No Good Deed

"My friends! In the name of the Five Virtues, I welcome you to Harburg. I am Lord Erick, the mayor of this disgusting little village. Please, come inside. Take their horses, Andrew."

"Yessir," the guard mumbled.

"It's always exciting to have visitors from court," Erick said, leading them into the building. "I hope your stay will be swift and pleasant. I'm sure you have much more important business to attend to back home."

"The Order is happy to be of assistance," Isobel said distractedly, looking about the large, open room. As much as the house's exterior felt wrong in the small village, the interior was even worse; there was no furniture to speak of except for an ornate chair atop a dais on the far side of the room. A few oversized tapestries hung on the walls; one featured Lord Erick himself, along with images of his ancestors and the famous battles in which they fought. Another appeared to be a rather unflattering portrait of the Queen.

"Now then, Sister..." He paused expectantly, waving his hand in their direction.

"I am Isobel, of the Order of Magical Studies and Applications."

"And I am Samuel, a paladin of the Queen's Guard."

"Yes, yes, very good. Now, you've been here before, haven't you?" Erick said, leading them across the room.

"That's correct."

"And when you visit us the peasants bring you their petty problems, yes?"

"Anything they haven't found another way to address."

"Well, I can assure you that won't be a concern, no, no." He heaved himself up onto the platform and fell heavily into the chair. "You see, they have me now. The peasants bring me their problems, and I take care of them."

"I see. So you have no need of my help."

"Quite right; none at all. No offense to the Order, of course. We're always happy to receive representatives of the Queen. And!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands, "It simply won't do to have you here without a proper feast to celebrate the occasion! I'll inform my cooks, yes. We'll toast to your health tonight, you can spend a nice quiet night out here in the country, and then head back in the morning. I'll have Reg open the tavern for you; you'll have the place to yourself, of course."

"Very generous of you, Lord Erick."

"Oh, it's nothing, I assure you. The town loves a good feast! Andrew!"

"Sir," the guard answered, appearing at the front door.

"Take these two over to the tavern. And if it's not open, go find Reg and tell him to unlock the place immediately, or he'll answer to me for it. Go, friends, and relax. We'll talk more tonight."

Isobel began to speak, but Samuel cut her off. "It is a pleasure to make your Lordship's acquaintance," he said, bowing slightly. "We look forward to receiving your entertainment later this evening." Samuel turned to leave, and after a moment of indecision, Isobel followed him out.

Andrew led them wordlessly down the dirt road towards the tavern. The building was cold and dark, as it had been when they passed it on the way in. Andrew tried the door, but turned to Samuel and Isobel with a fearful look.

"Begging your pardon, sir, ma'am, but--"

"It's locked, is it?" said Samuel. Isobel stepped past them and touched the door handle, whispering to herself.

"Yes, I'm afraid so, I've got to--"

"It seems to be open for me," Isobel said, pulling the door open.

Samuel couldn't help his grin. "Go and find the innkeeper, but don't hurry. We'll be fine here."

"Thank you sir."

Andrew dashed off, and Isobel and Samuel went inside. It was a simple matter to light a few candles and throw some wood into the fireplace. The room immediately took on a homey, comfortable glow with only a few touches of light.

"I bet this room has some stories," Samuel said. "It seems like a lively place, once it warms up."

"Indeed," said Isobel. "I have found the villagers quite friendly in the past. A stark contrast to what we've seen here today."

"I get the sense that Lord Erick has some different priorities than the previous governor. Who did he replace?"

"A priest of Talor named Paul. He was not the most accomplished leader, but a very sympathetic man who cared about the village."

"Ah, so that building used to be the village chapel."

"Yes, though I barely recognized it. Erick has taken down all of the Talorian trappings, and I suspect he has sold them off, possibly to enhance his own wealth. The new decorations are hideous."

"It is the ugliest rendition of the Queen I have ever seen, and I promise you that is a lengthy list."

Isobel laughed once, a stilted, awkward sound unlike any laugh Samuel had heard. "I have no doubt."

"Where do you suppose this Erick came from?"

"That I do not know. Nor do I know what became of Paul."

The two of them explored the tavern, Samuel investigating the galley and the cellar while Isobel climbed the stairs to the guest rooms. Eventually they settled in together in the great room over a mug of small beer.

