All Fantasy That Glitters

by Marcus 'Matt' Green

A person wishing for adventure falls asleep after playing this adventure game, only to awake in a world vastly different from his own. There are challenges and dangers, with great opportunites if he can adapt and prevail.

All Fantasy That Glitters…

Mark Green

1. Wishing for an escape

"Damn, this job SUCKS!" It was an ordinary April weekend, following a forgettable week at Gerald Harper's work. His job (not "career", as he thought to himself, but "job") was to keep track of the spending and earnings for a soft drink bottling company located in the industrial part of Nashville, and then send this information to a third-party tax specialist. While this was technically a managerial position and paid well, it was about as fun and rewarding as a prostate exam. After doing nothing but look at boring numbers in a boring workplace all week, Gerald wanted nothing more than to log onto World of Warcraft.

As he entered his apartment on the east side of town, he finally felt separated from the choking urban environment which surrounded him. He changed out of his work clothes and got on his computer. "Glad to be out of there. Maybe I'll get lucky and the building will burn down. I can get unemployment in that case."

Gerald felt relieved to finally be playing a game, or having any experience, with color and where he could attempt goals involving a deep storyline and action. Gerald barely knew how to farm gold, and didn't really get high in levels, but it didn't matter. He was content to fight other players and pursue hard-to-get treasures even if he sold or discarded them afterwards.

Gerald became more engrossed in the music and side-quests than usual. He was currently searching for "Armani Vase" of all things, while fighting bears and wolves in Northrend. Most of the towns he ran into were decent, except the elves. Those damn elves were the most arrogant bunch of pricks he'd ran into, though he couldn't figure out why. They didn't really seem to be special, other than having good archers. He sometimes wished he could just reach into the game and set their entire town on fire.

As the night grew later, Gerald had completely forgotten about his "real" life and was engrossed in his game. One Armani Vase and a bunch of other miscellaneous events later, he realized how late it had become. "2 AM already? I guess I am getting pretty tired.", he thought to himself. He went to bed, his mind seeing fleeting images from his game as he fell asleep. He really knew that it was just a game, but for the moment it was all that was on his mind. He fully expected to wake up, in his own world, and then he would try to relax more before Monday. His expectations wouldn't be met.

2. Where am I?

Gerald awoke outside amid trees and birds, nowhere near the outer-city area his apartment building was located. He also found himself back in his jeans and Miller Lite t-shirt. Strange, since he didn't remember changing back. His first thought was wondering why he was looking up at the sky instead of his ceiling. This lasted for only a second, then he quickly sat up in a mix of confusion and fear. Had he been kidnapped, or left for dead? The next thing he saw also confused him, but he believed it could also be an answer for why he was here.

The sight that Gerald could discern some distance away seemed to be a familiar one, a set of buildings and people in period dress. "The Renaissance Fair? They've always run this in July.", Gerald thought. He also didn't recognize the area, and he had read this year's Fair would be in a park in town. What he saw as he approached was a market typically seen in movies, with people haggling over goods, trying to sell their livestock or playing music for tips. A few glanced toward him oddly, as if wondering why he'd shown up without a costume.

"Ooh, okay." Gerald said as he thought he had it figured out. "My roommate Lenny knows I like these things, he must've dragged me out here and left me here as a joke!" Gerald was an enthusiast, but this could ruin his experience even if Lenny meant well. He didn't have his costume and couldn't really participate. He wouldn't get a second chance if the fair had come sooner than he thought. He'd have to get home somehow, get his costume and get back before it ended.

Gerald's cell phone got no reception, so he was forced to ask around. He stepped up to one booth, whose owner greeted him, "Yes, I have, um, hides and dried meat, only four copper coins…" The booth owner was looking over Gerald's unfamiliar clothing, and could tell he had something on his mind.

"Uh yes, I need to find a phone. I need to call my roommate since he left me out here, and I need to go get my costume.", he said in a hushed tone since he felt a bit awkward.

"A phone? I don't know where you could find one." The shopkeeper assumed that this man was referring to a foreign type of item he was unfamiliar with.

"Is there an information tent somewhere? They might have a phone I can use."

"What do you mean by an 'information tent'?" The shopkeeper was genuinely confused by what he was asking, but Gerald thought he was annoyingly sticking to character. Customers were building behind Gerald, gawking at Gerald's unfamiliar clothing and strange words.

Trying to be polite, but getting agitated, Gerald tried asking again in simpler terms. "An 'information tent' (you stupid jerk) can tell me where everything is. You know, the first aid kit, maps, and probably one of those 'phones' you've never heard of."

The onlookers behind Gerald continued to wonder who this odd person was and where he came from. The shopkeeper decided to direct Gerald to the royal guards keeping watch over the market, for security needs such as this. "Yes, that tent! Just go to the last booth on the other side there", he said as he pointed behind Gerald, "and turn right. You'll see our soldiers there."

"Thankseth." Gerald turned and went through the curious crowd toward the guard's tent. "Coulda just said, 'over there', but had to be a whole conversation! Think I'll complain…, nah, ain't worth it.", Gerald muttered under his breath. "Gotta tell that jackass Lenny to come get me, wherever this is…" Gerald looked around, but could see no signs of modernity. It seemed like they were awfully far out in the country. Why the hell would Lenny take him all this way-"

Gerald spotted the soldiers mentioned, and was impressed by their costumes (or what he thought to be costumes). Many knights or other warriors at the Fair would half-ass it, with tennis shoes or other out-of-place items. This man, on the other hand, wore leather moccasins and real chain-mail (Gerald was jealous).

The royal guards saw him approaching, and could see why a crowd had apparently gathered near him. One of the guards, Domavoy, approached. "What do you want of me?" He then remarked, "Those are strange clothes."

"Yeah, this clothing repels werewolves.", he said while tugging on his jeans. The guard arched an eyebrow. "Please tell me, are you in charge here? I'm just trying to find a phone since my cell's not working."

"Yes, the King has us here to keep peace in the market and watch for attackers." The other guard stepped up as well. "A phone?"

"Yes, I need to call home so my roommate can come get me. Hopefully get back before the jousting tournament."

"Why would he say 'phone' if he obviously means 'carrier pigeon'?", Domavoy thought. It must be a word from this stranger's homeland. "We don't have a jousting tournament since the knights are on alert."

"No jousting tournament? That's lame. Maybe this year's Fair would be missable anyway.", Gerald thought in rationalizing his situation.

"Well, we do have 'phones' here, but as you know, a 'phone' can only work when it returns to its home roost. Where are you from?"

"Uh, look I'm from Nashville, the area code's 615. I'm getting tired of this BS. I just need to call my roommate so I can get out of here!" He turned and saw that much of the earlier crowd were now watching his strange conversation with the guards.

The second guard whispered something to Domavoy. Gerald couldn't discern what it was. "Oh yes, we have a 'phone' back here." They led an upset Gerald around to a carriage with a horse at the front. "Pssh, how quaint.", Gerald thought. "First I'm gonna kick's Lenny's butt, then I'm gonna complain about this…"

The guards grabbed Gerald and threw him into the wagon, locking the door. They got up front and took Gerald to who-knows-where.

"Let me out of here, you $%&*!" Gerald banged on the door with his feet, but then slowly stopped and began wondering about everything that had happened. No one seemed to know what he was talking about, and now these guards had arrested him for some reason, in a horse-drawn carriage. Gerald was wondering if he was really in Nashville anymore.

The guards' conversation up front was one of concern and confusion. "He doesn't seem like a crazy person. Or a beggar. He's far too healthy-looking to be either.", the second guard remarked.

"Yes, his clothing must be from a foreign land. But this 'phone' he wanted… maybe he's been stricken with a madness spell. If his clothing does what he says, he must be a warrior where he's from. A wizard he fought may have stricken him."

"There may also be 'phones' where he's from."

"In any case, we'd better keep an eye on him until we know his situation. I've never seen anyone like him. Once we arrive at the castle to report, we'll need to call a magician to see what he can find out."

3. A Suitable Explanation

What seemed like hours finally came to an end when the carriage stopped and Domavoy opened the door. "Traveller, you can come with me. We'll have someone look at you."

Gerald was at least relieved to be out, and that it seemed the confusion was mutual. "Hey, Sir Knight, where am I? What castle is this?" At this point, Gerald was content to comply so that he would be released from his apparent arrest and find some answers.

"I am flattered, but I am no knight. Just a regular soldier in King Muire's army. This is Neptune Castle, primary residence and the royal capital." Gerald nodded a bit, and looked over the castle. It was quite amazing to see in person, not through a video game screen, but a solid ring of stone with arrow and ballista towers, with the main keep in the center. Domavoy continued, "you don't seem to be a threat, but we will only require an examination. You seemed to be 'out of it' in the market." The guard directed Gerald into the castle gate.

An "examination"? By a doctor of this time? That wasn't exactly appealing. "What do you mean by 'examination'?"

"One of the court magicians will see if you have any problems. You seem to be uninjured, so a doctor won't be necessary."

"That's a relief.", Gerald thought to himself. After going through the gate Gerald observed a blacksmith, stables and other military buildings. He was distracted by such an awesome sight for a fan such as himself.

Domavoy had to snap him out of it. "This way, sir traveler. The magician will see you in a lower room in the keep. It's sometimes used as a dungeon but you're not being held as a criminal."

