I woke up sane, I woke up seeing the illusions and recognizing them as such. I woke up sane, Lord, why must I do? I saw Lady Scarlet in place of Scarreladai, sitting over the throne and the rug, that cannot be but a pile of riches. Her greedily kept hoard. What does she need gold for? It shines, it is rare, humans can be bribed with it. One of those three, I bet. She is there, sitting atop her mountain of gold, watching me write, not suspecting I am partially free of her spell.

“My Lady, my dear Lady Scarlet, my praised Lady Scarlet, where has Sir Gador gone? I do not see him around the palace no more,” I ask while I write these lines.

“He is of adventurous inclinations, Pawn. My beloved goes out into the world, battles villainous beasts, and brings back prizes and gifts for our amusement. He is not particularly fond of you as of late, but like a storm, that will come to pass in due time. Fear not, pawn: life, like weather, tends to normalcy,” she promptly answers. She seems not to mind the fact I am recording this. It could be because dragons don’t believe in the power of words, only on that of might and magic. Words can deceive, but aren’t they poorly thought out parodies of illusion spells, when all is said and, mainly, done?

“Why are the puppies so important, My Lady? You don’t show the same care for the dogs.”

She freezes in place and slowly cracks a smile. “What sort of question is that?”

“An impertinent one, maybe. Pardon me, Lady Scarlet, if I were offensive to you.” I bow, turn and keep on writing.

“It’s a thoughtful question, Pawn, maybe too thoughtful for my liking, but I see no problem with answering it: they are of a different breed, you see. I care about one, and not the other, like men care for their chickens but not for the street pigeons,” she fakes a smile with more teeth than any human woman ever has had. Teeth sharp, teeth carnivorous. Teeth abhorrent, teeth abyssal.

“I understand, Lady, my parents had a poodle, but they didn’t like pugs.”

“What are those, pawn?”

“Dog breeds of Earth, My Lady.”

She comes up to me and places one of her terrible claws on my scalp.

“Do you miss Earth, Pawn?”

“I don’t even know where that was anymore, Lady Scarlet. Too long ago, too far away.” I say, managing to keep a firm and calm voice. I fear not the claws of the dragon, nor her teeth. There is nothing a wound can do to me that would be worse worse than what her magic has done over the years.

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“What are you writing now about? May I partake in?”

“It’s a delicate subject. A fiction about actions of mankind unsuited for the eyes of a damsel, Lady Scarlet. I am sorry, but it would shame me to read it aloud to you. It’s… a tool for my future enjoyment. It’s about acts men and women do in their hours of utmost solitude.”

“Disgusting, keep it to yourself,” she says and heads back to her spot on the gold pile. “Make sure to bring me anything of value you find lying around in the workshop later, Pawn. I need new additions for the lizard rug.”

“Will do, My Lady, will do.”

I see the Namesake also serves Lady Scarlet. A wise decision on his part, even if I seem to be unable to meet him in the flesh. Maybe he is a ghost! He writes while I am not looking, while I work, while I slumber. How tricky you are, namesake, how sneaky, too. However, the Lady has put forward an order to fulfill, and even if given to him, I shall see to please her highness. So I came to the workshop. He isn’t here. What I found here was something else.

There were four of them. Silhouettes against the moonlight, swinging weapons and casting spells towards The Sentinel. Living, colorful piñata men that smelled like strawberries and ozone.

The Sentinel swung around, aiming to hit with all of his arms. The longsword donkey-man got caught in his charge and splattered against the ground, spreading liquid candy everywhere.

There was a mage in the group, and I spotted him as he hid on the backlines, preparing a spell to launch against the Sentinel. Against me. Against the Lady and her palace. He, a red and yellow piñata of a torero, raised his staff. Candy-thunder crackled around it, no good, no good. Prey of an impulse, an instinct I had not felt in ages, I jumped out of my hiding spot in the darkness, Jilly out of her scabbard, and swung at the spellcaster, hitting him in the shoulder, leaving his arm dangling. The others were too busy with the Sentinel to aid him. I drank the liquid caramel that came out of the tear, and how delicious it was! Tepid, too.

A daggerist female piñata escaped from the Sentinel’s flailing party and came to me with sugar canes unsheathed, ready to attack. I readied Jilly, as she was certainly amateur at this. It could be seen in her posture, on how she ran towards me and screamed as she did.

“My name is Francisco, I am Lady Scarlet’s butler, and you choose a bad day to be full of delicious candy. “

She came to a sudden halt when she was about two meters away from me.

“Francisco? Then is that sword Jillsenbane?” she asked, agitated.

“I call her Jilly. But yes.”

“Screw this, I am not battling whatever has done this to you.” She turned to their mates battling The Sentinel. Or, well, the one that still remained alive, “Reydar, you are on your own!” then, she faced me again,“Peace, lost hero.”

As she gracefully walked away, the voice of Lady scarlet resonated inside my mind. “Will you let her get away? Will you let her tell everyone that you serve me and have the sword the world so lusts after, Pawn?”

“No, my lady,” I murmured, raising Jilly, preparing my legs.

“Then hunt her down, my protégé,” she uttered her draconian command