The bartender slid three new glasses towards the new patrons, and they weren’t much bigger than those of Grehn or Vlugh. One of the soldiers turned his nose up at the drink, but the Commander nodded gratefully and took a length sip of the lemon beverage. Grehn forced himself to calm down and sat, casting further glances at the Commander’s ornate medal.

“So,” he began, “might I ask what knights are doing in this town?”

Commander Greyan took another sip before leaning on the bar and smiling at the unusual trio. “Do you really think our knightly business is any of yours? Our mission is a secret so dire it could affect the entire kingdom. If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

He maintained eye contact with the group, each of which tensed at his words. However, the snobby soldier who still hadn’t touched his drink sighed, while the more petite soldier dug her knuckles into the back of her superior’s head.

“Why do you say that to every person who asks? It’s really not as funny as you think it is. And your silly face always gives you away,” she said as Greyan winced, thought whether it was from her words or her fist was unclear.

“I think it’s pretty funny! But yeah, Jey is right. The truth is, our task is rather dull. A bad shipment of lemons arrived in the capital, and apparently that’s grounds to send an actual Knight Commander and three fully fledged Knights to investigate. If you ask me, our presence is nothing more than an elaborate scheme, a campaign of perception to expose more people to the fabled Knights and turn us into a more regular sight. Not that I think people will see the Knights in any sort of positive light for many years after the Burning.”

Greyan was being very open, which immediately made Grehn suspicious. He was accustomed to liars, and while the Knight Commander actually struck him as a decent sort, he knew better than to trust someone in his position.

“It is true that our mission is not a secret,” the snobby soldier said, “but that does not mean you should be explaining the details to every rube we encounter. Especially not to filthy mercenaries or their pet.”

Greyan shook his head. “I beg for you to excuse Herwen. He’s a bit of a spoiled brat.”

“Spoiled brat is fine. But you should respect our titles and address us as ‘Knight’. Otherwise, even the common rabble will call to us with familiarity.”

As the knights proceeded to bicker, Grehn and Vlugh were having a mental, panicked conversation with their hidden companions.

“Grehn, we should leave! If we stay here, the bees will get discovered for sure.”

“You don’t know that. They haven’t noticed our Linkers, and those are the most obvious signs of the bees. Ben is actually pretty decent at hiding, and Beelzebub is outside of the town. I think we can still make it if we’re quick. Thoughts?”

“The knights look cool. But they’re strong. I’m fine with whatever!”

“I wanna fight them. I wanna fight them really bad. But that’s a pretty bad idea, honestly. Especially if we had to fight all four of them.”

The two bee companions were of little help in making a decision. However, there were a few other bees who were always watching, and were happy to provide their input. Beatrice, after consulting for a moment with Belphegora, decided that the team should speak to the Lord as quickly as possible and leave at the first opportunity. However, they were advised not to rush or act in a way that seemed suspicious, lest the knights follow them.

“So? What about your little group?” Greyan’s question brought Grehn back to reality, and he grimaced. Wasn’t this the opportunity he had been looking for? If there was anyone who could deal with the bees, it was the Knights of Somuia. He felt torn between the disdain he held for the oppressive warriors and the hope they sparked within him. Not that it mattered. The bees were watching intently, and there was no chance that they would allow him to make a move in this situation.

“We also have business with the Lord. We’re from Yiwi. Times have been tough recently, so we thought to come here to ask for scraps, if you can believe it.”

Greyan’s eyes misted over. “Believe it I do. The Burning has no doubt crippled Yiwi. Hell, the past few weeks have seen not a crumb of trade coming from the city. Are things really so bad over there?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Vlugh said as he savored the last drops of his juice. “No more food. No more wood. No fruits. No damn fruits.”

Greyan cast a look at his comrades, catching Jey’s sympathetic eye. Herwen ignored them. The Commander looked like he wanted to say something, but he stopped himself and turned to nursing his drink. Taking the opportunity, Elofan stood to leave, but Greyan suddenly turned back to the group.

“One more thing. The fernen. What’s the deal with that? I don’t know too much about them, but I do know they’re not on the friendliest terms with humans. Does it also have something to do with the Burning?”

