"Never underestimate a determined idiot with a title and nothing to lose."
— Last words of Sir Gaspard the Grim, before surviving everything anyway...
——————
The sky over Rottelbury-on-Slush had shifted into that muddy gray of a reluctant evening.
Blunt stepped out of The Pickled Turnip, still sipping from the last dregs of bitterroot that clung stubbornly to the bottom of his mug.
Life bustled around him, traders shouted prices that changed mid-sentence, a bard was trying (and failing) to juggle flaming pins, and a pair of children were chasing what was either a dog or a very determined rat.
He began muttering to himself and squinting at the passing crowd.
"Right, now if I were a crimson-haired menace with an ego the size of a cathedral, where would I be lurking?" he said aloud, hands on hips, surveying the street.
The answer presented itself almost immediately.
Fenella Quickwit stood near a cluttered cart selling roasted chestnuts, laughing lightly at something the vendor was saying. But Blunt, ever the connoisseur of poor timing, missed the slight shift of her hand beneath her cloak, the way her fingers slipped into the purse of a portly gentleman beside her.
"Oi! That's her!" Blunt exclaimed, nearly choking on his own excitement.
He dashed across the street, waving an arm like a man chasing down a runaway hat. "Fenella! You audacious miracle of nature!"
Fenella stiffened at the sound of his voice, and her smile disappeared. She glanced over her shoulder and muttered under her breath, "Oh bloody saints, not him again."
The gentleman next to her frowned, patting his side suspiciously.
Blunt: "There you are! I've searched half this pest-ridden borough for you!"
Fenella (coolly): "Well, search the other half next. I'm busy."
Blunt (brightening): "Aha! Fortune smiles upon me, and—
He leaned in closer in a whisper. "Also upon you, judging by that purse."
Fenella (without skipping a beat): "Inspecting.... Inspecting his chestnuts."
The vendor blinked, confused.
Vendor: "Eh?"
Fenella (to the vendor): "He means your nuts are very impressive, sir. A bit too salty for my taste, but… edible."
Vendor: "Oh. Ta, miss."
Blunt narrowed his eyes but stayed on course. Fenella turned away, slipping effortlessly into the bustle of street traffic. He followed, like an eager dog chasing after a parade of pigeons.
Blunt: "Listen, you should not have ditched me that night. You missed something glorious. A royal messenger showed up! You abandoned greatness, madam!"
Fenella: "He come to arrest you for crimes?"
Blunt: "He summoned me to the palace, thank you very much. I was... recognised."
She didn't stop walking. He kept pace, nearly tripping on a stray boot left behind by someone less lucky.
Fenella (without looking back): "Was it to scrub floors or perform interpretive dance for the king's jester?"
Blunt: "Neither! Well—not yet."
"Turns out I saved a prince! Don't ask me how—long story involved...but the point is, they've given me a quest."
That made her slow a bit, one eyebrow arching suspiciously.
Fenella: "A quest?"
Blunt (proudly): "Yes. One of the utmost importance. Daring. Legendary. Possibly even divine."
"And what is this legendary quest?"
Blunt (pausing): "To retrieve... a thing."
Fenella (deadpan): "A thing."
"Yes. Very old. Very valuable. Some sort of... goblet or cup. Of... Verily-something? Or Vengeance? No, wait—Virtue! Or was it… Varnish?"
Blunt (now mumbling to himself) "Something gobletish. Or chalicey. Possibly… the Cup of Eternal Brilliance. The Flask of Justice? Something along those lines, I think."
She resumed walking briskly down the street, weaving through fishmongers and idlers, while Blunt trailed her like a stubborn duckling.
"I remember the vibe of it. That counts."
Fenella (dry): "You want me to join you on a quest you can't name, for a king you barely met, to retrieve an object you've already forgotten."
"But think of the reward! Wealth! Gold! A tower of your own! Or a cottage. I could arrange a cottage!"
She turned to face him fully, arms crossed, and expression unreadable. A street urchin bumped past them, stealing an apple from a crate, and Blunt flinched instinctively.
