***
Sir Casey stroked the mane of his finest steed, a beast which he’d freed from the caravan long ago in a wild adventure when he was not yet a knight or even a man. His hand rose up the mane until it touched the base of the steed’s horn; this steed was a unicorn. Guarantors intended to sacrifice it to Rey Polilla, like so many other beautiful things. For nearly a year, it remained in the care of Sir Casey after he intercepted the caravan and liberated it. His antagonistic relationship with the cult had roots. “Iontach,” he said the unicorn’s name, “soon this awful epoch will end. I’ll set you free, then. I promise.” The unicorn rubbed his head into Sir Casey’s arms as if to agree.
The unicorn and he stood inside a trailer that carried sacrifices to Rey Polilla. Outside the trailer, Sir Casey’s own friends wore the clothes of the Guarantors and pretended to be en route to the dragon to deliver the sacrifices. Sir Casey waited in the first of these trailers. Cloaked in darkness, he saw the winter landscape scroll past. Cool winds entered the window and chilled his face, but he insisted on seeing the outside world. He’d never progressed into the dragon’s realm before.
The landscape transformed from a leafless woodland to a rugged terrain of rocky outcroppings. A path zig-zagged its way up Old Oriana, the mountain dwelling of Rey Polilla. The winding path overlooked the ocean, where the light of a full moon glistened on tall waves.
Just outside the trailer, Sir Casey heard the pleas of beggars and vagrants. They followed the caravan because Guarantors possessed wealth to spare. Sir Casey wanted to help them, but then his pretense would be blown. No Guarantor gave to the homeless, only to their dragon-god.
The destitute and helpless swarmed near the greatest power in the land, Rey Polilla, who’d promised to keep this land safe. Pink, frigid hands outstretched for help, only to catch snowflakes.
The beggars refused to go far up the mountain. As the journey continued, Sir Casey found the caravan alone and exposed to the winter sky. Most of the mountain and its jagged rocks lay below them; the landscape of Cronine outstretched beyond them.
The caravan entered an arched gateway with a large clearing ahead of it. Two servants of Rey Polilla, each clad in wild colors and feathered hats, opened a wrought-iron gateway to the caravan. The trailers, wagons, and carts maneuvered into a semi-circle. As Sir Casey’s trailer turned, he caught a glimpse of Rey Polilla himself.
The dragon-god lay coiled up as the snow fell on him. His deep breaths made his enormous chest rise and fall, and the snow crumbled and rolled off his torso. His scales glimmered in the moonlight with hues of violet and blue, and several horns curved back from his head. His eyes opened at the arrival of the caravan, revealing slit-pupils and enormous green irises.
Sir Casey felt a pang of terror in his stomach at the sight of them. The dragon must have been as large as several bears, but coiled up, Sir Casey couldn’t be sure. Its wings outstretched above, revealing the eye patterns that resembled those on a moth’s wings. The spots of the wings seemed like extra moons in the night sky. Rey Polilla moved his wings down to his sides, and Sir Casey felt the wind pushed into his trailer.
He took his gloves off to wipe the sweat off his palms. He heard the king’s voice calling out commands to the caravan, and Sir Casey’s trailer came to a stop. The noise of the wheels grinding dirt and snow came to an end. Only the crisp fall of snow could be heard.
Rey Polilla shifted his enormous weight and rose to his feet. He stretched like a lounging house pet, but at such a grand scale that his feet thumped the earth with each step. He walked in a semi-circle to look the caravan over. His breath entered and left his nostrils as a loud gale. Sir Casey tuned himself into the sounds of the beast, and he developed an intimate familiarity with its humbling power. The last time he felt such a thing, he studied the crashing waves of the ocean. Only forces of nature commanded power this way. Rey Polilla didn’t move his mouth to speak; through some power beyond sound, he compelled his thoughts to be known.
“Who are you that have arrived in my home on this night? You are neither the marquess nor his servants.” The voice of the dragon didn’t seem to possess a gender; it slithered beyond gendered perceptions and emerged from inside Sir Casey’s thoughts like a bad compulsion. The voice of Rey Polilla came from an age before men knew words or sound. Rey Polilla looked to the front of the caravan, where King Lloyd III approached on horseback. He removed the foolish hat of the marquess and made himself known.
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
“I’m King Lloyd III, ruler of this kingdom.” The king made a humble bow, even from horseback. He dignified the monster too greatly with his formality, but he was a statesman, and a consummate gentleman. “I’ve arrived with the caravan of the Guarantors. The marquess will not be joining us this evening.”
“That’s a shame, but you brought me something to compensate for this loss? The children that I asked for? The people of Cronine had the gall to hide wealth from me in a ‘Porcelain Hall.’ My subjects’ servitude must be total.”
