The Adventurer's Guide to Dragons (and Why They Keep Biting Me)

by Wade Albert White

  “What took you so long?” Penelope asked, stepping back. “They’re about to serve lunch.”

  Anne tugged at her cloak. “My uniform needed a lot of fixing.”

  “I’m pretty sure the only way to fix these things would be to burn them,” said Penelope, and she tugged at the collar of her tunic. Her uniform featured a cape instead of a cloak and looked rather more disheveled. “I’m pretty sure whoever designed these was given explicit instructions to make them as hideous and uncomfortable as possible.”

  A second fireball landed on the platform, and Jocelyn emerged from the accompanying cloud of smoke. She took one look at Penelope and frowned. “Miss Shatterblade! What exactly have you been up to? You’re all wrinkly!”

  Penelope tapped the hilt of the wooden sword hanging from her belt, standard issue for first-year students. “You two were taking so long, I figured I could kill time by training with the royal guards.” Penelope was the official fighter of their three-person adventuring group, and she loved training whenever she got the chance.

  “But you’re sweating,” said Jocelyn.

  Penelope discreetly tried to smooth a few wrinkles out of her tunic.

  “I think it makes her look rugged,” said Anne. “Who knows, there might be a handsome prince in the audience. If he’s in need of saving, she has to look the part, doesn’t she?”

  Jocelyn frowned but didn’t pursue the matter. Anne suppressed a giggle, and Penelope mouthed her a silent thank-you.

  “Where’s Hiro?” Jocelyn asked instead.

  Penelope’s demeanor changed instantly. “He’s driving everyone up the wall,” she said. “Look, I know you appointed him to be the academy’s liaison because he’s super good at organization and everything, but he’s been ordering everyone around all morning, and pretty soon someone’s going to kill him and hide the body, and no one is going to mind. Thankfully, his mom and dad just arrived and told him to knock it off.”

  “Hiro’s family is here?” asked Anne.

  “Yes,” said Jocelyn. “They were so excited when I sent them word of your nomination.”

  Anne felt a slight emptiness. Neither she nor Penelope had any living family. Anne had spent her entire life at Saint Lupin’s, and Penelope had arrived there when she was still very young, after her parents died in a quest gone tragically wrong—so wrong, in fact, that it had left a permanent black mark on their family name and had caused every academy Penelope had applied to prior to Saint Lupin’s to deny her admission solely on that basis. By contrast, Hiro had attended a highly respected preparatory school before arriving at the quest academy, and Anne knew that his parents worked for the Wizards’ Council.

  “Isn’t Nana coming?” asked Penelope.

  “I’m right here,” said a voice behind them.

  The three of them jumped and turned. Nana was sitting in the stone circle.

  “I know dragons can fly at supersonic speeds, but do you have to constantly sneak up on people like that?” asked Jocelyn, straightening her jacket.

  “I don’t have to, no, but it’s definitely one of the perks of the job,” said Nana. “Besides, there are other dragons here, and I don’t want them getting the impression I’ve gone soft on humans or anything. I do have a reputation to uphold, you know.” Despite her words, she winked at Anne as she sauntered ahead.

  “Let us continue onward,” said Jocelyn. “Fashionably late is one thing, but we don’t want to be rude. First impressions matter, especially since a new student will be joining us today.”

  “There’s a new student coming to Saint Lupin’s?” asked Anne.

  “Yes. We’ve received numerous applications, and now that the renovations are finished and we’re ready to officially open the doors, I’ve begun the selection process. As wonderful as you all are, one cannot run an academy with only three students, but I think I’ve found someone who will be a good fit for your group. He’ll be joining us at the awards ceremony and will return to Saint Lupin’s with us this evening. I’ve not met him before, but was told he would be wearing a red cloak, so do keep an eye out.”

  The three humans followed the dragon across the rope bridge that connected the fireball landing zone to one of the larger main tiers of the capital. The city consisted of hundreds of tiers interconnected by bridges, ropes, ladders, and in some cases giant tree roots. Towers leaned precariously over the edges, sprawling gardens filled every space with tall trees and bright flowers, and hundreds of airships littered the sky. In the center of it all, on the largest tier, stood a castle of glowing blue stone.

