Fanfare, banners, and rousing cheers. Among it all, DJ let out a thick sigh.
He dragged his boots across the red carpet as scores of townspeople flanked him on either side. They whistled and threw confetti. A battalion of brass players filled the sky with triumphant song. A regal red cape fluttered around DJ’s heels. He stared at the ground while he walked and tried to keep his hands out of his pockets.
Although everyone cheered, no one paid him much attention.
Before he reached the front of the crowd, he stole a glance to his left. A handsome, well-dressed man with flowing blonde hair, sapphire eyes, and a perfect smile wore a matching red cape to DJ’s. People around him patted his back and shook his hand and congratulated him. The handsome man stole a glance at DJ, winked, and gave a subtle thumbs up. DJ returned the gesture with a sheepish grin.
After a few more steps, DJ reached the end of the red carpet. Above him, seated on a lifted dais, was Master Maeser. His thin silver hair fell to his shoulders, and when he stood from the throne, his round belly jiggled under his royal purple garbs. When he steadied himself, he lifted his hands. The crowd hushed.
“Hear ye, one and all!” Master Maeser said. “Tonight, we gather in the plaza of Beregond to honor Dashing Junior, son of the legendary, heroic, enviable, and beloved hero, Sir Dashing Senior!”
A swell of cheers from the crowd. DJ sighed again.
“Ever since his retirement nearly sixteen years ago,” Master Maeser continued, “Sir Dashing Senior has provided his wisdom, strength, and service to the good people of this city. For which, we are ever grateful.”
More cheers.
“And since he has already been knighted once, we have chosen to knight his son as a way of honoring him a second time!”
A polite smattering of applause, followed by an errant cough.
“Dashing Junior,” Master Maeser said, “step forward!”
With drooping shoulders, DJ stepped up to the dais and knelt down. His messy black hair dangled past his face and his emerald eyes stayed focused on Master Maeser’s polished boots. The flat of Master Maeser’s blade dropped onto his shoulder. It would have felt like a tap to any other knight, but against DJ’s wispy fifteen-year-old body, it was almost like like a slap.
“From this day forth,” Master Maeser said, “You shall no longer be known as Dashing Junior. On behalf of your father’s heroism and continued service, you shall be known as Sir Dashing Junior! Arise!”
Half-spirited cheers, followed by whispers and snickers. DJ frowned at them as he stood up. Master Maeser slipped the sword into a scabbard and extended it.
“You know how to use one of these?” he asked, only loud enough for DJ to hear.
DJ didn’t look at him. “Uh—sort of, Master Maeser.”
“Great. It’s all yours, kid.” He shoved the sword into DJ’s hands, clapped him on the shoulder, turned him around, then pointed to his father. “Three cheers for Sir Dashing!”
The town erupted again. “Hip hip, hooray! Hip hip, hooray! Hip hip, hooray!”
Through the cheers, not a single eye was on DJ. All the residents of Beregond were focused on Sir Dashing Senior, the beautiful blonde-haired man on the front row. The townspeople lifted him on their shoulders, his knightly red cape falling onto their faces. The knight laughed along to their hips and hoorays.
Forcing a grin, DJ reached inside his cape and lashed his new sword around his waist. “Congratulations, dad,” he mumbled.
“Let the feast begin!” Master Maeser proclaimed.
An army of servants hauled tables, benches, food, and barrels into the plaza. The area became a bustling hive of celebrating townspeople finding their places at tables or dancing on the cobblestone. Minstrels filled the air with music that mingled with laughs, clinking dishes, drinking songs, and shuffling feet. The smells of roasted pork, seasoned vegetables, and grainy ale wafted through the air. They made DJ salivate.
By the throne dais, a special table was prepared for Master Maeser, Sir Dashing, and DJ. Barmaids filled up plates for the honored guests, starting with Master Maeser and Sir Dashing. Master Maeser wasted no time diving into a turkey leg. Grease dribbled from his mouth with every bite.
Sir Dashing nudged DJ with his elbow. “Congratulations!” he said brightly, leaning in. “You must be feeling pretty special about now, eh?”
