by Paul Cude
"What would I have done with my favourite set of armour? I'm not losing that, and besides... you don't really mind me coming to see you in this form. Do you?"
"Hmmm..." grumbled the master mantra maker, shooing the rest of his staff towards the back of the emporium to get on with their assigned duties.
"You seem charged full of wonder this morning, youngster."
"And you seem as grumpy as ever. Burnt your egg sacks on the gas again?"
"No I haven't, thank you very much. And I told you that in the strictest of confidence."
"I know, I know. I'm only pulling your leg."
"Which one?" muttered Gee Tee, looking down curiously.
"Never mind," replied George, "never mind."
"So what brings you here today... councillor?"
Unable to contain everything bottled up inside him any longer, he just blurted it out.
"They've voted me to be the next king. I'm the new ruling monarch. How fantastic is that?"
"They've done what?"
"I'm the new king," announced George, grinning from ear to ear.
"Why would they vote a dragon as inexperienced as you to be our next leader, I wonder?"
Smile wiped instantly away, George's look immediately mirrored that of the old shopkeeper, only slightly less prehistoric.
"I'm fully capable of stepping up and doing the job."
"I never said you weren't!"
"So what... you're jealous then, is that it?"
Newly crowned or not, he should have known better than to spout those words to the very proud being before him, and regretted them the instant they left his mouth.
"You should leave NOW... Your Majesty," the shopkeeper uttered, laden with sarcasm.
"I... I... I... I didn't... I didn't mean it!"
"OUT! And don't come back!"
"I need to return some of the magical items that you've loaned me. If I don't do it tomorrow, then I might not be able to return them for quite some time."
"You know precisely where you can stick them... RIGHT UP YOUR ROYAL..."
Never having seen the master mantra maker so angry, sensing he should leave, determined to come back and make amends at the earliest available opportunity, George, the dragon domain's brand spanking new king, turned on his heels and left without another word. That was over one hundred years ago, or more accurately, one hundred and seven years, four months, two weeks and four days.
If Tank hadn't been looking at the floor... he would have seen the king's perfectly formed, fake Adam's apple jump upwards as he swallowed, overcome by this unexpected turn of events. For the strapping great rugby playing dragon, it had got to the point where he now wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole, feeling like such a poignant and personal moment that he really shouldn't be here. Worse still, perhaps the king and Gee Tee had actually forgotten he was still present. Abruptly he cringed with embarrassment as his legs, sore from rugby training last night, twinged just a little.
"What would you have had me do? Oh well, thank you very much for the nice offer councillors, but I don't really think I want to be king... maybe next time...! Is that it? Is that what you'd have wanted...? IS IT?"
Listening to the words, Tank thought the sentiment and meaning behind them would cut him like a knife, crush him like a trash compactor. But that was nothing compared with the excruciating silence that followed. All he wanted to do was rip his ears off and cast a shredding mantra on them. Lasting over a minute, but feeling more like years to the young dragon, the standoff gave him time to think about everything... Peter, Richie, laminium ball and of course... RUGBY!
Finally, the silence was broken as the king stroked his top lip, unable to look the old shopkeeper directly in the eye.
"I don't really know what to say. What could possibly make up for all the hurt I've caused you?"
There was a pause, during which Tank, still unable to see either of them, thought the king might actually turn around and leave, but it was really just the monarch gathering his thoughts, searching inside for the truth and how he felt about everything that had happened since he'd been chosen to become leader of the dragon world.
Intelligence, investigations and dubious magical practices subsequently revealed that it had all started around the turn of the twentieth century. Shady alliances, powerful promises and whispers of a new dawn forged a secret dragon sect over the coming years. A decade after its inception, the reigning dragon king unexpectedly died. With peace having prevailed for so long, there was no reason to suspect foul play and so he was, without an autopsy, returned to the earth, via the very private Royal Bereavement Grotto. During the days that followed, councillors argued and bickered, squabbled and shouted, two sides equally matched, unable to find a way ahead, lost in stalemate. After weeks of wrangling, a compromise was found, using an archaic rule of law, long since forgotten. Without his knowledge, George was elected king, both forces confident of bending him to their will. With little choice but to accept, and only able to trust Fredric, he became king and over the next two decades, dismantled the sect piece by piece, Fredric and the Crimson Guards instrumental in doing so. Although successful, it did prove to be too little, too late. During the summer of 1914, Archduke Franz Ferdinand (a dragon), heir to the Austrian-Hungarian throne, was murdered by a member of the black hand, a Serbian nationalist secret society, but in reality, the alias by which the dragon sect was known on the surface. This one key event led to the start of World War One, and one of the biggest tragedies the planet has ever seen.
"I can't say I expected to be chosen. Looking back now, I suppose it was obvious. I was the best outcome to both parties, with them both thinking they would be able to mould me, and I suppose indirectly do their bidding. They were of course wrong... I am, after all, my own dragon... always have been, always will be. But to be chosen was such a surprise to me. And once I agreed, not that there was ever really a choice, it was just a whirlwind, one that I became caught up in, one that refused to let me go, and one I suppose I did my best to stay caught up in for a very long time, much to the detriment of everything else around me. I know better now, of course. I know that what I had then was much more valuable than I realised at the time. I also know that for about the only time in my life, I'd found a true measure of happiness. Being a knight, being on the council and having friends that I could count on, no matter what... I fail to see, even now, what could be better than that."