  “Behold, the Sapphire Palace,” said Jocelyn.

  It took several minutes to walk to the palace, where they were met by Rokk, a ten-foot-tall metal man whom Anne and her friends had met during their first quest. He was an Old World creation known as a robot—a person made entirely of metal who could think and act on his own—yet another thing Anne had only learned about two months ago. A third arm protruded from Rokk’s right socket, giving him a slightly hunchbacked appearance, and the word PALADIN was inscribed on his back. Rokk was the only other person Anne had met who also had yellow eyes, although his glowed as if there were a tiny fire burning behind each one.

  Anne waved. “Hi, Rokk.”

  “According to my calculations, we are currently thirteen minutes and four seconds behind schedule,” said Rokk.

  Security was heavy, and they had to stand in line as the royal guards checked everyone before entering. One of the guards located Anne’s name on the guest list while another tied one bright orange ribbon around her wrist and another around her gauntlet box.

  “It’s a matching set,” the guard explained. “You can’t remove the gauntlet from the premises without both ribbons. Also, your gauntlet is to remain in its box until the time of the awards ceremony. Under no circumstances should it be removed before that or a medallion inserted and activated.” Anne saw several other people carrying boxes like hers who were also receiving ribbons.

  The guard waved Anne through, and the rest of the party soon followed. Just beyond the security gates, there was an alcove with a large set of double doors. A plaque above the doors read:

  MINE ENTRANCE

  “Who digs a mine under a palace?” asked Penelope.

  “The mines were here first, before it became the capital of the Hierarchy,” said Jocelyn. “This whole tier is threaded with tunnels and shafts, and the walls are still embedded with gems and veins of precious metals. I hear there’s even one they call the Cave of Marvel.”

  Instead of going into the mines, Rokk escorted the group down the palace’s long central corridor. They passed other doors with plaques, including the SECRETARY OF STRAIGHT LINES AND RIGHT ANGLES, the OFFICE OF TALKING RABBITS WHO WEAR TINY WAISTCOATS, and even one labeled the UNNAMED DEPARTMENT. Eventually they arrived at a spacious dining hall packed with people and dragons. While Nana lumbered off to join a boisterous group of dragons in the corner, everyone else followed Rokk over to a table at the side of the room. Here, a small crowd had gathered around a short woman dressed entirely in black. She had tan skin and shoulder-length gray-black hair, and she was in the middle of telling a story.

  “… so I simply hung him out of the window until he confessed,” said the woman.

  Everyone laughed. Everyone, that is, except for a boy at the table with light beige skin, brown eyes, and long dark hair tied back in a ponytail, who at the moment looked thoroughly disgruntled.

  “Mother,” said the boy, “your work for the Wizards’ Council is classified. You’re not supposed to talk about it!”

  “Nonsense,” said the woman lightly. “What’s a harmless story among close friends? Besides, they all know if they share even one word of anything I’ve said, I could kill them with my pinkie finger.” She spoke with a smile, but her eyes held a glint of iron.

  After another, slightly more subdued wave of laughter, the group melted away into the larger crowd. The woman seemed not to notice.

  Anne and Penelope t
ook seats next to the boy.

  “Hi, Hiro,” said Anne.

  Hiro nodded glumly. He was the wizard of their adventuring group, but he wasn’t a big fan of actual adventures.

  The places were already set, and the table was piled high with food: thick slices of buttered bread, cut vegetables, stacks of sandwiches, a ceramic pot filled with what smelled to be onion soup, and a purple juice that tasted like grapes when Anne took a sip. There were also chocolate squares and slices of cake and a basket of fresh fruit. Penelope immediately started filling her plate.

  Jocelyn walked over and shook the woman’s hand. “Good to see you again, Tora.”

  The woman beamed. “Jocelyn, you look fabulous, as always.” Then she clapped her hands together. “And this must be the famous Anvil and Penelope. Or should I say infamous?” She winked and shook both their hands as well. “I’m Tora Darkflame, Hiro’s mother. How wonderful finally to meet you both. Our agency already has an impressive file on your adventuring group, of course.”