“We’ve addressed this grievance and arrive now with exactly what you’ve requested.”
“Close your eyes, children,” Lady Lauren said to two children in her trailer. Her voice felt crisp on the pristine air of winter, even though Sir Casey couldn’t see her.
Sir Casey thought of her in her trailer with the two children. He had no capacity to help them play their roles in this. He placed faith in them. It appeared to anyone outside Sir Casey’s peer group that the caravan had arrived exactly as commanded, with the children, and with Lady Lauren as well.
“You’ll find that we’ve brought even more than you asked for,” the king assured Rey Polilla, “as noble courtesy demands.”
Rey Polilla paced about. His tail pushed aside mounds of snow, and his breath grew faster. “As a man representing the noble caste, you understand that power must command absolutely. I was promised two children, and I will have them. I couldn’t be sure the Guarantors would deliver, only that my power squeezed a promise out of the marquess. Words are subservient to power; a frightened marquess can say anything. I promise your people safety when my demands are met.”
“The deal you’ve arranged with us has been a means to guarantee your safety, so you can extract what you desire without endangering yourself.”
“I can only kill a servant once, but compelling words—diplomacy—can keep him in my service for ages. I’m your god, but I’m only one god. With words, my power multiplies, and I become Hydra.”
“And I see now what a compelling case you make,” the king said insincerely.
“You talk more than the marquess. Deliver to me what is mine!” The dragon extended a clawed hand toward the king.
Inside his trailer, Sir Casey felt the moment of his release upon him. “Iontach, help me to be the man they’ve claimed I am. Help me deliver on the promises of our pageantry. My title and all the praise I’ve received mean nothing if I can’t act like a knight. They spoke heroic words into me. Now I must be that man, or every bard’s poem and cleric’s madrigal will be as shallow as the papers they’re written on. The nursery rhymes will end. Prayers will cease. Despair will make us all dumb and mute, because every word is a rent that must be paid. So help us, Rey Polilla is here to collect. We’re not handing him our children; we’ll kill the perverted dragon-god first.”
Iontach stamped his hoof as if to concur. Sir Casey heard the hands of a friend opening the door to his trailer. He led Iontach by the reins out of the trailer.
“A unicorn?” Rey Polilla said with delight. “They have so much meat, and such a novel skull for my mantle!”
“We’re only getting started,” the king said. His noble companions opened several more trailers, with several knights leading their steeds out by the reins. “You will have plenty of horse meat tonight,” the king promised.
Rey Polilla laughed, and although he didn’t smile, Sir Casey could feel the ancient lizard’s delight. He pulled back his lips and exposed his fangs in hunger. Rey Polilla anticipated a feast.
The last of the trailers was exposed to the elements. Iron bars allowed the winter winds to toss Lady Lauren’s hair and the trim of her dress. She held the two children close for warmth and comfort. Rey Polilla took a deep breath in delight, a gasp of elation, and walked toward them. “You’ve brought me what I asked for. The woman is mine, too.”
“Of course,” said King Lloyd III.
Rey Polilla took a deep breath of the children and Lady Lauren and closed his eyes to relish their smell. He placed a clawed hand on the iron bars, and the trailer creaked and moaned under the weight he placed on it. The children cried out, and Lady Lauren stroked their hair and shushed them. Even as Rey Polilla relished her and the children, she retained her stiff courage and emoted nothing.
[https://i.imgur.com/4WFcCmM.jpg]
Seeing Rey Polilla enrapt with delight confirmed the plan’s effectiveness in Sir Casey’s mind. He felt the swell of courage he needed. He looked back to the pages, who each brought a lance to their knights. Sir Casey and the knights mounted their steeds, collected their lances from their pages, and without saying a word, charged in the direction of the dragon-god.
With trained expertise, Sir Casey lowered his lance gradually as Iontach picked up speed. The unicorn broke into a fierce gallop. Sir Casey heard the hooves of the steeds behind him, and their power gave him courage. He saw the hide of Rey Polilla drawing nearer. He chose a space between the scales of the dragon-god’s abdomen. By the time he reached Rey Polilla, the dragon-god had only just begun to turn his attention to the nobles charging at him. Sir Casey’s lance met its target first and exploded into splinters with a loud crack.
The dragon twisted its whole body and swung its arms to defend itself. In the whirlwind of action, Sir Casey felt himself thrusted off his unicorn. Perhaps Rey Polilla struck him outside of his limited field of view; a knight’s helmet only allowed so much vision. It was a blow that struck Sir Casey on his right shoulder and chest. He rolled when he hit the ground. His armor bounced and slid over the rocky surface of the earth. Sir Casey counted himself lucky to be alive.
“Get up! Get up!” Lady Lauren screamed at him. “Get up, damn you!”