lived under your thumb for a millennium. That ends today.”

He shifted to the fool stance. “There are other ways than starting a hopeless war.”

“No.” Her horn pulsed white. “There is no choice. I will tip the scales with blood. Your people will not bear this insult. They will march on the Circle. They will spill more blood. And then the fey will rise up. They will see what I see, and bring an end to this farce of peace.”

Theodore couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Beira intended from the beginning to let her soldiers die. Her whole plan was to provoke a conflict to drive the kingdom apart. Theodore was so horrified he let his guard slip.

A beam of cold fired from the tip of her horn in a scream of light. Ice bit Theodore’s skin, climbing up his legs and arm and sealing them in place before he could react. He struggled, trying to free his sword hand as Beira moved closer with a hungry smile.

“You’re a monster!” Theodore shouted, fighting to move, hating himself for every mistake that led to this moment.

Beira scraped Theodore’s cheek with the tip of her horn and let a trickle of blood run free. “A devil,” she said. “That’s the sort of hero this kingdom needs.”

A roar of teeth and claws exploded in front of Theodore’s face. Beira tumbled across the hilltop. A tiger rushed after her as she scrambled back onto her feet. It lunged with its claws, carving red streaks out of the unicorn’s flank. Beira shot a burst of wind from her horn with enough force to knock the tiger into the air. With a pop, the tiger transformed into a gryphon: wings spread and talons sharp.

It was her. Tearing out from nowhere, she’d found him. Theodore thought he’d lost her, that those last heart wrenched moments with her would be all he had, that after all the pain he’d put her through his friend was gone, but she was here again when he needed her most and the sight of her undid the barbed knot coiled around his heart and sent it soaring.

“STAY AWAY FROM HIM!!” Oboe screamed as she swooped, ripping at the unicorn’s mane.

Beira reared back and bucked with her hind legs, knocking Oboe out of the air and crashing over the side of the hill. 

“Oboe!!” Theodore said.

She came scrambling back over the hillside, a charging black bear. Beira lunged into Oboe’s attack, stabbing her in the shoulder. The horn sank deep. Oboe screamed, and Theodore saw his friend shrink back into her normal body.

“I owe you so much,” Beira said, panting. Blood gushed from Oboe’s wound and spattered across the unicorn’s face. “It’s a shame I have to kill you.”

 Theodore tried to move, but he could not feel his arm through the numb of the ice. Beira’s horn lit up, and Oboe’s howls of pain grew louder. Theodore felt his anger and fear rise like thick black clouds in the sky of his mind. His frozen sword hand tightened around the hilt of his blade, and he fought with all his strength to move. He opened himself, felt the rage crackling inside, and the ice split and buckled like chains around the throat of a rabid dog.

 Beira pulled her horn loose from Oboe’s shoulder and whipped her head toward Theodore. He kicked himself free and staggered toward Beira, sword raised.

Oboe grabbed at the Beira’s face the moment she was distracted, punching and clawing with wild fists. The Countess pulled back to get away, but Oboe stayed right on top of her. She took hold of the unicorn, lifted her over her head, and slammed her onto the ground so hard the snow scattered.

Beira let out a hideous, snarling gasp. She thrashed, rolling onto her hooves and rising on shaking legs. “I-impressive,” She said, battered and bruised, but laughing. “But it’s too late.”

Beira galloped away before either could get a hold of her. She raised her horn. A ball of light arched up into the sky with a whistle and burst in a flash of color and noise.

In distance, something shifted in the battle at North Manor. Theodore saw the creatures fall back, retreating as the knights gave chase.

“My work here is done,” Beira said. “Goodbye.”

“You aren’t going anywhere,” Theodore said, charging, ready to rip her apart.

Beira smiled, and then vanished. She was there one moment, and then gone.

“What?!” Oboe said.

Theodore stumbled to a halt. His eyes darted, then widened when he saw it. “Foot prints!” He shouted. A trail of hoof prints appeared in the snow, racing down the slope of the hill. They gave chase.

“Auugh!!” Oboe lurched, grabbing at her shoulder and falling to her knees.

Theodore stopped. Blood was streaking down Oboe’s chest and staining her fur.