  Jocelyn and Mrs. Darkflame seated themselves at the table, and Rokk stood next to the wall.

  “I hear such wonderful things from Hiro about your academy,” Mrs. Darkflame said to Jocelyn. “Thank you again for taking him on such short notice and for giving him such an honored placement. It’s a great relief to Raiden and me to know he’s in capable hands.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” said Jocelyn. “And speaking of your husband, where is he?”

  Mrs. Darkflame pointed across the room. “Here he comes now.”

  The man in question was storming over to their table looking very agitated. He was tall and possessed what most people would refer to as a rather prodigious stomach, emphasized by the fact that the buttons of his bright green dinner jacket seemed to be straining to hold together across the middle. He also wore a ten-foot silver cape that dragged behind him.

  “Did you know,” Mr. Darkflame began with no preamble or introduction whatsoever, “that Jai Tigerclaw is wearing my exact same outfit, made by the exact same designer?”

  Curiously, his dinner jacket had one short sleeve that ended at the elbow, exposing the dark tan skin of his arm, and one sleeve that extended long past his hand, so that every time he waved it, which was frequent in his current state of distress, the sleeve whipped around dangerously.

  “I paid a lot of money to wear this ‘one-of-a-kind’ ensemble,” he said.

  “Don’t remind me,” said Mrs. Darkflame.

  “And it wasn’t by accident, either,” he continued. “Oh, no. Jai specifically sought out Henry, asked him what I had ordered, and then requested that he make a second one. I mean, the nerve of the man! The sheer and utter gall!” Mr. Darkflame circled the table as he spoke, gesturing emphatically and forcing Anne, Penelope, and Hiro to duck repeatedly as the sleeve tip pinged off the water glasses.

  “The general has just as much right to dress like an idiot as you do, my love,” said Mrs. Darkflame patiently.

  “But this is outrageous!” Mr. Darkflame blustered.

  “It most certainly is.”

  At that moment, another equally agitated man marched over. Anne guessed he must be General Jai Tigerclaw, due primarily to the fact that he was dressed identically to Mr. Darkflame, right down to the long green sleeve that flew around and threatened to put out someone’s eye.

  “Sir, I cannot allow your insults to go unanswered,” the general said. Then he pulled out a white glove and proceeded to slap Mr. Darkflame across the cheek with it. “I therefore challenge you!”

  “I accept!” roared Mr. Darkflame, his eyes wild with fury.

  Penelope bounced in her chair. “Oh, wow, a duel!”

  Hiro merely sighed.

  “Choice of weapon?” the general asked stiffly.

  Mr. Darkflame snatched two utensils from the table. “Salad forks at ten paces.”

  “Agreed. And whom do you choose as your second?”

  “Hiro can be his dad’s second,” said Penelope. “I’ll be yours, General.”

  “But I don’t want to duel with salad forks,” Hiro protested as Penelope yanked him out of his chair. The two men walked to the middle of the room and stood back to back. The crowd eagerly created space for them.

  Jocelyn rose from the table. “Gentlemen, please! Think of the children.”

  “Yeah,” said Penelope. “Make sure we have a good view of the fighting before you start. I don’t want to miss anything.”

  Anne was fascinated. She’d never witnessed a duel before, and as the two men counted off paces, she stood on her chair for a better view. Not wanting to hold her gauntlet box, she decided to set it on the table, but as she did so, something sharp jabbed into the back of her hand. The wooden box tumbled from her grasp and clattered to the floor, where it was immediately kicked away as people and dragons scuffled for the best position from which to watch the contest.

  Anne dropped to the floor and scrambled on her hands and knees after the box, which had disappeared within the buffeting sea of legs. After ducking and dodging through a multitude of feet, she caught a glimpse of dark wood lying underneath a chair at the next table. She scuttled over, but just as she reached the box, a pair of hands grabbed it—hands that belonged to a boy who looked to be around her own age, with short black hair, light brown skin, and blue eyes, and wearing a deep red cloak.

  Anne stood and brushed off her knees. “You must be the new student coming to Saint Lupin’s. I’m Anne, the Keeper for our adventuring group. Thanks for rescuing my box, by the way. I was afraid it was going to get damaged.”