No. Not even a little. “It’s nice. Thanks, dad.”
“You know, I wasn’t much younger than you when I was knighted,” Sir Dashing mused. “I think I was twelve… thirteen? Goddess, it’s been so long, I can hardly remember… ah, thank you my dear!”
A barmaid set a loaded plate in front of Sir Dashing. She batted her eyes. He winked at her. Then she blushed and sauntered away. DJ rolled his eyes. Sir Dashing was about to start on his meal when a commoner called from a nearby table.
“Sir Dashing!” the man said. “Come! Tell us one of your stories!”
Sir Dashing’s eyes lit up. He put his hand on DJ’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back! This will hardly take a moment!”
He took his plate and vaulted over the table with the grace of a dancer. DJ watched as commoners gathered around Sir Dashing to hear another tale of slaying monsters or rescuing maidens. DJ drummed his fingers on his new sword while he waited for a barmaid to serve him a plate.
As he studied the blade, he realized that along the cross guard, his name was engraved. But Sir Dashing and Junior were engraved differently, as if someone forgot to add Junior until it was too late. He scowled and put it away.
Minutes went by and Sir Dashing was still unraveling tales at the nearby table. More people had gathered to listen. Meanwhile, DJ’s stomach growled and the space before him remained empty. He tried to catch a barmaid’s attention several times, but they either ignored him or didn’t hear. He stole a glance to Master Maeser just in time to watch him bite into a particularly plump tomato. The tomato popped like a zit and red juice dribbled down his fat chin.
DJ grimaced and looked back out to the crowd. Even at his knighting ceremony, it was like any other day. Everyone was enraptured with their own groups of friends or with the tales of his father. As far as they were concerned, DJ didn’t exist. The newest Knight of Beregond wasn’t worth a glance.
When DJ felt his stomach gurgle again, he spotted a table full of food down among the commoners. He scowled and pushed out his chair. He stomped toward serving table and squeezed himself between two oblivious townspeople. He loaded an empty plate with potatoes and mutton when he heard two boys jabbering nearby.
“He’s so wimpy and small!”
“It’s amazing he’s Sir Dashing’s son.”
“Doesn’t have a drop of his father’s blood, if you ask me.”
“He better enjoy tonight—there’s no way he’d be knighted otherwise!”
Both of the boys laughed. DJ frowned deeper. The words weren’t anything new. Nothing like his father. Can barely lift a sword. Skinny, scared little DJ. The words swirled until they formed a knot in DJ’s chest. He gathered a morsel of courage and grabbed a potato to throw it, but the courage disappeared and he set it back down. With a huff, he weaved through the crowd made for the clock tower in the middle of the plaza.
The door to the clock tower was locked, but DJ found the key between a crack in the bricks. He slipped inside and climbed the stairs. There, on the top level, three giant clock faces stared out on the city. In front of each clock face, a narrow catwalk circled around the tower.
He went to the west clock—the one facing the sea. Beneath him, the city of Beregond sprawled out for miles, with stone buildings packed like pebbles inside a wall marking its vast perimeter. There were ships out at sea, sliding along the sunset-orange water like feathers on a pond. DJ watched them as he ate his dinner. His feet dangled forward and back off the catwalk’s edge.
Footsteps approached from behind. DJ didn’t flinch or look—he recognized the owner by the footfalls. The owner sat next to him with her feet dangling as well, then she blew a raspberry. “Some party. Look what I got.”
DJ turned to find two things. The first was Riley. Brown hair fell down the sides of her narrow face and freckles peppered the bridge of her nose. Her thin lips formed an impish grin. The second thing DJ noticed with the full bottle of wine she clutched in her fist.
He smiled. “Something tells me you didn’t take that with permission.”
“My best friend got knighted today,” she smirked deviously. “So you can bust me out if they throw me in the dungeon. Cheers.”
She popped the bottle open and the two of them watched the cork fall upon the crowd. It disappeared among the celebration. Riley took a long swig of the wine and passed it to DJ.
“To the greatest knight in all of Uh!” she mused, “Sir DJ of Beregond, the Underwhelming!”
