While DJ took that bath, Sir Dashing rushed to Master Maeser’s mansion to inform the governor of DJ’s return. Master Maeser wanted full details on his excursions—there might even be a celebration if the heroics were bold enough. All of the adventurers were be expected to attend: DJ, Riley, Francis, and Steve.
DJ fashioned his knightly red cape and lashed his sword around his waist. Underneath, he put on fine clothing of silver silk laced with gold. It felt like a breath of fresh air after wearing rugged travel clothes for months on end. He also did his best to comb his unruly hair, but after so much time abroad, it had nearly gotten a mind of its own.
When DJ and Sir Dashing arrived at the Master Maeser’s mansion, the other adventurers were waiting for them. Riley wore an emerald green dress and her hair had been brushed. Her father stood over her shoulder—a portly man with a thick face and even thicker hands. He glowered at DJ a little, as if he thought DJ had kidnapped her himself. Francis had his best tunic on. Steve looked mostly the same, but his robes weren’t frayed and dusty from travel.
The guards welcomed them and pulled the double doors open. Inside the mansion’s great hall, a red carpet led to a throne dais where Master Maeser waited for them. All along the hall’s edges, light streamed in from stained glass windows that painted bright colors across the cream stone. Guards stood sentinel all around. As the party marched forward, Master Maeser stood from his seat.
“Travelers!” he said. “Welcome home to the Jewel of Westfall! Please, tell me of your travels, my ears are itching. Sir Dashing, come join me, you should look at your son’s face while he unravels his tales.”
Sir Dashing joined Master Maeser on the dais and gave DJ a wink. DJ’s lips twitched into a smile. He looked over his shoulder at his friends, but they all just gave him supportive nods. He cleared his throat and spun a tapestry of adventure from Vennick to Devin King. He didn’t go into excruciating detail, but gave just enough to enthrall his audience. They gasped and awed and frowned at all the right moments.
But the last part gave them pause. Once DJ got to the Temple of the Brassiere and the Harpygriff, Master Maeser’s smile faded and he drummed his fat fingers on the chair. And all around them, guards whispered to one another.
“…the Harpygriff transported us back here, and that’s how we made it home so fast.” DJ finished.
Master Maeser nodded curtly. He pinched a spec of dust off his seat, flicked it away, then smacked his lips. “No one in Uh’s history has ever beheld the Brassiere of the Goddess.” A stiff pause. “You expect me to believe that you, a boy still shy of manhood, are its sole witness?”
DJ frowned, incensed at his honor being challenged. Sir Dashing scowled at the governor’s assertion, but didn’t speak up. DJ tried to keep the heat out of his voice. “It’s the truth, Master Maeser.”
“Did any of you see it?” Master Maeser motioned to his friends. “Where were you during the boy’s so-called battle?”
The three of them stammered a little, but Francis was the first to speak. “I’m not sure. The memory is unclear… but I remember approaching the Temple’s door, there was darkness for a time, then I saw DJ with the Harpygriff.”
“That’s what I remember too,” Riley said. “But Master Maeser, DJ wouldn’t lie. That’s not who he is.”
“Sir DJ is most honorable, my lord!” Steve yipped. “I have seen it myself—”
“Enough,” Master Maeser held up a hand.
“Master,” Sir Dashing leaned in and spoke with a smooth voice. “What would my son have to gain by weaving untrue tales? He’s already been made a knight.”
“Don’t let your feelings for the boy cloud your judgment, Sir Dashing,” Master Maeser sneered. “His motive is obvious. He’s tired of living in your shadow, that one. Had to weave his own tale that put himself above you. I know a tall tale when I hear one and that”—he pointed—“is a gigantic tale indeed. Sir Dashing’s son and the Goddess’s Brassiere? Bah!” His eyes narrowed on DJ. “I have half a mind to strip you of your title for this lie.”
Guards around the room whispered again. DJ’s friends stayed still with anger, along with Sir Dashing, waiting for DJ’s response. The ire grew inside DJ and his face became hot. Calling him a liar in front of his friends and family was infuriating, but he couldn’t care less about his knightly title. That’s what drove him to his next words.
“Do it, then!” DJ barked.
The air sucked out of the great hall. Master Maeser watched DJ with a mouth half-open, on the cusp of speaking some strong words, but DJ’s response stalled him. No one spoke or so much as breathed. Even Sir Dashing was stunned to silence.
