Chapter 22 Duel against a Duelist
Duel Against a Duelist
Day three hundred and thirty-eight
Dear Diary,
It’s been three hundred and thirty-eight days since we began this journey together. In that time, I hadn’t encountered my ex-wife once.
Well, now I can say it’s happened. Several nights ago she showed up in my bedchambers, as ex-wives are wont to do, and threatened that if I don’t return to her, she’ll expose me as the Dark Lord and send my past soldiers out to exterminate me. Also as ex-wives are wont to do.
My question is, what exactly do I do in this position?
I defied her and have plans to help the rebels a little bit longer before I make my premier escape.
Yet the longer I stay, the more likely they’ll discover that I am not in fact General Bernard or a devilishly handsome goat farmer, but their Dark Lord.
The moment they find out who I am, they’ll seek to exterminate me.
I’m not sure whether Ravana killing me or these people killing me would hurt more. Send help, and soon.
Signing off,
Morfran, Dark Lord
“Here. Try the cherry one.”
Morfran’s suggestion didn’t go unheeded. All three of the Fleet Foot Club children snatched at the pastry simultaneously, tearing off steaming chunks and stuffing them into their mouths.
“Yeah,” Tad garbled through his mouthful. “The cherry’s the best.”
“Nah,” Drezella countered, daintily licking the red jelly off her thumb. “The lemon is still my favorite.”
Morfran raised his eyebrow at the youngest child, Toothless, who was sitting beside him at a table in Sebastián’s Scrumptious Bakery.
“Well?” Morfran asked. “Don’t tell me you don’t have a favorite.
Each of these pastries is at least two hundred percent sugar.
It’ll put you in a coma. You should be thrilled. ”
He swallowed his bite, shrugging self-consciously. “I like vegetables more.”
Morfran blinked. What type of quasi-adult preferred leafy greens over unadulterated sugar? “Vegetables?”
“Like chickpeas and leeks,” he replied. “Like what Miss Bronwen grows in her garden.”
“Speaking of…” Drezella’s eyes glinted as she eyed Morfran, before Bronwen herself entered through the door. The little girl waved her over, and Bronwen slowed when she saw the battle zone of half-devoured pies and tarts atop the table’s surface.
“Did Bernard buy you lot the shop’s entire stock?” she asked, glancing at each of their syrup-stained mouths before meeting Morfran’s gaze.
“We earned it!” Tad announced. “We babysat Beni and her kids. This is us receiving our dues.”
Morfran kicked out the chair across from him and raised an untouched plate. “The apple strudel is the best.”
As Bronwen settled opposite him, Drezella cleared her throat to her brothers, saying, “Come on. Hugh found a new sword and he’s showing it off in that corner. Let’s go ask him about it.”
“But—” Tad began.
She snatched her brothers by their collars and hauled them up, passing a half-successful wink to Morfran after she got them to shuffle off. Morfran scowled at her before turning back to Bronwen, who was trying not to smile.
He cleared his throat. “They say you grow a vegetable garden?”
“It’s not grown well for a year.” She forked a bite of strudel into her mouth. “Apparently, I take it too seriously. Those three have all the credit in keeping it alive.”
He leaned back, watching as Brim and several others entered the bakery. Morfran had spoken highly of it on the way to Redmoth, and people seemed to take his word for it. Half the caravan was here, indulging in jam-lathered scones and raspberry tarts and miniature frosted cakes the size of his palm.
“Is that what you would have done if you hadn’t become the Red Rogue?” he asked. “Taken up gardening?”
She seemed to think about it, lowering her utensil and frowning.
“When I was growing up, people always talked about how wonderful it’d be to become a folk hero, or an adventurer.
They’d say that they wanted to go out into the world.
I thought it was a strange saying.” She pushed a shaving of strudel around on her plate, looking wistful.
“We’re already in the world. I thought it silly that they bemoaned where they lived when there was so much life in front of them already available for the taking. ”
He frowned. Where had she been twenty years ago, and why couldn’t she have told him this before he went on a rampage across the kingdom?
“I was always happy in my garden and flowers,” she continued. “Too many believe that simple means boring. But I never did.”
Just like my mother. He rubbed his face with his hand, half smiling, half-bitter. “Gardens and flowers sound like a dream right now.”
“We could pick up where I left off after this is over,” she replied, a sudden light brightening her face.
“We could do squash and pumpkins. And blackberries and currants, and, oh! I’ve always wanted to make syrup out of huckleberries.
