shaker_e | Entries tagged with armes albrecht

Armes Albrecht for decades had made a habit of doing her morning exercises in solitude as the sun rose, alone in the training hall. Her routine was simple – following the motions of battle. Swing. Thrust. Parry. Lunge. Backswing. Step. All of them were executed with excruciating slowness, however, while holding an awkward, heavy sledgehammer – the strain of keeping the thing steady as she moved glacially from form to form made even her bulky arms tremble, and her hair and simple training garb was soaked with sweat. She was in the middle of an estrelitta when a furious voice spoke out just behind her, startling her badly enough that she nearly dropped the hammer.

“You left me to die, Albrecht!”

She acted on instinct and whirled, raising the weapon in a sweeping strike, but received her second shock of the morning as she found herself being stared down by the outraged eyes of the king’s Fool. Unable to stop the motion, she released the hammer, letting it whirl off to crash into a rack of training weights on the wall. The Fool didn’t flinch, carried forward with his anger, and stabbed his finger at the center of her collarbone, glaring up into her eyes. His jester’s motley was travelworn and singed, and he looked exhausted.

“You set the inn on fire, and you left me to die! I woke up in an inferno, Albrecht! That you caused! Do you have any idea what that’s like? And after I managed to get out intact, what kind of scene awaited me? Did you lose your mind, demon? Did the bloodlust become too strong? You left the innkeeper in HALVES! What the devil happened?! Where did you go?!”

Armes was pale with realization. “They had stolen her. They were stolen her, and I, ah… I forgot about you. My duty was too important, and I acted without thinking.” She thought back to that night – returning to her room, which she had left so briefly, only to learn that her belongings had been snatched, including her pack with its precious cargo – the Princess, hidden away. “I was ordered to-“

Though it seemed impossible, the Fool actually managed to get even angrier. Armes actually took a step back – she didn’t know the jester had a temper at all. “You FORGOT me? In your haste to what, Albrecht!? To slaughter a few pickpockets? For swiping your precious toy? I know you threatened me to keep it secret, but I didn’t think you were truly that mad!” He snatched his belled cap on his head, twisting it in his hands. “What in all the gods names could be that important?”

She took a steadying breath, her composure beginning to return. Heavens above, what a shock that had been. She was losing her edge. And who would have imagined he could move so silently with all those bells? She took another breath. “I will show you. Come with me, to the Princess’s chambers.”

He didn’t agree to follow her right way, and when she finally managed to coax him into coming along, he spent the entire journey through the halls haranguing her, delivering insults cruel enough to blister. She couldn’t fault him for it. She hadn’t thought for even one moment about his fate after running to Alysia’s rescue. She accepted that enough retainers and guards had witnessed her beratement that she would simply have to live with the consequences. She raised a hand as they approached the door to her rooms, however, and he briefly paused his tirade. “What you are about to see is a secret. A secret of the Realm, not just of myself. Everyone who has borne witness must swear an oath not to reveal it to anyone who may be able to endanger the Realm, on pain of death. Do you understand?”

He gestured impatiently as he made the sign of the Redeemer, rapidly rattling off the customary vow, and she knocked, opening the door only after hearing the Princess’ assent. “So let’s see what’s so blasted important that you- ah, Your highness! Good morning!”

Alysia sat at the window, staring down at the town below the walls as she rested her chin in her hand. Her bear-self sat in the crook of her arm, staying still as her puppet-self turned to regard her visitor. “Oh, it’s you! Thank goodness! I was so worried, after that night at the inn!”

The Fool approached, laughing and smiling. “Oh, you heard about that? Hahaha, the fire found my jokes in such poor taste that it wouldn’t devour me, though I-“ He froze as he drew near, though. His eyes darted to the bear, clearly recognizing it, and then back up to Alysia’s face. He stepped closer, and she shifted with a quiet rattle of wooden joints, surprised when he reached out to gently touch her wooden cheek. “You’ve been through some changes since the last time we saw each other here at the castle, haven’t you, Princess?”

“Well, the last time we saw each other was actually that day on the road you spotted me in Armes’ bag, really…” She said with her bear-self, holding herself up and taking his hand with two small paws. “It’s been quite a year for me.”

The Fool’s eyes were bright with wonder. “What on earth happened?” As she told him the whole story, including all of the near misses and dangers, his face – usually so expressive that each emotion seemed almost a caricature of itself – was still, as he merely listened intently, nodding at points, occasionally murmuring a quiet request for clarification. When she described the brief death of Armes and her terror in the witch’s jar, he squeezed her paw tightly. “It’s a miracle. You being here, to speak to me today, is truly a miracle. The songs they’ll sing about your journey will be incredible, when this is all behind you and the tale can be told.”

He looked over his shoulder at Albrecht, who had taken a seat on an ornate little sofa. “I understand a bit more, now. You’re still a beast in human shape.” His expression softened slightly. “But at least you’re a loyal beast.” He sighed, and looked back to Alysia. “So! You’re blessed with two bodies now, then? Would you reward your dear Fool with a little demonstration of what you can do? I’ve never seen anything like this before, even when I toured the Magisterium.”

“Of course!” Alysia rose and gave the fool her seat, joints rattling softly as she paraded back and forth through the room, both of her bodies in unison. She danced a courtly ballroom dance with an imaginary partner, and with the slim decorative rapier she had been given ages ago by her father even fenced with the air, thrusting and parrying. “Elbow in, Alysia,” Armes murmured softly, the puppet rolling her eyes even as her expression remained carved neutrality.

