For Mia again, as she made these graphics that made my entire day blazing.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
[ THE DRAGON KNIGHTS is hereby entered into the #Wattys2016 for #trailblazers and your support is heaps. You should comment and vote if you're into that vibe, haha. Commence! ]
• ∞ •
ONE | All Fairytales Are Bittersweet Before Rendition
THE MESSENGER STANDS IN FRONT OF THE MONARCH on shaky knees, tender confidence crisping under the intense gaze of his superior.
Dipping into a clumsy bow, it is a wonder he can speak through his crumbling tongue. "Y-your highness."
Soldiers line the room in attention, solid and rock. Apart from men of chain mail and metal armour, the messenger finds himself wishing there were more life to this huge throne room than a handsomely aging man (with the authority to bury his body if needed) and his meagre self.
"I am not getting any younger, boy," King Ronald of Eastern Cordila booms. The messenger is certain the walls shake slightly. "Please recite what it is that you have found important to show me."
Spurred into obedience from the order, the messenger wills himself to be concise.
"It is an honour to be called upon your graciousness." Nothing like a syrup voice to ease their egos (and hopefully spare coins). "I have come to give you news of the great Prince Crane's capture. It is said he has gotten lost a little over his head with that new Lost Princess legend and has yet to return to his sorrowing home."
"While this is distressing to hear," the King says, "I don't recall you mentioning how it should affect me."
"Well," the messenger fumbles, "You see, the king of the Western Cordila has seen this as a bad superstition. And due to this, they will postpone any procession to the treaty, my sire."
The messenger fears for his life in the stretch of silence following his message.
I should've become a carpenter, whimpers the boy internally, who cares about burning my fingers off? The King looks like he likes that idea.
After a large inhale, the King stands. "We will need all the help we can get. The fae people are getting restless. My people are getting restless," King Ronald says. "I can't deal with a little kid pretending to be a knight getting in the way of them!"
"Y-yes, sire!" squeaks the boy.
"Find out about the other kingdoms in the mean time," the King huffs, sitting back down on his throne with a sigh.
The old man watches the messenger bounce out of the room, not finding the energy to be amused.
"My Lord," a soldier to the side inquires hesitantly. "What troubles you?"
