A Knight's Errant

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Perhaps by coincidence or not, but while in New Hillborrow and passing close by to where BB’s flower fields are, Marto notices the presence of both Walking Stone siblings there. Through the open door of the flower shop part of BB’s home, Marto sees them both standing by the counter with two large steaming mugs in hand. It’s hard not to notice how similar they both look, but how aesthetically different they are.

It reminds him of his own sister.

“They really are beautiful mirror images of each other aren’t they?” a soft and playfully wistful voice says telepathically to him. A tiny red squirrel pokes her head up over Marto’s shoulder, little whiskers quivering as her nose lifts to smell the air. “What are they drinking? Tea? Do you think we could have some? You want to speak to the tall, dark, and handsome one, yes?”

Marto coughs, which draws both sibling’s eyes. He smiles sheepishly and waves. “You said it like that on purpose, didn’t you Gwen?”

“Said what in what way?” the fey spirit says too innocently to be believed. Then, before he can stop her, she leaps off his shoulder and bolts straight for the open door.

As Gwen approaches the shop door a little magpie, BB’s own Blue, swoops down from a perch to meet them with a curious head tilt. At the same time both Fog and BB wave back, BB enthusiastically asking, “Marto! Great to see you again. I just made a fresh pot of nettle tea, would you like some?”

Fog doesn’t say anything yet, but gives a soft smile to Marto. They’ve gone for a black double winged eyeliner look today.

“Sure, BB, that would be great,” Marto says, glancing at Fog briefly to return the smile, before looking back to his sister. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t bring anything with me to accompany the tea today. I kinda came straight over from my lesson with Orla.”

The squirrel and magpie start to do hopping circles around each other, the one squeaking the other tooting in playful joy as the two familiars try to catch the other’s tail.

“You’re gonna get dizzy if you keep that up,” Marto says to Gwen, with a chuckle.

“Oh don’t be silly, you don’t have to bring anything with you. You’re always welcome, tea accompaniments or not.” The last bit is said over her shoulder as BB is already making her way through the side door into the main house.

Fog takes this moment to move closer to Marto and the playing familiars, noting the chuckle Marto directed towards them.

“Hey, how you doing? You err, have a new squirrel friend since I last saw you it seems. They’re cute.”

“Heh, yeah. Gwenael is my familiar. She’s a fey spirit from the Court of Harmony, and is a real character,” Marto says, the laughter still in his voice. One of the two familiars trip. Next thing they know, there’s a tumbling ball of feathers and fur accompanied by squeaks and toots of surprise. The halfling shakes his head, lifting a hand to run through his blonde hair. “Told ya so,” he mutters.

Blue eyes lift up to Fog’s face, laughter lingering in their airy depths. “I’m doin’ alright. Better. How about you? I haven’t seen you in a while, I hope everything’s good?”

Fog can’t help but chuckle at the tumbling familiars too, and while looking shifts his gaze to meet Marto’s. His grey eyes look almost the same, but there seems to be a subtle shifting of colour to them, and a feeling they perhaps see more than they used to. “Doing better? I’m really glad to hear that. And well I’m the same old really, helping where I can, picking up more makeup and jewellery by the day it seems.”

“I was gonna say, I like the double wings. Really draws out your eyes,” Marto compliments Fog, smiling. He continues looking up at them for a beat longer before feeling another set of eyes on him. Glancing over at Gwen, she and Blue are huddled together, looking at the two of them, almost like they’re whispering conspiratorially to each other. Marto shifts nervously on his feet, one hand finding purchase on a belt loop. “You’re really good at doing your make-up.”

Fog lets out a pleased huff of a sound at this, with a slight blush. “Oh thank you. I’ve been trying different things out recently, so it’s reassuring that you like it and it looks nice.” He starts to fidget with the rings on his fingers, spinning them round slowly, “I don’t know if you’re into it on your own face, but I think a bit of dark shadow here would really bring out your own eyes.” And he slowly reaches down a hand to Marto’s face before it jerks away as BB enters back into the shop in a flurry of activity.

“Sorry for the wait! The holly outside the kitchen window wanted a chat, and it’s always hard to say no to them.” She takes in both groups of familiars and people in her shop before continuing, “But it seems everyone is getting along just fine while I’ve been away. So Marto, what brings you over to the shop today?”

She sets down a small dish of tea on the floor and hands Marto a steaming mug of his own. Gwen instantly goes over to it and starts drinking from it very carefully.

