If It Were Only A Dragon [Chapter 15]
“No,” was the answer I received at the estate gates. I mean, I received various taunts and curses upon my arrival before the guards, even after explaining myself. Alas, I decided to save my energy and return to our camp instead of striking them down for their rudeness.
On the walk back, I couldn’t help but scan the manor beyond the walls, maybe hoping to seek out a sympathetic face who would notice my plight and make the guards reconsider.
Shanks met me at the corner of the wall, rubbing his hands together. “Your empty hands tell me that words were not enough for that lot.”
“Your reminder is not needed, knight,” I said, waving him down. “Rest yourself and worry not. I shall seek out my proper bedding in another location.”
“Askin’ is great and proper, but since when do people like us have to ask?” he continued, leaning in close to me. “I mean, what if the dragon came across us tomorrow morning and you were still unrested?”
“And if we expend our energy on engaging these traitors, we will have none left for the fire-breathing beast.”
“Fight?” hummed the scarred man, shaking his head. “No, much easier to sneak in and take what we need. No need to ask. You think rich folks keep track’a every little thing in their homes?”
I squinted my eyes and studied the scarred man. “You scheme a lot for someone having taken an oath of Knighthood. Remind me which post you hold back in the capital?”
Shanks jerked himself back, hands curled up by his chest. “The… uh… prison. I guard the prison and keep the city’s criminals in check. Yeah.”
I nodded woefully. “I see, the prisons. Not a post anyone can handle. I bet you’re content to be back out under the sky.”
“You’re right about that,” he chuckled. “I suppose I picked up one too many schemes from the other… from the prisoners, ya’ know. Always talkin’ about how they would escape, what they’d do after. Not like anyone could get that far, heh.”
I stopped and crossed my arms, glancing back at the walls. “And how would they get past something like this, you think? A big metal grate.”
Shanks pulled at my shoulder and wagged a finger down the eastern-facing fence line. “There’s a big ol’ tree up against the wall there. Big branches, could hold a full-grown man, maybe two. And lookie up at the sky, dark soon enough. The night stars are bright enough to guide us, but not give us away.
Eriques approached, holding a bowl of food. “Gladius, let’s eat up, eh? The others were nice enough to wait for you to eat first. I mean, I told them they can’t eat until you do, but same difference.”
I held up my hand to him. “Let them eat, Squire. You may keep the pot boiling for me until I return. I’m going to sate another need of mine first.”
Several of the other knights watched as Shanks climbed the foretold tree. He was almost like a squirrel or other tree-dwelling animal, the likes of which I couldn’t think of. He had with him a length of rope to let us down from the overhanging branch and into the estate.
“I see, this here tree is in the land belonging to the King,” One of my allies postured. “So climbing up it and over is no problem.”
When the tree was mounted and rope tied, Shanks waved down at me as a signal to climb. Here’s the thing about being an important heir and successor to a ministry or royal family; one is not allowed to climb many trees, especially tall ones, for fear of terminating the bloodline early. Another thing about being a person of such import is that nobody subordinate to you would openly mock you for failing at such a task.
“Don’tchu fall, Gladius,” Eriques called up to me rather obviously. “You remember how gruesome it is a process when the magi repair broken bones.”
“I…shall not… fall,” I said through grunts, inching up the trunk the best I could. Even having taken off my outer leather riding armor, it was quite the chore to climb upward. Could I have sent another man in my stead? Perhaps, but I doubted their ability to procure suitable bedware for myself.
Somehow I reached the overhanging branch along with Shanks. The sun had mostly set by then, and a good many windows of the manor were lit with the glow of candles. My partner in thievery winked at me, latched onto the rope, and descended in a single motion. I had just gotten my balance sitting atop the branch there, but I figured the longer I waited, the more daunting the descent would be. The rope swung about a bit, but I managed to catch it and wring it around my fingers.
Just as Shanks had done, I loosened my grip just a bit. I held my breath and felt myself leave the perch. My whole body felt the pull of the earth, and I was happy to not have eaten supper yet. I opened my eyes, hoping that the descent was over.
I was still closer to the tree than the ground. The longer I stayed there, the more likely it was that I would be spotted. Several burning feet at a time, I slid down, finally reaching the ground. My hands felt like they had rested in a fire or boiling water, but it was too dark to judge if I would ever be able to hold a sword again.