The Fool made suitably impressed noises, but as he watched intently he began to frown, and raised his hand. “You find people are uncomfortable around this form even when you disguise it carefully, don’t you? Odd looks. Confusion.”

Alysia blinked and nodded, carefully returning the rapieer to its scabbard and tossing it carelessly onto her bed. “Yes. Even when I wore gloves to cover my hands, and hid my face behind a fan – people would get uneasy around me. Like they could sense something.”

“I’m not surprised. You’re marvelous, truly, but…”

“But what?”

“You’re clearly an amateur.”

“I beg your pardon?” both of Alysia’s voices asked, simultaneously.

The Fool didn’t seem to notice her irritation, rubbing his chin as he thought things through. “A gifted amateur, but still. It’s not both of them, though. Your little body looks as alive as anyone has ever looked. It’s the big one. That one’s not ‘alive’ in the same way. You have to think about what you’re doing, don’t you? It’s not second nature.”

“I- well, yes. But How can you say that? I can play cat’s cradle with it! I can knit! I couldn’t do that before I was changed!” She sounded hurt, like a youth who’s schoolwork was being criticized. “What else could there possibly be?”

The Fool seemed to struggle to put it into words, and finally shook his head. “I have to show you. It won’t mean anything if I don’t show it. I’ll be back in a moment – if I am permitted to leave, Albrecht? Unless you planned to throw me out of the window once you revealed this whole plot to me?”

“I don’t care for defenestration. Come and go as you like, you’re the Fool. The castle is your home. And… I’m sorry.” She bowed her head slightly in apology. The Fool merely hmphed as he passed, before jogging off with a clatter of bells.

“I can’t believe you forgot him.”

“I had to maintain my priorities! You came first!”

“In a burning building!”

“I said that I was sor-“

They were interrupted as the Fool returned, carrying a sturdy trunk. He unlocked it and carefully removed a lovely marionette, making the Princess gasp in wonder. It was half of a matched pair, silly caricatures of a princess in pink lace and a prince with puffy sleeves and floppy hat. He carefully set the prince-puppet aside, and after smoothing her lace and gown, took up the handles of the princess-marionette.

“With puppets, you don’t just wiggle a string, and it moves,” he said, as he guided it gently in a graceful walk across the floor. “It isn’t enough to make the movement ‘right’. It needs more, if you want your audience to believe it. You have to give it the illusion of life. And that’s where you’re falling short.” He carefully tipped the handles and tugged strings, and the puppet danced, a dance just like Alysia herself had performed a little while before. Her bear-self walked closer, watching with wonder and frustration – in the Fool’s clever hands, the doll truly did seem to come to life in a way that she knew her own puppet-self didn’t. But she couldn’t understand what exactly he was doing differently.

“Every one of us from birth, though we don’t know it, is a student of human emotion. We know what it looks like, we know the universal motions of joy, of rage, of grief. And we know when something is missing, too. We might not be able to articulate why, but in our minds, we recall every time we’ve seen an emotion before, and we can tell something is lacking. To perform, you have to be more than a student. You must become a scholar.” The puppet’s dance faltered, and it stumbled, taking a few wobbly steps before sinking to its knees. Its posture hunched and it folded its hands across its chest, drawing inward, head lowering – seeming to sink into sadness so profound that Alysia raised one of her paws to comfort it almost without realizing what she was doing. “You must become a mirror that you hold up to audience, so they see their feelings reflected in you. That makes it true, that makes it real.” The puppet turned its carved wooden face up to Alysia, reaching out to touch her paw with its stiff fingers. It nodded, as if in gratitude for her kind gesture. And then in a heartbeat the fool whirled it up and away, to sprawl it carefully on a table, lifeless again.

“How? How do I do that?” Alicia’s puppet-self had risen, and took a few uncertain steps closer, the Princess suddenly very conscious of her own motions.

The Fool smiled. “I’ll teach you.”

-----

“No, no! Do it again. Remember – you’re showing the delicate pleasure of a secret you can’t wait to reveal! It’s about what you DON’T show as much as what you do! You’re being too coarse, too blatant. I know that you know this – now show me!” Armes watched with fascination as Alysia faced the tall, expensive mirror the Fool had demanded and smoothed her dress with her wooden fingers before settling into the role. While the Fool wasn’t satisfied, it was still remarkable in the knight’s eyes as the puppet seemed to relax, and then tighten, setting her shoulders just so, her head taking a very specific set as she flicked a fan up to hide her wooden non-smile. She glanced furtively left and right, and the fingers of her free hand held a delicate curl – as if she wanted nothing more than to call for someone’s attention, to whisper in their ear. “Good, good – you’re getting there… Better. Next. Your duty calls. You are in the court, and you are to meet a dignitary of the State. You wish to convey respect, but only precisely enough, and not an ounce more – you are the future queen, after all. Do it just as you used to. Think back to that time. Feel it. That moment never ended. You are living in that moment. Now… Show me.”

The Princess’s body language had become so much more nuanced in the last few months that the trusted handmaidens who came in the midday to keep her company had finally begun to relax in Alysia’s company, smiling more naturally and even sharing the gossip and current events of the court. Armes marveled to see Alysia laughing with them, her shoulders shaking, chest rising and falling with nonexistent breaths. Her motions on the road to the castle had been mechanical and stiff, but they had gathered new grace – easing from stillness into motion, back delicately into stillness – little secondary gestures layered onto every action bringing them to life, a skillful recreation of her unconscious manner when she was embodied in her original form. The puppet body dutifully stepped into a wardrobe any time the King had visited, but the knight now wondered if maybe she shouldn’t any longer. Soon, if one didn’t know what to look for, Alysia would be able to walk through a crowded room with no one the wiser.