“Ah, thanks,” he says, accepting the mug. “It’s a bit of an odd one. Well, I say odd, but I don’t know if it is really.”

Marto undoes the buckle of the pouch on his belt, reaches in and pulls out a twice folded piece of thick paper stock.

“I found this letter waiting for me at the Hearth when I came back from Daring. It’s… well, it’s an invitation to take part in a knight’s competition.” Marto looks between the siblings, his gaze lingering a bit longer on Fog than on BB. “I’ve been kinda out of touch with some of what’s been happening recently and I thought, maybe between the two of you, either of you might know something about the person who invited me.”

“Well if you’re out of touch, I’m ancient history then Marto. Not sure the knights I know of would command random competitions, so Fog this might be more on you.”

“Your girlfriend knows a lot of people.” BB beams at the mention of Dwirhian. “I wasn’t sure if she spoke to you about any knights. But, yeah, if you might know anything Fog...?” Marto asks, trailing off as he turns.

She nods her head towards them, and Fog takes the offered moment to hold a hand out for the letter. “I’m not too familiar with knights myself, but I’ve picked up a few names and acquaintances since we last met. So perhaps I do know?”

Marto hands them the letter.


Fog reads the letter once, and then twice, keeping a calm face throughout. Then nods curtly before giving it back to Marto. “It’s the von Valds. I’ve had a few encounters with them actually. It’s a bit of a story, but BB’s already heard it and I don’t want to distract her from the shop anymore. Why don’t we talk about it outside?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Marto says, folding the letter and putting it back in his belt pouch.

“Ooo, the talk, dark, and dreamy one knows about these guys! Excellent,” Gwen almost croons, running up Marto’s leg to perch on his shoulder. She wiggles her nose at Fog as Marto follows the tall firbolg outside, hands wrapping around the mug of tea to stay warm.

“Yeah. I wonder though…” his thought trails off. Trying not to read too much into that wide eyed look he saw Fog give the letter, Marto tells his suddenly nervous stomach to be calm by taking a sip of tea.

After a quick wave to BB over Marto’s shoulder, Fog leads them to the edge of the flower fields, the sun of the crisp cold day catching on all the colours. “So they contacted you out of the blue for this competition? It’s interesting, because between their isolated location of the Shadowfell and their preoccupation with who would be heir, they didn’t have many visitors I believe. So this is good, I think anyway.”

“Hmm… So you’ve met the von Valds,” Marto says, taking a small sip of his tea. “And they’re in the Shadowfell? That’s… good to know.” He seems to mull over something, brow furrowing over the steaming mug again as he takes another sip. “I guess let me ask this: What’s your impression of them? What sort of a situation might I be walking into by accepting this invitation?”

“My impression? Well the house is big, but empty of people, and I remember a large wolf rug. The sister, the one who is organising this competition, is steadfast and proud. The older brother is extremely zealous and I believe wanting to go on a destructive crusade. And the youngest, Wilhelm, is the calmest and can talk to the dead spirits of the family. They all have fantastic style.” It’s at this that Fog begins to nervously twist the ring on his finger.

“The siblings bicker, and the place has a deep history, but I don’t think you’re walking into anything overtly dangerous.”

Marto gives Fog a careful, searching look. “Alright. Then why do you look nervous talking about them?”

They very suddenly stop fiddling with the ring, their arms falling to the side. Fog gives a long look to Marto before looking at their feet. “Um well it’s not really anything with the von Valds as a whole. It’s kind of… embarrassing on my part.

“Wilhelm might have publicly but indirectly confessed feelings for me, which I didn’t even realise at the time. And then I rejected their feelings via letter and asked to remain friends. Which at the time I thought was a gentle let down, but on reflection perhaps not, because I am an 81 year old with terrible people skills.”

“Oh.” The sound is simple but there’s a weight to it that even Marto cannot name. “Oh,” he repeats, cheeks colouring slightly as he looks away from Fog, suddenly feeling a little lost.

Fog takes a breath to let out a big sigh, “That’s why I perhaps came across as nervous. No bad blood, I just, yeah.”

“Yeah, of course. That- That’s completely understandable.” Marto puts his mug of tea down, feeling like he wants to hold something else but isn’t sure what. “Sorry I sprung this on you, Fog. I- I had no idea.”

The halfling suddenly feels the urge to rest his hand over top of Fog’s. Before Marto can overthink it, he does so, hoping it’s not too much. He feels their hand twitch as if on impulse, but Fog doesn’t attempt to move away, possibly scared to break the moment…?