Looking up at the old shopkeeper, the king was met with a rather stoic, prehistoric face, his words seemingly having had no impact whatsoever. Feeling a little like he'd taken the top off a badly shaken bottle of fizzy drink, and that it was all likely to come out now, one way or the other... he ploughed on.
"Even once I realised... and it took me a long time... how was I supposed to make amends? I didn't think I could, even with everything in the kingdom at my disposal. You'd already sorted out the trouble with Rosebloom without any help from me."
The frown on Gee Tee's face shifted for just a split second, before returning with interest, but the king knew that he'd surprised his old friend.
"Did you really think I didn't know? To this day, the dragons of the King's Guard try and change their shift patterns, they barter, deal and cajole, all to be on duty and in the squad that is tasked with coming down here when Rosebloom issues another one of his searches. You, my friend, are something of a... legend. How Rosebloom doesn't know after all this time is quite beyond me. Is there anything you wish to tell me?"
To say this was something of a turnaround was an understatement. Studying his friend, the king was well aware that the master mantra maker could now not look him in the eye.
"You do realise casting any sort of mantra on another dragon without their knowledge, in particular a councillor, during peacetime, is a capital offence? The punishment, if proved, would be severe."
"If it could be proved, the punishment would probably be worth it," whispered Gee Tee under his breath, the king choosing to igno
re him.
"So, you'd sorted out your own problem; what else could I do? Nothing, really. Like you, I'm almost certainly too proud for my own good at times... something that in this case has definitely let me down, and may have cost me one of my dearest friends, although I hope not. But I have changed, and with experience I now know that I would have done things very differently, but then I suppose we all would have. I can only really say that I am sorry, and for what it's worth... I mean it with every atom in my body. Not just for treating you badly, but for being too proud and for taking too long to try and atone for my error. Knowing you as well as I do, I find it unlikely that you'll accept my apology, but I hope in some small way you can realise that it isn't just you that's lost out in all of this, and that I have suffered, maybe not alongside you, but as well as you. While this wasn't the reason I came here today, I have to say it feels something of a relief to get this off my chest, and wish now more than ever that I'd done it a long time ago."
Poking his square spectacles as far up his nose as they would go, the old shopkeeper stared intently at the king.
"You always were very eloquent with your words, but back then you tended to back them up with your actions."
"Allow me a little time and I'll see what I can do," shot back the king.
Nodding slightly, the master mantra maker's reply was abruptly interrupted by the squeaky sound of the shop's door handle. Both had exactly the same thought, at exactly the same time. The time had come to fight, the king thought, assuming he'd been followed. With Tank still below the shop counter, still coming to terms with everything that was going on, Gee Tee stood poised, the deadliest of mantras ready to be unleashed. With quiet footsteps getting ever closer, it was down to him to act.
"STOP!" shouted Tank, bouncing up onto two feet, as the king and his dragon employer both shot him their worst scowls.
"NO... you don't understand," he pleaded. "It's only..."
Reaching the end of the nearest mighty bookcase, the footsteps walked around the corner, revealing... PETER! It was hard to know who was more surprised. The sight that greeted Peter was of the king and Gee Tee, almost ready for battle, with Tank standing in front of them, waving his hands about frantically. He had no idea what to make of any of it. Before he knew it, the king had swept him up in a great big bear hug, his expression now one of utter excitement.
"Peter, my boy, it's great to see you."
"You too," stuttered Peter. "What's going on?"
"Well," ventured Gee Tee, his wings crossed, still wearing a slight frown, "you were about half a second away from being burnt to a crisp."
"WHAT!!!" he exclaimed, stepping back out of the king's clutches.
"He's exaggerating," announced the king with a smile, giving Peter a playful slap on the shoulder.
Out of the corner of his eye, Peter caught the expression on Tank's face, and the slight shake of the head that went with it. Only then did he realise the seriousness of the situation.
"Is there something going on that I need to know?"
"It's my fault," stated the king. "I'm on edge, a little too much, truth be told. I've sneaked over here to ask for Gee Tee's help, but now that you're here, perhaps you can all help. I don't know who else to trust, and with the exception of Flash, I've no one else to turn to. This, I believe, is of the utmost importance."
Peter and Tank stood aghast but ready to help, while the old shopkeeper just rolled his eyes, like the king's request was almost an everyday occurrence.
With the front door to the shop now securely bolted, the four of them sat together in the workshop, sipping hot charcoal with melted marshmallows swirling dangerously on the surface.
"Ahhhh... just being here with the three of you feels so... liberating," exhaled the king.
"Your Maj..." started Tank, before getting the royal 'look' from the king. Swiftly he changed tack.