The Fool and Princess had moved on to other subjects. “I still feel foolish, sometimes, when I exaggerate my motions. What purpose does that serve?” She made a show of picking up an empty teacup and saucer, each step of the procedure done in the manner of a pantomime. She even made a slurping sound as she touched it to her carved lips.

“In our practice, you exaggerate so that in the moment, every little part of the gesture is second nature.” The Fool mimicked her motion with his empty hands. “We take the cup, we hold it. Ah, so hot! Pinky out. We blow on the tea. We close our eyes, we inhale, we savor. That first sip – ah, the warmth fills us! A sigh of satisfaction. You’re dividing your attention two different ways. If you internalize every gesture, you don’t have to think about it anymore. Your body’s memory will take care of the details for you. Does Albrecht think every time she swings her blade?”

“Of course I do, I’m a thoughtful woman.”

“God hates a liar, Albrecht.”

Halberds parted at every gateway as Armes led the way into the palace, every soldier knowing her at a glance – by her reputation if not personal acquaintance. The story of the Realm’s own war-devil was known to anyone who carried a weapon.

They had departed in the dark through a side door the year prior, and would have returned the same way had Alysia not insisted otherwise. The princess kept her hood up and fan upraised to reveal only her eyes as her only concession to the knight’s insistence on secrecy, and they had walked in boldly through the front gates in full midday sun. Only one soldier had had the strength of nerve to demand Alysia reveal her face – but that strength abandoned him when Armes turned her hard eyes on him, her lip curling in a way that made the scars on her face twist in awful ways. The man had paled and stepped back swiftly, calling for a squire who had ushered them to the king’s private chambers. The girl was struck almost speechless, barely managing to squeak out, “Lady Knight Armes and her noble c-companion,” opening the doors at the King’s assent. As soon as the doors shut behind Alysia and her knight protector, the squire could be heard breaking into a frantic run down the hall.

Alysia’s father didn’t look up from the parchments he was reading as Armes entered and knelt silently, his dark brow furrowed. He paid no regard to Alysia, who knelt at Armes’ right hand. She folded her fan, but kept her face lowered. If her wooden face could smile, it would be hard to contain her grin, but if this wooden body she puppeted about had any advantages over her old flesh body, it was that it never betrayed her emotions. Finally, her father sighed, scrawling a few lines on the parchment and setting it aside. “A year without word is a long time, Albrecht. Especially when you’re meant to have my daughter with you. A long, long time for you to simply walk in through the front door as if you’d simply popped off for an errand.”

“You ordered discretion, Sire. And silence is the greatest discretion of all. No one can intercept a messenger who isn’t sent.”

King Goldenseal’s voice was low with restrained anger. “Don’t you dare talk to me about discretion – I’ve had plenty of news of your… exploits, around the Realm! Are you a demon in more than just name? You’ve-“ He finally looked up, and his words cut off. “Alysia?” He rose to his feet, staring. “Is that you? Rise.”

Alysia’s wooden joints knocked and rattled softly as she rose to her feet, and swept her skirts out wide in a respectful curtsy. She was unable to hold in her laughter any longer, however. “Hello, Papa! It’s wonderful to see you again – have you missed me?” Her father rushed from his table towards her, but stopped abruptly short of her outstretched arms. “Armes.” His voice was low and dangerous. “Explain this. Immediately.”

“Oh Father, you should see your face right now-”

“On pain of death, you will produce my daughter, Armes.” The king’s hand gripped the hilt of his ceremonial sword tight enough to make his bones creak. “Immediately.”

“Father, please, listen to me for just a moment-“

“She stands before you, Sire. In truth. She is Alysia Goldenseal.” Armes didn’t blink or flinch as the blade was drawn, the tip pressed to her throat with enough pressure to draw forth a thin stream of blood. Her expression was nothing but respectful deference, and in any other knight the king would have thought it madness or mockery.

“You dare. You dare to present this… this thing to me,” He whipped his hand, finger pointing directly at Alysia’s face, ”-and expect me to believe it my Alysia? I’ll have you flayed, Albrecht, I’ll make your death a veritable damned inspiration for the Hell that finally takes you! I’ll-“ Alysia’s wooden hand took him by the wrist, grasping forcefully and yanking him off balance. He raised his sword to chop at her.

“Don’t be tiresome, Father,” Alysia said, her voice this time thinner, smaller. From under the hood crawled the small stuffed bear she had spent most of the last year inhabiting, and it brushed past the dark dolls-hair curls to stand on her wooden body’s shoulder, before carefully hopping to her father’s trapped, trembling hand and balancing neatly on his arm. “The situation obviously isn’t ideal, but an improvement is an improvement, wouldn’t you agree? Put that stupid thing away.”

King Goldenseal still held his blade in a deathgrip, but slowly lowered it, his breath shaking. “Release my hand.”

“And not even a hello for your poor, bewitched daughter, who-“ She was interrupted by the king’s enraged shout as he hurled the sword across the room, the guards outside entering immediately, halberds lowered, before retreating just as fast before his roared dismissal. Alysia stepped back, startled, her wooden hands raised before her. Her bear-body tumbled to the floor, landing with a soft thud before scrambling away as well to hide behind her puppet-body’s skirts.

