troll problem. Which we solved, by the way. Well, that was mostly Lars.”
Lars showed him a shaky smile.
“Why is Lars even here?” Gunther snapped. “He’s not the real duke!”
“That’s a part of what we’re trying to establish,” the commander said. “And whatever else happened, they did solve the mountain troll problem.”
Gunther sneered. “They took the opportunity to kill our beloved Duke Klaus and install a pretender!”
“That’s really not how that happened,” Calarian said, putting his hands on his hips. “Besides, we both know that’s not the real issue here. The real issue is that Lars asked Gunther to account for the missing stipends, and you couldn’t have that, could you, Gunther?”
“Immaterial! The duke is dead, and you killed him!” Gunther shouted, face purpling. “I heard you talking about it, on the very same day the troll destroyed the fountain!”
The commander sighed loudly. “Look, everyone needs to calm down. It’s apparent to me that there are several issues here that need resolution, and that foremost of them is the murder of Duke Klaus.”
“Death,” Calarian said firmly. “Not murder.”
“Murder!” Gunther growled.
Calarian glanced at Helga, sensing that they were losing her support every time Gunther said the word murder. “Nobody murdered anybody.”
Helga pursed her lips. “Did Duke Klaus name Lars Melker as his heir?”
“Not exactly,” Calarian said, and Gunther howled victoriously.
“So that’s a no,” the commander clarified.
“No,” said Calarian. “Well, yes. It’s a yes about the no.”
Helga gasped, and Lars chewed his bottom lip nervously.
“But Lars didn’t know that,” Calarian said. “He’s innocent of treason. And Benji and I are innocent of murder.”
“What about espionage?” the commander asked. It seemed like it was his new favourite word.
“The thing is,” Calarian said, “we were on a quest, and–”
“Oh, enough!” Gunther snapped. “Commander, how much more do you need to hear? They’ve as good as admitted it!”
The commander nodded thoughtfully. “It does seem like it.”
“And while I appreciate your diligence, Commander,” Gunther smarmed, “if you allow that there was espionage, then of course there was murder! The entirety of their evil plot hinges on it!”
“Um, no, there wasn’t a plot, there was a quest,” Calarian attempted, but even he recognised that saying it aloud just made it sound silly.
“Murder!” Gunther snapped. “Two elves and a duke went up, two elves and a different duke came down! It was definitely murder!”
“It was an accident!” Benji interrupted, having made his way over. Calarian slipped an arm around his waist. Benji’s body thrummed with barely-suppressed anger. “You never even gave me a chance to defend myself, or I would have told you that the duke fell! He was leaning over the edge, and something startled him, and he fell.”
“Something? Was that something you, pushing him to his death?” Gunther sneered. “And why should we take your word for it anyway? You, a known agitator and self-proclaimed anarchist. How convenient for you that there is nobody, except your cousin, who can back up your version of events! It’s not like anybody saw this fall.”
“I agree that it’s very suspicious,” Helga said, nodding so vigorously that her cinnamon roll hair buns bounced. “But that’s no reason to rush into executing somebody without a proper trial! Especially an envoy of the kings!”
“He may be an envoy of the kings,” Gunther said, “but he’s not even human!”
Everyone gasped.
“I mean, he’s not even a subject of Aguillon,” Gunther said, staring around the group. “I’m not being speciesist, I’m just saying! You can’t trust those types!”
“Those types?” the commander asked stonily.
Benji wrinkled his nose and looked innocent and puzzled. Calarian put on his best sad face.
Lars drew himself up to his full height, squaring his shoulders and fixing Gunther with a murderous glare.
The goose honked loudly.
“I– I–” Gunther opened and closed his mouth like a fish. “I have friends who are—you know what? Never mind.” He jabbed a finger in Benji’s direction. “The point is, he killed Duke Klaus!”
“No!” a sudden voice trilled from the edge of the town square. “He is innoceeeeent!”
The word warbled up and down, hitting every note it could on the way and bouncing off a few others for good measure. It was followed by a chorus of childishly harmonized innoceeeent-ent-ent-nts that echoed off the cobblestones disturbingly.
“Oh, what the fuck now?” Gunther demanded.
Calarian spun around, eyes widening as he saw the weird nun from the mountains and her bunch of curtain-clad golden-haired children. And Dave.
“Calarian! Benji” Dave yelled, waving happily and spinning in his cabbage-rose kilt. “Look! I joined a band! I’m one of the Claptrap singers!”
Calarian’s jaw dropped, and