  The boy said nothing. Instead, he turned the box over several times, inspecting it closely.

  “I’m sure it’s fine.” Anne held her hands outstretched. “May I have it back, please?”

  Instead of giving it back, though, the boy pulled it to his chest, turned, and dashed away through the crowd.

  THE TACTICAL GUIDE TO BASIC TABLE SETTING SAYS THE FOLLOWING ABOUT THE PLACEMENT OF THE SALAD FORK:

  The salad fork has long been regarded as the most lethal of the silverware. When salad is a first course, the salad fork is laid to the left of the dinner fork. When salad is served after the main course, the salad fork is placed to the right of the dinner fork. If a duel is expected at any point prior to the salad course, however, the salad fork should be placed wherever it is most accessible.

  Supplementary note: The salad fork is especially useful for stabbing people in the back of the hand to make them drop something you want to steal.

  The Quest Academy Awards

  Anne stood in shock as the boy ran off with her box.

  The box with the gauntlet.

  Her gauntlet.

  “Hey! Stop, thief!” she yelled.

  Anne plunged into the mass of bodies, elbowing her way through and ignoring all the grunts and protests this caused. She caught a glimpse of red on the other side of a knot of people, but when she reached it, she found only a pot full of bright red flowers. She turned one way and then another, no longer sure which direction the thief had gone.

  Penelope rushed over, hauling Hiro behind her.

  “What are you doing way over here?” Penelope exclaimed. “You’re missing everything! Mr. Darkflame lost his fork, so now he’s holding off the general with a soup spoon.”

  Hiro touched Anne’s arm. “Hey, is everything okay?”

  Anne shook her head. “Someone just stole my gauntlet.”

  “What? Who?” said Penelope. She unsheathed her wooden sword and scanned the crowd.

  “I think it was the new student,” said Anne. “At least, he was wearing a red cloak like Jocelyn described.”

  Penelope swished her sword back and forth several times. “Just point him out and I’ll give him a good thrashing.”

  “It’s too late,” said Anne. “I tried to catch him, but he got away.”

  “Why would anyone want to steal your gauntlet?” Penelope asked.

  “Are you kidding?” said Hiro. “Anne achieved the n
ear-impossible when she completed that Level Thirteen quest. I’ve been here for two days, and it’s clear she’s become something of a minor legend. I bet there are adventurers who would give their left hand just for a look at that gauntlet.”

  At the mention of “left hand,” Anne glanced at her wrist, tied with an orange ribbon.

  “That’s it!” she said.

  Anne bolted out of the dining hall and sprinted through the mostly empty corridor back to the main entrance.

  Penelope and Hiro caught up with Anne as she stopped in front of the security area. The guards were still at their posts.

  “What are you doing?” Penelope asked Anne.

  Anne held up her wrist with the ribbon around it. “The thief must still be here in the palace somewhere. You can’t take a gauntlet beyond the gates without both ribbons.”

  “That’s smart thinking,” said Hiro.

  Not seeing the thief or anyone suspicious, Anne was unsure where to turn next—when the three of them were nearly run over by a wheelbarrow being pushed by a man so short that the top of his head only reached as high as Anne’s shoulders. Yet for all that, he had more weapons hanging off him than all the guards put together.

  “Captain Copperhelm!” Anne exclaimed.

  The man looked up. “Oh, it’s you three,” he grumbled. Captain Copperhelm was their professor of combat and also Penelope’s supervisor.

  Inside the wheelbarrow lay an old, white-haired man wearing long robes. His name was Sassafras, and he was their professor of magick. He was known for nodding off midsentence and had a platypus magickally attached to him instead of a left arm. Sassafras was fast asleep, but the platypus was wide awake and enjoying a tray of hors d’oeuvres.

  “What’s with the wizard on wheels?” asked Penelope.

  Copperhelm shrugged. “He passed out from all the excitement. I was looking for somewhere to park him.”

  “Why is his platypus eating oyster cream puffs?” asked Hiro.

  “It keeps him quiet,” said Copperhelm.