“I didn’t send you away for you to return as this… plaything! Do you think you can fulfil your responsibilities in this way? Hold court? This is worse than before – you can’t even hide away and listen, in that thing. And now the word will spread of your return to the Realm from your studies abroad – you’ve walked right in through the front door! What in the seven Hells am I to do now? Every action our family takes is watched by the nobility – the scheming mongrels are always looking for some thing they can twist to their advantage. The bear thing was bad enough!” His dark skin was darkened even further with anger, and he rubbed his temples before groaning with frustration. “Armes. Take Alysia to her chambers. Use that horrid face of yours to scare away any gawking simpletons who might see. I will call on you tonight, Alysia. I need time to think of what to do with you. Now go.”

Armes rose and bowed deeply, a few drops of blood running to her chin and spattering on the floor. “Of course, Sire.”

Alysia blinked with shock, her eyes the only part of her face expressing her dismay. “What to DO with me? I’ve returned home to you, and this is how I’m to be treated? It’s been a YEAR, Father!”

“Now, Armes.” The king stalked back to his table, scowling as he took a seat with his back to his daughter and her knight protector. Armes scooped the bear from the floor as she firmly began to guide the puppet with her to the doors, an irresistible force.

“And put that… that homunculus in a closet, or something. I won’t see a mockery of Alysia’s face.”

“I won’t be ignored, Father! Speak to me, right this moment! Damn you!!” Her indignant scream echoed in the hall as Armes forcefully shut the door, before Alysia snatched her bear-self from the knight and whirled away to stalk down the halls, each step clacking loudly on the stone floor. Armes took a step to follow, but paused, glancing at the two guards. “If so much as a whisper comes out about this, I won’t stop ‘til your very family names are stamped out of memory. Am I understood?” The two men nodded, sweat beading their foreheads. “Y-yes, Knight Albrecht!”

“Your discretion speaks to your noble character, guardsmen. Resume your duties.” She departed swiftly, long legs eating the distance as she raced after the princess.

---

The King didn’t come to Alysia’s room that night or the following one, or the following. The only company Alysia had was the silent servant who delivered meals to her, and then retrieved them uneaten an hour later without remark. It was a week before he finally arrived, in the dead of night. He entered without announcing himself, accompanied by Armes. Alysia’s puppet body sat directly before the door, eyes fixed on him, expressionless as always. “You honor me with your presence, Father. Thank you for finding a few minutes for your pitiable daughter in your desperately busy schedule.”

The king regarded it for a moment. “I told you to get that out of my sight, Armes.” He walked past it. “Come out, Alysia. We need to speak.”

Her bear-body crawled out from under the bed, and she glared with as close to haughty disdain as the plush toy allowed, climbing clumsily up onto her sheets to face her father. “Oh, do we? You’ll forgive me – I thought if we needed to speak urgently, you would have spoken to me days ago.”

“Your time with this affliction has made you more childish than you were. I expected more of you.” He sighed, and briefly removed his golden circle, rubbing his temples before pushing his dark curls back and reseating it. He took a heavy seat beside the bear, his large hand resting across both of her shoulders in an awkward gesture of fatherly affection. “Perhaps I haven’t set the best example, but I did my best to teach you patience, did I not?”

She turned away from him with a sniff, her little arms folded across her chest. “Did you? I don’t recall. Mostly I remember being pushed out of the servant’s entrance the moment my presence might have become embarrassing.” Her father sighed again. “I recall you seemed quite excited for your ‘adventure,’” he said, firmly turning her to face him. “It was all I could do to make you accept a guardian. I would have kept you here and sent a knight alone to find a cure, if I had my way.”

“So you could keep me locked in this chamber? Out of sight, forgotten?”

“To keep you safe, Alysia! Safe! Armes has delivered her report to me, of your misadventures – bandits! Hounds! The witch! You could have died at any time. You could have been taken and used against the Realm! What do you think our enemies would do, if you fell into their hands? What would they try to wring from me?”

“I exist as more than a bargaining chip, Father. I am not simply a potential weakness for the kingdom – I’m a living and breathing – well, living, at least – person. If I can’t be trusted to take care of myself while accompanied by the mightiest knight who ever served the Realm, how will you trust me to rule? Will you set some scheming Vizier beside me, to plot and scheme as they ‘advise’ me? I’ve read enough stories – I know how that sort of story ends!”

“I trusted you to know that your actions have consequences for others besides yourself – the whole kingdom can be effected! Crushing the rumors of what happened in that village where you were kidnapped took weeks – it took gold to buy silence, and blood when the silence couldn’t be bought! Do you accept that responsibility?”

Alysia stiffened at the memory of that horrible night. “I never asked for that.” she said, her voice thin.

“Of course you didn’t. But it’s your lot, regardless. Every decision we make carries the weight of lives. And if you treat it as a game, more are lost than ever needed to be.” His hand on her shoulders felt so terribly heavy.

Silence lingered for a while before he took a deep breath, patting her and rising. “In any case. In the meanwhile, what can be done? You’ve come home to me. Not as I had hoped, but in one piece, which is good enough for now. Remain here. I will find some retainers who can be trusted not to wag their idiot tongues, and you won’t have to bide your time alone. I can send a cadre of knights to seek a cure. Knights start getting depressed if you don’t give them a quest now and then, it’ll be good for their health. And that way I can keep this one,” he jerked his chin towards Armes, who nodded deferentially, “ here in my sight, where I don’t have to fear I’ll wake up and discover she’s obliterated the entire family line of some petty baron god knows where.”

“Only if it were of the utmost necessity, Sire,” the knight murmured agreeably.

