Fin acknowledged and understood, that this could be very bad for him. He couldn’t be all that honest, and he was slightly terrified of whatever nervy feat the Knights could dream up on his behalf.

If he opted out of being honest or performing whatever challenge the group dreamt up, he had to drink.

Meaning, he was more than likely going to be in a good deal of pain the following day.

“Alright, I will begin as I thought up of the game, and I choose to ask Sir Andrews first. Honesty or Guts?” Peter had an odd glint in his eye that Fin had never seen before, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Er—guts?” The Knight looked genuinely afraid.

“Excellent. To prove your guts, you must either fight Finlay, or finish your entire tankard.”

The Knight hastily downed the entire beverage in front of him.

After letting out a loud belch, Sir Andrews rounded on the table.

“Lewis, Honesty or Guts?”

The Knight thought carefully.

“Honesty.”

“Are there any maidens you fancy?” Sir Andrews waggled his eyebrows making both Fin and Peter roll their eyes.

“Well… In a sense I s’pose. Lost my interest in Hannah for obvious reasons…” Fin’s dark expression encouraged the hasty adding on of the sentence. “ Lady Jenoure’s built for sin, so of course I’d never complain should the Lady like to share some time with me, but otherwise… most likely Jade. The newest hand maiden.”

“The klutzy one?” Sir Andrews’ surprise was clear.

“The very same.”

Fin had no idea who they were talking about after Lady Jenoure, but decided it didn’t really matter. Sir Taylor was laughing heartily at his friends.

“Alright Taylor, Honesty or Guts?”

“Guts!” The man grinned fearlessly, but Sir Lewis’ evil smile was not something to take lightly.

“If you have guts, you will sing for everyone.”

The large man’s smile fell from his face.

Fin perked up. This could be golden. He truly expected the man to finish his beverage. Instead, he stood slowly, opened his mouth, and sang.

The witch’s jaw dropped.

The man could actually sing. When it came to the chorus line of the song, Sirs Andrews and Lewis joined in perfect harmony, and Fin’s shock grew.

They were not just good… they were actually great!

Fin sat enraptured by the rich timber of Sir Taylor’s voice, and the uniformed harmonies of the men with him. It was one of the generic sea songs that most people knew, about sailors all in love with a Troivackian woman named Sally Brown.

By the end of the song, Fin felt as though he needed to offer them all some money… until Sir Taylor let out a belch that rattled the dishes on the table, effectively breaking the enchantment.

“I did not see that coming. Do all the Knights sing as well as you lot?” Fin asked not bothering to mask his impressed tone.

“Some, but none can go as low as Taylor here!” Sir Andrews raised his tankard to the Knight whom glowered in response.

“Singin’ ain’t a Knights job.” The man growled.

Fin decided not to antagonize him further.

“So was it Hannah who hung the curtains and got the linens on the bed?” The cook asked intending to change the subject.

“She had a spare quilt, and the curtains she er… she was half finished for her dowry chest.” Sir Andrews suddenly looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“Andrews… did you sew my curtains?” Fin queried, not wanting to mock him, but at the same time finding it more than a little funny.

“My mother was a seamstress.” He mumbled as he downed half his tankard.

No one dared to torture him further.

“Peter, Honesty or Guts!”

“Guts.” Peter chortled shaking his head.

“You have guts if you run an entire lap around the castle butt naked.” Sir Taylor declared over the table, his eyes already glassy.

All eyes swiveled to the man who had been in the middle of raising his wine glass to his lips.

“That seems more than just a small challenge.” He stated evenly.

“If you don’t, your consequence is to finish that bottle of wine.” Sir Taylor gestured to the bottle that was still half full.

The quiet man drained his goblet, and stood. He gave a small shrug, then turned towards the cottage door.

“Peter, you cannot seriously be considering this!” Fin called out, a laugh in his voice of disbelief.

“You’re right Mr. Ashowan. I am not considering it. I’ve decided.”

The man stepped outside, and after sharing several different looks, every one of them jumped up, not wanting to miss the show.

*

Dottie sat in her rocking chair as night settled over the dewy castle grounds. Her son Antonio, had already gone to bed, and as she worked on her embroidery, felt herself stiffen from the slight draft from the cottage window despite it remaining closed.