Shanks was already creeping forward. The garden we had landed in was made up of neat rows of grape vines, all nicely laden with plump fruits. My accomplice was munching on them little by little. “Sour.”
“Probably for wine,” I said lowly, suddenly desiring the drink.
“That means they must have a cellar. That’s how we get in.”
“No guards on the grounds here,” Shanks noted as we arrived at the edge of the main manor, heads low.
“They probably think they’re too safe behind these walls,” I said lowly, looking back and forth along the row of hedges surrounding the structure. “Let’s just hope it’s just as easy to get around when we’re inside.”
“One thing at a time, my good man,” said Shanks, scuttling on ahead.
A good many windows were illuminated there on the ground floor, but there was plenty of room to duck beneath their views. A few lower windows, just barely off the ground, directed us further. At the far back were a pair of slanted doors, a hatch leading beneath the main footprint of the manor.
I gave the doors a tug at the bottom, rattling them slightly. They offered no indication of opening further. “Sealed from the inside?”
Shanks withdrew a well-worn dagger from his boot. The blade was uneven and rusty. I shuddered at the thought of getting stabbed by it, even more than that of a properly maintained blade. Even the handle was wrapped in rags instead of the usual leather wrappings. “Not a worry.”
“Is that the gear you are supplied with there in the prison?” I asked as he began prying at the hinges on the side of one door. “I must put in a good word to the quartermaster for you lot down there.”
Shanks shrugged. “Oh, we make do with what we got,” he concluded, popping out the pin from the second hinge holding the side of the door. With that, he pushed up the entire opposite side, flipping the right door over the left. “And we’re in.”
“Perfect,” I nodded. “Lead the way. And of course, you know to keep it quiet.”
With a nod, Shanks shrunk down the stairway and into the bowels of the structure. Inside, apart from old hand tools for gardening and cobwebs, there was even less light.
“Stairwell is likely at the center,” he said, pointing into the darkness.
“And bedrooms are likely on the upper floors,” I said with a nod, blinking my eyes to adjust to the advanced darkness. “And before that, let me know if you see something to write with.”
“Huh? Fer what?”
“To tell them why their bedding is suddenly missing.”
“To taunt them, I see,” Shanks grinned back, yellow teeth glowing in the dark. “I see, so they know not ta mess with the Kingdom.”
I didn’t dare talk much more so I just shrugged. “Sure, let’s go with that.”
Beyond the tool area, we were forced to continue along the exterior wall of the manor’s basement. There we reached a doorway leading us to a central hallway.
Massive wooden barrels took up the walls of the room beyond the closest door. “Jackpot,” the scarred man mumbled. Between the brick support pillars were racks and racks of dusty bottles. He pulled one down, wiping it off roughly with his palm before plucking the cork free with his crooked teeth.
“Keep your mind about you,” I warned lowly as he took a swig.
“Just to take the edge off,” he slurped. “And why not take some back for the others?”
“And if the dragon comes our way this coming morning?”
“Then we shall take it on with high spirits and sate our hangovers with its flesh!”
Above, the wooden ceiling creaked with the footsteps of the manor’s inhabitants. Shanks looked up and then back at me with a finger to his mouth.
The wine cellar was another dead end, but the hallway still held many more doors. The next room was just as dark as much of the basement. Despite its clean looks, it smelled strange, like copper coins. Upon the stone ground were dark stains.
“Let us keep moving, I don’t like this place.”
“Oopsie,” Shanks hummed, stepping over a stain. “Looks like someone spilled their wine.”
My eyes, mostly adjusted to the dark by then, locked onto a series of human-sized cages. “I doubt that’s wine. Even more reason to keep moving.”
The far door in the room was metal, with a heavy latch holding it closed. It creaked slightly as Shanks pulled it up and open. Beyond was a much larger room, sunken deep into the ground. It was circular in form, with an upper ring of seats, dipping down in the center to a pit of dirt.
“My oh my,” Shanks admired. “Look what we have here.”
“And what do we have here, exactly?”
“This is a fighting ring, my good sir.”
I shuffled up to the edge of the highest seats and looked into the pit. “So these traitors and their guests get down there and knock each other senseless? Dumb fun, I might see it.”