“I – we did not intend to stay, Father! I only wanted to show you that I was well, and that we had made progress – I meant to return to the road days ago, in fact!”

“Absolutely not. Out of the question. Armes, come. I want to discuss possible candidates with you.”

“Father!”

“That will be all, Alysia. Remember. Patience.”

He departed as quickly as he had arrived, Armes following behind, and the door shut and locked as tightly as any of the chambers in the castle dungeon, muffling her outraged scream

"Adventurer who brings a stuffed bear on their journeys." - Making Up Adventurers, Cohost, 2024

"Is that a- Oh my god, she's even got a little GOWN! Armes, this is so precious! Her little BOOKS!"

The knight froze dead midstride as she heard the cry of delight, not moving for just a beat too long. When she turned to face the rascal investigating her opened pack, she wore a wry, embarrassed grin on her face, which did very interesting things with her scars. She covered the distance between the two of them quickly - not rushing, per se, but not taking her time either, and firmly took her possessions in hand, closing the pack - or nearly closing it, leaving the flap open just a crack. The splendidly fluffy toy bear in the guise of a little princess hidden inside could only just be seen. "So this is who you were speaking to when I thought you talked to yourself! Astounding!"

"Haha, yes...you've caught me off my guard! You see, sometimes when errantry calls me far from home, it gets difficult to sleep without her. A little tiny... comfort of home." Armes' smile could have passed for friendly as she looked down at the fool she'd been traveling with, a fool in the truest sense - both by nature and by profession, a juggler and singer and teller of stories who evidently had never learned to mind his own gods damned business. "I'm sure I can trust you to be discreet about my little friend, yes? No amusing songs, no jokes at my expense?"

"How could I not tell anyone about THIS? The most feared, ferocious knight in the realm-"

Armes cut him off with a voice like iron. "Worked hard, HARD to build that reputation without needing to butcher every fool yokel who thought he could best her merely for her sex. And if rumors should spread like this, people might begin to think that way again. And this time maybe I may have to leave more than a few yokels butchered." Armes seemed to grow even taller as she loomed over the fool, who shrank back, his colorful motley dimmed in her shadow. "Maybe a few in every town. Down every road where bandits who should know better start feeling bold. When every idiot third son with a lance comes seeking to make a name. I'd have to leave them strewn about my feet in pieces. With you there with me, of course. Right beside me at every turn. I'd be counting on you to witness each deed and tell everyone. Of my fierce, murderous nature."

The fool went pale - nearly as pale as the face paint he wore when performing a pantomime, and swallowed hard. "I - ah. When you put it that way, it does seem... Trivial. Boring, even. N-no one would want to hear about that. You villain." That last part muttered under his breath, his eyes looking down and away.

"So happy you could see it my way, my friend," the knight murmured, and gave him a pat on the shoulder with a heavy hand, gently turning him to face the direction she had come from. "Speaking of yokels, I was about to tell you. We won't need to sleep rough tonight - there's a muddy little village just over the hill. They're going to be excited to see you - I doubt they ever see a true, dyed in the wool fool like you this far out from the courts. Perhaps you'd like to...?"

"Perhaps I'll scurry ahead and make myself known, yes! A splendid idea!" He looked relieved, both by the prospect of a bed - even a rough country cot - and at the chance to be away from her. "I'll, ah, make sure to warn them all to mind you! To stay on their best behavior! I don't want to see.. to see THAT. Not ever again." He picked his bag and his stick with a head on it and his bells and his curious triangular guitar and began to jog down the path. Not "run", certainly not "flee". A... Very quick jog. "I'll meet you there!" He called, voice receding quickly into the distance.

Armes watched him leave, and waited till she could see him nearing the foot of the hill they'd been hiking before she coughed theatrically into her hand. A small, feminine voice answered her sign.

"I nearly screamed when he opened the pack," said the little voice, laughing ruefully.

Armes kneeled on the ground and carefully opened her pack again, as the stuffed bear within shielded her eyes from the light, rose to her little feet and stretched, yawning. "Yes, princess. I'm sorry - if I had been more cautious about how I carried you, he would never have seen." She grimaced. "My apologies also that you had to hear that - I needed to make sure he would be discreet. I would prefer not to have to kill your father's fool."

"No, it was my fault, Armes. I wanted to read, and pushed the flap open. It's so miserably dark in here, you know!" The bear's stitched face managed to look both apologetic and haughty at once, as though she had just awoken the chambermaid at an unfortunate hour to complain of a draft. "Is there no way you could leave it open?"

The warrior shook her head immediately. "Impossible. We were lucky that he was the only one to see you today. And if he had caught you MOVING, the cat might have been entirely out of the bag. So to speak."

The princess stomped her little foot, her toy shoe thumping softly. "So we tell him! He's known me since I was a child!" ("One would think you still are a child," the knight murmured to herself, unheard.) "He can be trusted! He can help us find the ones responsible for my... condition!"

"Out of the question." Armes sighed after a moment, though. "However. While we walk to town. If you promise to stay low and out of sight." She paused. "I'll walk slow."

The Princess seemed on the verge of pressing the issue, but sighed herself, and flopped unceremoniously onto her bottom in the crowded bag. "Very well. ...Thank you, Dame Armes."

"Princess Alysia." replied the knight softly, as she hefted the pack carefully to her shoulder, checking to confirm her passenger was indeed low enough, and began her leisurely stroll down towards the valley below. She could see that the fool - a colorful dot of a figure now - had reached the village green, and people were beginning to gather. There would be a room for them to sleep in tonight, for certain.