“Damn it,” Oboe said. She huffed great lungfuls of breath and forced herself back on her feet.

“You’re hurt!” He said.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “As long as you’re okay.”

It did matter. He cut the hem of his under-shirt and tossed away his sword, then used the scrap of cloth to blot her wound and stop the flow of blood. In the distance, the unicorn was escaping. He needed to go after Beira. He needed to kill her, but the murder in his heart evaporated as his friend struggled to move.

“You need medical attention.”

“I’m fine! Let go of me! I’ll stop her!”

“I don’t understand,” he said, not letting go. “What are you doing here?”

She gave him a tired smile. “Pip told me about the attack. I couldn’t just leave you to deal with it by yourself.”

Theodore wondered if he should be grateful Pip told her more than he asked. “Oboe, you told me you were done fighting. You shouldn’t have come back.”

She put her hand over his, both pushing against the blood-soaked rag. “No. I had to.” She said, their eyes locked together. “I don’t care anymore what I have to do. I don’t care how much it hurts. If I can help then I will. This place is my home and won’t let anyone tear it apart.”

Theodore stared at her. Sensation came prickling back into his sword arm, itching and burning. Her words ran through his mind, and something clicked inside him.

Oboe winced at the healer’s glowing touch. The pain in her shoulder was numbed to a faint reminder, and then the human stitched the hole.

“You’re sure she’s not wicked?” He said.

“Oboe is one of us!” Theo said, pointed. It was the third time he vouched for her. “Just help her.”

The healer dressed the wound with salve and bandages. “That should do. Try not to do anything strenuous for a while, and you’ll be okay.”

Oboe wasn’t sure she could make any promises. Thistle was already going to be mad at her for transforming. She’d popped her hand wrappings again by changing shape, and the burns on her hands still hadn’t healed. It didn’t matter. Beira was still out there, scheming, and that meant the whole kingdom was in danger. “Thank you,” she said.

The ice dripped. She helped Theo and the knights collect the dead and dying throughout the farming village. On the edge of the manor yard, a handful of creatures the humans had captured were chained up. They cursed and shouted about revenge and never shut up. These were the sorts of fairies the knights knew best. It made Oboe wish the humans would just kill them too, at least until she noticed the pity in Theo’s face. Oboe reminded herself that those fairies had loved ones and families. No matter how stupid they were being, this was still a tragedy.

The bodies were lined up. Ten mutilated humans, and almost as many fairies. A knight marched up the row of the dead, waving a censer smoking with sweet smelling spices. He sung, wordless, hanging on long aching notes. Oboe didn’t understand the ritual, but it made her feel grateful he did this for the creatures too. Maybe the Mother would forgive them.

“Oboe,” Theo said. There was quiet now as everyone watched the ceremony. “…We should talk. About what happened before.”

It was true. “Not now,” she said, standing next to him.

They listened to the song, until it was cut short. More than a hundred knights came marching into the village. Their shiny armor clattered, drowning out everything else. They wore capes, and fancy helmets, and looked so much larger than the battered team of watchmen that had saved the village. In front of them all was a mean little knight with a big stupid feathered hat.

“Where is the commanding officer?” Conrad Whitechain said. “Report!”

Fritz shuffled out into the open. His hand was pressed against his bandaged side. A hint of red stained through. His hair was ruffled, and there was still a smear of blood on his face.

“Danger’s over. Beat the bastards back, but it cost us.” He waved at the line of bodies. “Civilians are confirmed safe. Their homes aren’t doing so great, though. Creatures used storm magic, and it’s hurt the harvest bad.” He sucked air through clenched teeth. “Gonna be a hard winter.”

“This is unacceptable,” Conrad said, surveying the carnage. “We have most of the Watch and two knight orders assigned to the valley, and these creatures are still out of control!”

Theo stepped forward. “The Watch isn’t at fault. This was a plot.”

Conrad’s eyes fell on Theo and Oboe. He pushed a handful of fingers into his own face, bottling a tired laugh. “Grayweather,” he said. “How is that whenever something goes wrong, it is always you I find at the center?”

“Shut up!” Oboe stomped up to face him. The men at his side drew their swords, but Oboe didn’t care. “Theo came to warn everybody! He’s the reason the village is saved!”