“Ha ha ha,” DJ mocked as he took the wine and drank. He shook his head. “You know, I’ve got to be the only person in the history of Uh that got knighted on behalf of someone who’s already been knighted before.”
“Yeah, everyone’s obsessed with your dad,” Riley shrugged. “I saw the whole thing with the barmaids. I was about to punch them in the nose and serve you myself when I saw you leave. I knew you’d end up here, so I was kind of glad.” She smiled. “Our spot is way better than that stuffy crowd down there anyway. Everyone smells like alcohol and manure.”
It was the way she looked at him and smiled. It didn’t happen often, but when the light hit her face just right, illuminating her fair skin and chestnut eyes, it made DJ’s heart sigh. He always wondered why more boys weren’t trying for Riley’s affection. Maybe they were afraid of being put in a headlock or receiving a bloody nose. Having six older brothers doesn’t help, either.
“What?” she asked.
DJ shook out of his stupor. “Nothing. Hey, they gave me a cool sword, though.”
“Oooh, let’s see it! What the… they added the Junior after the fact. I’m sorry, Deej, that’s so stupid.”
DJ let out another heavy breath as he rubbed his red cape between his fingers. “What’s the point of being knighted if no one respects you like one?”
“Don’t take it personal. This city is full of idiots.”
“It sucks having a famous dad,” DJ continued to think out loud. “Everyone expects me to be just like him, but look at me.” He gestured to himself. “Not exactly dragon slaying material.”
“I dunno about that,” Riley smirked again. “You could lull a dragon to sleep with your boring personality, then sneak up and go for the kill!” She jabbed his chest with her finger.
DJ tried not to smile and pushed away her finger. “You’re the worst. Come on, you know what I mean.”
“Maybe fighting monsters isn’t your thing,” Riley leaned back. “But there’s got to be something knightly you could do. Your dad has basically just sat on city council meetings for sixteen years.”
“He’s also Sir Dashing,” DJ twinkled his fingers as he said it. “His adventures are still talked about. I swear he’s saved every village in Uh at least once. What could I even do?”
“Beats me,” Riley shrugged. “But listen, if it takes you out of this city, you have to take me with you. I’m not going to learn to be a ranger by baking bread with my father every day. If I’m going to learn to hunt and track, I need to get out of Beregond.”
DJ smiled. “Riley, if I were to go on any kind of quest, you’d be the first person I’d bring. Besides, your face is scary enough to ward off anything that might hurt us.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Her nose scrunched as she suppressed a laugh, then she punched DJ’s shoulder. As both of their giggles settled, Riley draped her arm around his shoulders leaned her head against him.
“I’m sorry tonight sucks, Deej,” she said softly. “But for what it’s worth, you’re a knight to me.”
DJ tried to smile. “Thanks, Ri.”
*
The next morning, DJ drifted down to the kitchen. His bare feet clapped along the polished marble floor, surrounded by walls of chestnut wood. Statues and paintings hung everywhere, along with trinkets and gifts his father had received from his wonder years. Sir Dashing purchased this mansion in Beregond’s upper district twenty years ago with the hoard he got from slaying two dragons simultaneously. It seemed on brand for him, so DJ never questioned it.
The kitchen featured stone countertops and two large ice boxes. There were also shelves upon shelves of perishable foods. From a shelf, DJ took a bag of oat clusters and found a jug of goat’s milk in an ice box. He took both to the dining room, where he sat at the end of a long table and poured both contents into a bowl. The oat cluster crunched pleasantly in his mouth. Above him, eight dragon heads were mounted on the wall, snarling inanimate breaths.
A knock came to the door. DJ frowned. He left his bowl of oats and milk and crossed the floor. When he opened the door, at least a dozen beautiful women were crammed shoulder-to-shoulder, giggling like excited schoolgirls. They all craned their necks to get a peek inside the house.
DJ’s eyebrows furrowed. “Can I help you?”
The woman at the front hardly looked at him. “Is this Sir Dashing’s house? We heard he lives here! Are you his boy servant? Could you get him for us?”
DJ slammed the door, locked it, and went back to his breakfast.
