Chapter 34

Snult and company landed directly outside the castle in Capital City, sending servants and squires scrambling about. One brave squire managed to shoot off an arrow that bounced harmlessly off his scales.
Prince Orin slid off as soon as possible and wretched into the moat. As long as he lived, he hoped to never ride another dragon. Masonae and Cybele seemed to have no problem with it at all. She was already wandering about, touching the stones and the grasses and greeting each one in turn. Snult shrunk and landed deftly on Masonae’s shoulder.
A page with a rather large belly and a mustache that drooped down over his mouth stepped out of the crowd and unrolled a scroll. “By order of the ruler of Galadin, the wise and noble, King Deseda, protector of the weak and…”
“Yeah, yeah, we know who she is,” Snult said and then yawned. “Get to the good part.”
“Hereby states that animals of non ordinary colors, sizes, appendages, or talents including dogs, cats, rabbits and especially dragons, are banned from entering Capital City.” He looked up from the scroll, pausing for a wary glance to the large green cat and small dragon in question. He considered Cybele for a moment, but didn’t seem to find anything too unhuman about her. “So they have got to go.”
“They’re with me,” Prince Orin said, wearily.
“Then you’ve got to go too.”
“I live here.”
“Not if you have pets like that. If you continue to argue, I’ll have the castle guard escort you personally to the city walls.”
One well aimed burst of fire from Snult had the page’s scroll burning in bits on the ground.
“Nice shot,” Masonae said.
“I wasn’t aiming for the scroll,” Snult said dryly. The page’s eyes widened and even his mustache began to shake.
“I’m only doing my job.”
Finally feeling his stomach coming under control, Prince Orin marched up to the page.
“They are under special immunity from the law, granted by me.”
“And what makes you think that you can grant immunity?”
“Because I’m the prince, and princes are allowed.”
“There was only one prince, and he’s dead. See?” The page pointed to the black armband on his sleeve.”
“He’s not dead. He’s me. I mean I’m him. I’m Prince Orin.”
“You don’t very much look like a prince.”
It was true, Orin decided. He wore no hat, and his delicately embroidered silks were completely drab and destroyed. He hadn’t seen a mirror in days and probably looked a fright. He’d most likely set a new trend in noble wear if he entered the castle like this.
“Why are we arguing with this punk anyway,” Snult said impatiently. “Let’s go get some grub.”
Food was the last thing on Orin’s mind, but getting inside the castle, where he could bathe and change his clothes was a top priority.
They ignored the page’s call and headed across the drawbridge. The crowd gave them a wide berth and no one else attempted to stop them. The page wasn’t the only one wearing a black armband. Everyone seemed to be sporting them.
It wasn’t until they reached the large doors of the keep that someone tried to stop them again. A group of castle guards blocked the way with body shields and pikes. Snult chuckled. He flew above them, increased himself in size about threefold, and blew a jet of flames that turned the stones in the archway black. The men stared up at the dragon, and immediately dropped their spears and parted the way.
“Awww, come on, nobody wants to play?” Snult settled this time on Pylon’s back, who was calmly padding his way through the doorway as if nothing had happened. They followed into the large entryway where several servants peeked around the doorways to get a look at the strange troupe that was invading the castle.
“Let’s go this way first,” Prince Orin said as he motioned towards his apartments. They walked along the long hallways and up a grand flight of stairs unimpeded. They nearly collided with King Deseda as she came around a corner flanked by two guards.
It took her a moment to register that one of the strange persons in her castle was her son.
“Orin?” She ran up to him and flung her arms around him. Orin stood there, waiting for her to let him go.
“You’re rather stinky,” she said.
“Am I?” The guards behind Her Majesty nodded in agreement.
“Well, I was on my way to take a bath so I could be received properly. Questing is a dirty business.”
“I am glad you’re back. This whole episode was quite nonsense. It doesn’t matter if you didn’t find what you were looking for. We’ll just forget the whole thing.”
“But Mother,” Prince Orin began.
“Who are your companions?”
“This is Masonae and Cybele. That’s Pylon and –”
“Snult. Is that really you?”
“I don’t know if I’m talking to you. After all, I’m banned from Capital City.”
“Are you? Who banned you?”
“You did, along with large green cats.”
“Well, I didn’t mean you.”
“Right. Doesn’t help if you don’t tell anyone that.”
“Bath?” Prince Orin reminded them.
“Yes, of course,” his mother said, shaking her head.
“And a snack,” Snult added.
“I’ll get the feast planned,” Deseda said. “I’ll need on to convince everyone you aren’t dead.”
She dismissed them with a wave and Prince Orin led them to his chambers. A flock of servants arrived about the same time they did, each one trying to do a better job than the last. A group of maids led a giggling Cybele off to another chamber while a stout group of valets eyed the two boys. They attacked Masonae who after a few moments of trepidation, followed Orin’s lead and let them strip him down and scrub him until his skin was pink. Pylon’s seemed quite content to let two boys comb him down, leaving green hair all over the rug. A plate of meats was left near enough to the fire that Snult could reach out and grab whatever he liked without leaving his cozy position between two crackling logs.
As the servants continued their ministrations, Prince Orin began to relax. His air sickness was forgotten as he held out his hands so someone could buff his nails. A servant to his left began to cut his hair.
“Really now. I’m beginning to feel like myself again,” Prince Orin stated as he stared at himself in the long mirror. He’d chosen a three tiered silk coat in pale yellow with rose colored embroidery and a dusky blue lining. His riding boots had been replaced with court shoes that curled three times at the toe and had little bells on the heels. His trousers were tight and matched the blue lining of his coat. His hat had a large brim and three feathers sticking out from the top.
Orin turned to glance at Masonae. The prince had insisted that Masonae borrow some of his clothes for the feast. Rather than looking regal, the boy looked slightly ridiculous in the double sided blue and white jacket with matching hat and slipper shoes. Masonae had tried to wear his own boots, but the servants had hidden them with the excuse that they were being cleaned.
Masonae fiddled with the lace at the sleeve. “Do you always dress like this?”
“For most occasions, yes. I have a few more formal outfits for royal state dinners.”
“Oh,” was Masonae’s only reply.
Prince Orin readjusted his hat and nodded to himself in the mirror. They were probably now fashionably late enough to head down to the feast. His mother was very good at preparing great parties at the last minute. She’d discovered a long time ago that the memory of a party was usually just related to the freeness of the wine.
The four of them proceeded down the corridor, Snult on Masonae’s shoulder, and Pylon at his side. Masonae kept a steady hand on Pylon’s back as if to steady himself for the experience to come. For Orin, this was a matter of routine, but Masonae had probably never been to anything more than a country festival.
“Just follow my lead and you’ll be fine.” Masonae nodded.
The doors flung open wide and Prince Orin made his grand entrance through the rows of tables that flanked the great hall. A loud cheer sounded as he mounted the dais and took a seat at the head table. His mother had managed to hand bright banners from every conceivable wall space. The tables were overloaded with steaming meats, rounds of cheese, and sauces of every conceivable color.
Cybele entered slightly later than them and skipped up the aisle. She climbed the dais and glued herself to Masonae’s side, casually playing with the feather’s on his hat.
The head table sat, Deseda in the middle, flanked by Orin and Brother Valdin. Masonae sat by Orin with Cybele close to his side. It took a moment for Orin to realize that the brother sitting next to Valdin was not Mouth, his usual lackey, but Brother Hricks.
Valdin knocked his staff on the floor three times, and the room quieted.
“I would now like to read from the Chronicle of the Brave and Humble Brother Hricks, who risked dismemberment and death to bring us a true and honest account of the Prince’s quest.”
Before Prince Orin could stop him, Valdin began to read.

