6: Sir Bruce, the Dagger, and Practical Jokes

Sir Bruce breathed deeply the fresh sea air. Ah yes, the sea, this would be the real way to travel. While that fool Edward was off consulting an old, superstitious man, and that other knight--what was his name? Oh that's right, Bruce chuckled to himself, Jard, but the poor lad wasn't even a knight yet. No matter where he went, he definitely wouldn't be any factor in Bruce's quest to win Princess Edith's hand and thus the kingdom.

Bruce laughed again, "Pffff" he said to himself, "dream spirits." Quite frankly, he doubted their very existence, "legend, stories to frighten children at night, nothing more," he murmured. Old Ed will be running all over the Desert of Dreams and accomplished absolutely nothing, while he took to the high seas in search of of golden islands for the claiming and dangerous sea monsters for the slaying. "Yep, that'll be me!" said Bruce, who was suddenly feeling rather giddy. A small coastal town had appeared on the horizon, and he could see several sets of masts and white sails near the mouth of the bay upon which the town was built. Fluffing the feather in his helmet, and whistling a merry tune, the knight of the red wolf rode on towards the village.

Meanwhile, Methuselah sighed as Sir Edward galloped quickly off into the distance. "That's the problem with this generation," he muttered, "no faith, no respect or care for things unseen. No knowledge of the old ways." Slowly, he turned around, walked back into his cluttered hovel, and descended into the cellar. Grabbing a cracked mug and filling it with ale (which he always had on tap), the old man opened an old chest. Reverently, he removed the chest's lone occupant: it was called Duvrijad, the dagger Farran had used to murder Kelthisad many years ago. "I doubt that even this would have convinced him." Methuselah thought, "no, it definitely would not have. Besides, the young fool would likely have mocked it along with the rest of the truth." His face darkened, "and it would be a dangerous thing to take such a relic so lightly." The old man had conveniently left out the part of the tale that told that Duvrijad, since it had spilled the blood of a sorcerer, had certain properties far beyond that of a mere physical blade. "One of these days," Methuselah took a long drink of his ale, "one of these days the right man will come, but until then it had best be kept secret."

Meanwhile, meanwhile, King Horatio the NVN was angry...really angry. It had all started last week when one of this pranks on the city sheriff (the most brilliant, creative, and dastardly in Horatio's memory) had gone horribly wrong. The idea was that Sheriff Bob, a fat, pompous, outspoken, and rude man who talked with a lisp, would end up in front of the entire city in his pajamas. Unfortunately (for Horatio the NVN at least) the guards instructed with carrying out the deed became drunk on the job and ended up mistaking Horatio (no beanpole himself) for the Sheriff. Thus, it was the naughty king that ended up in front of his subjects with nothing to say but "excuse me, I'm afraid there's been a mistake." The citizens, of course, found it absolutely hilarious that one of the king's pranks had finally backfired on him, and it was days before he dared made any public appearances. The next annoyance occurred when a presently at-large thief managed to break into the royal treasury. When the treasurer examined it in the morning, though, only a single ancient book, and very rare volume at that, was found missing. Granted, it was not the loss that enraged Horatio (he cared little for such things) but the fact that someone had managed to breach the castle's security. Finally, the pheasant meat, a favorite of the king, at yesterday's dinner had been spoiled. This was the last straw for Horatio; in a terrible rage, he promptly placed the entire guard on half-rations, had the cook tarred and feathered, and suspended any and all visits from suitors to princess Edith. As you probably suspect though, this last "punishment" really wasn't much of a punishment at all. Rather, Edith welcomed the change. The suitors, quite frankly, bored and depressed her, and she relished the chance to spend more time horseback riding and simply walking alone in the castle garden.

--Andrew C