"George," he began again, sheepishly. "We're desperate to help you... as our king, and I'm pretty sure I speak for all of us," he said, giving the old shopkeeper his sternest look, something that was pretty much ignored. "We'd do anything to help you, even... lay down our lives if need be. But I can't imagine what could be so important, and how we can be of service, so perhaps you could fill us in, as I for one can't wait to find out."
With the master mantra maker studying the cloak held precariously in place by the golden clasp across his chest, the king looked up from the mesmerising circular motion of his drink.
"It's been going on for some time now. So long, I can't even remember when it started. But I can't believe for one minute that it's a coincidence. And if I'm to assume that, then the only logical conclusion is that there's foul play of some sort involved, at the highest level. And that's where I need your help."
During the next half hour the king explained about the crucial council votes he'd been losing, how the losses were peculiar because the votes he'd been promised always seemed to indicate that things would go his way... most of the time they did, but on the major issues it was always the same. Moving forward by explaining how he felt that his primary opposition, Rosebloom and his cohorts were always particularly smug on these votes, and never especially bothered when the much smaller, less important ones didn't go their way. He expanded in detail on exactly how the council chamber itself was shielded with some of the oldest, most powerful and incorruptible mantras ever to have been cast, and just how the abacus had been forged by dragon masters of old, and was impossible to either fool, distort or damage. Only the council members and the dragons who worked in and around the chamber were allowed into the actual room itself, with those same mantras also scanning every being for anything potentially dangerous and/or magical, every time they went in or out. And then the matter of the ring! How, on every single occasion that one of these important votes had gone what he considered... the wrong way, the ring had, well... played up. How it overwhelmed him, almost to the point of passing out. How it almost seemed like a warning of some sort, about what... who knows? But a warning nevertheless. The three of them listened intently... well, you would, wouldn't you? After all, it was the king. And he was talking about potential traitors, not just to him, but to the whole dragon kingdom. This was SERIOUS!!!
Attentive changed to sombre once the king had finished, with the room becoming shrouded in silence, even the opinionated shopkeeper keeping his counsel.
A weight clearly lifted, the monarch looked like a small child in his human form, enveloped in one of the oversized chairs. Not seeming to mind though, none of the others felt brave enough to point it out.
It was Tank who broke the silence which had almost, but not quite, become uncomfortable.
"From what you've said, the whole process sounds impossible to comprehend. With all the safeguards in place... I just don't see how anything could affect what's going on."
A tiny trickle of flame shot out of Gee Tee's nose as the old shopkeeper let out a snort of derision.
"Could it just be coincidence, or could the councillors whose votes were promised to you have changed their minds or misled you? Or maybe they are in fact in league with Rosebloom and his mates?" continued Tank.
Rubbing his long, straggly, grey hair against the back of the chair, about halfway down, the king thought about the question before answering.
"I don't believe either is a possibility. If the councillors are already on Rosebloom's side, then we're doomed... quite literally. They could easily replace me as king on a trumped up charge and nothing would be seen or heard from me again... that's how simple it would be. These are honest, hardworking, fiercely loyal dragons who, time and again, have put their lives on the line for the good of the dragon domain. If they had turned against me, I assure you it would all be over by now. Rosebloom doesn't have the power he needs, but he has just the right amount, at just the right time... every time. How is that possible?"
Just as Peter was feeling that he needed to chip in, but didn't quite know what to say, Gee Tee cleared his throat in an attention
seeking kind of way that he'd mastered thoroughly over the centuries.
"I know a little about the abacus, the council chamber, and the mantras that protect and shield it. While you claim that it's impossible to sabotage it, I wholeheartedly disagree that it can't be done."
In that instant, the king knew he'd made the right decision in coming to the Mantra Emporium. No other dragon in the kingdom would have stated such a view, and almost certainly if his friend had, he was only seconds away from presenting his ideas on how it was being done.
"Hang on a minute," interposed Tank, standing up, "are you telling me there's a mantra powerful enough to penetrate those shields surrounding the chamber? I've always been taught that there are none more impenetrable. In fact I'm pretty sure I've heard you say the same thing, on more than one occasion."
"Yes, yes... don't get your tail in a twist. Use your BRAIN," commanded the old dragon, pointing to the side of his head with the tip of one wing. "Think like a scheming, devious, desperate dragon. If the shields are impassable, how do you influence the abacus?"
It hit Peter like a hockey ball... HARD and FAST.
"From the inside!" he all but shouted.
"Exactly," roared Gee Tee in approval.
"IMPOSSIBLE," maintained the king. "Nothing can go in or out of that chamber without it being scanned; the mantras would pick it up straight away."
"Then answer me this... child."
Peter cringed at the old shopkeeper referring to the current ruler of everything in that way. Tank did likewise. The king paid it no attention.
"How is it that one corner of that room is reserved for... well, how shall we put it... very dark and dangerous, historically significant artefacts?"
"You can't think for one minute that..." observed the king, standing up.
Gee Tee looked across the workshop, looking more than a little self-satisfied.
"Okay... so how?" asked the king, secretly happy with the way things were progressing, although trying his best not to show it, knowing that he'd get the answers quicker if the shopkeeper thought for them all and presided over events.