The guard locked him into a room and told Gerald the magician would be by momentarily. "Heh, great. I'm a mental patient in the middle damn ages. I'm sure to get top-notch care.", Gerald mused. He wondered what the magician would do for his diagnosis. If it killed him, would he just wake up in his own apartment?

After a short while Gerald heard a knock on the bars. "I'm the court magician Mufo. I was informed of the circumstances surrounding your appearance. What land do you come from?"

The city Nashville, in the sta-, kingdom of Tennessee. I'm not sure how I wound up here."

The magician seemed puzzled. "Tennessee? I've never heard of it, and I'm older than many of the trees. The guard told me some of the words you used, and he's never heard of a 'phone' or seen the unique armor you're wearing."

"Uhm, a 'phone' is… this thing…" He took out his cell phone. "You speak into it, and someone else with a phone hears you instantly, no matter where they are."

"….? That's fascinating! Even the dwarves may not be able to make such a thing." The magician took it and examined it. "I don't feel any magic left inside."

"Yeah, it won't work. It needs special 'magic' towers which my homeland has, but there are none here."

The magician returned Gerald's phone. "That answers that question. But… have you fought any wizards recently?"

"Can't say that I have."

"The guard was wondering if you'd been stricken with a confusion spell in the event you'd stole this armor. You seem to check out, but a scan won't hurt."

Heh, "armor". Gerald hoped the "scan" wouldn't involve leaches or other unmentionable medieval motifs. The magician ran his hand through the air along the length of Gerald's body, and Gerald felt a wave, almost like a shock but not painful. "I'm not picking up anything. Sorry about the confusion, I'll report my findings and you should be released."

"Can't you release me?", Gerald thought. He then began to wonder where he'd go after being released. He saw the magician go up the stairs, but heard someone running toward them from the upper level. This person and the magician exchanged conversation, apparently about something important by the tone of their voices. The other person came down, and Gerald could see it was Domavoy. "The magician says you check out. If what you say is true, the King would like to ask a favor."

This seemed like a good chance to gain favor with those in charge. He hoped such a chance would help him find more answers, and get back home. "I can see him." The guard opened the door and they went upstairs, toward a conference room. Gerald continued, "What does he want me to do?"

"He'll tell you more, but we've had an ongoing problem with werewolves kidnapping our townspeople and stealing trade goods."

"Werewha?"

4. Arrow of Deception

The guard opened the door, and Gerald saw the king and his retainers discussing the problems of the day. The king observed his guest, and rose to meet him (quite polite for a King, Gerald thought), "Hello sir traveler. I am King Muire, and I have heard your story, you sound like a warrior from a faraway land. What's your name?"

"Gerald Harper. I'm from Tennessee. Hey, about the werewolves-"

"I have heard. You say you have magic armor that can repel them. That will be crucial since ordinary armor can't withstand their claws."

"Uhhm…"

"They lair in a cave in a mountain pass west-by-northwest. It will be tricky, for I don't know how many there are. Some peasants are currently missing, so there're also hostages. Many of my men are filled with fear when they hear their howls, but if you, Gerald of Tennessee, are brave enough, you might be able to prevail."

Gerald didn't really want to pass this opportunity up, but was having second thoughts. "Maybe more men should come with me. You see, this armor can only repel blue werewolves."

"Blue? Those are the most fierce, more dangerous than the more common brown or black werewolves."

"Yes, if about 20 men came with me-"

"Ha!", the King guffawed. "You're in luck. 'Tis only blue werewolves which live in the mountain pass. You won't need an entire platoon, since that would be a waste. I've lost many attacks before."

Gerald wondered what he'd gotten himself into. "Ok, that's all I need. Just give me the night to come up with a strategy."

"Yes, it is a tricky situation." The King didn't really know what he could do. "Anything you can do is appreciated."

That night Gerald paced in his room, wondering what he could possibly do. "Oh yeah, these pants repel werewolves, you idiot! What am I going to do?" He had basically made a promise to help out, but if he couldn't, he wondered what the alternatives were. Run away? To where? He had no idea where he would end up, or what that would mean for him if he were stuck here. This was evidently a fantasy world, like World of Warcraft, though he was no magician. When he finally decided to lay down, he finally got an idea.

The next morning the King asked him if he had a strategy. "Your highness, I have one, but I'll need some supplies. Do you have 'black powder'?"

"Yes, the dwarves use it in their firearms. We have both here, though a hand cannon would take a long while to reload."

"I don't need a hand cannon, just the black powder. Also, some arrows without their heads; a wine bottle; several smaller, thin bottles; string; wax and tar."

"We should be able to get all of those items. Are you going to fashion a weapon?"

"Something like it. You can also send in more men after me, wearing this kind of armor and bringing more barrels of black powder."

"I'm afraid we don't know how to make your armor."

"It's not too hard, I can show you how to make something nearly as good, which should be enough for my plan. They won't need any other armor or weapons either."

The King pondered over his plan, and wondered what Gerald planned to do. "How do you make this armor?"

"You just need blue cloth, tightly woven. Werewolves hate it." Gerald had to get more men in later somehow. "It has an effect on their aura, lowering aggression. Even though they can't be properly enchanted here, it should be enough." Gerald really groaned to himself over that last part. If his plan worked, it would seem that way anyway. The King and the others glanced at each other, but voiced no disbelief. "While you're doing that, I'll take those supplies and work on them."

Gerald had an idea how to make fireworks, but he'd have to test it out. He filled one of the smaller bottles with black powder, put in some string and sealed it with wax. He then used the tar to attach it to the arrowhead. Placing it in the wine bottle outside the castle wall, he touched the end of a torch to the string. A moment later, the string burnt through the wax, and sent the arrow flying skyward. Luckily it didn't simply explode, since there was an outlet for the gas pressure. Some inside the castle saw the rocket flying overhead. Gerald began making the rest of the rockets when some asked what they had just seen.

"It's a tool to confuse the werewolves."

"Are you going to destroy them?"

"Not with this, but this will help."

He had finished making the rest of his rockets when he saw the other men coming towards him while wearing their jean-like clothing. These royal soldiers introduced themselves as Toren and Lamil. "I hope you're right about this. These 'jeans' don't feel that special.", Lamil complained.

"They'll do the trick. I'll go in first to enchant the werewolves so they won't attack. You keep a watch, and I'll signal you when you need to come in with more barrels of the black powder. The more, the better. Also, a rope soaked in lamp oil." Gerald added as an afterthought, "If one of you is experienced as a bard, you should get your mandolin before we go." Toren used to be a bard before joining the army, and fetched his instrument.

Toren and Lamil figured this warrior from Nashville knew what he was doing. They hoped he was right, since he had even advised them to leave all their armor and weapons behind.

After a day and a half of riding, they came to a mountain range which ran along the sparse grass. "There, that's the path.", Toren said. "The werewolves' cave shouldn't be too far in, but you probably won't have trouble finding it. We'll stay out around here and wait for your signal."

"Alright. It might not be too long. Probably less than an hour. When you go in, I'll tell them you're other members of a band of traveling alchemists putting on shows. Play along."

The other men nodded while Gerald took his satchel of rockets and went into the path. It wasn't a comforting sight, skeletons with broken armor appeared, and crows nested along the cracks on the walls.

Gerald then saw a sight he thought he'd never see in person. A blue-haired werewolf bounded towards him and seemed like it wasn't there to greet him. "Raauur, another human warrior? You people will never learn!"

Just before the werewolf would let Gerald test whether dying here would let him return home, Gerald managed to say, "No, I'm no warrior! You are mistaken. I have no weapons on me."

The werewolf paused to examine him. "So you don't. But what would you want here? And what's in your bag?"

"I am a performer in a traveling troupe putting on shows with magic. I know that werewolves dwell here, and that you may especially like the kind of magic I have brought."

"So where are the others?", the werewolf asked skeptically.

"They are lagging behind, but I will show your clan what I have."

"If it's a trick or you're wasting our time, you'll join the other humans you've just walked past."

"Nice guy.", Gerald thought. The werewolf took Gerald up the cave entrance, and announced that an entertainer had arrived with some tricks to showcase. Others came out, some older or younger than the one who had greeted him. Gerald said his magic needed some flat land, so they led Gerald to an open patch of ground a bit further up the trail.

"This is a 'rocket', a magic arrow which will fly into the sun with a dragon's breath.", Gerald boasted. He nervously readied one of the rockets while observing that the werewolves were standing between him and the path entrance. He couldn't even run if this thing didn't work. He lit the rocket, stood by and-

PHWISSHH! Just like the fireworks on the Fourth. The arrow flew faster than any bow could send it, and from their perspective it had went straight into the sun.

"Awoo! Look at that!", one of the werewolves said. Gerald sent a few more rockets into the sky, each one getting a similar reaction to the first.

Gerald advised them, "They look magnificent now, but you should see them when it gets darker. Also, the other members of my troupe should be nearing."

Gerald went back towards the path entrance to signal the others. As he went, the original werewolf who greeted him followed him. "Don't try anything funny or try to run out of here. snarl After all, you've promised another performance."

Meanwhile the other men waiting for Gerald's sign discussed their prospects. Toren worried, "I hope he gets back soon. He's been in there for awhile."

"He did say an hour."

