Freya never thought she'd have PTSD from parchment, but here she was—flinching every time someone said the word "form."
After barely surviving her last quest (and by "barely," we mean her new armor was now a fashionable collection of burn holes and slime), Freya had been summoned to the Guild Hall to "update her hero credentials." What she hadn't expected was that the update process involved seventeen forms, a singing quill, and a clerk named Barnabus who seemed to enjoy watching people mentally unravel.
"Next!" Barnabus shouted, sounding far too gleeful for someone working under fluorescent crystal lighting. "Heroine Freya Elowen? Please verify your identity via SparkleStone."
Freya hesitantly touched the glowing orb labeled "Do Not Lick."
It zapped her.
"OW! What was that?!"
"Confirmation accepted," Barnabus droned, then handed her a stack of papers thicker than her spellbook. "Initial this, sign here, and please provide a summary of your last three reincarnations."
Freya blinked. "Reincarnations?! I've only had one!"
Barnabus raised a brow. "So far."
The next three hours were a haze of ridiculous questions. "Please list all known pets, including familiars, enchanted vegetables, or cursed houseplants."
Freya paused. "Do cursed cabbages count?"
"Only if they've threatened political office."
"I—what?!"
"Ma'am," Barnabus said patiently, "we take bureaucratic safety very seriously."
By the time Freya escaped the clutches of paperwork hell, she had learned three things: One, Barnabus was likely a demon. Two, she now apparently had life insurance. Three, someone had declared her an official rival to the "Cabbage Lords of Grollth."
"I didn't even meet any cabbage lords!" she wailed as she walked out of the guild.
"Did you by chance eat any cabbages recently?" said a familiar voice.
It was Kael, the elf rogue who had an allergy to subtlety and a wardrobe made entirely of scarves.
"I had stew!" Freya snapped.
Kael winced. "That might explain the bounty on your head."
Freya's eyes widened. "Wait—WHAT bounty?!"
He held up a parchment with a very unflattering sketch of her looking surprised, mid-sneeze.
"'Enemy of the Verdant Throne. Bounty: Five enchanted carrots and a high five.'"
"Oh come on! I didn't even mean to insult their sacred soil!"
Just then, a shrill squawk echoed through the air. A cabbage with bat wings and a monocle dive-bombed them from the sky, dropping what appeared to be a very official challenge letter tied with a ribbon made of kale.
Freya caught it, reluctantly.
"'By order of the Cabbage Lords, you are hereby challenged to mortal komba—wait, did they spell kombat with a K?"
Kael shrugged. "They're dramatic. It's a whole aesthetic."
Freya crumpled the paper. "I'm not fighting a cabbage."
"You may not have a choice," said Kael, eyes narrowing as a dozen more airborne cabbages appeared on the horizon.
Back at the Guild Hall, Barnabus peeked out the window. "Well, this escalated quickly."
He sipped his tea, watched the cabbages organize into a tactical V formation, and sighed. "Guess I'll need form 47-B: Aerial Produce Aggression Report."
What followed was nothing short of war.
The cabbages, armed with vine whips and passive-aggressive haikus, launched their assault. Freya and Kael ducked behind a vendor's stall (which was unfortunately selling, yes, more cabbage). She hurled a fireball spell, which only seemed to enrage the vegetables.
"Why won't they just sauté and DIE?!" Freya screamed.
"They're cabbage! They're used to boiling under pressure!"
As Kael slashed through a particularly poetic head of lettuce-cousin shouting "Leaf me alone!", Freya realized she'd need to take drastic measures.
"Time to initiate System Override," she muttered.
[ SYSTEM OVERRIDE ACTIVATED ]
[ Summoning: Secret Skill - THE KITCHEN NIGHTMARE ]
With a flash of divine light, Freya summoned a legendary item: The Frying Pan of Destiny™.
"Say hello to my little friend," she whispered, then whacked an airborne cabbage so hard it made a sound like a tuba being dropped down a staircase.
The battle lasted approximately twelve minutes, three weird musical numbers, and one philosophical debate with a broccoli general about the ethics of salad.
In the end, Freya stood triumphant—covered in shredded leaves, glitter, and moral ambiguity.
Kael gave a slow clap. "You've truly chopped your way to victory."
"I hate you a little bit," she said.
"And yet I persist."
Just when Freya thought the madness had ended, a golden envelope floated down from the sky.
"Don't tell me it's more forms," she groaned.
Kael plucked it out of the air and opened it.
"It's an invitation." He paused. "To court."
"Which court?" she asked warily. "The royal one or the legal one?"
"Both."
"Of course it is."
Later that day, Freya found herself in the Royal Court of Culinary Offenses, standing trial for "Malicious Misuse of Magical Cooking Implements."
The judge, a sentient fondue pot named Greg, eyed her suspiciously.
"Heroine Freya, how do you plead?"
"I plead sautéed."
Greg blinked. "...We'll allow it."
The prosecutor, a seven-foot-tall chive with a monocle, slammed his briefcase open.
"This is not a joke, Your Honor! This woman fried the sacred emissaries of the Verdant Kingdom!"
"They attacked me with poetry!" Freya retorted.
The chive gasped. "It was emotive!"
The courtroom descended into chaos. Someone in the back threw parsley.
After a long trial (which included interpretive dance, several snack breaks, and a legally mandated salad tasting), the judge finally slammed his ladle.
"Freya Elowen, I sentence you to..." He paused for dramatic effect. "Community service."
She blinked. "What kind?"
"Teaching cabbage kindergartners anger management."
"...I'd rather go back to the dungeon."
But there was no escape. Not from justice. Not from cabbage.
And certainly not from the lesson: Never underestimate bureaucrats. Or vegetables.
[ QUEST COMPLETE! ]
[ Reward: 100 XP, Frying Pan of Destiny upgraded to 'Wok of Wonders' ]
[ New Title Earned: Leaf Slayer ]
Freya sighed, leaning against a tree as the sun set.
"I used to think being a hero meant saving kingdoms," she murmured.
Kael plopped down beside her, munching on a carrot. "Now you know it's about filling out the right forms, dodging sentient produce, and maintaining your pan registry."
They both laughed.
"So," she said, stretching, "what's next?"
He grinned. "You're due for a tax audit by the Gnome Revenue Service."
Her eyes widened in horror.
"No."
"Yes."
She screamed into the twilight, birds scattering in fear.
The cabbage war was over. But the paperwork war… had just begun.