Here Beginith Book Five
In which the Mighty Masonae, Wielder of The Bow of Bows, Bended a Great Dragon To His Will and Crossed the Menacing Mountains of the East.
Masonae, Noble Knight of the North, Prince Orin, his Trusty Squire and I, Humble Scribe reached the edge of the Eastern Mountains at dusk. Determined to complete his Noble Quest to save and defend all of Galadin from the evils of a magicless empire, Sir Masonae, not heeding the fears of Orin, unleashed the Mighty Weapon given to the prince by Great Mage Lasser.
A Ferocious Great Dragon, the renown and infamous Snult burst forth in a blaze of dragon fire and ash. After a fearsome roar that echoed and shook the very mountains on their bases, Masonae withdrew The Bow of Bows and an arrow of death from its quiver and brandished it at the humungous grey beast.
Fearlessly, he demanded the fealty to Prince that was his due and the great creature turned and surveyed. The weak minded dragon chose his next target to be the only unarmed person in the glade. I stood my ground, knowing the grace and goodness of my protector would shield me from his might. As Snult Sharp Tooth was about to roast me on the spot, Masonae stepped in and once again demanded fealty.
This time, the dragon, afraid of the brandished arrow point gleaming in the setting light of the sun, lowered his head and shrunk in shame.
While Squire Prince Orin and I made camp, Masonae surveyed the hillside and made a brilliant deduction.
“In the morning, the dragon will fly us over the mountains to the land beyond where I shall complete your mighty quest.”
“Excellent suggestion, Sir Masonae, I replied.
The dragon resisted, but another brandishing of The Bow of Bows quelled his objections. He stole the brave and loyal Pylon Tree Cat’s dinner and cowered in the heat of the fire until morning.

“I should now like to toast Sir Masonae of the North and place a laurel on his head, for bringing back our beloved Prince Orin safe and sound,” Brother Valdin said as a servant approached with a golden circlet wrought of leaves placed delicately on a red velvet pillow.
Masonae stared at Orin with wide eyes, a look of slight horror on his face.
“But that’s not the way it happened,” Masonae stuttered. “That’s not even the way that Hricks originally wrote it.” Hricks head was hung low, his hood up, making it impossible to see his face.
“All hail the modesty and humility of Sir Masonae!” Brother Valdin stomped his cane on the floor and was answered with a cheer from the crowd.
“I’m not the hero!” Masonae shouted again. Valdin just continued with his speech.
“It matters not whether Prince Orin succeeded or failed.”
“But I didn’t fail.” Brother Valdin stared at him with surprise. “I brought the seed of the Alban tree here.”
“You didn’t fail?” Brother Valdin asked.
“I don’t like this guy,” Snult growled low enough that only the dais could hear him. “Can I roast him? Pretty please?”
“It’s true,” Masonae added. “Prince Orin completed his quest and has brought back the seed.” He pointed to Cybele.
“So rescued himself from the dragons in the forest?”
“Actually, I think Snult was responsible for that,” Masonae said.
“He got across the mountain by himself.”
“Snult helped there too.”
“He rescued Brother Hricks?”
“We tried.”
“But you were saved by?”
“My mother?”
“And he got the map by?”
“Well, he took it from my mom and-”
“So by resorting to thievery he was able to lead you to the tree where he convinced the tree spirit to return.”
“Masonae said there’d be lots of trees here to play with. I haven’t seen that many,” Cybele added.
“So if he didn’t do any of those things, however did Prince Orin succeed in his own quest?”
Masonae was quiet. How indeed?