"Yeah… he's lucky if they haven't eaten him yet. That armor of his had better work." Toren glumly plucked his mandolin. "I wonder what he wanted with this?" They heard Gerald's rockets, and hoped he could win the werewolves over. While they didn't hear him scream, they didn't know if he'd be able to.

It felt like forever, dragging on especially since they knew Gerald was using a type of armor they'd never heard of. They doubted if the mission would succeed at all. Eventually, they saw Gerald come back to signal them, but there was something else unbelievable, surreal. Right behind Gerald stood one of the werewolves. The men waiting for him had only known werewolves as violent killers, and to see one of them simply standing there seemed to confirm what Gerald had said about his 'jeans'.

Lamil couldn't believe it. "Look, it's Gerald! He's got one of them with him." They hesitantly made their way toward Gerald, trying to appear confident and hiding their fear.

"Do you think his alchemy charmed them?"

"Werewolves? Possibly, but I doubt it could so well. The Tennessee Kingdom must have experience fighting werewolves to craft such armor."

"He said this armor wasn't as good, so let's stick to him." They lugged the carts with the black powder as well as the mandolin up into the path and toward the cave.

Gerald sealed his deception. "One of our members is a bard as well. 'Tis not long before nightfall, so he will sing some of his songs while wait."

"Oh, brother.", Toren thought. "It's been awhile since I last really played. I always hoped situations like this would turn on my skill with a sword." He was rusty, but managed to play well enough.

Gerald turned to one of the older werewolves, who seemed to be the chief. "Not long until you can see the full splendor of our magic. Do you happen to have ale?"

The chief let out a slight whelp that some dogs might. "Weee, I can see why your group's main specialty is alchemy." He looked at the others. "But some pups will dance to anything these days. Yes, we have something like it, fermented sap from the trees for special occasions. We call it Mountain Wine. Mixed with crow's blood, it has a unique taste."

"I'll bet." Gerald missed his Miller Lite about now. "Maybe tonight's a special occasion. After all, how often does such a show as ours come through?"

"Ha, never! Humans are far too scared." He continued. "You're a strange species. Arf, your knights cower and run, but you entertainers of all people come right in. We can get some of our wine, is that what you're requesting for payment?"

At this time Gerald thought of a good way to get the hostages out. "I hadn't considered payment, but if you would be so gracious chief, we do take and sell slaves."

"Slaves?"

"Yes, I've heard that werewolves oftenly capture peasants. If you have some, we can take them back to our homeland."

The elder werewolf pondered. "We do have five peasants we've captured from near here, we usually hold them for ransom, or eat them. However, it seems a fair trade." He turned toward one werewolf standing near the cave entrance. "Break out the Mountain Wine! This is a time to have fun."

Darkness fell, and the tipsy werewolves howled at the rockets flying off with their orange tails. One of the werewolves even tried playing the mandolin though he only succeeded in making the human player look talented.

Gerald ran out of rockets, but the festivities continued. Toren was even gaining back his old skill. Gerald decided this was the time to finish his plan. "Hey, um, chief?"

"Yesh, hehe, woof?"

"We will be leaving in the morning, but we can put on another show tomorrow before we go. We'll just need to get more 'magic arrows'."

"Sounds fine."

"The only thing is, these barrels hold the most expensive and heavy part. While we're here for the night, we'll need to store them in your cave. Just in case other performers or wizards try to steal it, you should surround the barrels with your best fighters."

"No problem! Sounds like a deal to me."

"One of us will go ahead to take the slaves to our land tonight though. I'll need to speak with them about tomorrow. Can you have some of your men move them into there?"

"Ssure thing. Hey guys, you heard him!"

Gerald took the shackled peasants to Lamil, out of earshot of the werewolves. "Here's the cargo, get them away from here. This is going to be a mess."

"Alright. Good luck."

Lamil rode off while Toren played a bit longer, and Gerald took the pot with the lampoil-soaked rope, and waited. The werewolves fell asleep, and Gerald put one end of the rope into one of the barrels. He then laid the rope down towards the path entrance. Looking around one last time, he lit the end of the rope and he and Toren ran towards the horses and rode off.

BOOOOM! Followed by rumbling and the sound of rushing air. It was a sure thing that the werewolves wouldn't be a bother again. Gerald and Toren finally caught up to Lamil. Gerald viewed the mission they had just accomplished as a sure sign he would gain favor with the king, and if he did have to stay here, it wouldn't be so bad. As far as Toren and Lamil were concerned, this mysterious warrior from Tennessee had charmed the blue werewolves after strolling in with impunity, exterminated them and rescued the hostages. Maybe once they returned, Gerald could help solve other problems that seemed unsolvable.

5. No Rest for the Brave

It was another day and a half until they arrived back at Neptune Castle. The peasants were returned to their homes along the way, and now Gerald wanted nothing more than to bathe and rest. After he had done so, and went to bed while wondering what he could request of the king after this feat, Toren and Lamil saw King Muire in his study early the next morning and told him what had happened.

After the King took in their near-unbelievable story, he replied, "That is something. He was able to befriend them, and then make them let their guard down." King Muire added reflectively, "I'm glad he happened to stumble into our realm, rather than… that of King Necroti."

This name was a fearful one. The enemy king who wore black armor ruled his own realm east of King Muire's, across the Midas River. His own capital, the city of Ravenwood, was located two days' journey from Midas Bridge, the only real bridge across Midas River, while Neptune Castle was one day from the bridge. (There was a shallows to the south, where King Necroti's men could cross the river and enter the Elvin town of Tamolen, but the Elves were friendly to King Muire, and had a thick forest around them, so a military invasion through them would be a disaster.) King Necroti hadn't launched a major military invasion recently, though this didn't guarantee anything. King Muire kept an eye on his main army, and his "other" forms of attack.

"King Necroti would have good use for such a man. Able to enchant savage beasts as he does.", Toren said.

King Muire dismissed Toren and Lamil, and called Domavoy into his study from standing guard outside. "Domavoy, I'm sure you've heard about Gerald's actions against the werewolves."

"Mm, yes.", Domavoy said a bit nervously. "I heard from outside your door."

"Good. You're well aware of his abilities and cunning. I need you to go fetch him."

"Me?"

"Yes, Lamil and Toren need to get their rest in as part of the garrison, and while Gerald might still be tired, I prefer to see him now. I want to tell him what I need of him." The king then asked, "By the way, the second guard who was with you at the marketplace when you met Gerald, have you seen him since?"

"No sire. I didn't really learn his name."

"I see. They probably reassigned him without telling me. Well, just tell Gerald I'd like to see him."

"Uhh, yes sire." Domavoy went toward Gerald's room unhappily, muttering to himself, "Nice, so he's both a warrior and a wizard! Stupid king could have just had Toren go get him." Domavoy remembered that when he first met Gerald, he had only succeeded in angering him, threw him into a wagon like a criminal, and then put him in a dungeon cell. And now, he would be waking him up. He cautiously walked toward the door and knocked while a chill ran through his body.

"Mmm, who is it?"

"The King requests an audience. He says it's important that he speak with you."

Gerald thought he recognized the voice, but wished he could sleep. The downside of accomplishing the previous mission so well was that now it seemed the King wouldn't leave him alone. "I hope its important. The sun's not even up. What time is it?" Gerald swung his door open and came out, not appearing to be in a good mood.

"It's early dawn, around five."

Gerald walked out briskly, ahead of Domavoy. "Where does the King want to see me?"

"In the royal study, upstairs on your left, at the end of the hall." Gerald proceeded while Domavoy hung behind. "Good, he probably doesn't know who I am. Just until he goes in, then I'll get outta here-"

"Don't they have you guarding the market any more?"

The ale Domavoy had earlier nearly exited him onto his clothing. "The, eh, market's closed now, for the time being. I'm usually garrison here, having served my term as a captain in the king's infantry."

Gerald nodded and went in, while Domavoy stayed outside. After asking another guard to take his post for a "few minutes", he ran away quite quickly for a man his age.

"King Muire, you say you have need for me again?", Gerald asked.

"Indeed. This may be more difficult than your fight with the werewolves, but for you it shouldn't be impossible."

Gerald sighed to himself. "Don't tell me it's a dragon…"

King Muire continued, "We've been locked in an endless war with my enemy, the dark King Necroti, whose realm is across the Midas river east of here. Our armies have stared at each other across Midas Bridge for ages. Neither dares attack lest they be caught on the narrow bridge and decimated."

"Makes sense. So you want me to break the stalemate?"

"Not directly, but as long as my army needs to stay on the bridgehead, we can't react swiftly enough to the dragon that King Necroti has in his employ."

Gerald said exasperatedly, "I knew it."

"Yes, King Necroti is underhanded. The main bridge is impassable, but you and some others, if you require, can sneak into his territory and find the cave his dragon lives in. I don't know if your armor will be any good, but I'm sure you'll find a way." King Muire paused, and asked, "What is your title in the Tennessee Kingdom? What do you do?"

"I'm an account…torix. I take the kill totals from our knights, look after the injured, and report to our king our kills and losses. Much like a knight captain."

"An Accountorix. That's exactly what a knight captain is." King Muire was impressed. "I only hope your own king is safe while you are here. You may need some specialized equipment."

"What would I need? And how do we find the dragon once we cross the river?"