I hear it’s to die for on pancakes. I could cook you up some for breakfast first thing in the morning and— Not that I’m saying that we’d be in the same house; that’s silly.
I meant to say I could walk a plate over to your house to try, or invite you over, or—”
Waking up to Bronwen and huckleberry-syrup-drizzled pancakes? He realized he was smiling as she rambled. He immediately snapped himself out of it.
“I have a question,” he said, changing the subject before he could do something as stupid as daydream.
She went quiet at once, flustered and obviously happy for an interruption.
“Those three kids.” He gestured to them where they were across the room ganging up on Hugh and stealing bits of his chocolates when he wasn’t looking.
“I’ve seen them around with an elderly woman? ”
She instantly grew somber. “She’s their grandmother.”
“Do they not have parents?”
“They do. But both joined the battle against Morfran and his men. They’ve not seen one another for a little over a year.”
He shut his eyes. It would never cease, would it? Finding ways in which he tore apart families? They were deep cuts each time.
They’ll turn on you, Morfran.
A hand comfortingly squeezed his forearm.
Bronwen had lowered her fork and reached across to grab him.
“It’ll end soon,” she said, her tone reassuring, her eyes soft.
“And you’ve been atoning for all you’ve done.
We all see that. I mean”—she let out a small laugh that sounded so cheery he couldn’t help but smile—“who would have ever thought one of Morfran’s generals would be buying strudel for his enemies’ children? ”
He didn’t get the chance to respond. The sound of the bakery’s front door slamming open jolted him in his seat.
All heads flew up as Gueldefore marched in, red-faced, fully armored and glowering. When he spotted Morfran sitting across from Bronwen, he shouted, “Bronwen, get away!” He thrust his finger at Morfran. “This man isn’t who he says he is!”
Morfran froze, disbelief running like ice water through his veins. Had Gueldefore of all people pieced it together?
To Morfran’s relief, Bronwen didn’t move.
“Is this a game?” Tad asked.
“I love games.” Drezella clasped her hands together. “Shall we play Red Rover or Foursquare first?”
“I said get away from him! All of you!” Gueldefore stepped farther into the room.
Brim, who was seated around his men, cast the knight a look of distaste. Ever since Gueldefore had hesitated to stop Captain Ambrosia, he’d given the man the cold shoulder. “Can we help you, Gueldefore?”
“Yes. You can take this man to the city’s prison cells for questioning. Immediately.”
Morfran was not taken to the city’s prison cells for questioning, immediately. In fact, no one budged. Brim scratched his chin. “Care to explain why this must be done with such urgency?”
Gueldefore’s fingers curled in his gauntlets.
He looked at every eye, and upon seeing that none seemed convinced of whatever he was trying to convince them of, said, “I spent last night questioning Morfran’s men in the cells.
Despicable men, all of them. Getting any word out of their mouths required an excessive use of force.
I had them tell me what they knew about General Bernard—”
“Why would you ask that?” Bronwen asked, miffed. “He’s helped us plenty of times since we captured him.”
“Because there is no General Bernard,” Gueldefore replied. “They said there never was one. He doesn’t exist.”
A heavy silence coated the air. Eyes drifted from Gueldefore’s red, furious face to Morfran’s surprised one.
Morfran sat back, trying to appear casual and calm, and not like he was internally panicking.
Aside from Gueldefore, those in the room weren’t looking at him yet with suspicion. Perhaps he could salvage this.
“You expect soldiers who’ve lived their lives on the opposite end of the kingdom to know about generals clear in the north?” he inquired. “That’s asking a lot out of people, Gueldefore.”
“Two of them used to serve in Longmoore. That’s not too far from the north. Why don’t they know who you are?”
He shrugged. “I told you it was a trivial position, in a trivial little land, and that there aren’t many who would have heard of me. That includes Morfran’s soldiers, who obviously had more on their minds than memorizing every serving general of their lord’s.”
Gueldefore’s nostrils flared. “You say trivial, but then you told us all that you’d killed hundreds of people. That isn’t something just a trivial general would do.”
Morfran was beginning to hate the word trivial and ever using it to describe his faux past. “I exaggerate. Who doesn’t? Besides, what exactly are you trying to prove? That I’m not a general of Morfran’s? Who am I, if not?”
“I’m trying to expose you for what you are. A liar. I’ve seen something in you that’s darker than anything I’ve seen in other followers of Morfran’s. I want you to tell us why that—”