Fenella: "Why me?"
"Because you're clever. Quiet. And slightly... terrifying."
Fenella: "Why come to me..a known thief who nearly robbed you blind, to ask for help."
"I prefer to think of it as divine alignment. Your cunning, my charisma. Your skill, my style. Your—"
She looked at him for a long moment. Behind her, a man was arguing loudly with a vendor about his missing purse. Fenella ignored it. She was too busy calculating risk and reward in her mind, like she always did.
Fenella (slowly): "So. Riches beyond reason."
Blunt: "Beyond sanity."
Moving closer, she stepped around him, continuing down the street. Blunt hurried after her.
Blunt: "So! About the quest!"
Fenella (without turning): "Still not interested."
"Hear me out! This isn't just about riches or glory or—well no, it is about riches and glory, but more importantly...safety."
Fenella (biting into her half): "You're persistent, I'll give you that. Stupid, but persistent."
She stopped to inspect a rack of scarves hung between two crooked stalls. Blunt nearly ran into her and quickly pretended he meant to look at a particularly ugly lime-green scarf.
"We've both made a few… missteps, haven't we?"
Fenella: "I assume you mean crimes. And yes, you certainly have."
Blunt (brushing it off): "Right. But think of it: creditors, angry spouses, guild assassins, those people who insist I borrowed a goat—"
Fenella (eyeing him): "You borrowed a goat?"
Blunt (mumbling): "Not the point— Moving on..."
She shook her head and continued on, muttering to herself: "By all the saints and their crooked teeth, does he ever shut up?"
He scampered after her as she veered into a narrow alleyway shortcut that smelled of old fish and the kind of mold that has thoughts of its own.
"Look, we leave town, lay low, avoid angry mobs and debt collectors. We pose as adventurers...which, technically, we'd be...and return with a fortune!"
Fenella stopped walking, mid-alley, and turned sharply to face him.
"If I don't get a pint in the next five minutes, I'm going to carve your name into a gravestone and then climb into it myself."
Then she sighted a tavern, wedged between a butcher's and a candle shop, and stepped inside.
The place wasn't crowded, just a few hunched figures whispering at corner tables, and a woman throwing darts at a wanted poster. The poster was hers.
She slid into a booth near the back, and Blunt sat next to her.
Fenella (dryly): "Convenient."
Blunt (sitting, proudly): "So. Where were we? Right...running away together."
Fenella (deadpan): "Were you hit on the head, or is this just your natural state of being?"
Blunt: "Look, I'm telling you, The king himself said The Goblet of Veritas was an heirloom. And the reward's beyond imaginat—"
That made her pause, just slightly...just enough that she hoped she'd misheard.
Fenella: "Veritas?"
Blunt (confused): "That got your attention."
Fenella (casual): "You're sure that's what it's called?"
Blunt: "Dead sure. It's an heirloom. Royal, apparently. The king's practically salivating for it."
Fenella (masking interest): "Hmph."
A hush fell 'twixt them. Blunt, poor soul, smiled hopefully and utterly clueless.
She had heard of it. Stories, rumors. A cup that forced the truth from anyone who drank from it. Dangerous in the wrong hands. Priceless in the right ones.
And now, the kingdom wanted it back.
Fenella sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
"Saints save me, I'm considering it."
Blunt (grinning): "I knew you'd see reason."
"I haven't agreed."
Blunt: "Not yet, but you didn't say no. And that, my dear, is how history is made."
She gave him a warning glance before turning away.
"You've got two days to prepare."
Blunt: "Splendid! You won't regret it."
Fenella sighed: "I already do."
Blunt: "I'll bring charts! Diagrams! A poem!"
Fenella (over her shoulder): "Bring wine. I'll need it."
Then she stood up, and vanished into the winding streets, Blunt sat there, fists planted on hips, looking victorious and utterly unaware of what he's in for.
Blunt (to himself): "One down. Now… where in the King's underpants am I going to find a knight?"