Minutes later, Sir Dashing came sauntering down the stairs, looking pleased as punch and well rested. He stretched his long, strong arms and shook his head, letting his golden locks fall to his shoulders. His wide chest peeked out through two popped buttons on his nightshirt, revealing a manicured tuft of chest hair.
“Oh, what a night!” he said. He caught DJ’s eyes. “Ho there, son!”
DJ waved lazily.
Sir Dashing pulled a seat next to DJ and grabbed his son’s shoulder. “Where did you go last night? By the time I returned to our table, you were gone!”
“Riley and I hung out instead.”
“I know she’s your friend, but it was your knighting ceremony! It’s customary to sit at the honorary table! The barmaids serve you and the minstrels sing songs for you… it’s special!”
“Dad,” DJ gave him a look. “Let’s be honest, it was your knighting ceremony. Your second one. No one in this city cares whether or not I exist.” He paused. “What did you do to first get knighted, anyway?”
Sir Dashing pushed his fingers through his perfect hair. “Goddess, what did I do? I must have been twelve, thirteen? There was a dragon plaguing a village outside of the Aeldar Forest. That one.” He pointed to one of the heads mounted above. “Then there was the troll blocking Broken Lovers Pass—stopped commerce for weeks. You don’t want to mount those, though. Unsightly. I don’t remember which came first.”
“What knightly things could I do?” DJ asked.
Sir Dashing fell quiet. He scratched the grain in the dining table, then said, “DJ, you’re already knighted. You were given your cape and sword last night.”
“But I haven’t earned it, dad. People still tell jokes behind my back. How could I actually earn my title?”
Sir Dashing folded his arms and shook his head. “I’m not quite sure, son. To be terribly frank, being knighted involves a great deal of heroics, danger… blood and steel!” He shook his fist theatrically. “You’re just… not built for that, as it is. But who knows? Maybe if you start pumping iron with your old man, we could build that little body of yours!”
DJ deflated. “You’re sure there’s nothing?”
Sir Dashing got up from the table. “Perhaps a service quest of some sort? But even then, traveling across Uh is a dangerous thing. Who’s to say that you won’t encounter a giant or dragon or troll? You’d be crushed!” He let the moment hang, then snapped his fingers. “Say, why don’t you visit the Stewards at the monastery? Stewards of the Goddess have a long history of assisting knights on heroic quests. Perhaps they’d have some insight for you.”
DJ flexed his lower lip and nodded. “Alright. Thanks dad.”
“Hey,” Sir Dashing winked and pointed at DJ. “You’re a knight to me! And I’m one of the best. A hall-of-famer.”
“You’re also my dad, so you’re biased.”
“Regardless! I’m going to go do my thousand push-ups for the day. Let me know what the Stewards say, kiddo!”
DJ got dressed and left the mansion, making his way for the monastery. The city of Beregond felt crisp and chill this early in the spring—the last of the snow had only melted weeks ago. He walked through the plaza where everyone celebrated last night. As he went, no one gave him any congratulations or hellos. DJ did catch the attention of some girls that frowned disgustedly as they noticed him. His cheeks turn scarlet and he turned away.
The monastery was a modest plot of land marked by a stone fence that ran its perimeter. A single gate opened to a courtyard that included a fountain and a well-tended garden. Stewards of the Goddess, all dressed in identical brown robes cinched at the waist, worked around said garden. When they noticed their visitor, they politely smiled and waved. DJ returned the gesture.
At least the Stewards are always nice, he thought.
Looking around, DJ caught the eye of the nearest Steward and approached him. “Excuse me, priest?”
“Oh, I am not a priest!” the Steward replied rather loudly. “Although the Goddess smiles brightly upon me, I have not yet earned the title of priest! I am but a friar! Friar Steve is my name!”
As DJ got closer, he got a better look at Steve and tried not to stare. The man was shorter than average, with no chin, a lazy eye, and an aggressive bald spot. He carried a basket of vegetables and walked toward the nearby chapel.
“Uh—nice to meet you, Steve,” DJ said. “I don’t know if you heard, but my knighting ceremony was yesterday.”