“Yeah, you heard me!” DJ hollered. “Freaking do it! I never deserved the title and you were stupid to give it to me in the first place! Knighting me because you couldn’t knight my dad twice? Who does that?”
Master Maeser’s face reddened with anger, but DJ didn’t stop.
“I don’t care about being a knight,” he said, “It doesn’t change what I’ve seen. I just feel stupid that I had to travel all the way across the territory before I learned to like myself. A title is just a title. It’s not who I am. But I’m not lying, Master Maeser. I saw the Brassiere of the Goddess. So do what you want.”
Master Maeser’s lip twitched and his fingers tightened on his arm rest. Then he gave a sharp nod. “So be it.” He turned to a guard. “See that it is written this day. Sir Dashing Junior is stripped of his knightly title and his no longer recognized as a Knight of Beregond.”
Riley, Francis, and Steve raised their voices in protest, but Master Maeser silenced them. DJ didn’t budge. He meant every word that he said, and he expected that to be the end of it.
But Sir Dashing had different plans. He stood so swiftly that his golden hair whipped. He stepped off the throne dais to face Master Maeser. His body bristled and his blue eyes became razors.
“Master Maeser,” he said, “you believe that I would raise a liar?”
The air vanished from the room again. Every guard watched unblinkingly. The governor’s countenance changed—like a child who had been caught with their hand in a cookie jar. He swallowed hard through his turkey neck and coughed a little as his face went pale. He sat up and spoke with his hands as if it would soothe Sir Dashing. “Please, Sir Dashing, it’s just that, nobody has ever seen the Brassiere of the Goddess. He’s just a boy still. It’s not reasonable that—”
“Answer my question, Maeser,” Sir Dashing said. He took a threatening step forward. “With this accusation, you have challenged both his honor and mine. Now answer me this truly. Do you believe I raised a liar?”
Master Maeser couldn’t answer. His jaw bounced up and down as if trying to form words, but nothing came out. DJ tried not to smile. Sir Dashing had never been put in a position where he had to defend DJ against a major authority, and DJ had always wondered what he would do. This was not disappointing.
“If you strip him of his title,” Sir Dashing continued, “strip me of mine as well. If you truly believe I would raise a young man that would weave such fables for false glory, then I’m surely to blame as his father. Make the choice, Maeser. Both of us, or neither of us.”
DJ’s eyes widened. The political impact of the demand wasn’t lost on him. If DJ stayed a knight, nothing would change for Master Maeser. But if Master Maeser stripped Sir Dashing of his title, there would be an uproar—not just in Beregond, but across the territory. Sir Dashing’s fame was too widely known. The decision could tank Master Maeser’s public approval and very well put his career in jeopardy. DJ never realized what an effective politician his father could be.
Master Maeser shriveled in his chair, teetering between anger and fear. He felt every pair of eyes on him, expectant and waiting. After a tense moment, he finally conceded. “Fine.” He turned to a guard. “Strike my last command. The boy and Sir Dashing will retain their titles as Knights of Beregond.” He turned back to Sir Dashing. “But there will be no celebration or feast for the travelers. Until they can prove that they truly reached the Temple of the Brassiere and returned, I cannot justify a celebration. That is the best I can do.”
DJ tried not to laugh. The best you can do. Sure.
Sir Dashing relaxed and stepped off the throne dais. “Thank you for your leniency, Master Maeser. A gentleman and a scholar, as usual. I take it our business here is concluded?”
Master Maeser nodded and pursed his lips.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
“Wonderful,” Sir Dashing said. “I wish you a good day.” He turned on his heels and marched for the exit. He cocked his head. “Come, DJ and friends. The celebratory feast will be at my home instead. We dine immediately.”
*
The gang convinced Sir Dashing to push their celebratory feast to the next day so they could rest, and the old knight reluctantly agreed. DJ went to his room to take a nap. The feeling of his feather mattress was a delicious reunion to his road-weathered bones, and he fell asleep within seconds. When he awoke from his nap, it was dark out. Through his bedroom window, stars pocked a rich black sky and the clock tower rose above the Beregond skyline.
The clock tower.
He smiled to himself, then cast Evercloak and crept through the house. Through the streets he went, unseen, dodging guards that marched with slow feet and loud yawns. He knew they wouldn’t care if he was out late, but the thought of invisibly sneaking through town was just too much fun.