She tugged at the faded rose-colored shawl around her shoulders a little tighter with her knobby fingers.

That was when she heard it.

*Slapslapslapslapslapslap*

A sound she had not heard since her dear husband Paulo had been alive. She gazed out the window, and stared at the stark white form of a man running past her cottage, his impressive manhood giving her a fond reminder of days past.

She watched his ivory buttocks as it faded into the night, and smiled.

It had turned into a better evening than she could’ve ever hoped as the faint slapping sound grew more and more distant.

*

Peter sat back at the table still panting from his lengthy run around the castle, and sipped his wine.

“I must admit, I did not, in a hundred years think there was any chance of you doing that.” Sir Taylor spluttered, the awe in his voice undeniable.

Peter shrugged, and placed his goblet down.

“Finlay, Honesty or Guts?”

“You are a hard man to follow, so I will attempt honesty.”

“Tell us about the first ten years of your life. No one knows really anything about you.”

Fin raised his eyebrows as he thought for a moment. He didn’t necessarily need to tell them about magic to encapsulate his childhood did he?

“I grew up on one of the Southern Islands. Quildon. My mother, as I’m sure you all heard, was a healer. We saw many people from all over the continent, and the world, and they all had special recipes they would miss from home while they were recovering. So I would do my best to recreate them, and I eventually got quite good. I didn’t get along with the other children on the island, and so I… was mostly on my own. With my mother.”

“Are you a bastard?” Sir Andrews blurted, his tone of disgust abundantly apparent.

All eyes turned to the Knight briefly, but he immediately looked contrite so nothing else was said on his outburst.

“My parents were married a year before I was born. My father left and never came back when I was eight.”

Fin sipped his ale briefly before deciding to redirect the conversation.

“Sir Andrews, Honesty or Guts?”

The Knight had been frowning after hearing Fin’s history, but adjusted his expression hastily.

“Honesty.”

“Why were you apologizing to Hannah on your knees a week ago?”

The tension in the room rose so swiftly that it could’ve choked a weaker being.

“I… I…”

Fin waited, his expression stony.

“I was angry, and I…” The man visibly struggled for the words. “I said unkind things to her, and shouldn’t have. I didn’t want her to tell you, because for some reason you scare Sir Taylor, and that scares me.”

Fin stood, and all the men except for Peter winced as he did so.

“Did you hurt her?”

“Not physically I just… wasn’t…. I’m sorry.” He finished awkwardly.

“Why are you apologizing?” Fin’s tone was threatening.

“B-Because, I didn’t mean to-”

“If any of you are here and acting proud that you are behaving better because you are scared of me? You aren’t better. You’re the same rotten idiots you were before. If you behave better because you yourselves believe what you did was wrong and want to be better, then, and only then, have you earned some right to be proud.” Fin snatched the wine bottle off the table, and stormed out of the cottage.

Peter’s arms were folded across his chest as he gazed at the Knights calmly.

The trio looked a strange mix of sickened, guilty, and angry.

“He’s a cook, why does he get to be so high and mighty?” Sir Andrews mumbled.

Sir Taylor stood.

“I don’t like the cook but… what he says bothers me.” The man sounded confused.

“He just takes things too seriously!” Sir Andrews exclaimed clutching his tankard tightly.

“I wouldn’t like it if someone made Jade cry.” Sir Lewis said idly while staring drunkenly at the table.

Peter sighed before draining his goblet.

“Let us leave for the night. You three can have an existential crisis in your own beds.”

The group left having learned valuable things that night, and having much to think about before their minds would let them rest easily.

*

Fin relieved himself amongst the trees. He hadn’t meant to chase away the Knights. He could see that they were improving gradually under Peter and Hannah’s command. Nothing huge, but more considerate behavior and a slow but steady increase of manners. However, after Fin’s strenuous day and wrought nerves, he was less tolerant. Plus, they really should have learned their lesson, the cook reasoned in an attempt to try and quench his guilty conscious.

He drank straight from the wine bottle as the sound of nocturnal animals and insects filled his ears, hoping the wine would help his worries to float away.