“Yeah, that’s right, you mangy son of a bitch. I’m here ‘cause of your buddies, and I wanna stick that weapon of yours up your ass and wave you around like a flag.”

Greyan simply looked at Elofan, unable to understand her seemingly calm whoops and snarls, and nodded. “Right, I suppose it’s a sensitive subject. Nevermind then; I’ll let you lot go about your business. Good luck. I’ll see about talking to my superiors on the subject of providing some sort of aid to Yiwi when I return to the capital.”

With that, the group stood to leave. Grehn’s thoughts pounded, desperately trying to think of a way to leverage this opportunity. Greyan really did seem decent, even if his companions were somewhat suspect, but he would have taken anything if it meant freeing Yelah and the rest of Yiwi. But as he turned and walked away, the tiny bee hidden by his hair and clothes throbbed as an ever-present reminder of his hopeless situation.

_________

“Lord Sawah? Please speak with us. We’ll leave as soon as we finish talking.”

After nearly an hour of pounding on the door, Vlugh was ready to give up on their mission. He knew it was mostly a ploy by Grehn to search for a possible solution to the bee problem anyway, but there was some merit in the idea of asking Lemonholm for supplies. They had protected their orchards with numerous proprietary countermeasures against the fire, which meant it hadn’t managed to spread to the fields. The result was full bellies and storehouses, added to by the fact that the superstitious people of the town always grew far more than they needed, for any number of reasons. He had heard them say that it was preparation for anything ranging from an apocalypse of revived corpses, to tiny men that stole food from your plate when you weren’t looking, and even for the event that beings from beyond the stars descended and kidnapped most of humanity.

The imaginations of these people never ceased to amaze him.

“Do you believe the knights, Vlugh? About why they’re here?”

Vlugh groaned. Grehn had been even more silent than usual, thinking obsessively about his supposed saviors. In Vlugh’s eyes, the Knights were untrustworthy scum who had ruined everything. The Burning had robbed him and his home of everything they had, and even further, had dismantled Vlugh’s already shaky reputation amongst normal people. Once again, they stared at him with disdain or loathing or fear, and for what? Drevans weren’t the only people with Abilities that involved fire. Why was he bearing the brunt of mistreatment when he wasn’t even close to being involved?

At least here in Lemonholm, people reacted that way solely on the basis that he was an outsider. It wasn’t much better, but he could count on them to judge him in ways that felt less personal.

At the same time, he hated to find himself feeling hope thanks to the Knights. Unlike the two lower ranked knights, Greyan looked at Vlugh with eyes reminiscent of the Royal Guard. Less judgmental. More like he was just another mercenary barely worthy of attention.

“Nope. What he was saying just doesn’t make sense; a whole-ass Knight Commander doesn’t just walk around shaking hands and smiling to increase their image. They’re killers. Strong ones. Which makes it weird that they’re here in this weirdo town. But I know that isn’t changing your mind, and I get it. But you’ve gotta be careful, man. All of us are already on thin ice with the bees, and I don’t want you to leave me and Rette alone.”

Elofan was attempting to peer into the windows by hanging onto the roof with her long arms, but something akin to thick curtains blocked the view. She grumbled as she rejoined the humans, sitting down next to Grehn, who continued to ruminate.

“If the knights are really here on mundane business, we’re going to stand out no matter what. Regardless of what excuses we gave them, Elofan is too much of an oddity to suddenly appear in a place like this. No matter what happens, we’ll stick out in their minds. Worst case, if the knights eventually come into conflict with the hive, we’re going to be the first ones they look for.”

“Are you two still going on about those stupid humans?” Elofan said. “The only good ‘knight’ is a dead one, in my opinion. Are you sure that evil creature hiding in the orchard can’t come in here and slaughter them?”

Grehn was quick to respond. “I don’t know, and it’s best if we don’t find out.” It was a statement with layered meaning, implying caution while veiling fear. As long as the bees didn’t come in and demonstrate they could somehow manhandle Somuian Knights, he could retain a bit of hope.