“No for people,” Shanks shook his head. “Animals. I’m thinking dogfights, based on those cages back there.”
A gruff voice called out from behind us. “I am no dog!”
Both Shanks and I jerked back, fearful we had been caught. There was not a soul at eye level. I heard scraping and a brief rattling of metal. My eyes fell to a grate built into the wall, leading down a channel to the dirt ring. A pair of shining eyes peered at us through the dark.
“Whatever you are, shut it,” Shanks hissed, kicking dust its way.
I inched closer. “Hold now. Are you not the beast that was atop that carriage?”
“That so?” the scarred man spoke up. “I think the chubby one said… a gnoll?”
The beast crept closer to the grate, nose flaring. “I have heard such a name, but it means little to me. I know not others of my kind.”
“Do you have a name?” I asked, kneeling.
“…Prince Fluffington.”
Shanks stifled a chortle behind his sleeve.
“That is the name I was given by my first owner. A small girl.”
I nodded and pressed on even closer, hoping to see what desire lay on his face. “And what happened to this girl?”
“He probably ate her,” Replied the scarred man.
The Gnoll shook its head and growled lowly. “It is… in my earliest memories that I came into her care. We were close, playing together at every chance. It was almost as if I were a human sibling to her. I was even allowed by her side as the tutors taught her the ways of the world. But my kind grows quicker than yours. I grew out of my shaggy puppy coat. Produced these beastly fangs in my mouth. I grew to tower over her. Eventually, it was uncomfortable for the both of us for me to sleep at the foot of her bed. Oh, how comfortable it was. Then her human friends became scared of me. Our pleasant times together were terminated. Her parents separated us and sold me off to these humans.”
“We’re wasting our time, Gladius,” the scarred man said, looking back out the doors.
I ignored him for the time being. “And these humans have kept you in cages. I, too, am seeking out comfortable bedding.”
The beast stretched and stood up on his finger-like (and certainly fluffy) front paws. “I am let out of my cage, but only to fight. Dogs, bears, other beasts that I know not the names of. None speak as I do. I am better, stronger than them, but this life is not for me.”
I turned back. “Strad was right. They are like pets with benefits. I have an idea.”
Shanks gritted his teeth, looking up at the ceiling where we could hear faint words and shuffling of feet. “Well, make it quick.”
“Prince Fluffington. I seek something in this manor, and you seek your freedom. If we set you free, would you be willing to create a distraction?”
The beast bared a set of sharp teeth, almost like a smile. “I can do more than that.”
“Stand back,” I directed. Leaning back, I sent the heel of my boot toward the grate, barely bending even the thinnest of the bars.
Shanks huffed and jumped in front of me. “Let me handle this,” he said, working his magic with the hinges once more.
When the beast had its freedom, it jumped out between us, four limbs to the ground and nose to the air. “The people… upstairs… this way.”
We were barely able to keep up with the gnoll, his stance shifting between two and four legs as he led us to a set of stairs and upward. I heard the screams immediately as the upstairs door slammed open.
“Gawrrrr!”
Shanks held me back. “Let him do as he pleases. They will run and hide, or send someone after it. That is when we move.”
I nodded in agreement. There was the sound of human feet, pattering about the ground floor, mixing with panicked voices. The loud pounding of a rampaging beast echoed through the floorboards.
“The gnoll is loose!” Someone called indistinctly.
“The knoll? Is the manor safe?”
“No, the gnoll, not the knoll!”
“How’d it get out?”
“Who cares!”
“Get back in your rooms!”
“It’s the master’s prized fighter! We have to catch it!”
“With what?!”
“Anything!”
“It’s gone that way!”
There were more faint growls and screams. Suddenly there was a loud crash and shattering, followed by more calls.
“It’s out the window!”
“Call the night guards to attention! Don’t let it out the gate!”
Shanks crept up to the last stair beside the basement door, hanging slightly open. “Now’s our time. But keep quick.”
I nodded. “I’ll be after my bedding. If you find any nice ointment for dry elbows, I beg you to get it.”
“Whatever. Five minutes at most, then back out the cellar door.”
The scarred man nodded and crept ahead, hand against the door and face peeking out either way. Stepping as quietly as possible, he slinked off.