The witch sighed, and leaned against the nearest willow tree as he finished his business. He did not wanting to throw the Knights into his wheel of worries. He had enough with his confrontation with the King, worrying for the Queen, the overpowering pull he felt towards Lady Jenoure, and then his duties atop all of it.

He was about to turn back and return to the cottage, when the snapping of twigs, and clanking of armor drew his attention to his left, just South of the creek.

In the distance, Fin could see a rather large man making his way through the forest heading East. On a drunken whim, the witch decided to follow him and see where he was headed.

Fin ambled behind the man, not bothering to mask his own sounds as the wanderer clearly drowned out any sound he made with his armor.

The cook was actually enjoying the leisurely walk as he continued to drink casually while following the man and remaining on the North side of the stream. Perhaps it was a drunk Knight, or perhaps he was an intruder. Fin wasn’t certain, but neither option particularly bothered him while the alcohol coursed through him.

The witch realized that they were nearly at the rose maze, when at long last the man called out softly in the darkness.

“The roses will burn in the summer heat.”

A cloaked figure in the distance responded.

“Not unless the soil remains moist.”

It seemed to be some kind of code?

“What news have you for me?” The cloaked figure questioned, it was a woman… a familiar voice.

“Not much. Right now there are fewer Troivackian merchant ships at every Daxarian city, and their goods seem to only consist of trinkets.”

A small aggravated grunt came from the cloaked figure.

“Have you heard about the witches?”

“I’ve heard their Chief of Military is quite powerful, I’ve also heard of at least three other powerful witches there. More than that, I do not know.” The man answered.

“Which city will they attack first?”

“Not sure. Perhaps Rollom?”

The figure cursed.

“Doubtful. They are difficult to attack. Anything else?”

“Sorry, ‘fraid not.” After an aggravated sigh, the figure handed a small pouch that jangled loudly to the man in plated armor.

“That is your three months pay. I will send for you in another month. Try to discover which city will be attacked first from your former mercenaries.”

The man agreed, and turned to leave. Fin had been following slightly upwards of the man’s path, and so when he stalked past the witch, he didn’t glimpse him casually leaned against the tree in the shadows with the wine bottle dangling at his side.

Once the clanking faded, Fin took another drink, then felt the tip of the blade in the back of his neck.

“Who sent you?”

The smell of spices filled his nose.

He laughed, and the dagger drew blood.

“Lady Jenoure, fancy meeting you here!”

The knife fell away, and Fin turned around to stare into the stricken expression of the woman.

“Why are you here?” She demanded while still attempting to recover from the shock of the sight of him once she made out the red hair in the dark.

“Was out for a walk. With wine. Sir Clanks’a’lot seemed interesting, so I followed him.” Fin shrugged and took another mouthful of wine.

“Fin are you… are you alright? You were with Ain- the Queen all night.” Annika’s tone was tenuous as though she were caught between wanting to interrogate him, but also wanting to express her worry.

“I only distracted a woman as she potentially bled to death with her child. Why would I be anything but fantastic?” He drank again.

“She’s fine. Ainsley has always-”

“You wanna know why I can’t be ‘round you?” Fin slurred as he leaned heavily against the tree.

“Well earlier you said-”

“It’s ‘cause I like you.”

She went still.

“You mean you want to lay with me. It’s fine. I know most of-”

“Nah. I mean... Yeah. But… you make me excited. Excited for… you. Life an’ you in it.” Fin shrugged and drank more again.

“Why have you avoided me then?” Annika asked the hesitation obvious in her voice.

“I… you… I’m a cook. You’re a Lady. None of the this is good.” When he drank again, he drained the bottle.

“… What if I liked you too?”

Fin stared at her open expression. She wore a black leather vest over a tan colored tunic, and dark brown trousers with black boots. A black cloak clad around her shoulders.

She had never looked more honest, or beautiful.

“I don’t want a fling… or… or some other… Lord raising my weird… kid.” He managed haltingly.

“So just because we like each other this can only end in a fling or a bastard?” Annika challenged, bitterness lacing her tone.

“What is the most it could be?” Fin demanded sharply. "You haffta get married soon."

Annika said nothing.

