Lola felt fear wash through her. She looked to the knight and found him completely locked onto Russel. Suspicion was clearly evident in his eyes. His brow was furrowed as if he were concentrating on something, and the hand resting on the hilt of his sword clenched tightly. His posture stiffened and took on a wary cautiousness. The knight with him leaned forward and whispered something inaudible but judging from the confusion in the other knight’s eyes, she guessed the man was asking why he was pulling Russel out of the line.

Suspicious Knight snapped something short at the inquisitive knight and the man backed off. Suspicious Knight pointed at a spot on the ground and gestured for Russel to stand there. With an air of unconcernedness and nonchalance, Russel did as he was instructed.

“Is there some kind of problem?” he asked.

Lola stepped out of the line herself and stood slightly behind Russel, doing her best to keep her eyes downcast and away from Suspicious Knight.

“Where are you from?” the man asked.

Russel would have been nervous being asked a question like that but, fortunately for him, he happened to know of at least one more human village other than the burned-down Gloucester.

“The misses and I are from a small village called Howlton,” he said.

“Is that so?” the knight asked, an ugly smile crossed his lips. “Wouldn’t you know it, I’ve been to Howlton many times. Funny thing though. I don’t remember ever seeing you or your wife there.”

The man’s eyes became hard and the hand on his sword repositioned itself to give him better access when drawing it from its scabbard. The dark unyielding glare to his eyes became more intense and uncomfortable for Russel and Lola.

“We’re what you’d call private people,” Russel replied, easily. He offered a cheery smile that the knight obviously didn’t care for. “We stay in the house most days after we get done with all the work that needs doing.”

“I imagine Crueller is still overcharging for his bread, huh?” the knight asked, a righteous grin on his face. He was setting him up, hoping to catch him in a lie.

“I’m afraid you might be talking about a different village,” Lola chimed in. The knight’s already intense gaze became even shrewder. “Gregori and his son, Brenner, are the only breadmakers we know of in Howlton. Ma Tomkins runs the local tavern. Norris and Carla Underwood have a farm close to us. They plant mostly potatoes and have three dairy cows. Will that suffice to move us past your little inquisition?”

The knight stared hard at her, unhappy that she stepped in and answered for Russel. He gazed between the two of them, his eyes shifting back and forth steadily. Then the hand on the hilt of his sword loosened. He looked at Russel, still unhappy but satisfied with Lola’s answers.

“My apologies, ma'am,” he said. “There have been disturbing reports and we have to be…thorough.”

“Nothing to worry about, Sir Knight,” Russel said, refraining from the urge to slap the knight good-naturedly on the back. “We’ve heard things as well. I admire your diligence.”