Locke IIIt was getting close to evening when Locke and the boy returned back home to the village. Some of the village-people were already outside, preparing the large fire for the feast that they have brought back. "It's a large deer!" shouted Locke from the distance, to the appreciation of the people. It has been several days since they have had a large, wholesome meal and this large deer was just the remedy.
While the women began preparing the deer for roasting, Locke went back into humble home to clean up. Hunting is a messy business, is one of his catchphrases. His home was a simple one, which was exactly how Locke wanted it. The exterior was a classic stone construction, a sturdy, protective design that would defend against the big bad wolf with ease. On the inside, candle-light illuminated his surroundings and glimmered with a soft, warm glow. Later, he heard the good cheer emanating from the outside and rejoined the village in their festivities.
By now, the deer was mostly cooked and the whole village (of about twenty people) were out to feast. Chort, a boy of about ten, was playing the lute and two of the villagers were already dancing the night away. The boy Locke hunted with approached him. "Um, Locke?" Locke turned and smiled. "Thanks for taking me on the trip. I really learned alot from the experience and I want to make my mum proud, so, thanks". The sweet boy was called Alistair. Him and his family were the first people who greeted Locke when he arrived in the village. Alistair's father died a year later, a tragedy which is neither fully explained and discussed in the village. To Alistair, Locke is sort of a father figure. Now twelve, he has been wrenched too soon out of childhood.
Locke did his best to be humble. Naturally, Alistair changed the subject almost immediately. "Hey Locke, did you hear? The Queen's Festival is building up in Lucrecia. Travellers at our inn couldn't stop talking about it". Locke immediately took attention. It has been several years since he has last seen his mother. He swore to never venture to that place again. Too many bad memories. "Queen's Festival? Bah, bunch of bloody posh bastards that's all it is" said one villager who overheard Alistair. "All they do is arse about in their high thrones eating fine foods and swanning about. What do they actually do for us?". The anti-Royal sentiment in the village has always been lukewarm, even if not everyone openly admits to it. The Queen's Festival simply strengthens opinion, one way or the other. For Locke, it is simply awkward.
While this villager is off berating the Royal family, one of them is sitting but a small distance away. In that instance, Locke knew what he had to do next.