"I understand that you used black powder when you killed the werewolves. I don't think the dragon will be as easily destroyed. However, the dwarves might be able to help you again. As for where it lives, Mufo's been working on that. He's used his magic to combine a dragon's scale with a compass. It should point to the dragon, in theory." King Muire paused. "…Hopefully. You can leave whenever you like. Who do you want to accompany you?"

"Lamil and Toren were good last time. The guy who brought me here…"

"Domavoy?"

"Yes. He said he used to be an infantry captain. It might be good to have him along. I'll probably leave around noon."

"You should take one of the royal physicians along for yourself, and also so he may learn something. He was treating our wounded after some of King Necroti's earlier attacks. Get some rest, and when you return I'll have a special person for you to meet."

6. Got a Dragon to Kill

Gerald and his team left the castle for the dwarves' mountain camp southwest of Neptune Castle, with a wagon and money for supplies. Domavoy was a bit nervous what his role would be, but orders were orders. The physician began asking Gerald for advice. "I've heard you are something of a wizard. You may be able to help remove a curse placed on myself and the other royal physicians."

"What kind of curse?"

"King Necroti must have his own wizards, cursing our medicine so that it doesn't work, and casting spells on our men in battle so that they die even with the best medical care available."

Gerald was a bit afraid to ask. "What kind of 'medical care' do you give the wounded?"

"We promptly apply leaches to draw out the excess blood to balance the 'humors'. This is especially important on the neck and face, which turn red when a person has been wounded. Also, hot tar is needed to seal wounds. Alas, this medicine has lost its effect."

"It has? I have to wonder why.", Gerald replied with sarcasm.

"Yes. Even soldiers with minor cuts may not survive. So strong is King Necroti's magic." The physician looked troubled. "I was hoping you could accompany our army, and counter his magic."

Gerald thought on his feet. "The tar and leaches have been cursed too strongly. You must only sew the cuts, or apply pressure with clean cloth to the cuts. I can only bless you so that on your return, this way will work best." The physician seemed resigned to this being the only method available.

The dwarf camp came into view some hours later, around six that evening. The rocky outcropping extended down into the ground, where Gerald saw these bearded short men mining as they always seemed to do. They didn't mine gold so much, as they sought the crucial sulphur for black powder as well as jewels. The sound of mining and the smell of smelters and dust filled the air. The men left their horses and went down to speak with their representative.

The dwarf chief greeted them, "King Muire's men! Nice to see you again. I've heard rumor of how well our black powder worked recently."

Gerald replied, "Yes, I was the one to use it as such. Now, we need to kill a dragon."

"Our powder is strong, but I doubt the dragon will be susceptible to your magic. Your armor is only good for werewolves?"

"Yes, unfortunately." Gerald had an idea, but it would require sodium. It was hard to extract, but not impossible. "Do you mine salt here?"

"Ha, yes. There's not much we don't mine."

"Good. I need a good amount of sodium." The dwarf chief didn't know what this was. Gerald clarified, "To get it, you need to heat the salt for a long time at a very high temperature to separate the two elements which make salt. One element comes out as a poison gas; but the sodium, the other element, should stay." The dwarf chief listened inquisitively. "The sodium is a gray metal."

The dwarf chief hadn't heard of this method before. He was unaware that something as basic as salt was more than one element. "You practice alchemy?"

"Yes. Also, keep the sodium away from water. They will explode into fire if they touch."

"I'll put my hottest smelter to work heating the salt. We'll check to see when this gray metal remains. I'll also tell them to be careful of the toxic gas." He looked at the sky, sighed, and continued. "If it'll take awhile to get the sodium, you may as well stay. In the morning I'll tell you how much we've got."

Gerald first bought ten clay jars and had them each filled close to the top with black powder. He then had ten small glass bottles filled with water, sealed with wax, and put the bottles on top of the black powder. The bottles were the thinnest the dwarves had, Gerald hoped they'd be thin enough.

That night the dwarves served them some of the best stew Gerald had eaten. The dwarves also sharpened their weapons and even gave them some free armor. The armor looked better than anything Gerald had seen at Neptune Castle earlier, though if Gerald's idea went according to plan the weapons and armor would only be needed to lure the dragon into his trap.

They slept on straw mats, up on the grass. It was the early morning hours when Gerald awoke to the gray sky. He had arrived here confused and wanting to go home. He had become "somebody" here, however. It might not be so bad to stay here indefinitely. He had wondered if he was in a dream, but this was too long and clear to be a dream. He was unsure if he really heard talking from down in the dwarf village, or if he were dreaming.

"…is THIS all you could get? King Muire's men need to kill a dragon!"

"I'm sorry boss. We've never done this before…"

"We're dwarves, we have a reputation. This is barely more than a handful. I'll tell him." The dwarf chief walked up the ramp to where the men were. He saw that Gerald was awake. "I didn't really get it before, but how much sodium do you need?"

Gerald sat up and rubbed his face. "For each of the jars, we don't need too much. About the size of your thumb."

The dwarf chief felt relieved. "Yes, we have enough."

Gerald added, "I'll need you to attach the sodium to the underside of the jar lids. Cone-shaped, but smooth-pointed."

The dwarf chief finished this, and handed the lids back to Gerald. Gerald paid the dwarf chief and thanked him for his work. The dwarf chief was eager to see how this "sodium" would be used. It might be a new type of material they could sell.

Gerald adjusted the level of black powder in each jar so that the sodium on the lids rested on the water bottle, with the lids slightly above where they normally rested. He packed the powder tight so the bottle wouldn't just be pressed into the powder. He kept the lids in a separate bag while covering the jars with cloth and string, and the group headed to the Elvin town of Tamolen, to cross the shallows and find the dragon.

The group arrived to the tree line of the elves' forest and meandered through a narrow forest path. It was a challenge to keep the wagon level and keep it moving. Toren eventually had to dismount and push from behind. Gerald observed and asked, "Why don't they just cut more of these trees down so we can pass easier?"

Toren replied, "The elves consider the forest sacred. Spirits are said to live in the trees. They even build their homes on them, rather than clear part of it."

"How do they usually trade?"

"Barges, but that's not feasible at the moment, especially since we have this cargo."

The men took turns pushing the wagon over the uneven ground. It was draining work. Gerald hoped they could get through the forest before it got dark, it seemed high noon now.

Gerald had helped push three or four times, it was hard to remember, when he heard talking and the sounds of craft working ahead of him. He realized this must be the town. While the trees were still here, the forest floor was at least more even. Up in the trees Gerald saw platforms nailed into the sides of trees, with rope bridges connecting them. There were also doorways in the bases of the trees and ladders to the platforms. He saw these tall, thin people with pointed ears practicing archery or crafting wood products. It was such a sight that Gerald forgot how elves had always been in the games.

One elf approached the team, apparently annoyed. "Are you humans content to sneak up on us from behind?"

Gerald replied, "Greetings, we're King Muire's men. We had to cut through to get into King Necroti's land and kill his dragon."

A few passersby chuckled at this boast and continued on. The elf continued, "You humans always do boast. How do you plan on doing that?"

Gerald was still a bit naïve. "We have help from the dwarves-"

"Hehe!" The elf laughed. "Dwarves eat elves. You really trust them, when they can barely lace their boots right?"

It was getting a bit awkward for Toren and Lamil to have Gerald see one of King Muire's allies mock another this way. Gerald thought, "the dwarves were perfectly cool. Better than this ass." He then asked, "And who are you? How would you know that?"

"Watch your tone. My father's the Elf Chief."

Toren tried to intervene to cut it short, "we just need to pass over for our task. We need to buy more provisions as well."

"You can pass", the elf said mockingly, "though there is a toll. You probably trampled some of our sacred forest on your clumsy way through."

"Are you serious?", Gerald thought indignantly. They'd just told this person that they were sent to kill King Necroti's dragon, and there was a toll? "How much is the toll?"

"Ten silver coins. You can also buy more provisions from that tree." He pointed out the tree. The team bought what they needed (at a fairly high price), paid the toll, and finally continued. They could feel several pairs of eyes on them, though they couldn't see them, as they left. They exited the palisade gate and crossed the shallows, which were about a foot of water over soggy mud. The four besides the physician soon had to shove the wagon while the horses pulled with the physician leading them. The elves didn't see a need to help out. Domavoy knew that many of the elves, if not all, were younger than him. Instead, Gerald and the others could hear laughter as they went away from the town.

The shallows were only one hundred-and-fifty feet, though it took long enough. Gerald got angrier as they neared the other side. "Tell me again why we need those jerks on our side?"

Lamil replied wearily, "They are pretty good archers. They supply men, for a fee, to King Muire's army." The men huffed along. "Their saving grace, pant, is that they can… shoot a flea off a dog's ear, at a great distance."

Gerald grudgingly rationalized this as a need to keep the elves around. But he remembered what he heard about the dwarves, and asked, "The dwarves make hand cannons, right?"

"Yes, that is one of their inventions. Not quite as accurate at a distance target. Combined with the elves, it's a good military body."

"Don't they make larger versions of a hand cannon?"

"Yes, I suppose that's possible. What do you have in mind?"

They finally lugged the cart onto terra firma on the other side. They went a bit further, then collapsed to rest. Tamolen was still visible, but out of earshot. "We don't really need the elves, if we can make a cannon about five feet long, mounted on wheels."