Inside the bag, the teddy bear who had until very recently been Alysia Goldenseal, the realm's heiress apparent, eldest daughter of the king, crossed her little arms behind her stuffed head and looked up at the sky. She remembered her knight protector's words from earlier - she can't sleep easily without her, eh? Then it should be only natural for her to be in the knight's bed tonight. She chuckled as she cobbled together a plan.

"Shh."

"Oh, shush yourself."

"Princess who begs the kidnappers to release her because she knows what her knight protector will do to them and can't handle seeing that happen to anyone again." - Making Up Adventurers, Cohost, 2024

"Forest and fields, you weren't kidding, it really does talk!"

The burglars were gathered around the traveler's pack they'd stolen, which had belonged to some sword-swinging giantess that had stumped into town earlier in the week. Something about her had smelled like money, so Eightfingers had his boys watch out, and if she went far enough from the inn they could sidle up to the room and see what there was to see. A few coins slipped to the innkeep made sure that he didn't see anything, and the whole operation went off nice and smooth. They had come back with a fairytale. Standing there in the pack was a wealthy child's toy, a beautifully sewn stuffed brown bear, wearing a perfect little replica of a noblewoman's gown and a little silver tiara. It was holding on to the edge of the bag tightly, squirming away when one of the lads reached out to grab it.

"Let me go! Please, please let me go!"

"Talks a bit too much, if you were asking me," grumbled Jughead, who had been carrying the pack till they reached their hideaway in the wood. "It's been carrying on like this since we nabbed it."

"Magic toy for some noble brat, you reckon?" asked Nimble, who finally managed to catch the bear in his hands, holding her up into the afternoon light. "Pretty little thing. Must have cost a fortune for whatever fool had it made."

"You're going to regret this! Just leave the bag and go!"

"It'll cost another fortune to whoever buys it," Eightfingers said, rubbing his chin. "I know a fellow who deals magic bits and bobs, and doesn't ask silly questions about how one came by it... He can set us up with a buyer. Put it in the old birdcage if it wants to sing so much."

"Pretty little bird gets a pretty little cage," agreed Nimble, tossing the bear to Jughead as he pulled the cage from a heap of other stolen pieces of junk and hung it from a tree limb. Fetching her back, he placed her lightly into the cage, giving a buffoonish imitation of a courtly bow after placing a rusty old padlock on it. "I hope it serves, humble as it is, Your Majesty-ness."

The little bear rattled the bars of the cage uselessly, continuing to plead for release as the gang set about making camp, getting a little fire going and starting supper.

"You don't understand! You don't know what she'll do to you!!!"

The strangeness and novelty of their treasure soon wore off of the band, and they alternated between ignoring the bear, joking about her, or discussing stuffing her back into the bag and throwing it under a pile of blankets. One of the band seemed fascinated by the bear though, a gangly teenager just gazing at her from the tree he sat in.

"Moonstruck over a toy," the others laughed, making filthy jokes at his expense, but he ignored them. Late in the evening, he climbed down and walked over, holding her cage still when the tree branch swung with a breeze. The little princess-bear looked up at him with anxious eyes.

"Are you a..." he whispered, struggling to phrase a complicated thought. "Are you a thing? Or are you real. Alive." He waited in expectant silence for her answer.

"I'm alive, just like you. I wasn't always like this." She whispered back. "Please, please. You have to let me go. You have to let me go before she finds this place."

"Who? Before who finds us?"

Their discussion was interrupted as Snoops, on high lookout, called down from the tree.

"The inn's on fire!! I can see it from here, lit up like a bonfire!"

Other thieves climbed the trees for a better look, but the youth stayed with the bear, who wore a look of horror, her hands over her face.

"She's coming, she's coming! You have to run! She's going to kill you!"

"Why should we run? Who is she?"

"Armes Albrecht, my knight protector. Please, please go!"

Now it was the boy who began to tremble. Armes Albrecht, the King's Butcher, the Bloody Hand, Gorefiend Armes, War-Demon Albrecht. She was real? She was real?? She was a fairytale! But the boy had another fairytale in his hands before him now. So, maybe...

"What do they call you? Quickly!" The bear whispered.

"Trapper. C-cause I caught my foot in a snare once," the youth stammered.

"Trapper, you need to take me out of this cage, and run towards the town. As fast as you can! If we hurry, we can get there before she-"

A hideous shriek filled the trees, and there was a sound of cracking branches and a heavy, dull thud as the body of Snoops hit the ground beneath. The thieves began to shout in alarm. Far, far too late. A roar that could scarcely be human answered, along with shattering wood and charging through the brush.

"Oh god, she's here! ARMES, PLEASE! DON'T HURT THEM! THEY DIDN'T KNOW!"

It only took the knight a few minutes. She didn't even wear armor, her traveling clothes soaked in gore, face masked in red.

The clearing looked like it had been blasted apart by cannonfire. Trees were splintered, and the thieves had been scattered in all directions - in pieces. The ground was wet with blood, and Trapper clutched the crying bear to his chest as he hid in the hollow of a tree. He wanted to close his eyes, but was too afraid, and watched the heavy booted feet of the warrior as she strode slowly through the camp, and then very deliberately walked towards him.

"Come out here." Her voice was like iron, the command in it impossible to resist. He crawled out, trembling, gently setting the bear on the ground. The knight knelt and bowed her head.

"Have you been hurt, Princess?"

"Please, Armes. Please. He's just a boy. Please."