I allowed myself inside the manor slightly after. The floors were made up of fine planks covered by animal skin rugs. The walls bore darkly-colored wallpapers and paintings of people who probably didn’t care much for the king. Outside were more signs of the gnoll’s distraction, hopefully distracting anyone who would cause a fuss.
After a few tactful glances around corners, I found the stairway up. Any closed doors probably guarded those hiding away from the attack, so I imagine having to find one left open for me, bearing what I desired.
A few voices slipped under the doors from occupied. “That’s things tearing through the vineyard now? What is it?”
“I wouldn’t know, dear. But I wouldn’t want to face it.”
At long last, the first open door called me in. To my delight, it was indeed a bedroom, bearing a poster bed. The bedding wasn’t a color of my liking, but if it had to do, it had to do. I dragged my hands across the covers to make sure it would suit me.
The sleek satin felt like paradise itself beneath my hands which were rough and sensitive from holding the reigns all day. My legs ached as well. I felt myself being sucked downward as if trapped by quicksand. My head felt the pillow, supporting me like my mother’s lap. I dragged my hands about, letting the stress of the day seep away.
I felt a sudden tug at my back. I jerked upwards in response holding my hands to the air. “I was just borrowing it.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Shanks hissed, turning me back. “Grab it and let’s go.”
I nodded and tugged suddenly at the sheet and one of the pillows. The scarred man tried to bunch it up in my arms, urging me forward. “Hold on, allow me to fold it! It’s bad for the weave to just crumple it up!”
With the hastily lumped materials across my arms, we dashed back down the stairs, treads creaking. I had the sheets slumped over my back, pillow under my arm, as we crept through the cellar and back outside.
A high howling pierced the night. It came from the direction of the road. A collection of hand-held torches glowed brightly in the night, flickering as the wielders hunted and were chased about the garden.
“I doubt we’ll make it up back the way of the rope,” Shanks sighed. In the dim light of the moon, I could barely make out the form of the big tree.
“If Prince Fluffington wants out, we must open the gate.”
“It will have to do,” said the scarred man, running forward, his body hunched low. “We can’t let anyone see us, or they’ll come disturb us in camp before we’ve had our rest.”
Cutting about the vines and planting beds, we managed to reach the gates. Only one guard remained there, waving a torch back and forth. I imagined crying out to him like the beast, scaring him off. Shanks lifted a rock off the ground and lanced it at the man’s head, causing him to fall immediately.
“Uh, wow. Nice shot.”
With the latch undone and gate left open, we dashed the rest of the way to the camp, well-earned prizes in hand. We received a restrained celebration upon our return. I simply wanted to take a meal and use nice bedding in preparation for yet another day of riding.
Before I could turn in, a horse dashed at us from down the road, flashing a torch in our faces and making quick demands. “Oi! King kissers!”
As the leader of the group, it was my duty to present myself— once I had hidden the stolen goods of course. ‘What is it? Are we too close to your land here?”
“We’ve a beast gone astray. A right dangerous one. Got right out the front gates here. You all seen it?”
“Funny you should ask that,” I crafted. “There is a beast we’re after, too.”
“’N what sort would that be?”
“A dragon. It was on its way to the capital right through this way. By the power of the King, we hope to stop it before it destroys any more on its path across the Kingdom.”
The traitorous visitor gritted his teeth. “Well, do what you need to do. Come no closer.”
Not long after the angry man departed, something else kept close to our camp. Tempted by the flash of its eyes, several of the men drew their weapons. “It’s the beast!”
“Stay your weapons,” I ordered, approaching the darkness. The beast stood up on its hind feet, back hunched forward, pointed ears twitching.
“Seems we’ve both succeeded,” said the gnoll in its low voice. “But I no longer have a home or destination. If you shall let me go where you go, I will offer my service. As further thanks.”
I nodded. “I would appreciate that. I mean, we definitely have enough men to handle this dragon problem we have, but to include someone fierce… and also so wise… we welcome you.”
“Then it is done,” he said, coming forth with a bow.
“It wishes to join us?” Strad hummed, examining our new potential ally.
“Indeed,” I replied. “Everyone. This is… Prince Flu… just Prince. His name is Prince.”
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