Conrad turned his head to look at the icy crop fields. “I suppose some of it still stands.” He resumed glaring at them. “Your foresight is as convenient as it is peculiar. Rest assured that once there is time to investigate, I will tear down the veil and show everyone what you truly are.”

“Hey detective,” Fritz said. “Not to intrude on your pissing match here, but lay off. If the Ranger Deputy hadn’t told us this was coming, we’d have lost the farmers and the crops. We got bigger problems right now.”

Conrad’s face turned grim. “You are correct, Lieutenant. This calls for drastic action. If the Watch cannot keep these creatures under control, we need to call in the royal guard. It’s clear you all are being too lax on the Circle.”

“You can’t do that!” Oboe said. “The Circle is angry and scared. If you bring in more soldiers, you’ll just make things worse!”

“What matters right now is order is restored. If the Fairy Council cannot control its people, then it’s time we stepped in and trained them to be loyal and obedient.” He threw an arm out at the farm. “We cannot allow things like this to happen!”

“Listen to me, Conrad,” Theo said. “The one that led this attack is a unicorn called Countess Beira Stormbreak. She’s a Red Cap sympathizer, a radical. She did this to provoke a war, and if the crown responds this way then we are doing exactly what she wants!”

“If I wanted the advice of a traitorous liar, Grayweather, I would’ve asked for it.” Conrad straightened his gloves. “The king cannot tolerate this. I will speak with him directly and we will respond appropriately.”

“She wants us to get angry,” Oboe said. She felt hot, thinking of how Beira tricked her at the council. “That’s not the answer. We should be calm, and careful, and smart. That’s the only way we can save the Circle.”

“Fuck the Circle!” Fritz said. He pointed at a dead knight on the ground. “You see that? That’s Jeremy. He’s got three kids. Suzy, Ryan, and Anne. What do you think is going to happen to them? Who do you think has to tell his wife about this?! If fairies are going to pull shit like this, they deserve whatever is coming to them!”

Oboe held his gaze, not knowing what to say. She saw grief in his eyes under the screaming. She wondered what to do.

“I want platoons two and three to stay here and keep guard,” Conrad ordered. “Everyone else, back to the capital! The King will decide what happens now.”

“Why are you listening to him?!” Perceval said. “You’re going to start a war!”

The King of Laien kept his head bowed. He did not open his eyes. “This is a holy place. You will keep your mouth shut.”

Theodore waited, and watched. A bell rang across the chapel and the whole cathedral vibrated with the lingering hum. This was how the prince managed to get Theodore face-to-face with King Stonewall. In the letter, Perceval explained that his father came to the Mother’s sanctuary to pray whenever vexed or in need of guidance. The attack on North Manor more than qualified. If Perceval came with his father, and Theodore happened to be waiting ahead of them, the prince was sure they could make his father listen.

The priest circled the balconies of the upper floor, shuffling to each of the eight bells in turn for what felt like an eternity. One would ring, and the congregation would murmur another verse of prayer. The prince seethed, waiting for it all to finish, glaring murder at his father until the last bell was struck. He did not wait for the ringing to fade.

“I trust what Theo is telling us,” Perceval said in a hiss. “If you do what Conrad proposes, you won’t be stopping a revolt, you’ll be creating one!”

King Stonewall bent down and reached with his thinning arms to turn his wheel chair to look at the two of them. He wore only a simple dressing robe and his crown. His face was drawn, unimpressed with his son’s bluster, and weary from a lifetime of weathering disaster. He took his time to respond.

“Knight Detective Whitechain is the first in line to become the next Hero Champion. He is one of the few members of my cabinet who have proven unfailingly reliable.” The king seemed smaller then when Theodore had seen him last. His skin was port marked, and he had lost all but the last of his hair. What had not changed was the certainty in his voice. “You could stand to learn something from him.”

“I agree, your majesty. Conrad is fastidious with all he does.” Theodore needed to be careful. He was standing here thanks only to the prince, and they were one wrong word away from losing this chance. “However, he does not understand the reality of what is happening in the Fairy Circle. This alliance is hanging on by a thread. If we seize control of their government, we will destroy what trust we have left.”