"That would be nice. Accuracy would still be an issue, though. Until then-"

"You won't need to worry about accuracy. Instead of a single projectile, you could pack a brass tube with many smaller projectiles. That would spray them in every direction. Have Mufo or another court magician enchant the projectiles with fire, or whatever, and it's a cloud of death. We wouldn't need those stiff-ass elves if we had that." Gerald was too tired to explain fully how to make this, but that was the idea.

"Do you make things like that in Tennessee?"

"Yeah, hand-cannons with projectiles like that. We call them 'shotguns'. You don't need to aim but you can hit anything." Gerald had his eyes closed while leaning on the wagon. The wind through the grass tempted him to sleep for a bit, but he couldn't right here. The others thought about this weapon he mentioned, and hoped it could finally break the stalemate with King Necroti, if Gerald could teach them how to make it. "By the way, why doesn't the enemy king have guards on the shallows?"

Domavoy explained, "You remember that forest path we went through?"

"No, I completely forgot."

"It would take ages to get any sizable force through there. That, and King Necroti knows that King Muire must keep his army at the bridge to counter his own army."

Gerald nodded. "We need some rest before we do anything. But if we spend the night in enemy land… which I guess we will be, we should set up a watch."

"Before it gets dark, we can try finding where the dragon lives."

"How?"

"The compass that Mufo gave us before we left. It should point to the dragon as if it were north."

Toren was a bit concerned. "I hope it doesn't spot us from the air while we're looking for it. If we had one of those large 'cannons' that Gerald suggested it wouldn't be such a big deal."

Gerald had to agree that he'd prefer to have one of those in case of such an encounter, but also thought of something about reptiles. Hopefully, the dragon would be the same way. "The dragon will probably be back in his cave when it gets cooler, probably asleep when the sun sets. We can start following the compass then."

"How will we see it in the dark? We can't use our torches in hostile territory.", Toren reasoned.

"We don't have to wait for nightfall, just after dusk, and early in the morning when it's cool. The dragon's blood will be too sluggish to be a threat while we're moving. We could use some rest now anyway."

"The blood will be too 'sluggish'? How would he know?", Toren thought. His glances at this statement to the others indicated they'd never heard of such a notion. "Do you have experience with dragons as well?"

Gerald knew that Komodo Dragons, as well as other reptiles, would be sloth-like in the cold, so he really wasn't lying. "Yes, in Tennessee, it's common knowledge that 'dragons' can't move well when it gets chilly."

This was new to them, but Gerald had come through before. They changed their soaked footgear, rested until dusk, and followed the compass. As they moved under the purple sky listening to the crickets, the breeze picked up and made Gerald shiver. "In enemy territory searching for a dragon, and a breeze is getting to me.", he thought to himself. After a few hours of following the compass, it became too dark to read. "We should find a suitable place to sleep, and take turns keeping watch."

Domavoy volunteered, "I should go first. It's the easiest but at my age…"

"How old are you?"

"Sixty-two."

Gerald was surprised. Anyone living this long at a time when "hot tar" was kosher medicine was a miracle. "Yes, that's fine."

The team stopped in the tall grass and laid down. The horses followed suit. They quickly fell asleep and, while they had left the river a good distance away, Gerald thought he could hear it as the breeze went through the grass. Toren dreamed of his girlfriend back in Neptune Castle, Lamil dreamed of warm ale, and Gerald dreamed he was floating down the river on a raft. Quite peaceful.

This wouldn't last forever. He awoke to see Lamil pushing on his shoulder, that it was his turn to watch. "How long's it been?"

"You're the last. We each went for an hour or two."

"It should be light soon."

Lamil went back to sleep while Gerald looked out. It felt peaceful again, almost enough to make him forget where he was. He enjoyed the solitude while it lasted. Eventually the time came to wake the others and continue.

"It's still pretty dark, but we can see where the compass is pointing.", Gerald stated.

"Your eyes must be better than mine. Or maybe it's just my age.", Domavoy replied. They had continued for another couple hours while the sky lightened considerably. It was still chilly out, but wouldn't be for much longer. The compass started to turn more erratically. Gerald thought this must mean the dragon's lair was close by. He could soon see why it was reacting this way when they came to a clearing.

"There's… quite a few scales on the ground. We can't be too far."

"No, this is probably where it comes to malt.", Domavoy said. He got off his horse and went over to where some scales were. "We can track it from here, it's a learned skill in the infantry. Footprints, disturbed brush et cetera." As Domavoy began observing the tracks that Gerald had a hard time seeing (evidently they were little more than slight marks on the ground, though Domavoy knew what to look for), he was obviously fatigued. Gerald got off his horse and went next to Domavoy. He started to feel regret for asking him to come along. "I'm fine."

Gerald responded, "I can't really see them. I thought I'd try to learn how."

"Huff nnnh, they lead in this direction. The cave entrance should be around here." There was an arid patch of ground in front of a cliff. A cave entrance in the cliff, with the bones of livestock near the entrance, was obviously their goal.

This was where timing was important, and Gerald told Toren and Lamil to get their digging spades and come up next to him, about ten feet from the cave entrance. "It's still early, but we should hurry. We need to dig a trench in front of the cave deep enough to put those jars in. We should still have about an hour before the dragon stirs." Gerald estimated it was about eight, and around nine or ten it would start to warm up. The three of them dug the trench in good time while the others stood back.

After it was done, Gerald began placing the jars in. He directed the other diggers to start doing the same, and then they covered the jars up to their mouths. Finally, he took the lids, with the sodium cones on the undersides, and carefully laid them on top of the jars. "I hope this works. It's basic chemistry, but we'll have to see." He directed them all into a huddle. "We'll wait until it gets warmer, then we'll lure the dragon out onto these jars."

It was tense, waiting and not being able to do anything. Gerald saw that Domavoy, ever the professional, was still wearing his armor in this heat. He went over and spoke with him. "You probably don't need to wear your armor right now."

"Uhm, huh, uh, don't we need to wear it for when that thing comes?"

"Not really, it's just to lure it out anyway. Us others can do that." He persuaded Domavoy to let him pull his leather padding and chain mail off. "Are you drinking enough water?"

"Mmh, yeah."

It didn't seem that long since Gerald had seen him at the Fair, where he seemed to be in good health. "How long are you out when you guard the Fair?"

"That's one of those cushy duties you get when you've completed your standard enlistment. Fairs, or other special events, I can watch over before heading back to the castle and washing, reading, etc. cough"

Gerald didn't know he could be so fragile. This was probably the longest Domavoy'd been in the field since… who knew when. He told him to stay back while the others waited for the dragon to awake.

Gerald, Toren and Lamil listened carefully at the cave entrance until they could hear moving and scratching from the inside. Gerald stepped back while motioning for others to do the same. Gerald stood up and threw a rock into the cave entrance. It landed with a knock on the cave floor, causing the scratching to cease for a moment. It was replaced with loud footsteps which came toward the entrance. "I can hear you in there! Come out and fight!"

Gerald finally saw his face. He had dark green, nearly black, skin. His face was like a crocodile, but with a proportionally shorter snout. He had large horns, like a ram, but much larger. Gerald could see from his eyes that he was tired but angry. He exited and stood about twelve feet tall, leering at Gerald. "Yes, just step forward and we'll be done.", Gerald thought.

"Right here, you ugly bastard!" Toren made himself apparent. That remark was enough to set the dragon off, as he leapt over the jars and bore down on Toren.

Gerald was alarmed at this, but knew there was little he could do to stop the dragon's attack. The dragon grabbed Toren with his mouth and shook him. Gerald quickly climbed up the dragon's back to attack his head and neck. This didn't seem to have much effect in wounding him, but it did cause him to drop Toren and try to get at Gerald with his arms. "Get him back over the jars!", Gerald yelled to Lamil.

Lamil did his best to do so by getting on the other side and taunting the dragon, though the dragon wasn't listening. Gerald then saw Domavoy stumbling over to the fight, wearing his chain mail once again with his sword out. "What the hell is he doing?", Gerald thought. But Domavoy had other ideas. He'd be damned if these kids fought a dragon of all things while he sat on his butt like an old man.

Domavoy slashed at the dragon's tail, nicking it but getting his attention. The dragon's violent shaking had Gerald barely hanging on, and the dragon now swung around to face Domavoy. This left Gerald hanging onto the dragon's neck, his feet dangling above the ground. Domavoy smacked the dragon in the abdomen with his sword and jumped back. The dragon charged for him when Domavoy stabbed through the dragon's foot and hit the deck.

The dragon tripped, landing on the jars. POWWW! The explosion was immense and deafening. Lamil and Gerald were thrown into the cave while Toren was blown back. Domavoy was on the ground, and uninjured by the blast itself. The physician, watching the entire event, was amazed at the sight. Gerald and Lamil came out of the cave to discover that Domavoy was still alive, though buried under a good deal of dragon intestine. Toren was cut some from the dragon's teeth, but not too badly since his chain mail held out, and he was able to walk toward them.

There was an eerie moment of silence as the men looked at the dead beast, with the physician coming forward to examine them. Gerald began to laugh a bit, and the others joined him. Dragons were cliché in video games, but this real one was truly an experience. Gerald finally said, "We should take one of its horns as proof of its death." He and Lamil used a stone to knock a horn loose, then he told Toren to remove his armor. "Just let your wounds breathe. You can apply bandages later on." He turned to the physician. "No tar or leaches though, they're still cursed."