"Tell me, Sister, what exactly is your charge here?"

"Ceremonial, for the most part. I hold no authority over these villagers except that they respect the Order and that I can dazzle them with magic. A formal feast holds little joy for me beyond a good meal, but the town does seem to appreciate the ritual. Likewise I do not fancy myself a judge, but sometimes that is what they need."

"Allow me to assist you, then; formal ceremony and the putting on of appearances is what we are trained for."

"And here I thought the paladins of the Queen's Guard were merely formidable on the battlefield."

"In the field, in the court, and wherever else we are needed."

"And you sense there is a need here for your talents?"

"You could say that. These villagers... are not happy."

"Village life is not easy, Samuel."

"No, but these people are distraught. The two that met us on the road could barely hold their spears. I saw whip marks on the people building the new city walls, and not a single villager has smiled at us apart from that buffoon of a lord mayor. Andrew seemed certain one of us would beat him because the door was locked. Is this how you found the town last year?"

"It is not."

"And why are they building such strong fortifications? A farming village shouldn't need that level of protection."

"It may be that the raids have started up again. It is something of a perennial problem, being this close to the Red Forest."

"You've dealt with this on past visits, then?"

"Yes," said Isobel. "There is a tribe of goblins, and their larger cousins the hobgoblins, that dwells not far from here."

"And the village is not capable of defending itself."

"Most of the time there is no need. I suspect that when the hunting gets thin, the goblins see Harburg's livestock as an extra source of food."

Samuel was quiet for a moment, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair.

"So a new man rides into town, finds a village under attack from a nearby goblin horde and a weak leader who is unable to do anything about it. He promises to solve all their problems, and all the village has to do is make him their governor."

"I see no immediate flaws in your theory, based on the limited information we have."

He suddenly stood, making quickly for the door. "I shall return," he said. "I am going to fetch our packs from the horses."

"If you are attempting to deceive me," Isobel said, "you will need to try somewhat harder than that."

Samuel stopped, his hand on the latch. "Sister, your charge is to give these villagers something they need. Justice, perhaps; a sense of wonder; a reminder of the benevolence of their Queen. My charge is to ensure your safety. But the paladin's oath is to serve the common good, and it is as clear as daylight that the common good is not being served here. I do not wish to deceive you, but neither do I wish for you to stop me."

"As you wish, then," Isobel said, a slight smirk crossing her lips.

Chapter 3

The former chapel looked completely different, decorated as it was for the feast. Long tables were set up along either side, running the length of the hall. Fire pits filled the middle of the room with rotating spits hanging above them. Villagers lined the tables on both sides, although they were up out of their seats as often as they were in them, going between eating their food, carving off hunks of roast meat from the spits, and bringing food and beer to others.

Erick's erstwhile throne had been replaced with a table which featured the only place settings in the entire room. Isobel and Samuel found themselves escorted immediately to the head table, and they took their places while admiring the general revelry.

"Erick did say that the town loves a feast," Samuel said quietly.

"I have found that to be true, myself. It is nice to see the citizens enjoying themselves."

"My lord, my lady," came a gentle voice from behind them. "May I fill your cups with some wine?"

"You may," said Samuel, turning to look over his shoulder. The woman behind them was strikingly pretty in a well-lived kind of way, and seemed to be quite in her element as she balanced the jug of wine on her hip and reached between them for both of their mugs at the same time. She deftly filled them without so much as a splash over the edge and returned them to their places on the table before Samuel could catch his breath.

"Thank you," said Isobel. The woman moved down the table, picking up Erick's mug and filling it as well. Samuel spun around in his chair to watch her, finally managing to stammer out a word of thanks.

"Might I ask your name?" he said.

"Clarissa, my lord."

"Clarissa! What a lovely name. I am Samuel, and this is Sister Isobel of the Order."

"Of course. It is a pleasure to see you again in Harburg, my lady."

"Thank you, Clar--" Isobel was cut off by the blast of a horn behind them, which brought the room to an uneasy quiet.

A man wearing boiled leather armor and carrying far too many weapons on his belt stepped forward, attempting to project his voice through the hall. "Lord Erick... of Harburg," he said awkwardly as the governor swept pompously into the room from the door behind the dais.