“So I ought to listen to you instead.” The King sighed. “Young man, the detective has many alarming things to say about you. I have allowed you to continue running around because I am grateful that you somehow convinced my son to return. Do not mistake that for trust.”

“Theo is innocent! Conrad is blaming him for my mistakes!” The prince said, drawing attention from the crowd. There were only a handful of others in the ring of worship, but they were transfixed.

“The Court will decide.” The King rolled his wrist towards the heavens. “If he is guiltless, you’ve nothing to worry about.”

Perceval clawed at his hair. “You aren’t listening! I know Theo can fix this situation, but you don’t believe me! You’d rather just let everything fall apart!! Why don’t you ever listen to me?!”

“Percy.” Theodore held his hands up to calm him. “Please don’t.”

“Because you are a spoiled child who assumes he already knows everything,” the King said, turning his wheelchair away. “We are done here.”

Royal knights moved in to escort them out. Theodore felt a rush of panic. Percy charged his father and wrenched the wheel chair back to face him.

“Why are you like this!?” He said. “Did you even look at the reports I sent to you?! Theo stopped the Red Caps! The creatures adore him! If anyone can help us right now, it’s him!”

“I said we are done. We will discuss this later.”

“Devil damn you, old man! I hate you!”

Theodore’s eyes darted. The bystanders witnessed the scene with shock and amusement.

“I won’t have you cause a scene here of all places.” The King glanced at the guards. “Return him to his room.”

The knights pulled both Perceval and Theodore from the chapel. They dumped Theodore at the foot of the cathedral steps, but before they could escort him away, Perceval yanked his shoulders free of their hold.

“I need to talk to him,” he said. “Two minutes.”

The commanding officer folded his arms. “Be quick about it.”

Perceval rejoined Theodore under the shadow of the royal knights.

“Stubborn old bastard,” the prince said, kicking a stray stone in the road. “Can you believe this?”

Theodore stared. His mind had been somewhere else, drifting back to the last time he had seen his father. He remembered the argument they had parted ways with. Perceval’s anger reminded him of his own, and it seemed so much more childish seen from outside.

“It’s not easy for you to talk to one another.”

“No.” He said, sneering. “What tipped you off?”

Sitting down on the steps, Theodore looked into space. “You’re both angry, and you’re both frustrated. So, it always ends up like this. With screaming.”

“It wouldn’t have to scream if he would just hear me out! If he cared at all!”

Theodore shook his head. “I think he cares. Maybe too much. He wants you to be the best you can be. He wants to make sure you’re ready. But he doesn’t understand, because you can’t talk.”

“So what the hell am I supposed to do? It’s always been like this! He never listens, and treats me like an idiot! There’s nothing I can do!”

Maybe there was something. Theodore wondered what he would do, if he had another chance to talk to his father. “Maybe… I don’t know. If you could show you hear him first. Let him know. Trust him when he says he’s trying to do the right thing. Forgive him.”

“Why should I?” The prince said. “He’s the one who’s in the wrong!”

“He doesn’t have to be right,” Theodore said. “You can forgive him anyway. Try to be the first to listen. See if you can make what you have work, even if it’s not much. Maybe there’s a chance.” He paused. “But it’s too late now. It’s too late.” Lance was gone.

The prince went quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Theodore said. He stood up, fixing himself in the present. “This is your affair, not mine. I have work to do.”

“Father won’t listen to us. Conrad is readying an army. What are you going to do?”

Theodore looked out across the city, out toward the Whirlwood. “Oboe has an idea.”

The Whirlwood sanctuary was full. Rows of creatures from all over the valley squeezed together on the seats of the amphitheater. Oboe watched from a distance, beneath the shade of the trees, and wondered how big a mistake she was making.

“It’s time,” Gardner Feather said. “I rang the chimes. If any more are coming, then we do not have room for them. Go and speak.”

The restless rumbling of the crowd washed over Oboe, and a tide of doubt came in. “This is stupid,” she said. “They aren’t going to listen to someone like me. You should be the one to talk to them.”

Feather waved a gentle palm. “This was your idea, young blossom. I called these creatures here because I believe you will avert catastrophe, but I cannot speak for you. They need to see a warrior, not a priestess.”