It didn't seem nearly as long for the group to return as it had taken for them to get there. Domavoy was in high spirits, though he seemed awfully tired and slumped in his saddle. Gerald asked if he'd like to stay in the wagon for the rest of the way, though Domavoy saw no need.

Oddly, the elves, who initially seemed skeptical of their mission, were convinced upon seeing the horn. The son of the elf chief spoke with them once again. "The dragon's horn? I suppose not all humans are full of hot air."

"Yeah.", Gerald said curtly.

The elf nodded a bit and, upon observing Domavoy, "Is he going to be alright?", with a trace of a smirk.

"You mean me?", Domavoy said while sounding half-asleep. "I'd rather suffer with friends than take charity from a jerk."

"Hold on.", Gerald interjected. "Are you sure?", he questioned Domavoy.

"He sounded pretty sure to me.", the elf said.

"I didn't ask you." He turned back to Domavoy. "Maybe you can have some medicine."

"Uh, eh, I'm just tired. You know how it is. I've probably gotten six hours of sleep in the last three days. But we're almost back as it is."

Gerald grudgingly accepted Domavoy's stoic stance and continued on. They had passed back through the forest path they had come through when one of the onlookers had told the elf chief about the latest conversation. He had also heard about what had happened earlier, and came out to speak with his son.

The elf chief looked quite old, even for an elf, and had a body build which would be moderate for a human. He was probably obese by elf standards. "Milo, don't you know when I'm away or busy you represent the Elvin people?"

"Of course."

"Then why do I hear that when King Muire's men pass through, they're disrespected in such a way?" He didn't yell, but he was agitated.

"I didn't think they could really kill a dragon. Most people thought they were merchants passing through from the goods they had."

" 'Goods'?"

"They had jars with them, and there were only five altogether."

The elf chief didn't quite follow his line of reasoning. "Why would a merchant pass through here to King Necroti's land? They would take a barge, or just cross Midas Bridge in peacetime in the first place." He was feeling exasperated, while Milo appeared flustered. "Look, merchant, soldier, it makes no difference. If someone from King Muire's land passes through here, and you greet them, keep in mind who you represent. You make sure they get the respect they deserve. " He looked to the east. "Even guests from King Necroti's land would deserve some degree of civility."

The elf chief didn't really like humans himself, but saw the need for a cooperative attitude. There weren't that many human merchants willing to come here after their first visit as it was. "I have some business to attend to at Neptune Castle, such as our archers, but I'll also thank him for killing that dragon, since it was also a threat to us." After walking away, he turned and asked, "Did you really tell that dwarves eat elves?"

"That's only a joke to mess with them."

The elf chief rolled his eyes. "They may not know it's a joke." He then got ready to go to Neptune Castle.

The team made its way back to Neptune Castle, though Domavoy had slumped forward and was on the verge of falling asleep for much of the way. Gerald was concerned he could fall off, and kept him awake by engaging in conversation about anything he could think of. His suggestions to stop and rest were rebuked by laughter, since they should be back "any moment".

The day wore on, and they were still a good couple hours from the castle when Domavoy fell asleep. Gerald ordered a halt and they moved Domavoy from his horse to the wagon. He stayed asleep for the rest of the way, when they arrived back late that evening.

7. A Temporary Rest

Toren rode forward to tell the gate guard the mission to kill the dragon had returned, and that the team needed to report to the king. Gerald interjected, "We also have one that needs to go to your infirmary. No leaches are necessary, just let him wash up and rest."

The gate guard recognized Domavoy, and he and a few others led him to the infirmary. He was groggy as he awoke, but still in a good mood to be back.

The rest of the team met with King Muire, who was waiting in his conference room and obviously excited. "I see you're all back safely. I'd expect no less from you. You have the dragon's horn?"

"Yes, he's dead. He won't be attacking here anymore." Gerald wasn't completely relaxed. "I'm worried about Domavoy, he had to go to the infirmary and he's been exhausted."

"You'll be informed of what happens. How did you kill it?" The team told King Muire about using the jars, and how the dragon tripped onto them, triggering the explosion. "Domavoy couldn't resist jumping in. He played a crucial role. A soldier half his age would have been proud of his acts."

"Yes, and making it back." Gerald remembered what the king said before he left. "You said you had someone important for me to meet?" Gerald imagined this would be a general the king wanted him to work with, or a scientific advisor.

"That's right, and this is such an occasion." The king noted that it was now late, and the team appeared tired. "I will have her meet you tomorrow, after you've been able to rest and freshen. Also, now that the dragon's dead, we have an opportunity to negotiate a peace treaty with King Necroti."

"Do you need me to talk with King Necroti?", Gerald asked. He expected such a request, and was curious what he would see.

"I have diplomats, but you are welcome to do so. Mainly, I want him to permit merchants and other travelers to pass freely, without harm. That can't be guaranteed right now."

"I can leave after I've rested. I should get some sleep." As the team was leaving, with Gerald wondering who this "her" the king mentioned was, the elf chief entered. Gerald recognized that he was an elf, but not who he was. The team left the room and the others went to their rooms, but Gerald stayed by the door. "King Muire, I just arrived from Tamolen. There is the standard business of our archers in your army…"

"We can discuss that in the morning sometime. I've just debriefed the soldiers who killed the dragon."

"Yes, I wanted to thank you for that. Your soldiers weren't received very well; my son greeted them, though misunderstood what they were there for."

"Son?", Gerald thought. "So that must be…"

The elf chief continued, "They didn't receive the respect a battle group, or any group, should; so I'd like if you could pass my apology along."

"I'll certainly do that, if you wish."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then." He bowed and left, seeing Gerald. As he was passing, Gerald asked him, "Are you the elf chief?"

"Yes, I need to come here every now and then."

"I met your son, in the town."

The elf chief became flushed. "You were one of the people killing the dragon?"

"I was."

"Yes, it was regrettable what happened in the town. Elves aren't very… 'personable'… unfortunately, when meeting humans for the first time. Once a human visitor becomes familiar, it's not so much of an issue for them."

"Like merchants?"

"Yes, usually. A handful of human merchants have actually become well-known, coming to buy our wood products, amber and bows. That's what most of the elves thought you were."

"Why would we be going to trade in King Necroti's land?"

"Haha, I talked with my son about that. He should have known better." As he started to walk away, he said, "Kids, they turn fifty and they think they know everything."

"How old are you?"

"One hundred fourteen. My own father lived until he was one hundred forty-three."

Gerald nodded. "I guess that would be quite young for an elf.", he reasoned. As he went to bed he wondered what was happening with Domavoy. Also, he was a bit excited, and a bit nervous, at what might be his last major mission for awhile. "Ravenwood" sounded foreboding, but who knew?

The next morning, the first in awhile he awoke to a fully-lit sky, he knew the king wanted to see him but he first needed to stop by the infirmary. He saw Domavoy and approached him. They had a spirited conversation about what had happened, as well as their conversation with the king last night.

"That was some hardcore stunt I pulled. Probably pulled a few other things.", Domavoy said while describing when he stabbed the dragon's foot, causing it to trip while diving himself. "It sounds like you should see the king soon. I'm well, as you can see.", Domavoy assured him.

"Take it easy. The Fairs will need soldiers."

Domavoy chuckled. As Gerald left, he said, "You're a hell of a guy." Gerald nodded and saw the physician as he left the infirmary.

"We took your gamble with Domavoy. Though he was in bad shape, we didn't apply a single leach."

"A 'single' leach? That was an option?", Gerald pondered.

"It took some convincing, but your reputation precedes yourself. I also told them you would bless the royal physicians. Looked like your magic worked."

"Uh, yeah. It should last forever, so you shouldn't use the leaches or tar at all at this point. Even if we do make peace with King Necroti, his curse can't be lifted."

The physician took note, while Gerald went to the king's study. "King, I'll be ready soon to head on out to discuss the war with King Necroti. But who did you want me to meet?"

King Muire stood. "As you know, it's a joyous occasion. Your next mission may be dangerous, but I have full faith you'll return. You have the right to wed by daughter, Princess Resonae."

"WHAT?" Gerald yelled in his head. He was surprised, to say the least. Marrying the princess, especially after something like slaying the dragon was pretty standard in medieval-style lore, but he'd never met this woman before. And now he was expected to marry her?

King Muire called her in. True, she was attractive, but Gerald would prefer to know a few more, minor details about her, such as… anything at all. To say this was awkward would be a bit of an understatement, kind of like saying that the dragon he'd fought was a gecko.

Gerald didn't seem as thrilled as King Muire had expected. In fact, he seemed overwhelmed. "Uh, King, can I speak with you for a bit?"

They stepped aside while the princess was confused. Was something wrong with her? King Muire was wondering the same thing. Gerald stated, "In Tennessee, it's usually a custom for people to know each other for awhile and do things they both find fun before they get married. This process can take quite awhile."

King Muire reasoned, "Yes, though would that be necessary here? What's the main purpose of the method in Tennessee?"

"To make sure they're a good fit."

"But… you do seem a good fit. After all, you're the best fighter and wizard I know of. She knows who you are."

