The peasant girl is round and pretty, with golden ringlets and freckles on her arms. She keeps her eyes on the floor.
"It's your Bard, your Grace. We were...ah...riding in the woods," you note the burrs in her hair; her grass-stained skirt. "But we were interrupted by a Horned Knight! He wore armor all of green and rode a stag, and he was accompanied by maidens with skin the colour of birch-bark and hair of leaves - each pretty as a willow.
"The knight said your Bard was to go with him, for there was a song he needed written. When your Bard tried to delay, the Knight said 'when you are on the road or in the fields, you belong to the Marquis, but here in the forest you belong to me.' He took your Bard away. You'll save him, won't you, your Grace?"
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