Oboe had never thought of herself as a warrior. She looked at the bandages on her hands and shoulder, and supposed it had happened without her realizing. Maybe if life had gone differently, she would have become a spriggan for the Circle. That wasn’t her first choice. She’d rather be a knight like Theo. The good sort of knight who tried to protect everyone, like her tutors taught her about. The thought made her feel brave again, and strong. She clenched her fists.

“I’m ready.”

A hush fell over the sanctuary as Feather and Oboe walked out into the sacred flowerbed. Oboe looked up at the countless faces around her, ghasts, fairies, and ferals, and swallowed the last of her fear.

“We have to take action,” she said. “If we don’t, the friendship we have with the humans and with one another will be torn apart.”

“What the hell is this?” A brown furred werewolf stood up. “Gardner! I came here because you rang the chime!” He held out a small bell on a string. “Why are you letting this nameless faun speak in the Mother’s sanctuary?!”

“Because this is important!” Oboe said, before Feather could speak. “Countess Beira wants to start a war. She’s tricked the humans, made them so angry they’re going to fight the Circle. If that happens, we can’t go back!”

An elder gnome climbed up the horns of an elk. “I know about you! You killed the Fair Lady! You were punished for using illegal magic on a human! Why should we listen to someone wicked like you?! You don’t belong in this valley!”

A murmuring filled the sanctuary. Oboe spoke over it.

“You’re right. I don’t belong here!” The creatures stopped talking. “My whole life, you all hated me. I made stupid mistakes, and I never got to belong anywhere.” An anger flickered inside her, but she knew that wasn’t the answer. “But the Whirlwood is still my home! I tried not to care, but I do. I’m not going to let my home be torn apart!”

“You want us to stop a war with the humans.” A leshy, wood skinned with a mop of willow leaf hair, sat in the front row and bounced his long and gnarled knee, mulling over what was said. “Why should we? The humans don’t care about us. They ban us from the city. They deny us jobs. Maybe a war is what we need.”

Oboe tried to breathe. She was losing them, but she had to stay calm. “No. You’re right. Things have been bad. That doesn’t mean they can’t get better. The Ranger Deputy is trying. He’s a human that cares. We’ve all seen that!”

The crowd lightened. There was agreement about this.

“So, what?” The werewolf said. “They fired him. It doesn’t matter now. Just goes to show the rest of them are trash.”

“Theo can’t do this by himself!” Oboe said. “He’s just one human, but he’s proof that there’s good ones! Just like there’s good creatures, and wicked ones too! I killed the Fair Lady because she was bad! If you knew her, you knew the truth! Nothing will change if we let the wicked do what they want!”

She stepped closer, eyes forward. “Tomorrow, Theo is going to stand up for the Fairy Circle to try and stop a war from happening. He’s a good creature. I want to think all of you are good creatures too. I want to believe you all won’t just stand back when this country falls apart. The kingdom of Laien is strong because, a long time ago, we all agreed to stop fighting and to work together! We believed things could be better than they were! They still can!”

No more objections rang out. The crowd sat in rapt silence. Feather smiled, head bowed.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to stand with Theo,” Oboe said. “If you believe in him, and still believe in what Laien could be, I want you to stand with us. Show this country there are good creatures who won’t let it all fall apart. That’s what I came to ask you all today. Come to the Circle, and stand!”

The words ran out. Oboe ran out of things to say, but the crowd kept staring. The air hung heavy, and Oboe wondered if anything she said mattered.

“Damn you,” the werewolf said with a growl. “Alright! Fine! I’ll do it!”

Others stood up. “We’ll do it for the Ranger Deputy!”

“My mom is going to kill me,” a young troll said, groaning. “…Count me in!”

The greater part of the amphitheater rose, and the tide turned. Oboe looked on stunned. A cheer rang out as the creatures of the Greater Whirlwood did what she asked, swearing to stand with the Ranger Deputy.

Theodore felt the toy knight in his pocket. He needed to talk to Oboe, but never got an opportunity. She would come back to the Circle, each time bringing another handful of creatures volunteering to help, but then she would run off again to find more before the two of them could share anything but news.