Gerald didn't want to hurt the King's feelings, or get on his bad side. "I should have more time to think about this", he said while searching for a way to stall for time. He then added, "If something did happen while I visited King Necroti, it may be best to postpone the engagement or wedding until my safe return. It's Tennessee style." The princess craned her neck to where the men were standing, but went back upon making eye contact with Gerald.

The King, while still taken aback, accepted Gerald's suggestion. "That does sound reasonable. Before you go, you should visit the cartographer and get a map, at least as well as one we can make, of King Necroti's land." As Gerald was leaving, he added, "I don't know if you can end the war, but any guarantee of peace from King Necroti would be an accomplishment."

"Will do. Wish me luck." Gerald went out of the study, nodded to the princess while feeling somewhat like a tool, and headed to the cartographer.

"Necroti's land? I haven't met many suicidal people lately.", the cartographer said supportingly. "Here's his land. Directly across Midas Bridge, you'll come to the village of Manonelle, something of a quaint hamlet. East of there, over a days' journey, you should come to his capital of Ravenwood."

Gerald took the map, and headed to the storehouse to get the supplies he would need. Assuming he could get lodging in Manonelle along the way, he had money for that. On the way to the storehouse, the princess ran into him. She was wondering what the deal was with him, and wanted to try to charm him. "When do you plan on leaving?"

"It's still early. I suppose after I get the supplies I can rest for a few more hours before setting off."

"Good, we can keep company until then." She got her lire, and like many princesses had learned music and other classical education. She went to his room, and serenaded him while sitting in the chair while he laid back on his bed and stared at the ceiling, pondering over his trip.

She sang a few songs, and then asked questions about the Tennessee Kingdom. Gerald answered as best as he could, including showing her the cell phone he'd arrived with. Some of the answers he had to make up or take liberties with, but she was intrigued. Curious, he asked, "Have their been… prior suitors, that have not suited you?" He was wondering if she'd ever experienced a relationship before. If not, that might be why she seemed so clingy with a man she barely knew.

She laughed and said dismissingly, "There was one, from a different land. He was not a warrior, like yourself, and I told him so." Gerald was surprised she could use discretion. "Quite a puny wimp, despite his high birth."

"A prince?", Gerald asked inquisitively. That would be a fitting cliché.

"Yr, no. Just a man who couldn't hold my interest for long."

Eventually, Gerald said, "I should be going now. My horse awaits, and when I return the war should be over."

His tone was friendly, but he still evidently hadn't fallen in love with her. She followed him for awhile, and asked out of curiosity, "Gerald, I am curious as to some of your customs."

"What about it?"

Princess Resonae asked, "In 'Tennessee', how would a woman express her feelings for a man? What do the men react to?"

Gerald knew from the subtext that she was referring to him. He tried to answer her question. "There's really nothing wrong with you, though I just met you." He knew he'd probably kick himself later, since most women he'd met wouldn't give him the time of day, but he still needed to feel comfortable with the woman. "But you don't need to feel like you need to marry me, or anyone. A man should 'complement' you, not 'complete' you."

"But you're not really 'completing' me.", the princess said, calmly though feeling defiant. "What kind of women live in Tennessee?"

"Accountorixes, and wizards. All types."

Princess Resonae felt alarmed. Once Gerald got home, she wouldn't stand a chance against women like this. Especially when a lady wizard learned of Gerald's brave deeds. She then decided on one last, possibly underhanded, tactic. "I want you to take this 'favor', for luck on your journey." She unclasped a necklace, a light blue diamond in the center with pearls on the string. "It's been in our royal family for generations." As long as he had this, he was bound to return with it.

Gerald took it, and thanked her for the thought. Awfully valuable, hopefully King Necroti and company wouldn't keep it as a peace tax.

8. The Dark King (?)

Gerald decided he should go this one alone. He was just going to talk, after all, and if King Necroti decided to be a jerk at least he would have only one hostage.

Wait, that wouldn't make sense for King Necroti to capture him, or do anything to keep the war going. The dragon was dead, and both he and King Necroti surely knew that meant King Necroti had lost a major military "chess piece". On the other hand, King Muire still had elves and dwarves in his army, not to mention if the dwarves actually built the "shotgun cannon" that Gerald had described. If they did, King Muire could destroy King Necroti's army, or any medieval-style army, in half an hour. No, it would be outright idiotic for King Necroti to harm or capture him.

Midas Bridge was a days' journey from Neptune Castle, and Gerald arrived after nightfall. He informed the soldiers stationed here of his mission, and his intent to cross. The soldiers were hopeful, and had heard of his actions. They asked about how he'd learned alchemy, or what monsters he'd fought in Tennessee to become an Accountorix. He humored them, and then continued the next morning. He rode alone, carrying a white flag. He saw King Necroti's soldiers on the other side as he approached.

"Halt. You're one of King Muire's men?"

"Yes, here to negotiate an end to the war. I have been sent by King Muire, to deliver his message to King Necroti."

The soldiers were dressed in different armor than King Muire's men-black iron plate armor over chain mail or leather, but otherwise seemed exactly the same: bored, anxious, and wanting to go home. This messenger was probably a welcome sign. One of King Necroti's soldiers approached. "Ravenwood is two days' journey usually from our camp, I will escort you there." They began riding east. "We'll be passing through Manonelle, a sheep-herding and weaving village. If you need supplies you can get them there."

"I should be fine, I have a map."

"That may well be, but even if you're here to negotiate you're still technically an enemy soldier. If you were wandering around by yourself the King'd have my head."

As they made their way Gerald thought it was a good idea to hide the fact that he was viewed as a "wizard", so that no one would suspect he'd killed their dragon. King Necroti's soldier asked him about the mysterious warrior and alchemist that turned up in King Muire's land, and Gerald answered in the third person.

"It's a good sign for peace that King Muire hasn't attacked with him.", King Necroti's soldier said. He soon hoped he hadn't suggested a plan for attack to Gerald.

They came to Manonelle, and Gerald saw nothing "evil" about it. "I'm fine, I can keep going."

"I should stop anyway, and tell my wife I'll be going to Ravenwood. It'll be a couple of days at least until I'm back."

Gerald stayed on his horse while he watched the soldier dismount and go to one of the houses. He spoke with a woman who came out to greet him, and thumbed over his shoulder, apparently at Gerald. He eventually returned. "She's glad that the war may be over soon; you're probably the same way."

"What's your name?"

"Mezzine. Yours?"

"Gerald."

The name sounded a little familiar, but Mezzine couldn't place it. When night fell they stopped at an inn off the road, and continued the next morning. Their conversation ranged from the mysterious warrior to other interests. Gerald couldn't discuss movies very well, so he described them as plays.

Finally, they approached Ravenwood's walls. Upon entrance, Gerald finally satisfied part of his curiosity. "Ravenwood", being the "evil King's" capital, first evoked an image of carrion-eating ravens perched in a wicked dead forest. However, a more appropriate image (and more accurate, judging by the surroundings) was lush trees silhouetted by the rising sun.

Gerald and Mezzine took their horses to the stables when they dismounted to make for the Council Chambers in the city center. Gerald passed many impressive displays and trade goods on the way: colored glass, granite work, scented candles and beer among other things.

They entered, and Mezzine told Gerald he'd inform the King a diplomat was here. It was a large building, and Gerald took in the woodwork on the walls, pottery and paintings decorating the first floor. Gerald waited for what seemed around half an hour, and was strongly tempted to go grab some of that beer.

Eventually Mezzine came back and told him King Necroti was waiting upstairs, in the central room. As Gerald went in, he saw King Necroti's scribes and advisors seated around a round table, with King Necroti on the other side. He was hardly intimidating; he seemed to be a middle-aged man, with a black beard and crow's feet. His clothing was dark red with a black cape, and a silver crown. He also wore a necklace, with an emblem of a raven standing on what appeared to be a small dead dragon.

"King Necroti, I've come to negotiate an end to the war. There doesn't seem to be a need for the war to go on any further."

"Believe me, that would be an easy answer.", King Necroti replied. "But actually doing it would be tricky. Ned was killed by some of your soldiers, and now there's not much to guarantee King Muire won't attack, or launch more such raids."

"Who's Ned?"

"Our dragon, and until recently one of the only aces in our sleeve. It was all I could do to have him keep your army guessing or looking elsewhere, so that at least they wouldn't launch a large-scale attack and leave other areas exposed. I also helped raise him since he was a pup."

"That is…" Gerald searched for the right words. "…one reason why this war must end. Why did it even start?"

"There was an accusation that my son, Prince Hutoren, dishonored King Muire's princess by choosing another after their engagement. Naturally, King Muire believed it. My son is a gentleman; in fact our family takes engagement and marriage vows sacredly." Gerald had to wonder what really happened. No, he probably didn't. King Necroti sighed and continued, "King Muire shut off our trade going into his realm, and other lands past his. Our armies clashed, some skirmishes taking place on both sides of the river, until we settled into our stalemate we're currently in." He took off his crown, and rubbed his head while elaborating. "We still have other trade routes, including if we take our own barges on Midas River, south of the shallows."

"King Muire must be feeling the pinch himself now. His own merchants haven't been able to come here."

"He mentioned that? Yes, he evidently didn't think that through. You probably saw some of our fine crafts while here in Ravenwood."