Erick stood in front of the head table and waved his arm, and a half-hearted round of applause went up from the villagers.

"My friends!" he began. "Tonight we celebrate the arrival of the Queen's emissaries, the witch Isobel and her companion!" A slightly more hearty round of applause went around the room, but Isobel's face twisted at the word 'witch'.

"At least you have a name," Samuel whispered to her.

"They have come to meet with me on important matters, and as much as we would welcome a longer visit, they must depart tomorrow. So let us toast to them while we may, and show them the true character of our humble village. To the Seven Beasts, to our new friends, and to Harburg!"

"To Harburg," came the echo from the villagers.

Erick sat down heavily in his chair, reaching immediately for his mug of wine. "I hope you're hungry!" he said jovially.

"The roasts do smell wonderful," said Samuel. "It's been a while since--"

"Oh, no, my boy!" Erick laughed. "We don't eat the roasts. You are my guests! You'll dine on pheasant with me, of course. Bring the plates, dear."

"Yes, sir," Clarissa said, stepping away from the table.

Erick turned to Isobel. "How is the tavern treating you? Very nice, yes?"

Isobel began to speak, but then Erick laid his hand on her leg and she stopped. She looked at his hand, then looked at him. He grinned broadly at her, but then yelped and jerked his hand back as an electric shock suddenly ran through it.

"The tavern is very nice, Lord Erick," said Samuel. "More than sufficient for the two of us. I'm surprised you keep it closed."

"We don't get many visitors in Harburg," said Erick, still shaking his hand, "and certainly none of noble stock, apart from yourselves, of course. Anyone else who would choose to come out this far probably isn't someone I want sticking around for very long anyway."

"Undesirables, I suppose?" said Samuel.

"Exactly, my boy. Poachers. Thieves. Murderers. Rogues of every shape and color, yes. Why should I make a place for them to sleep? I can always have Reg open it up whenever I need it."

"Do your townsfolk not enjoy the odd drink?"

"Pah! I have no interest in encouraging public drunkenness, no, no. It gets bad enough when I throw them a feast like this one. We'll probably have to put a few in the stocks overnight if they get out of hand."

"I see."

Clarissa returned with the plates of food, setting a roast bird down in front of Lord Erick, then two more in front of Samuel and Isobel. They were delicately prepared, and attention had been paid to how they were arranged on the plates alongside a pile of new potatoes. It was a far cry from the self-service nature of the rest of the room.

"What shall we drink to?" said Erick.

"To the people of Harburg," Samuel suggested. "May they find--"

"Oh, no, that's dull," said Erick. "Let us drink to something more important."

Isobel and Samuel looked at each other briefly. Everything about the man reeked of self-aggrandizement and ego, and it was obvious he was fishing for a compliment. "To your Lordship's health, then," said Samuel. "And the Queen's."

"To the Queen," said Isobel.

"Yes, yes, the Queen," said Erick. "Wonderful." He drew his knife and began carving into his dinner, and Isobel and Samuel followed suit.

Samuel kept up the idle conversation, though it was frequently interrupted by Erick draining his mug of wine and demanding a refill. Clarissa was ever-present, filling their mugs, clearing the plates, and bringing additional courses of food. Occasionally, someone from the crowd would shout out a toast to Erick's health, and the mayor would stand, salute the crowd with his mug, and drink deeply. After a few rounds of this, Samuel noticed that Erick was actually signaling to his ersatz herald, who would tell someone else, and so on, until word had passed around the room to the person whose turn it was to call for a toast.

A few bites into the fruit and cheese course, Samuel decided to change the tack of the conversation. "I wonder if I might ask your Lordship," he said, "about the new fortifications you're putting up."

"Oh yes, those caught your eye, did they? A military man such as yourself might well notice them, yes."

"They seem quite elaborate, for Harburg."

"You might well say that, yes, you might."

"Your Lordship is hinting at something."

Erick laughed drunkenly. "You have no idea, my boy." He held out his mug to no one in particular, waving it around to express his dismay at its emptiness. "Let me explain something to you. You see this village? This village is nothing. A few hundred farmers, about as many heads of livestock, a nothing little town on the edge of the Red Forest, doing nothing and going nowhere. But the reason it's nothing is because no one in this shit little hellhole has any sort of vision."