He wasn’t sure she’d slept. After the first batch of creatures agreed to help, she did not stop recruiting. The crowd in the Fairy Circle marketplace swelled from a few dozen to hundreds. The tents and stalls were broken down or moved aside as bodies filled every corner, facing out towards the Whirlwood. Theodore had given up on rest, having stolen only a couple begrudging hours before giving up. He replaced proper sleep with caffeine, and threw himself into organizing.

“Will we have to fight?” Barghest the werewolf asked, holding his wife’s hand. It was a question Theodore was asked over and over again.

“I don’t want it to come to that,” Theodore told them. “But we should be ready. I won’t make you stay if that changes anything.”

“We are not cowards,” Lola said. “If you think this will work, we will help you however we can.”

Theodore thanked them, and left worrying about whether it would indeed work. Every new volunteer should have steeled his confidence. Instead he was scared. They were all risking their lives. He wanted to stop a war, not stage a battle.

“This is an army!” Knight Captain Myra Redriver said, bug-eyed when she saw the mass of creatures filling the Circle market. The knights at her command stood ready to act, but not without fear. There were far more creatures amassed here than there were human soldiers in the circle.

“It is a protest,” Theodore said. “The knight detective is coming to take over. If that happens, our alliance with the fairies will be destroyed. None of these creatures want that to happen.”

“It doesn’t matter what they want!” Redriver said. “It’s our job to follow the King’s decree!”

“It’s your job to protect the kingdom and everyone in it,” Theodore said, stepping closer. “Or have they changed the oaths of the City Watch since I last reviewed them? These creatures are citizens, and their voice matters.”

Myra met his gaze like stone. Her sword-arm still hung in a sling, still broken by the creatures of the Circle. Theodore knew she would fight him on this, she had good reason to, but he had no choice but to stand his ground. Instead, after a long moment, she looked down and the shiver of a chuckle ran up her body.

“Mother’s tits,” she said. “This is the same shit your father used to pull. Why am I even surprised?” She waved her good hand back at her men. “Alright kids! We’re done here!”

“Sir?” They lowered their crossbows.

“We’re here to keep peace,” she said, her voice commanding again. “Nothing wrong with a protest if they keep it civil. We’ll leave a few lads to keep an eye on things, but we’ve got better things to do than break this up.”

Myra lingered as her knights dispersed. She rolled her shoulders, eyeing Theodore up like they’d never met.

“If this plan of yours goes wrong…” She shook her wrist like a gambler’s dice cup. “They’ll stick both our heads in the guillotine.”

“It wouldn’t be my first time,” Theodore said.

She laughed, louder this time. She slammed a firm hand against his back, but he kept his footing. “Alright. I’ll tell my boys they’re free to join you if they’ve got the balls for it. Work another one of your miracles, Grayweather. I want to see where you’re going with this.”

Theodore did not expect any of the knights to come, but he was proven wrong. The score that came looked nervous, standing shoulder to shoulder with beasts, but were resolute. It took Theodore some effort to array the growing multitude at the entrance of the Circle.

The sky was restless and milky. Birds came to tell Theodore Conrad was coming. Starlings, finches, doves, and pigeons all brought the news in an excited panic, convinced they were the first to report it. The repeat of the news set Theodore more on edge each time. Where was Oboe?

Time was almost up. He wished he’d learned how to pray properly. It wasn’t that he believed; he had always maintained that if the Mother of Magic were real she would need to be a cosmic force so vast and abstract that She could not possibly care about the petty needs of every creature. However, seeing all the creatures come to put their faith in this plan, risking themselves with so much riding on chance, left him wanting to count on something beyond planning and guesswork, beyond an assumed goodness in his fellow man, and beyond himself. They needed all the help they could get.

“Someone’s coming!” A red plumed fury shouted from the rooftops, on lookout. Breaths were held as he adjusted his telescope. “It’s Oboe! She’s brought more!”

Theodore saw her lead a whole tribe of fish men swaggering out from the woods. They stank in the sun and squished when they walked. It was an immense relief to see her, despite the smell.

“I think that’s everybody from Moss Tub Lake,” Oboe said.

“We do not want war!” Muck, the fish men chief bellowed. “Very expensive! Too much!”

