A week later, the gang convened in the palace garden to begin their hunt for Bruce M’chouchouteman.
“Wait, why am I here too?” Gormus complained, arms folded across his chest. He had been absent during the previous incident as he was off doing work for the knights.
“Don’t you start fussing about it now,” Fie told him. “When it comes time to make your gravestone too, I’ll give you a nice four-percent-off discount.”
“I don’t want it.”
Fie pouted at yet another failed sales pitch. “Anyway,” she added, “aren’t you interested too after all these Bruce M’chouchouteman sightings?”
“I guess,” he admitted. At first, he had thought it was the usual silly nonsense combined with a prank that was typical of the squires. Yet now there were too many people claiming to have seen him for that to be true. Sure, it was possible that this was all some huge gag everyone had secretly agreed to be a part of, in the squires’ typical frivolous manner, but there was no way all of the boys could have kept their lips zipped about such a big secret for so long. Besides, no one was capable of coming up with such a convoluted idea save for the wannabe tombstone maker standing in their midst. Even Gormus had to agree—there was some funny business going on here.
“And with that,” Fie said, “let’s get this expedition on the road!” Said expedition’s lineup consisted of Fie, bursting with excitement; Queen, just along for the ride; Gormus, roped into this only moments before; Remie, rather nervous; Slad, having the time of his life; and Gees, as calm as ever.
“You can say that all you want, but how are we supposed to get outside?” Gees asked. As mentioned previously, the boys were de facto banned from heading out into town at night. Serving as watchmen would have given them the opportunity to slip away, but the senior knights there with them would never allow that tomfoolery. This was where the king lived, after all. Security might have been relatively lax—King Roy once claimed he’d simply take care of any assassin himself—but that was still no excuse for shirking duty.
Fie chuckled. “Just watch,” she said. “The exterior defenses may be strong, but it’s time for an insider’s touch.”
But after a few minutes of standing around, she crossed her arms and muttered, “But is that true? This may not actually work...” From where she stood, she could see all the way to the farthest back gate where a pair of soldiers were standing watch. They looked serious, and even for someone with an “insider’s touch,” it would have been impossible to hoodwink them.
Worried, Remie turned to frown at Fie when—
“Hey, lad!” a grizzled old knight shouted. He stomped up to the squires and revealed himself to be Garuge. The others knew of him even outside of him being a member of Fie’s platoon. While he may not have fought often in battle, his chief role was to make and maintain the knights’ equipment. He was the most renowned smith in the whole kingdom, and the older knights told the boys that wielding a sword from Garuge was a mark of one’s true skill as a knight. Naturally, Gormus and all the other squires idolized him.
Garuge lumbered over to the “lad” and presented her with a sheet of paper. Fie leaped for joy. “Is this it, Garuge?!” she cried.
“Yup, see for yourself,” Garuge boasted. “Couldn’t be better.”
“Yay! That’s wonderful! Now we’ll be able to sneak out for sure!”
Slad’s eyes grew wide, and he asked, “Ooh, what is that?”
“Trouble,” Gormus said, crossing his arms, “and no mistake.” The others likewise looked concerned.
Fie and Garuge turned to the search party with triumphant grins and presented the paper to them. “Ta-da!” Fie cried. “A fake permission slip to leave the palace grounds!”
Garuge cackled. “Doesn’t look one bit different from a real one either. And you’d best believe it took quite a bit of work to make this. First I had to make the paper, and then I had to use the same ink and forge the right handwriting. I put my whole heart and soul into this masterpiece. Now you boys are free to go wherever you please!”
“A fake permission slip...” Slad mumbled.
“Is it really a forgery if it comes from one of the knights...?” Gees wondered.
Apparently that “insider’s touch” applied less to the castle and more to the knighthood itself.
Garuge’s permission slip in hand, Fie marched off to the gates and presented it to the guards on watch.
The guards took it and scrutinized it. One of them asked, “You sure you boys are good to go out on your own?” As the boys had feared, a couple of teenagers running around at night unchaperoned was bound to raise a few red flags.
“Uh-huh,” Fie said. “Sir Crow asked us to do him a favor, and we have to get it done tonight.” Her eyes betrayed not a hint of guile, as if every word out of her mouth was not, in fact, a fat pack of lies. Actually, earlier that evening, Fie had caught Sir Crow in the middle of sneaking off to philander, so she didn’t feel a drop of guilt for making up lies about him.
“I-I see,” said the watchman, daunted by her apparent sincerity. “Well, be careful, then.” He let the squires through and watched them head out.
They were out! “Yay!” Fie whisper-cheered.
“Are you sure this is okay?” Queen mumbled.
“It’s too late to go back now,” Gormus muttered.
Whispering all the while, the squires headed into town.