“Right. Well. Don’t… worry. I know, you know, I’m a… yeah. Thanks for Kraken. Truly. He was the best… gift ever. I won’t tell people you… you’re a spy.” Fin turned and stumbled, but slowly began picking his way through the forest back towards his cottage, not caring that he hadn’t made really any sense.

The Lady appeared at his side, grabbing his right arm, she draped it over her shoulders, and helped balance out his weight.

“No! Don’t... Please… no.” Fin’s pleas faded as he struggled to focus on his footing.

“Fin I’m just taking you to the cottage, don’t worry.” Annika assured as she continued to move forward. “I’ve carried each of my brothers in similar states, so I know what I’m doing.”

“Phillip is a massive asshole!”

Annika burst out laughing at the slurred declaration.

“Yes, but please stop saying it.”

“But… but he IS!”

“I’m aware.”

“You look better than he does.”

“I know, I know… we can talk more about that later though.”

Fin grunted.

“Did he hurt you… a lot while growing… growing up?” Fin demanded.

“Yes, but it made me stronger, now sort out your left foot or we will be going in circles.”

Fin slowly adjusted the awkward direction of his large left toe, and found that their trajectory towards his cottage greatly improved.

In no time at all, the duo found themselves clearing the tree line, and staring at the cheery bright windows, with the faint smell of a good fire still flickering in the hearth in the air.

“Wow, the place has a real touch of magic.” Annika exclaimed as she regarded the painted window boxes and door.

“Sir… Andrews. Mother was a seamstress!” The witch brokenly announced.

Once in front of the freshly painted deep green door, the Lady unlatched the handle, and stepped in. The fire had died down to warm embers with a few flames flickering, as the table remained covered with dirty dishes.

“I’m fine, you can… go back to your chamber in the castle and… Gods your reputation! I’m sorry!” Fin exclaimed pulling away from her and stumbling towards the bedroom.

“Fin, it’s fine. I doubt anyone knows it’s me when I’m dressed like this.”

“Still just… don’t be near me.” He mumbled as he pushed open the bedroom door and stumbled heavily.

Annika stepped forward with a sigh. She closed the door behind herself, then crossed the distance to him before grabbing his right arm, and slowly guiding him to the bed where Kraken laid curled comfortably. The feline raised his head sleepily to watch the scene unfold, while looking sincerely annoyed at having been disturbed.

Fin sat down heavily on the lovely red and blue quilt, and released the empty wine bottle near the side of the bed.

Annika slowly crouched down so that she was between his legs, her hands on his thighs as he swayed where he sat.

“Would you like me to get you some water?” She asked gently.

“Honesty or Guts!” Fin declared pointing directly into the Lady’s face.

She laughed softly, shaking her head slightly at the question to the familiar drinking game, making Fin grin stupidly in return.

“Honesty.”

“When we first met, you… you wanted something from me. What was it?”

Annika’s smile dimmed slightly.

“I wanted you to let people always come and go in the kitchen without restrictions. It’s the best place to hear the servants gossip.”

“OOHHHH because you’re a spy!” Fin exclaimed nodding his head wisely.

“Yes. Now we will have to talk about this more when you are less foxed, but… until then, try not to tell too many people hm?”

Fin swayed where he sat, but as he stared down at her, he gave a half smile, his eyes glassy and lost to reason.

He slowly bent down, closer to the stunning Lady whom seemed immune to bothersome feelings.

He dropped a gentle kiss against her lips, the softness, warmth, and tinge of electricity gravely intoxicating.

Annika’s eyes had closed on reflex, and as they slowly opened, so did Fin’s, and he gave one last sleepy smile before sitting up, and falling back unconsciously on the pillows behind himself.

The Lady Jenoure stood up slowly, and stared down at the man passed out drunkenly on his bed. She saw in the faint light of the candles from the outer room the graceful slope of his eyes, and his cheek bones that could have been crafted by a master sculptor as her heart pounded, and felt the blazing heat in her cheeks that refused to cool after the kiss.

“Oh no.” She whispered, and took a step backwards.

Remaining completely ignored, Kraken had sat up straight at the foot of the bed, and as he watched Annika stare down at his witch, began purring contently.

It had begun.