“I think you’ve brought the whole valley here,” Theodore said.

“No, I haven’t!” Oboe said, looking ragged. “There’s a whole family of badgers in Gnomes Borough who won’t even talk to me! I got a lot of ghasts to come, but there’s a lot that are too angry, and Squirrels don’t pay attention long enough to listen!”

Theodore smiled. Seeing Oboe banished the fear from his mind. As long as she was at his side, he knew they could do this. That wasn’t rational. She was just one faun, but it felt as if she was the deciding factor between success and failure. She was the difference between a war and a miracle.

“I’m gonna go make another sweep at the Twilight grotto,” Oboe said. “I don’t think I found everybody there yet.”

“There’s not enough time,” Theodore said. His cheer turned grim. “Conrad is on his way. I need you here.”

“Are you sure?” She said. “I could still try. How much time do we have?”

None. The lookout started screaming. The sound of marching grew louder. Ranks of knights in clanking iron greaves appeared from the trees and fell into formation. It was a vast number, platoon after platoon, all with a single man in a cavalier hat marching at the front. 

Five hundred knights came to a halt. The main road into the Fairy Circle was blocked, filled to overflowing with the creatures of the Whirlwood. There was nowhere for them to go.

Fireballs ignited. Great spheres of rippling flame suspended on thin candles held by mages in the vanguard. Theodore felt his allies tense behind him. Claws scraped on the cobblestone, and creatures stirred. He was afraid they would lose face, break and run. They didn’t. The line held.

Knight Detective Conrad Whitechain lifted his hand, and the fireballs shrank down. He signaled for his forces to stand back. Crossing the threshold into the marketplace alone, he marched with intent. His armor was shining, with a silvery cape trailing behind him. It was grand, noble and new where Theodore’s looked as shabby and mismatched as he felt.

Theodore and Oboe met the knight detective in the middle.

“Here you are again,” Conrad said. One eye glared up from beneath his hat. “The one constant amid this chaos. The eye of the storm.”

“Good morning, detective,” Theodore said, not wanting to be discourteous.

Conrad’s gaze drifted over the massive crowd of creatures. Countless eyes looked back, anxious.

“What is this?” He said.

“This is the Whirlwood,” Oboe said. “Everyone who was brave enough to stand up. Everyone who’s scared of what will happen if the humans invade. Everyone who wants there to be peace. This is everyone.”

Conrad sniffed. “You certainly have a way with animals, Grayweather.” He pushed his cape away from his sword hilt. “You know what this looks like to me? A revolt.”

“These aren’t soldiers,” Theodore said. “They’re civilians. This is a protest against the overthrow of the Circle government. Fairies, ghasts, and humans have enjoyed peace with one another for a thousand years. You violate the treaties by coming here to seize control. We can’t allow that to happen.”

“We are here by order of the crown.” Conrad’s nostrils flared. “I don’t know what said to trick these creatures, but you make every one of them a traitor. If you have any honor, you will tell them to disperse before you throw their lives away.”

“No!” Oboe said. “There’s more of us than there are of you! If you tear down the Circle, you’ll start a war! Creatures will get hurt! You’re the ones that need to leave!”

“We don’t want to fight,” Theodore said, trying to swallow. It was true that there were more creatures than knights, but only a fraction were trained fighters. Conrad’s men were trained and armed. A battle meant a slaughter. “This is a demonstration of the will of Laien’s people. You may be here on the King’s orders, but those orders are unjust. I want to parlay. We can find a better solution. There’s no reason to spill so much blood.”

“You’re right.” Conrad unfastened the straps of his gauntlet. “I don’t have to fight this horde you amassed. I can resolve this by spilling only a little blood.” He hurled his gauntlet down at Theodore’s feet. “A duel! You and me! To the death!”

Theodore stared at the gauntlet. “Conrad, we don’t have to do this.”

He scoffed. “I’ll show your hapless forces what you really are: A spineless, traitorous, and lying devil.” He drew his sword. “Fight me! I’ll crush you like I crushed you before and scatter your horde back to the wood! Let’s put this charade to an end!”

Theodore bent down. A knight could not refuse a challenge to duel without disgrace. He picked the gauntlet off the ground.

“Very well.”