King's Quest

CHAPTER 3: FREEDOM

Gwydion sets about fixing a porridge, hopefully he'll be able to crumble it up and mix it so thoroughly that even the great wizard would not be able to distinguish it. It's nearly done, it just needs to cook a little more, but something is wrong, a nagging at the back of his mind. The key, he's forgotten to return the key to the top of the closet.

With as much speed as he can muster, the harried boy dashes for the upstairs, narrowly avoiding the cat and returning the key, before hustling to get back to the kitchen. A sudden puff of smoke halts him in his tracks and he nearly collides with the newly appeared wizard.

"Gwydion, you fool!" Mannanan barks. "I shall punish you for this, but first I'm hungry. Make me something to eat, now!"

The boy nod and the wizard vanishes once again, only to reappear at the dining table a mere fifteen feet away, he really doesn't care for walking. Without further delay, his servant hustles to the kitchen and produces the spiked entrée.

Mannanan thrust his spoon into the steaming dish of porridge. Gwydion holds his breath. Slowly, the spoon inches towards the waiting mouth, an eternity for our hero, but at long last his victim eats the food with bits of magical cookie and continues to eat until it is all gone.

The poisoner smiles as he observes his master closely, but something is wrong. Why hasn't he turned yet? The wizard reaches into the his mouth and pulls forth a long cat hair.

"What have you done!?" he demands of his servant.

Before he can exact the fatal punishment he has in mind. Mannanan, the evil wizard, at last succumbs to the cursed cookie and shrinks as he takes on the appearance of a common, black house cat. An almost exact match for the current, kept feline.

Gwydion jumps for joy. He's free, for the first time in his life, he is no longer subject to another's whim. It's time to celebrate. A bottle of the sorcerer's finest is in order.

Our hero drinks the entirety of the bottle as he ransacks his former master's wardrobe, trying each and every garment he finds, but none of them suit him and he throws each off in disgust. It's about this time that the wine fogs up his brain and he retires to Mannanan's luxurious bed.

"Alexander," a voice rises upon the still wind. "Alexander."

Gwydion stands in the dark as the strange being who previously appeared in his mind steps forth.

"Alexander," it speaks. "Alexander, there is much to be done."

"I don't know this Alexander," Gwydion responds. "So please stop calling me that."

"But you are Alexander you just don't know it," the strange figure corrects the presumption. "Mannanan stole you from your crib and you have lived the entirety of your cognitive life as his slave Gwydion, but you are no slave. You are a prince of the kingdom of Daventry."

"If I am indeed this prince," the boy postulates. "Then why did you wait until now to inform me?"

"I am merely an oracle," the figure explains. "I only step into a persons life when there is dire need."

"So, if being enslaved is not a dire need," Gwydion returns his anger starting to rise. "Then what, pray tell, is?"

"The kingdom of Daventry, your home, is being destroyed by a terrible three headed dragon which has nearly destroyed the entirety of the land," the oracle carries on. "What's more the annual tribute of a maiden for the beast to devour has fallen to your twin sister, Rosella."

"Sister? Family? What do I owe them?" Gwydion barks. "Leaving me to rot in the clutches of a maniacal madman. I'm lucky to have made it this far, no thanks to them."