DJ reached the clock tower within minutes. He found the secret key, then unlocked the door and climbed the stairs. Sure enough, Riley was at the top, feet dangling over the catwalk’s edge. In her hand, she clutched an uncorked bottle of wine. She looked out on a brilliant moon.
DJ slowed his pace to a creep, but she looked over her shoulder and smirked.
“I’m a ranger now,” she said, “you’re going to have to try harder to sneak up on me.”
DJ laughed and sat down beside her, letting his feet dangle over the edge. His Evercloak spell faded and he materialized next to her. Riley took a swig of wine and handed it to him. DJ took a long sip.
“Wow,” he said. “This is the good stuff. Where did you get it?”
“My dad wanted to celebrate my safe arrival.”
“Does that mean he’s not mad?”
Riley suppressed a laugh. “Oh, he’s pissed. I’m probably grounded for the rest of my life, but he’s happy I’m in one piece. He’ll have to get used to seeing me go, though. Once I turn sixteen, I’m heading back out there. I already miss hunting and trapping. The forests. The mountains.” She turned to DJ. “How are you?”
“I’m good.”
“Yeah? You totally deserved a huge celebration. Half of Beregond should be getting drunk in the plaza right now.”
DJ grinned and shrugged. “Probably. But I don’t mind. People will hear that we visited the Temple of the Brassiere and most of them won’t believe it, and I don’t blame them. For me, just the adventure was worth it. And the people we met… man, I wish we could have seen them on the way back. Pebble and Brooks are gonna be so mad that we didn’t stop by. We should probably write them some ravenpost and explain.”
“I’m sure they’ll give us hell at the wedding.”
Wedding. Love. The thoughts hopped from one thing to another in DJ’s head. He felt himself turn pink, and he almost hesitated to ask, but he let courage take hold. “So… you remember what we talked about way back before Blight’s Respite?”
“About being more than friends?”
“Have you thought about it?”
Riley nodded. “I have.”
DJ swallowed and braced himself. His stomach fluttered and his face turned hot.
Riley turned to him and said, “I think it’s worth a try.”
DJ’s heart soared. “Wait, really?”
“But you have to promise,” she said, pointing a finger in his face, “that we’ll always be friends. No matter what. This is a test run, but if it doesn’t feel right, we have to stay friends. Deal?”
DJ nodded vigorously. “Deal.” After another nervous swallow, he asked, “So, do we… kiss? Or…?”
Riley blew a raspberry. “No, you idiot. You have to take me on some proper dates first. I’ll kiss you whenever I’m ready. But you can hold my hand tonight if you want.”
DJ’s heart leaped again. “Okay!” He took it, and he immediately felt self-conscious about how sweaty his palm was. Riley didn’t say anything, though. She just looked to the night sky. DJ wondered if her heart thumped as hard as his.
Not even a minute passed before they heard footsteps climbing the stairs behind them. DJ and Riley exchanged worried looks. Was it the clock tower manager coming to kick them out? They had never been caught before. But when they turned to see who it was, their faces lit up. It was a seven-foot orc and a sleepy-looking friar.
Riley immediately got up and threw her arms around Francis. Steve waved at DJ, and DJ returned the gesture.
“Francis! Steve!” he said. “How did you know we were up here?”
“You mentioned a time or two that this was your little spot,” Francis smiled. “Steven and I took the chance that you two would be up here, and it appears our assumption was correct.”
“It is the Goddess that brings us together this night!” Steve yelped.
Together, the four of them sat under the western clock face with their feet dangling off. They watched the sea as a brilliant moon cast shimmering light over the water. The stars couldn’t have been brighter. A perfect summer evening.
DJ nudged Steve. “How did the conversation go with Father Tuckett? Should we be calling you Father Steve now?”
Steve shook his head with the widest of grins. “My sacred calling has been approved! I shall be ordained a Priest on the morrow! The Goddess above has smiled upon our journey and granted me this gift!”
Everyone congratulated Steve and he radiated with pride. DJ thought of how fulfilling this must be for him—a boy abandoned by his parents, wandering into a monastery and finally achieving a rank of respect after decades of failure. DJ squeezed the friar’s shoulder affectionately, and Steve shrugged bashfully.
“And how’s the book shop?” Riley asked Francis. “Are you happy to be back?”
“Thrilled,” Francis said. “I missed the books and my associates as Klepper’s Keep. Carrying that ax each day was straining my back, not to mention sleeping on the ground each night. Additionally,” Francis reached into his tunic and pulled out a small scrap of paper. “I came home to this.”