"I have. I'd like to sample the wares myself."

"Ha, it's good to finally speak with someone from King Muire's land with sense. But, how would we end the war, with mutual guarantees?"

"You can pull your army back from the bridge, and King Muire should do the same. You can resume trade."

While Gerald was speaking, King Muire began to look worried. "You appear trustworthy, but what's to say that when I do withdraw, King Muire's men won't charge on their backs, or come across later? The bridge is a chokepoint, but if we give it up we could be in danger."

Gerald thought of his earlier conversation with Princess Resonae, and got an idea. "King Necroti, can I ask your son a question? It may help bring peace."

King Necroti was a bit skeptical, but didn't see the harm in it. "Yes, I'll have someone lead you to his room." One of the attendants led Gerald down the hall outside the conference room to the prince's room. Gerald announced his presence, and gained entry.

"You must be Prince Hutoren."

"Yes, how can I help you?"

"I'm a messenger from King Muire's land, here to negotiate peace. My question of you is about Princess Resonae." This announcement was obviously troubling and hurtful to the prince.

"What about her? Why would you ask?"

"It could help end the war, since her story she told her father is what started it all. I want to hear your side of things. I understand… you used to be with her?" Prince Hutoren nodded. Gerald continued, "What did she say to you, the last time you saw her?"

"At first she was impressed at my skill as a sculptor. I'm a patron for some artists living in Ravenwood. But, she thought I was 'puny', a 'wimp', because I didn't want to be a general in my father's army."

"I can tell it's difficult, but I appreciate your answer. So that's what happened…"

"Even if I tell you, what good will it do? It's her story against mine."

"Let's just say I have some 'insider information'. I can believe you. Now, I have a war to end." He thanked the prince, and left his room. There, was that so hard? A simple investigation, which could have saved these two kingdoms a costly war and many dead.

He went back to the conference room and told King Necroti he had a special offering from King Muire. He pulled out Princess Resonae's necklace, and the room hushed at the sight. King Necroti remarked, "That's a priceless royal heirloom of theirs. It's the princess's necklace. Belonging to the late queen as well."

"Yes. A token of assured trust and goodwill. While it'd be wise not to speak on the matter of Hutoren and Resonae, this is a sacrifice of sorts, a gift to your royal line, to atone for what's happened." He tossed the necklace over to King Necroti, who stared at it still in disbelief. "This… must mean what you say is true. The war is over. Mezzine, give our messenger Gerald anything he wants from our marketplace, on my account. Then, send him back. Farewell."

Gerald triumphantly turned to leave, but asked, "King, what's that emblem on your necklace?"

"It's a picture of a raven, killing a cockatrice on this sight. We built our city on this location as a result."

Gerald nodded, and he and Mezzine left. Gerald went straight for the beer (not as good as Miller Lite but it would do), and filled his horse's saddlebags with the jugs.

They left, stopping at the same inn and continuing on to Manonelle. It was night when they arrived, so a tipsy Gerald took lodging here. He restocked his beer, and continued the next morning. They reached King Necroti's camp, which was where he and Mezzine parted ways. Mezzine announced to a cheering crowd that the war was over, and that they could be dismissed. Gerald crossed the bridge, and delivered the same news to King Muire's men.

"Are you sure we can trust them?", the commander asked.

"Yes, as sure as you can trust me, you can trust them."

"It must be some powerful magic you've wielded."

"You could say that. I'm heading back to Neptune Castle to report." King Muire's soldiers were relieved they could finally leave, and did so. The bridge would soon see merchant traffic again, exchanging amber and sodium for colored glass and fresh beer.

9. Peace and Reckoning

Gerald arrived at Neptune Castle went to see King Muire. Princess Resonae was with him, and both were eager.

"King, the war is over forever. Trade can resume."

This was quite an announcement. The King dared hoped for a modification of the ceasefire, so that trade could resume, but the war being completely over was astonishing. "You ever cease to amaze me. What did you say to him?"

"I found out what caused this war." He glanced at Princess Resonae, who knew what he was thinking. "It was an unfortunate situation between his son, Prince Hutoren, and Princess Resonae. There was confusion and miscommunication.

"Prince Hutoren was her betrothed, around two years ago.", King Muire said. "Until he broke the engagement, and dishonored her."

"But, I was able to find the truth.", Gerald responded. Princess Resonae felt a chill. "The truth is, she wasn't dishonored as she says."

King Muire was shocked at what he was saying. "Are you saying that she lied to me?"

Gerald told King Muire first what the princess had told him, about the prior suitor who was a "wimp". Then, he discussed what Prince Hutoren had said.

He added, "I also wondered why the princess didn't mention Prince Hutoren when I asked her about prior suitors. I can see why she might not want to talk about it if she were dishonored, but there's no mistaking who she was talking about."

This was a lot for the king to process. "So… they…"

Gerald helped him, speaking softly. "She may have felt 'abandoned' or 'dishonored', but it wasn't how it may have sounded to you." The king felt numb on this epiphany. He slowly moved his hands up his face, so that his fingers went under his crown as he bowed his head. Gerald also knew that it was he who started the war, not the "evil king". Meanwhile the princess's throat had run dry and she wrung her hands.

Gerald added, "I should have a few words with the princess in private."

"Go ahead", King Muire said without moving.

They went into another room. "Why did you tell your father Prince Hutoren chose another?"

She felt like she was on trial. She spoke a little shakily. "We were betrothed, as is custom. He was a single prince, living relatively nearby."

"What was so wrong with him?"

"A prince should be a warrior, brave."

"In wartime that may be. But, their kingdom has a rich artistic heritage. I saw Ravenwood. He's a skilled sculptor, and his father is probably also." He paused. "If you decide to 'love' someone or become betrothed, you should know something about them, who they are. That's what I was saying."

"But didn't my love mean anything to him?"

"It did, I spoke to him. But, you take people as you find them. You can't expect them to change who they are. Also, 'love' isn't demanding. 'Love' doesn't disparage someone for being who they are. If you 'loved' him, you wouldn't discard him because he prefers sculpting over leading an army. You also called him a 'wimp', that was uncalled for."

A silent moment passed. Gerald observed the princess, and added, "You shouldn't cry for me. You should cry for the dead sons from this war. Also for the dragon who is dead.

"That dragon had to be slain."

"His name was Ned. I didn't 'slay' him, I murdered him. He was a soldier, like any human, elf or dwarf, defending his country." In this setting Gerald had never considered the other side when an "evil king" was involved, but he had seen it here. Dragons were intelligent, and Ned probably had his own parents.

Gerald turned to leave. He had said what he wanted, and was sick of it all. He just wanted to sleep. The princess asked, "There is peace now. There may be time for us to know each other better."

Gerald thought, "She can't be serious!" He replied, before leaving, "I think I've learned enough about you."

10. Was it Really a Dream?

Gerald reached his door when he saw a person he hadn't seen in quite awhile. "Hey Gerald, that was some good work. I bet you can't wait to return to your homeland."

He recognized him as the second guard at the Fair, who had initially greeted him. "Yeah, it's finally over. Not sure what I'll do next. It'd be nice to go home." He went in his room and collapsed on the bed. However, he awoke in his own room, in Nashville.

He was wearing the same clothes he'd worn when he collapsed at 2 AM early that morning. He looked at the clock. 9:36. Everything else was exactly the same, and his previous experiences all seemed to be a blur. It seemed it must have been a dream; some dreams can seem like they go on for hours, and feel eerily real. However, when he got up, something was amiss. All of Lenny's stuff was gone, as if he'd moved out. "Did he really do that so quickly? He must've been in a hurry." He found a note on the couch:

Hey Gerald

I had to leave since I'm taking a job in another city. Sorry we couldn't hang out anymore. I know you're an enthusiast though, so I got a gift for you. It's in your dresser.

Lenny

"A gift?" What did he mean? Gerald opened his dresser and found something which would make any Renaissance Fair fan green with envy. Chain mail with a cloth covering bearing a medieval crest, along with a helmet and sidesword. Gerald could swear that the crest looked familiar, but it was probably a stock image anyway. A genuine outfit like this must've cost a fortune! He put it back, checked his calendar, and planned to be the best-dressed participant this year. His job sucked, but he wasn't stuck in it. He'd used ingenuity to end a war, even if it was only a dream (he interpreted this to mean his inner desire), and decided to use the same thirst for adventure to change his current outlook. Either change the way his job worked, or work somewhere else.

Back in King Muire's realm, the guard changed back to his true form. Gerald's roommate Lenny (or, as he was also known, the Light Wizard Llanolyn), thought it'd been a fun experiment. He'd live in Gerald's world for awhile, and then bring someone from that world back to his own. Just as Gerald had suspected, it started as a prank on Lenny's part, but became an epic journey. "You did good, better than I could have hoped.", Lenny said. Lenny figured the castle armory wouldn't miss what he'd taken; it was the least that Gerald deserved for what he'd done. Lenny could sense how Gerald felt about what had happened, and decided he would revive the dragon Ned.

Lenny did this, much to the relief of Ned's parents and King Necroti. For the first time in nearly two years, Lenny noticed what he couldn't hear. He couldn't hear yells or fighting, or sense fear of what tomorrow might bring. It was only peace. He hoped that in his own life, Gerald could feel peace too.