The Earth's End

Chapter Six

AN: Finally! I couldn't figure out how to continue writing various bits of this chapter, which is why it came out so late and so badly. I apologize.

Lacey

She had spent a mere night within the town of Stonecrest, and Lacey already wished to live in it for the rest of her days.

Good people, lively taverns, abundant fruits and vegetables—how could one not love this wonderful place? Though it was larger than Merrowcliffe, it still felt warm and inviting—not to mention that it was filled with food. Niko had spoken of the butcher in this town, famous throughout the kingdom for his meats, and only now did she realize just what she meant. Walking by, her eyes first rested on the wall of people gathered around his tiny shop, and then the freshly skinned rabbit dangling in the window. She had never adored the taste of anything that could once walk or think for itself, but just watching the meat glisten tantalizingly in the sun, even she felt a twinge of hunger.

“Lacey, was it?” The innkeeper, still radiating kindness, who had given her a room for free (“adventurers are always welcome in our little town”, he had explained) passed by, smiling warmly.  “Will you be visiting our butcher this morning?”

“No, sir. I’ve never been partial to meat, but it does look delicious.”

“It does, doesn’t it? Stonecrest’s butcher is truly its pride and joy.”

As he left, Lacey’s thoughts wandered back to her original pursuit. The market. The market. The market. Wider than seven of Merrowcliffe’s town squares, every stall was filled with foods of all kinds: six-foot-tall walls of bread; rainbows of strawberries, oranges, lemons, and the like; rows upon rows of viridian vegetables (some of which were completely cloaked in enormous leaves). Just staring at the massive selection made her salivate. Very occasionally, nomadic Stonecrest merchants had set up stalls in her hometown when she was young, but there had been none for many years.

“Miss?” She finally stopped at a cute little stall whose aged, slightly tattered sign was decorated with carvings of cauldrons. The very same cauldrons that steamed with countless liquids just inside the space. “How much is your tomato soup?”

“Only 10 of your gold for a small bowl, ma’am.” The shopkeeper, a tall, slender woman whose eyes had just begun to wrinkle around the edges, gave her that endeared smile that all adults gave children. “Surely you can afford it?”

“Indeed I can.”

“Most foreigners come here to try my beef stew,” she added, dipping a massive ladle into a thick-looking, bright red soup. “I must admit, it’s truly strange that someone your age would be coming here for something like this…”

Lacey smiled back, attempting to mime the amazing patience the other, middle-aged woman displayed. “I’m merely passing through here.”

“If it’s not intrusive of me to ask, what business do you have elsewhere?”

“Oh, I’m looking for a good friend. Not too long ago, she simply vanished.”

 “A friend who vanished without a trace…that plot that countless fairy tales have stolen from one another, isn’t it?” She raised an eyebrow. “But typically, the friend, the damsel, is a beautiful princess, and the hero a rugged and handsome knight…do you aspire to become such a person, and save the girl that you love?”

“Wh-what?!” Lacey found herself blushing. “I-I can assure you, I do wish to become someone who can do battle as a knight can, but I feel no such things for her!”

“I see! Truly, I apologize for teasing you in such a personal manner.”

 Her soup, its godly aroma lazily drifting around the room, was soon handed to her in a hard stone bowl. Seldom had she thanked the cook and begun to lift her spoon, however, when a disheveled man that could have been terrified or elated dashed by, arms full of newspapers. “Fresh from Her Grace’s palace in the City of Azure!” Suddenly, he tripped on a small stone on the muddy path, and with a small yelp crashed into the wet grass, belongings spilling out around him. Gasping, the shopkeeper and several others rushed to help him, as Lacey stood there, motionless, left to gaze at the bold print that marked the top.

TERENCE BALDRIC, JAILED FOR SLANDER

Wait…Terence? Terence Baldric? Surely, it couldn’t be that Terence; the brave, handsome, humble knight, just like the ones in the fairy tales that the shopkeeper had mentioned, that she had lusted after for most of her life. He loved the Queen; he loved everything she had done for him, and had spoken of it at length when he had visited Merrowcliffe. Eyes widening, she took to reading a snippet of the article.

Terence Baldric, a famous knight revered throughout the Kingdom of Azure for his good deeds and kindness, has been jailed as of today, on accounts of saying that Her Grace has lost her mind, and accusing her of plotting to send her own kingdom into ruin. Obviously, neither of these statements contains any truth in any sense, and rest assured he has been deemed mad himself and will be executed in five days, for the royal court’s fear of him committing other, more dangerous traitorous acts. As the Queen herself tells us, “I have been deeply humiliated by these remarks—rumors spread by a man I thought I could trust, rumors that could throw my reputation, and even my position as queen, into turmoil. It pains me greatly to kill others, but in some cases, there are some who simply cannot exist in this world.”

Her Grace has also requested to watch the execution.

Bile rose in Lacey’s throat. Tears filled her eyes. This couldn’t be the man all the newspapers had once sung the praises of, telling of his newest saintly act or describing the grotesque beast he had valiantly slain. This wasn’t him; this was another person.

Someone else was shackled to a mossy, filthy dungeon wall below the palace. Someone else would be starved, tortured, and murdered in cold blood.

“I’m terribly sorry for the wait, ma’am. How are you enjoying your soup?”

A voice from behind her snapped her back to reality. “O-oh…it’s magnificent. Well worth the price. Thank you, truly.”

“No problem at all. Return any time you like!”

As she left, her hand trembled on the hilt of her sword, fingers tracing the twin horse heads over and over. This was what she needed to do. This was for the best.

If she had to unsheathe this blade in cowardice, if she had to spill the blood of the innocent on the scared grounds of the palace, if she had to take others’ lives or sacrifice her own, then that was exactly what she would do.

She had to defend the man who she knew was wrongly accused.

She had to defend the man that she had only admired from afar.

For once, the helpless girl would save the life of the valiant knight.