"Vision?" said Isobel, but Erick barely noticed her. Clarissa had quietly approached with her jug of wine and was attempting to get Erick to hold his mug still so she could fill it, a scowl on her face.

"I have a vision. I know what Harburg could be. Look around us! This land is perfect. Plenty of wood in the forest, plenty of good land for the sheep, plenty of good hunting nearby." He smiled conspiratorially and leaned closer. "It will make a perfect seat for my barony."

"Your barony, my lord?" said Samuel.

"Yes! I'm going to make my own little fiefdom out of this region, starting right here," he said, emphasizing the point by sticking his knife into the wooden table. "And who's going to stop me? We're building a keep so strong even the Queen's Army wouldn't dare attack it! By the Five Planes, I doubt the Queen has even heard of Harburg. But she will hear of the Baron of the Red Forest! I'm going to bring all the nearby villages under my protection, and all it will cost them is a small tithe to their new Baron. And if they don't like it," he paused, snickering, "then they'll find their livestock raided by goblins. And then they'll come begging."

"Raided by goblins, you say," said Samuel.

"Yes, yes, the villagers will tell you there's been a bit of that going around of late, but what do they know? I have ways of taking care of it. Those goblins won't be a problem for much longer."

"Is that so," Isobel said.

"Yes, yes, all very much under control," said Erick.

"So you haven't had many goblin raids then?" said Samuel.

"Maybe the odd attack here and there. Nothing my knights can't handle!"

"Your 'knights'?" said Samuel, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh they're not up to your standards, my boy, I'm sure," Erick said. "But they're good, strong men. I trained them myself!"

"I'm sure they're very loyal."

"Tell me, Erick," said Isobel. "Have you tried speaking with the goblin tribe?"

"We tried, yes, yes we did. You may remember a certain parish priest who used to be around here, what was his name, I can't--"

"Paul, my lord," said Clarissa, with more than a hint of bile in her voice.

"Yes, yes, I remember now, his name was Paul. Anyway, he went to visit the goblins, said he knew how to find their cave and that he was going to talk some sense into them or something like that. But that was the last we saw of him."

Samuel watched out of the corner of his eye as Clarissa gritted her teeth and clenched her hands around the jug of wine. But then she turned and stormed off without saying anything.

"Are you aware," said Isobel, "that I have personally negotiated a peace treaty with those same goblins in the past?"

"I don't see how anyone could. Ugly little buggers don't even speak our language. That would be quite a magic trick, indeed!" Erick guffawed at his own joke, slapping his knee and then starting to grab Isobel's leg again, but he stopped himself short.

"Perhaps such an arrangement could be worked out again," Isobel insisted.

"Even if we had a treaty in the past, they've violated it many times over by this point. They're a menace."

"I believe the Sister was implying that the two of us would be willing to make another attempt," said Samuel.

"What, the two of you? Talk to the goblins?"

"With your Lordship's permission, of course."

"Well, well," Erick stammered. "I can't say I think it's a good idea, it's horribly unsafe out there. Just look what happened to, uh--"

"Paul."

"Paul, yes. I simply won't be able to guarantee your safety."

"I am sure," Isobel said, "that between Samuel's superior swordsmanship and my magic, we will be adequately defended."

"Yes, yes, of course, of course. If you believe you can stop the goblins from raiding my village, I suppose I must allow you to try."

"Your Lordship is most wise," said Samuel.

"And generous," said Isobel.

"Yes, well. We do our best to look after Harburg, yes."

Chapter 4

The door to the tavern swung open with a groan. Isobel waved her hand, causing all the candles to spring to life and the firepit to erupt in a roaring blaze all at once.

"You're upset," said Samuel.

"Nonsense," said Isobel. "That buffoon of a lord mayor simply bored me to tears. I wish only that we were not obligated to wait until the meal was complete before abandoning his company. That idiotic recessional took nearly an hour."

"It is an unfortunate aspect of court society," Samuel said. "I didn't expect to be held to the same standards during a village feast, but apparently Lord Erick has been studying. I arranged for our departure as quickly as I could."

Isobel stopped in the middle of the room and exhaled, more heavily and with more meaning than Samuel had seen from the mage in the short time he'd known her. She spun on her heel and turned to face him.