A spindly passerby strolling along the main road noticed the trio resting in front of the Lord’s house and spat on the ground near them. He gave them a dirty look before continuing on his way, making room for another random person to stare with contempt. In the hour since they had begun waiting at the Lord’s home, the citizens of Lemonholm had gradually begun to filter out of their houses and go about their business, apparently recovering from the sight of two groups of unusual visitors. Elofan initially questioned whether they were still wary, considering their hunched and gloomy demeanor, but Vlugh had clarified that this was simply the typical state of a Lemonholm native.

“These people make no sense. I’ve never been within the town myself, but I saw them from a distance, and they were never this hostile. Why would they be so much more antagonistic towards their fellow humans than even us fernen?” she asked Grehn, attempting to steer his thoughts away from the mysteries of the knights.

“The thing about Lemonholm is that, for some reason, a very particular type of individual is the only one welcomed here. Ironically, those are the ones most distrusting of others. Most people who live further away than Yiwi only hear about the most outlandish ideas that originate in Lemonholm, like the talk of giant, man-eating insects or imminent world-destroying rocks. But the core beliefs of this place are that other people can’t be trusted. Everyone is a liar, a cheat, a criminal, or something inhuman in disguise. Or, that’s what they believe. And so who could they possibly trust? Only those who are untrusting as they are. Put them all together, and their fear and paranoia stir together into this. Into Lemonholm. Of course, it’s a very specific sort of place. Either Vlugh or I could tell you that humans everywhere have a seed of distrust within them for other humans.”

Vlugh nodded along, while Elofan simply crossed her arms and tilted her head. The three of them sat in silence for a while, at some point asking Ben what was going on with the knights, only to receive the same response for the twentieth time: they were doing absolutely nothing. Some time after they had left, the fourth knight had returned to the tavern and joined her fellows, and the four had simply sat around drinking and chatting about nothing of consequence, mostly battle tactics and strategies, occasionally managing to get a clipped response from the bartender or a close-by patron. It was of no interest to the three humanoids, but Ben and Beelzebub seemed enthralled by the conversation. The humans, meanwhile, wondered how such meat-heads could be related to some of the most conniving minds they had ever had the displeasure of meeting.

“What are you three doing in front of Yojer’s house?” A new voice asked. It turned out to be an elderly woman, one whose face was notably less perturbed by the strangers.

“We simply have some business to inquire about. Do you know if he’s still at home?” Grehn responded, the woman needing to lean in to hear his whispers.

“Well, it is still working hours, so I came to check on him. He hasn’t been back to the town hall since that woman knight came to ask some questions. I can’t promise that you lot will be accommodated, but I might convince him to give up a moment of his time.”

“Thank you miss…?”

“Sawah. Muweh Sawah. The old fool is my husband. Come.”

The woman led the trio to the door and pulled out a massive keyring, proceeding to undo nearly a dozen locks. Vlugh rolled his eyes at the spectacle, and Elofan was simply astonished. It seemed that the mistrust of others still extended to those within the town. As the door finally creaked open, the trio was treated to an utterly perplexing sight. The house was made entirely of wood, a luxury that could only be afforded by a town surrounded with trees. But what made their brains draw a blank was the excessive lemon-themed memorabilia plastered across every inch of the building’s interior. Lemon tapestries, lemon paintings, shiny lemon trophies of all shapes and sizes. The sight continued from the entryway to the living room, and even into the hallways deeper inside as they searched through the darkness for the Lord. While there was no light, the vibrant yellow was still bright enough to nearly hurt the trio’s eyes.

“Yojer Sawah, you codger, I know you’re in here. These people were waiting outside just to speak with you. Have a bit of class.” Muweh said as they approached a dimly lit doorway, presumably leading to some sort of study.

“Huh. Weird. Those knights just zoomed out of here. It’s cool that I can finally leave this place, but they move so fast.”

Ben’s words that suddenly floated into Grehn and Vlugh’s Minds sounded off countless warning bells, but Muweh’s scream pierced through any thoughts they might have. Behind the tightly closed door was the body of Lord Sawah, bloody and contorted in unnatural ways. Muweh stumbled backwards into Grehn’s arms and he stiffened, at a loss for what to do. A booming crash shook the house as something landed outside, and the front door flew open, the bang accompanied by Knight Commander Greyan’s shout.

“Mister Sawah? Is everything alright?”