"Go back to the pack." The knight stood back up. "He's seen you." She raised her heavy blade, eyes burning with fury.

"I command you to stop!!"

Trapper whimpered as the edge of the blade halted inches from his neck.

"You will not harm him!" The bear spoke with a surprising amount of iron in her own voice. She placed her tiny form between the two, as if she would shield the boy herself, arms spread. "He will make amends! Won't you, Trapper!"

"Yes! Y-yes, I will!" He knelt and quickly began to draw the mark of the Redeemer in the bloody dirt with his finger tip. "I make my s-solemn vow, I won't say a word of this night! To anyone! Redeemer strike me down if I lie!!"

Armes held her blade ready for several long moments, the anger still burning in her eyes, before swiftly wiping it off on her shirt and slamming it back into the scabbard.

"We leave in two minutes. Others may come, and if you don't want a repeat of this evening, you'd be wise to stay hidden. Say your goodbyes."

The stuffed bear fell back onto her bottom with a gasp as the knight heeded her words, and took several deep breaths before turning back to the boy.

"I'm sorry. My father ordered her to protect me. I'm so sorry." She reached out and touched his hand with her soft little paw. "Run away from here and keep your oath. If she ever hears word of this, she will return, so.. please. Please. Be wise." With that, she quickly followed after the knight, crawling into the backpack before the War-Demon carried her away into the darkness.

Trapper knelt there a long while, till the fire died. Then he quietly rose, gathered his few belongings and began to walk in the opposite direction.

"I suppose I should be honored by a visit from the kingdom's very own war devil. Come in, bloody one." The old woman didn't sound the least bit surprised to see Armes' massive frame filling her doorway, nor the least bit intimidated. "Get in before you let out all of the warm." The knight ducked into the cottage, shutting the door behind herself, and looked about warily as she drew back her hood.

The hovel was a single room, built around a rough stone chimney and hearth where a fire burned brightly, casting dancing shadows throughout. Wind whistled through gaps in the shutters, bringing the night's chill and the sound of rattling leaves and branches, the groan of he forest's trees swaying. The old woman was busying herself, hanging a black scorched kettle above the fire, picking through dozens of jars before settling on one with a nod, casting a few leaves into a earthenware cup. "Though I don't know what you expect a simple old woman like me to do for you," she added, watching Armes with sharp eyes. "Have you come to take taxes?"

"You are the witch Loemma." It was not a question. "You are a fugitive from the King's justice, for crimes against the crown and it's citizens. For the murder of children." The knight's voice was hard, but she didn't draw her blade, instead kneeling down and opening her pack. "But that isn't why I've come. The King's very own Magister spoke highly of your knowledge in arcane subjects."

The old woman's expression of indignant protest melted at the praise, and she grinned, revealing sharp teeth that gleamed in the light. "Ah, did he now? A miserable fool, but wise enough to know his betters!" she crowed, laughing like a rusty hinge. "So then! You come in need of my knowledge, my power, Armes Albrecht? To chase away the ghosts that haunt you at night? Something to quiet all of the screams of the dying?"

"I sleep well enough. You'll see why we've come momentarily. Myself, and the Princess." And she gently withdrew the Princess's small form from the bag, setting her on the table to face the witch. The bear gazed about the cottage for a moment, taking in her surroundings, and dusted her little toy paws off on her gown before dipping her head in courteous acknowledgement.

"Throw me in the Rot! What have you brought me?"

"Magister Orfeo was of the opinion that one who placed curses so deftly would surely have vast knowledge of their breaking as well," Alysia said in her small voice, the wide eyed witch drawing nearer in gleeful wonder. "If you know a means to undo the curse placed on me, I, Alysia Goldenseal, am empowered to offer a pardon for your... *previous acts*." The toy face was marvelously expressive, twisting as though she had a foul taste in her mouth as she spoke those words. "On the condition that if you commit any further crimes, you would face the immediate justice of the Crown." She spoke with the formal tone and cadence she would have used in her father's court, mustering as much dignity as her current state would allow. Being a plush toy only a foot or so tall didn't allow much.

Loemma snatched Alysia from the tabletop, making a contorted gesture at the same time with her free hand - as quick as Armes was, the witch was quicker. From the knight's perspective, the world seemed to swim and turn around her, and now "down" didn't go towards the earth - instead she fell backwards, her back crashing into the stone wall of the hovel, each of her limbs seeming to weigh dozens of stones. Her vision sparkled and she reeled with the impact. "Be still," Loemma scolded, sniffing as she turned the princess around, upside down. Alysia fussed and struggled, but the old woman's grip was harder than iron. "By the Pit, you truly are her, aren't you? There's a spirit in there, a shiny little soul. Bound tight. Fairy work." She held the bear up to her face, ignoring the way Alysia recoiled. No, not ignoring - she clearly enjoyed it, smirking. "Insulted some queen bitch of the realm Fae, did you? Needed to be taught a lesson, toy?"

"Y- That is correct. I was... not courteous." Alysia squirmed, and gasped as she saw Armes, who was struggling to breath under the magical weight crushing her in place. "Release my retainer! She will die!"