“It’s okay Marto, how would you know anyway? And really, I’m not the one who’s feelings got rejected in all this. Though perhaps if Wilhelm is there, maybe don’t mention we’re close. Or do, I don’t know, it’s your judgement call in the end.”

Marto’s gaze falls down to their hands. There’s a moment where he doesn’t know what to do or say, until he pulls Fog’s hand into a slightly tighter grip and gives it a squeeze.

“I don’t want to make things awkward for you. Besides,” Marto grins, looking back up at Fog, “I will have other things to occupy myself with, like this knightly competition.”

Fog cheeks colour just slightly as he runs his thumb over Marto’s knuckle a few times. “Other things? Hmmm. Don’t let them distract you too much, though I think you’ll be great at this competition, even if I don’t fully know what it entails.” Fog also lets out a slightly amused chuckle.

“I’ve read stories about knights and such growing up. I wonder if this will be anything like that,” Marto muses. “Jousting and tournaments and ‘the dance of arms’. There’s bound to be all types of warriors there from all over the place too!” He beams. “The more I think about it, the more excited I get,” he admits, eyes bright as he squeezes Fog’s hand again.

Fog smiles at Marto’s infectious excitement. “I will admit I know almost nothing about knights as a concept. Those stories never reached my home. But what you describe sounds quite fun and very lively, I’m most curious what this ‘dance of arms’ is.”

“Well, the dance of arms is a mock battle, where half the knight’s and warriors taking part of the tournament fight against the others. Sometimes it’s just called the melee, and it can be done 1v1. It depends on how the host of the tournament wants to do it, really,” Marto says, sitting up as he explains things. He continues on, recounting stories he has read, both factual and fantastical, gesticulating and illustrating the tales of noble people from across the realms who have participated in such time-honoured traditions and competitions.

“Some people participate in them for gold, others prestige, some to gain back honour they might once have lost. Some even because they’re bored and have nothing better to do. There’s countless tales of all sorts of people becoming knights and the lords who bestow the title are sometimes just as fascinating.”

Fog has been listening with full attention, observing Marto’s story telling with happy intent, barely interrupting apart from an encouraging hum or nod here and there.

“And what about you Marto? What will you be fighting for in this tournament like the knights? I’m intrigued by your reason.”

The air catches in his throat as the question. It shouldn’t surprise him that Fog would ask, yet it does. Marto feels off balance, the innocent well intended question getting past his guard. He is left sitting there with his mouth hanging open, rather ridiculously until he closes it with a shake of his head.

“I…” He glances at Fog, then away, wondering how much to admit. “I had this idea in my head as a child — this was years ago now — that I would one day go out into the world like a young errant knight from the stories, searching for my long lost sister. I’d find her and rescue her from the big scary fairies that had captured her. Then about a year and a half ago she found us.” He lifts his hands in a shrugging gesture. “I didn’t need to follow that childhood dream anymore. Merla was found, we were reunited, and everything was as whole as it could be again. Except…” Marto lets his hands drop, eyes looking out over the fields of flowers, vibrant in the crisp air. “Except I still wanted to find something. A calling? A purpose? A destiny? I don’t know… but I want to figure it out. Because I can’t go back to who I was before.”

Fog follows Marto’s gaze to the flowers in front of them. They don’t say anything for a long moment as they listen to the faint wind across the fields.

“There’s nothing wrong with having dreams, both when we’re younger and older. Wishing you could go out and save your sister was a very good one, I just accepted that there was nothing I could do for my sister. But anyway, I think you don’t need a destiny to move forward, just keep moving. Perhaps one day you’ll stop and look back at everything you’ve done and realise how much you’ve achieved without one anyway, or maybe you’ll stumble across a purpose you never saw coming.” He pauses to look down at the glass ring of mist on his finger. “I understand what you mean, I feel similar in that want to move forward somewhere as long as it’s not back.”

He looks at Marto now, a slight grin on his face. “I’m always around to help figure things out, if you want the help. Perhaps you can help a fellow wandering soul in return?”

There’s a moment, as Marto just looks at Fog, his heart pounding. Then he reciprocates their smile. “‘Only one is a wanderer. Two together are always going somewhere.’” Marto reaches out, taking their hand once more. A well calloused thumb rubs over the glass ring before enfolding Fog’s hands entirely in their warm embrace.


Continued in ‘A Knight's Purpose’ 🌲