“Congratulations, young knight!” Steve hollered. “We Stewards do not engage in such revelry to keep us focused on our worship! But I must commend you for your heroics!”
Sheesh, does this guy yell everything he says? DJ wondered. “Thanks, but that’s kind of the thing. I’m a little short on heroics. Do you have a leader I could talk to, or…?”
“Father Tuckett!” Steve got so excited that he nearly dropped his basket. “I will take you to him! Follow me, young knight!”
DJ thanked him and trailed close behind. He noticed that as he followed Steve, other Stewards tended to give Steve strange looks… as if they were trying to avoid him but be gentle about it. DJ didn’t blame them. Steve already felt like a lot, and DJ had only known him for a minute.
Inside the chapel, a Steward played an organ, filling the hall with reverent music. There were pews arranged in neat rows facing the front. Multiple priests, priestesses, and friars sat in those pews, heads bowed in prayer. At the front of the chapel, a podium stood in front of a statue depicting a triangle pointed upward, and a radiant sun shining behind it.
Steve took DJ to the front pew, where a man with a long beard and gray hair sat with his hands pressed together. His breathing was deep and restful. A blue sash hung around his neck and gave him an air of authority. He remained calm and still, deep in prayer.
Steve gestured to him and his mouth blasted. “Father Tuckett! Young knight here to see you!”
Everyone gasped and jolted. Even the organ player fumbled with a chord. Father Tuckett clutched his chest and tried to breathe as he suppressed his ire. DJ got the impression that Friar Steve made this a common thing.
“Thank you, Friar Steve,” Father Tuckett said. “You are… welcome to go.” He swallowed. “Hello, young knight. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Sir Dashing Junior. Most people call me DJ. Or ignore me completely.”
Father Tuckett’s eyes brightened. “Ah, the son of Sir Dashing! How lovely to make your acquaintance! Shall we walk? Tell me how the Stewards of the Goddess may serve you today.”
By the time the two of them left the chapel, Steve was nowhere to be found. DJ turned to Father Tuckett and asked, “What’s the deal with Friar Steve? Does he yell all the time?”
“He can’t help himself,” Father Tuckett replied delicately. “From what he remembers, he fell on his head many times as a child, which gave him his rather loud condition. That all happened before he came wandering into our grounds. His parents left him behind when they departed the city. Never came back for him, either. Tragic, really. We took him in and taught him the ways of the Steward, and he adopted them quickly. He dreams of becoming a priest, our dear Steven, but he keeps failing the examinations. Goddess give him patience.” He grinned gently. “Forgive me, I’m rambling. What’s on your mind, young knight?”
“So, I just got knighted yesterday.”
“I heard there was a celebration. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. But I didn’t really do anything to earn it. They just knighted me because they couldn’t knight my dad twice.”
“Your father is quite the specimen.”
DJ sighed. “I know.”
“He’s strong, tall, handsome—”
“I know.”
“—charming, brave, reliable—”
“I know.”
“—resourceful, witty, a voracious lover—”
“I know! But I need something to actually become worthy of my title. Until I do, no one is going to take me seriously. But I’m not built to fight monsters or rescue maidens, so I need something different.” He paused. “Wait, how do you know that my dad is a voracious lo—”
“Sir DJ, there was a time not long ago that Stewards of the Goddess accompanied knights on sacred quests.” Father Tuckett walked with his hands behind his back. “Have you considered such a journey?”
“Kind of, but my father advised me against it. Said I’d still run the risk of getting into fights with trolls or whatever.”
“Perhaps, but if you’re accompanied by a party, that assuages the danger.” Father Tuckett stopped and faced him. “By yourself, yes, I would not advise it. You are small and frail and don’t cross me as terribly brave.” (DJ glowered.) “But with a small party of experienced adventurers, it could be a tremendous opportunity.”
DJ nodded. A party. A group of adventurers. That sounded good. Sir Dashing had to be connected with loads of people that could take DJ on a quest.
“So,” DJ asked, “just wander around territory with a bunch of adventurers for a while? That’s it?”
“Not exactly. You’ll need a mission—a divine purpose.” Father Tuckett’s eye glimmered. “Come.”