"Oh, that she will. I'll release her, by the Pit." Loemma sneered, and her hand twisted unnaturally in another painful gesture, which made Armes roar in agony, struggling briefly before sagging and falling to the ground in a heap. Her eye stared sightlessly at nothing. Alysia shrieked and flailed in the witch's iron grasp. "The only release that suits one of her sort. Now, as for you. Let's get you sorted." She hummed a cheerful tune, crowing to herself with laughter every now and then when one of the princess's sobs was particularly amusing. She spat onto a roughly human shaped doll made of knoted straw, and then breathed into it's featureless face for a moment, before carelessly throwing the bundle into a glass jar, which was in turn placed in a cage of sticks and wire. "I bet that halfwit Orfeo thought this was a transformation, and thought it might be unraveled. It's simpler than that," she murmured, absorbed as she drew a precise diagram around the cage with a lump of red chalk. A series of nested shapes, wormed throughout with writing that Alysia couldn't read, but felt as though she should understand - like a half-recognized form seen in an unlit room. "The faefilth drew your spirit out, and... pop. Threw it into another shell. I bet your body is decorating some fairylord's bedchamber now, or they stuffed an imp into your skin and are using it for a housemaid." Her musings were lost on the weeping princess, who was uselessly reaching for Armes.

"In any case. It's simple enough. I simply- " Alysia screamed briefly as she felt herself suddenly ripped from her form, the the pain was replaced with a cold non-sensation. A void. And then, suddenly... she was in a chamber made of dirty glass, resting on.. a straw mattress. No, not a mattress - a mannequin made of straw, as big as a person. She couldn't feel, but she could see and perceive. She was in the jar. The witch towered above her, laughing and tossing the little toy bear that used to house Alysia about before discarding it. She seemed woven all throughout with strings of light. "All better, Alysia Goldenseal?! Everything you could have asked for?!" Her massive face drew near, steaming the glass with her breath. "I'm sure I can find *some manner* of use for a shiny little royal soul... Or sell it to some prince of the Pit to dine on, perhaps!"

Alysia wailed, the sound making the glass reverberate around her shapeless form - she seemed to be nothing but a willow-wisp, a light in the glass. The world around her looked wrong, and strange - tangles of luminous threads connecting everything, both present and not present at the same time. Some even connected to her. She followed one with her "gaze", and saw it ran directly the stuffed bear she had inhabited. She felt a sudden urge to tug, and reached out with... with what, she had no idea - reached out and tugged the thread. The bear jerked slightly on the dirt floor, unnnoticed. The princess experienced a sense of vertigo, of being in two places at once - simultaneously in the jar and in the bear again. She released the thread and instantly was alone in her glass prison. She tugged the threads running to the straw doll, and similarly found herself within and without it. Alysia went silent. She would have held her breath, if she could breath at all. She looked in the direction of Armes, and saw that even in death, the threads of light still wove throughout her knight. They were fading, however. She reached across the distance - still not entirely sure what she reached with, or how - and grasped the thickest bundle. She held lightly, and understanding dawned. This rope, seeming to her tiny form as thick as a treetrunk. Strumming a chord on the bundle, the knight's stilled heart twitched and jolted. Alysia quickly began to work.

Loemma ignored the corpse and the foolish soul in the jar as she danced around her home, making plans, making great plans. With the power this could potentially grant her, why, she could topple the kingdom - she could topple it in an afternoon, for a lark! Ah, she could laugh, she could sing! What a day, for this opportunity to come walking into her very own front door. She was beginning to pour quicksilver into her scrying dish when the sound of breaking glass caused her to whirl around. The cage had toppled, and rolled to the floor, the jar broken. She snarled a curse, rushing over to catch the spirit before it could dissipate, but it was already gone. "Fucking hells and-" She stopped as the wood near her fireplace clattered to the floor, and looking around, realized the bear was gone. "You clever little *beast*!" she cried. "Too clever by half! I should have put you in a cold iron box, instead." She followed the little scuffed prints through the dust and ash, past the fireplace, and snatched with hands as quick as whip, pulling the filth-streaked bear out from the cabinet she'd hidden beneath. "Did you think you could hide, fool?"

"No, please! I - I promise! All will be forgiven, if you simply release me! Please! Un-unless... you refuse...?" The witch relished her pleading, and grinned her evil grin, sharp teeth seeming ready to bite.

"I refuse your *gracious* offer." Loemma answered, sneering gleefully.

"Then in the name of the King, die," answered the hoarse voice of the knight. Her massive blade, broader than a hand, erupted from Loemma's chest, the thick arm of Armes Albrecht wrapping around the woman's shoulders from behind for leverage as she drove it deeper, till it projected a full arm's length directly from her breastbone. She coughed and gurgled blood, wide eyed with disbelief, but no last curse or insult followed. She simply collapsed bonelessly to the floor, rattling a final breath. Armes let her down, but carefully caught the princess into her arms as she did, stepping away from the corpse without a backwards glance, gathering their belongings and carrying Alysia out of the accursed place, out into the wind and the night.

-------

Months later found Armes traveling in a loose caravan of pilgrims journeying to the temples of the capital, who kept their distance from the warrior - the ones who knew her reputation especially. Armes rode a nameless horse, traveling in silence, eyes vigilant and hand resting on her belted sword's pommel while the other held the reins. The dark skinned young woman riding beside her sat stiffly in the saddle, dressed in traveling clothes of fine quality, carrying a stuffed bear dressed as her twin in her lap. Her expression was a tranquil mask, never changing, though her eyes were active and keen. Her joints creaked in a strangely wooden way as she held up a hand and indicated something to the knight, who leaned close to speak. None of the pilgrims had ever seen the young lady part from the bear - some spoiled nobleman's daughter, for certain. Likewise none had seen her eat out of the privacy of her tent, and she only spoke from behind her raised hand or a fan - "The young Lady is shy," was the only explanation Armes would offer the procession's leader.

"She so resembles her Majesty the Princess."