A Knight to Remember

"Sire, are you really in any condition to go calling?"

Lucas, the tomato chamberlain, watched his master limp with a walking stick through the twilight toward the apple orchards. Duke, the Duke of Scone, had spent most of the afternoon at Ye Olde Knight School training under his teacher Irwin — or, rather, the cucumber had been pummeled by donut after donut in his efforts to prepare for the annual tournament. Duke's green skin was now covered in scrapes and bruises, and he was sore up and down his narrow body. Even so, Duke held his head high and even hummed a little between groans.

"This is important, Lucas," Duke insisted, adjusting his red, feathered cap. "I need to update Petunia on what's happening."

"And Nona," Lucas put in dryly.

"Well, yeah. Both of them," Duke said sheepishly. "It's common courtesy."

"Mmm-hmm," returned Lucas. "And is that why you brought Ye Olde Clove Breath Mints with you?"

"You ask too many questions sometimes, Lucas," Duke mumbled.

He quickly popped yet another breath mint made from cloves into his mouth. Cloves were already luxury items, since they had to be imported from some faraway islands in Asia, but with the Great Pie War raging, they were especially expensive. As such, Duke only bought clove products for super-duper special occasions — such as when he needed to freshen his breath before he went to talk to the kindest, loveliest princess he had ever laid his eyes on.

Petunia had a right to know how his training was going; Duke was her champion in the upcoming tournament. She had asked him to joust for her against her late husband's uncle in order to get the other half of the family crest, a golden duck made of two keys. One unlocked the castle where Otis currently lived; the other, the vast treasure vault hidden within. If Duke beat Otis, then Petunia and Nona would be set for life.

And Petunia will be so happy, Duke sighed dreamily to himself. He pictured the beautiful princess living comfortably in the castle, throwing balls and banquets, hosting hunts and TupperWare parties, arraying herself in silk gowns and costly jewels that sparkled like her eyes. Maybe she would invite Duke over sometimes, and they'd sit together by the fireplace looking at picture books, or they'd try out the latest dances, and maybe Duke would be allowed to pull her close and lift her in the air, and maybe when they said good night, she'd let him lean in and—

"Duke, watch out for the—!" Lucas' voice cut into his thoughts, but it was too late.

Duke stumbled over an apple bucket left laying in the path, and he fell onto his already bruised face.

"...Ow!"

Up ahead, a door creaked open, and it took Duke a moment to realize they had come to the edge of the apple orchards. The door was on the trunk of a tree house, and a head peeked out, one with braided red hair, large kind eyes with pink eye shadow, a gumdrop nose, and cute lips, which instantly contracted with alarm when the owner caught sight of him.

"Duke! Are you okay?" Petunia rushed forward.

Duke made a valiant attempt to get up, wanting to look indestructible in front of the princess, but pain shot through him, and he collapsed again. Petunia reached him a second later, taking hold of him.

"Here, let me help you up," she said gently.

Lucas took Duke's other side, and between them, they got Duke upright. Duke looked at Petunia, standing so close to him, and he felt his cheeks warm. He cleared his throat.

"Th-Thanks, Petunia. Uh, what's up?"

"I could ask you that," she laughed. "What are you doing out this way this late? Do you have any news?" — brightening.