“What is it?” DJ asked.
“A letter from Gasha.”
The others gasped with delight, but Riley gasped the loudest.
“It appears that not long after we left,” Francis continued, “a pack of druids came through the Nether Regions and sold a ravenpost bird to her. They trained it to fly to Klepper’s Keep, so now she and I can keep a correspondence. I wrote her back immediately.”
Riley squealed and clutched Francis’s arm. “What does it say? Tell us everything!”
“That is between me and her,” Francis grinned. “But she sends her regards to the lot of you.” He turned his attention to DJ. “Are you well, young knight? I know our journey didn’t end as expected.”
As DJ looked upon his friends, his insides glowed. Pushing down a smile was impossible. “Yeah. Better than ever, honestly. Things are perfect.”
DJ snuck his hand into Riley’s again. Francis and Steve traded smug glances. And together, they stared across a moonlit sea and talked for a good while, recounting recent memories. They murmured and gasped and laughed until tears came out. But with time, sleep gnawed at their eyes, and they all decided to retreat to their homes. DJ gave Riley’s hand one last squeeze before he cast Evercloak and sneaked back to the upper district.
Surprisingly, the door was unlocked when he got home. He frowned, but pushed the door open tentatively. Inside, Sir Dashing was waiting at the dining room table with a bottle of wine and two glasses. The eight dragon heads cast tall shadows in the flickering candlelight—one of them looked eerily like Grythure. DJ would ask his father to remove it later. Sir Dashing watched the door with a creased eyebrow, studying, half-smiling.
“An Evercloak spell?” he said, pointing. “I believe I see your faint outline! It’s subtle! Ha! Even mages had trouble with me back in my day. You’re becoming quite good, though, it’s plain to see.”
DJ invisibly closed the door, then trudged into the dining area and pulled up a chair. He materialized as soon as he sat down. Sir Dashing uncorked the wine bottle.
“Here, have a glass,” he said. “It’s an excellent year.”
“Why are you awake right now?” DJ asked. “You’ve always told me that adequate rest is best for muscle growth and healthy skin.”
Sir Dashing poured the wine in both glasses. “I heard you sneak out and assumed you were spending time with Riley, so I chose not to interrupt you.”
DJ smirked. “Nothing gets past the great Sir Dashing.”
Sir Dashing lifted his wine glass. DJ lifted his. They clinked together, and the Dashings took a drink.
“By the way,” DJ said as he smacked his lips. “Thanks for standing up for me earlier.”
“I’ll always stand up for you, DJ,” Sir Dashing said as if it were obvious. “I meant every word that I said, and I’m very proud of you. The Brassiere of the Goddess! My, oh my…” he swished his wine goblet. “I never thought it would happen in my lifetime, let alone by my own flesh and blood.”
“Looks like I might have some of that Sir Dashing greatness in me.”
“More than enough, I would say,” Sir Dashing smiled. His tone became serious. “Listen son. I, uh, learned some things about myself in your absence.” He took a sip and cleared his throat as if the wine would wash down rising feelings. “I’ve had many grand adventures, as you’re well aware. And you know I’m not one to show an abundance of emotion.” His eyes misted and his voice faltered. “But… I wanted to tell you that among all of my adventures, I’d say my favorite of all has been… raising you. You’ve become your own man, different from me in so many ways, and I think that’s wonderful. I bless the day that you were left at my doorstep. If I could, I would do it all again. No question in my mind.”
A lump grew in DJ’s throat. He tried to laugh it out. “Wow. The great Sir Dashing, getting all mushy. You should be really embarrassed right now.”
Sir Dashing laughed to ease his trembling voice. “I missed you a great deal. This home was empty without you.”
DJ smiled. “I missed you too, dad. You didn’t have to take me, but you did.” He lifted his glass. “To family.”
Sir Dashing’s eyes shimmered, he clinked DJ’s glass, then took another swig. After a brief pause, he slapped his hand on the table. “But tell me more of your adventures! I need details! What of Pebble and Sir Percival Buttons?”
“Oh gosh, let me tell you,” DJ said. “When we first met Buttons, he had Riley captured in a net…”
They talked until the sun came up, then DJ finally went back to bed. As he nestled into the covers and took deep breaths, he wondered how his friends across Uh were doing. The memories attached to each of them felt finer than gold. As he thought of each of one, gratitude grew in him like the rising sun, and he drifted back to sleep.