Tonight, We Ride!

The Adventure Begins.. Kind Of

     “Sir, you can’t just plan an expedition without consulting the counsel first!” advised his steward, George. He twiddled his fingers and stared down at his feet.  

    “And YOU can’t just sit around and tell me what to do! That is my job,” King Dustin spat back, his brow twitching with agitation, “these eggs are in trouble, and we are the only kingdom close enough to give them any hope to survive! How many times must you be told!”

    The steward visibly shrunk within himself as the King’s voice rattled his confidence, though it was not totally diminished yet. His King had to see some sense!

    “Your Royalty, I must insist,” George went on, adding a respectful bow as a last thought, “we aren’t even sure these eggs actually exist. We got one letter from a raven, and mind you, it wasn’t even sealed properly. How can we trust this hint? How do we know a reward even lays at the end of this ridiculous conquest?”

    “You know what you should mind, George? Your own behind, before I have it cut off and glued above my fireplace!”

    Now his confidence was withered completely as the steward glanced shyly at the enormous vast fireplace on the other side of the room, the wall above it obscurely blank.  

    “You know what’s ridiculous, George? That my own steward is going against me. I have a feeling in my gullet, son. These eggs are real. They are stranded on an island in the middle of the Pacific and it is our duty to save them! This is for more than what we are, steward. Don’t question my actions,” King Dustin was infuriated, hastily scribbling routes on an old map, “now, please, be of use and get me some ale, and send up my five best men!”

    With another bow, the steward raced out of the magnificent office and within minutes Dustin could hear the loud, important footsteps of his officers.

    “Some ale, as you requested, sir,” his first in command said, setting down a fancy glass that fizzed, “what are our orders?” the four men lined up behind the one who had spoken, in ranking order of power.  

    “First things first,” the king said, his tone turning businesslike, “I need my suit. The dark royal purple one, and NO WRINKLES!,” he paused, rubbed his forehead as if the thought of wrinkles would make him keel over, “then, I need you, my first in command, to find me a turtle. No, no, not some small pathetic painted turtle. I mean one that I can ride into battle! One that can snap the heads off of our enemies!”

    The officers in command looked at each other as if the King had lost his mind. He probably had, but they knew better than to argue.

    “Then, I need one hundred of my best men, including you five. You shall saddle your horses, mend your armor, and be ready to ride tonight!”

    The officers stood stock still, not exactly sure how to respond. After a few beats of silence, one of the officers cautiously said, “sir, may we know what this expedition is about?”

    Without warning, King Dustin slammed his hands on his desk, stood up, and said with a cold sternness, “it is none of your concern what this expedition is about. Do as you’re commanded!” when the officers didn’t immediately move he screamed, “NOW.”

    With a jump, they bustled and hustled out of his office, and by dusk he was looking down upon his men as they lined up their horses.

    “Where is my suit? Where is my turtle?!” he yelled at his steward.

    “Here, here is your suit,” George panicked, running around the room trying to get all of the essentials needed for a journey that would last who knows how long, “one of the maids found a huge turtle out by Lake Wimpfrey, he is currently getting saddled and having armor mended for him.”

    “Good! Good!” chanted Dustin, “tonight, we ride!”

    The setting sun left the sky in disarray. Blues, purples, pinks, and millions of other shades fought to have the center of the sky. Horses neighed and stomped the dirt below their feet. Armor clanked as, in unison, Dustin’s men climbed onto their steeds.

    At the head of the group was a massive turtle, taller than the average man when he stretched out his neck. The King walked up to the beast and studied it warily, then as if to hide his obvious fear, hopped onto the animal like he’s done it a million times before. The turtle let out a nasty noise through his nostrils, a surprised fury. Hanging on for dear life, King Dustin eventually got his grip on the gigantic turtle and managed to calm the thing down.

    Decked out in his dark royal purple suit, glitter crown, and a turtle that was covered in spiked armor and a helmet, King Dustin looked pretty gnarly, to say the least.

    Dustin reigned his turtle to turn and face his army. With slow, lumbering steps, the turtle obeyed.

    “Tonight, we ride!” Dustin cried, raising up a diamond encrusted sword in defiance, “we battle for the life of three whale eggs that are stranded out in the middle of the Pacific ocean! If we save these eggs, we are saving earth’s biggest and most beautiful beasts!”

    A silence followed, which was unusual. Usually battle cries followed, as the group began to thirst for the blood of the enemy that they were going after.

    Nobody said a word.

    “Well?” cried the king, wanting some kind of response other than the horses’ snorts of impatience.

    His first in command reined his horse to step up to the king.

    “Sir, with all due respect..” he started.

    “Get it out, Mark, what is it?” demanded the king.

    Mark, as was his name, looked utterly defeated as he glanced up at the king and said, “whales don’t lay eggs.”

To Be Continued…