DJ followed Father Tuckett into the dining hall where most of the Stewards ate. At a long wooden table, Stewards dined on bowls of porridge with the occasional tart or apple. At one end of the table, DJ noticed Steve eating by himself, but he didn’t appear lonely. As a matter of fact, Steve seemed to be attempting a speed record on porridge consumption. All the other Stewards kept their distance to avoid the messy collateral.
“Here,” Father Tuckett pointed. “Look.”
On one of the walls, a giant map of Uh stretched a dozen feet long. The map of the bean-shaped territory was detailed with every forest, mountain range, lake, city, and region. DJ saw the city of Beregond on the far west side—the Jewel of Westfall. In the middle of the territory was the Cradle, with its forests and lakes. East of that was Fairdell, an expanse of marshes and hills that took up the eastern third of the territory. Along the south part of the territory was the Nether Regions, rumored to be uninhabitable to non-orcs. And all along the northern edge of Uh, the Spine stretched with its lengths of tall, harrowing mountains.
Along the map, six stars were dotted in various locations.
“These stars represent Temples of the Goddess,” Father Tuckett said. “And each Temple contains a sacred Artifact of the Goddess—a piece of her garb that she shed after she created the territory eons ago. There are six Artifacts in total: the Robes, the Sandals, the Bracers, the Helm, the Amulet… and the Brassiere.”
“So I should go visit one of the Temples?” DJ said, eyes brightening. He pointed to two of the stars in Westfall. “What about those? Thy’re pretty close.”
Father Tuckett nodded slowly. “You could, but if you truly want to be respected as a knight, I’d recommend that one.” He pointed to the star in the eastern edge of the Spine, thousands of miles from Beregond. “That is the Temple of the Amulet. If you venture for the Amulet of Uh, to handle it and see it for yourself, that should take you through every region of the territory. That is a quest worthy of knighthood.”
A smile spread across DJ’s face. The pieces were coming together. A quest for the Amulet, visiting every region in Uh—it had all the ingredients of a knightly quest. But his smile faded.
“Wait,” he said. “Isn’t every Temple guarded by something, though? I’ve heard stories about would-be knights getting killed by creatures guarding Temples of the Goddess.”
“Most Temples are guarded, yes. Like the Temple of the Brassiere.” Father Tuckett pointed to the star near the middle of the Spine. “Don’t ever venture to the Temple of the Brassiere! No man entering the Temple of the Brassiere has ever returned! Not even your father would dare!” He gathered himself and pointed to the previous star. “The Temple of the Amulet is perfect for your needs. That Temple isn’t guarded—you can simply walk in. There used to be a creature that asked a riddle, but a knight might have killed it or it’s been on holiday for a couple hundred years.
“Anyway, I would recommend assembling a party of adventurers—three to five, including yourself—and make your way to the Temple of the Amulet. Visit every region of the territory on your way: Westfall, the Cradle, the Nether Regions, Fairdell, and the Spine. When you return, the people of Beregond will see you for the knight you are. I’m sure of it.”
The grin returned to DJ’s face. Everything was lining up. With a party of adventurers to protect him, DJ could go there and back in six to eight months. Besides, experienced adventurers would know the safest ways around the territory, so they could avoid anything big and mean that wanted to treat them like a snack.
DJ couldn’t hide his excitement. “Thanks, Father Tuckett. This is great news.”
“The pleasure is mine, young knight. Say hello to your father for me.”
DJ shook his hand before he sped out of the dining hall. He left the monastery and kept running down the cobblestone street, mind buzzing. He didn’t stop until he reached a bakery in the lower district of Beregond.
He threw open the door with a crash, and everyone inside stared. DJ ignored them and advanced to the front counter. His face was red and sweaty from running, but it couldn’t mask his delight. He slapped both hands on the counter and his eyes flashed.
“I’m going on a quest for the Amulet of the Goddess,” DJ said. “And you are coming with me.”
Behind the counter, Riley’s hair was up in a bun and her apron was coated with flour. When DJ said the words, a smile spread across her face. She said, “Can’t wait.”