by Ellen Mae
Part Nine: The Cause for Celebration
“Robert Karson? You are Robert Karson, yes?” The judge peered at him over his glasses, the room full of people who had come just to see how it turned out. Lou was somewhere in the crowd, he knew; Bob had spotted the boy when they marched him in, looking slightly more filthy than Bob thought was possible. She was nowhere in sight.
“Yes sir,” Bob replied.
“You are accused of five counts of assault, resisting arrest, being in possession of a FireDragon hatchling and impersonating one Billy Lou, over a period of six days. How do you plead?”
Bob had to applaud the authorities, even if they were going to throw him in jail. They’d nursed him to health, arrested 27 men and were investigating another couple of hundred, and had called Bob to court. All within twelve hours. If that wasn’t efficient, Bob didn’t know what was.
It seemed that the trade ring, which was the largest in the twenty-seven districts, had been avoiding authorities for over 30 years. The list of names were the leaders of each section in the districts, and they’d all been there, and all of them arrested. Thanks to Bob.
“Guilty, sir,” Bob said. He didn’t know how long he’d be locked up for. He didn’t care to know, but he’d find out soon enough.
“These are very serious offences.” The judge was a balding man with kind eyes that twinkled whenever he moved his head. “You understand this, don’t you?”
“I do, sir,” Bob told him. “What about the men that murdered my Billy? My life-companion. As I understand it, that was a more serious offence. Have they been arrested?”
“They will be, once they recover, yes. Unfortunately, no matter what I wish to do, I cannot overlook what you’ve done. There is a mob outside, quite a large one, too, who wish to see you released. Many dragons included. They’re calling you the hero of the twenty-seven districts and their dragons.”
Bob smiled sheepishly. He knew what they were calling him; he’d heard them chanting as he walked into the court room. Secretly, he hoped that their support of him would convince the judge to give him a lighter sentence. The judge seemed nice enough, anyway. “I understand, sir.”
“I sentence you to four years, three suspended, for the five counts of assault, twelve months for dragon possession, and twelve months for impersonation, to be served concurrently.” The mallet went down, and that was the end of it. Bob was taken out of the court room and the guards had to fight through an angry mob chanting for the release of the hero of the twenty-seven districts and their dragons so they could toss him in the police car.
Bob thought he saw Sally’s golden curls in the mob, holding up a sign for him to be freed, and he was fairly certain that She was on the back of an AirDragon, wailing and watching him with sad eyes.
Six months after his incarceration, however, Bob was released due to the favour of the public, which was lucky, because some idiot had thrown him in the same jail as the twenty-seven dragon traffickers that Bob had gotten arrested. He was offered his old job back, but decided to stick with his new one. He wanted to keep an eye on the Hatchling Centres, plus it paid better. When he saw Lou again, the boy had cleaned up; he didn’t smell anymore, had stopped scratching his arm and his hair had been sheared to a manageable length. He was with a large red dragon called Fieria (nee She), who blew a great plume of flame when she saw him. Bob decided to adopt the boy.
Bob’s house was exactly as he left it; plain, with the odd painting or piece of art here and there. The only difference was the absence of Billy, his life-companion, who they’d buried in the run-down park. Bob resolved to save up the money to purchase the park (even though the owner tried to give it to him), and restore it.
One morning when Bob stepped out of his house, he was met with an uproar. The street was packed with people sporting large signs with Bob’s name and face, witty sayings and everything in between. The sun was blotted out by the mass of dragons that covered every inch of the sky. At the front of the crowd, Lou and Fieria stood, the boy grinning like an idiot.
Bob panicked, worried they were about to rush at him with knives and guns, but then they started chanting. “Robert!” they cried. “A hero! (yeah!) A dragon-saver! (yeah!)” Somewhere in the crowd someone yelled out “the Head of the Department of the Care and Supervision of Dragon Hatchlings!” (Bob thought it was the creepy receptionist) There was a moment’s confusion before the crowd screamed, “yeah!”
Despite himself, Bob smiled. They were chanting for him. Him, Robert Karson. The hero. He’d never really talked to anyone before, didn’t have friends or family, and was heading nowhere fast. Now he was a hero, his name known to everyone in the twenty-seven districts, human or dragon.
And so it was, Robert Karson accidentally became the hero of the twenty-seven districts and their dragons, within a period of seven days.
About the author:
Ellen lives in a small city in Tasmania, Australia. Her hobbies include writing, eating, watching foreign movies for the nice accents, and more eating and writing. She is currently a university student and her include dreams being a published author, and speaking at least 5 different language fluently.