CROWNS I: Of Desolate Hope | ✔

5. Draken's Quest

"Can you do it or not?" asked Draken, impatiently, "Well can you?"

"Your majesty," replied the old, Grand Sage, "I can but if you continue to ask, I won't." The old sage handed him a wooden whistle. "I suspect that this journey will take you much longer than you think. I should think...a few months."

"Are you being serious?" asked Draken, putting the whistle in his pocket, "'A few months!" He paced up and down his room for what he considered as the last time. "No, no, no," he said, "I'm only going to the Bank to get some gold. How long could that take?"

The Grand Sage shot him a look of disappointment. "You are unfortunately as foolish as ever, little prince," he said, furrowing his dark-brown brow, "I hope you did not expect to simply walk into the Bank of Narantis and demand five million gold. You do not do that...ever."

Draken did feel like a fool. He had deliberated for a week with Arnan and that was, unfortunately, the only plan they had. "What do I do then? You make it sound as if they would never give five million even if they were given all the castles in the land."

"Quite right," replied the Grand Sage, "They would not. I do believe that you were given this 'quest' for the reason that as simple as it sounds, it is more complex than anything you could have hoped for. I do believe you have a very slim chance of succeeding. With the value of gold coins increasing, they may be willing to part with so large a sum given that including interest they would receive a much larger sum back before the value decreases again. I predict the fall in around six months time so it is a good time as ever to seek a large loan."

"That's great. The chances of my success have gone from impossible to improbable," replied Draken, moping on the side of his great bed. "How am I even going to get there?" he asked, "I haven't been given any help. Do I have to take a ship?"

The Grand Sage began to leave the room. "You really do need to stop worrying, young prince," he said, with a warm smile, " I think you know how you're going to get there. Anerion is deemed ready for a rider and I deem you ready for a dragon. Good luck, prince." With that, the Grand Sage left the room rather quickly for an old man.

Well, at least Arnan's going to be safe from Venaessa in the Sages' Library, he thought, trying to be optimistic. Draken strolled to his bed and clutched the gleaming, great sword. You won't abandon me, will you, Gananfreng? he pondered. Draken had never believed the rumours about his sword but maybe he ought to - it was a present from his father for his seventh birthday. The sword Draken often liked to refer to as Ganan emitted a faint yellow light in the dark that scared most people into believing it was hexed. He had often heard whispers that the sword was cursed and was made through dark magic a long time ago, very far away to slay goblins or some manner of foul creature like that. As if there are such things as dark magic or goblins, he reassured himself, unconvincingly.

Arnan ran into the rather empty room and embraced Draken. "You're coming back, right? Your father couldn't have sent you too far away, could he?" The two boys let go of each other.

Draken knew he wasn't supposed to tell anyone about the task he had been given by the king. He had accidentally already told the Grand Sage, who likely already knew but Draken was not prepared to risk telling Arnan too much. "Well it's not exactly within walking distance but I'll be back before you know it," he said with conviction but not genuine belief. How do you even convince someone to give you five million Gold?, he thought, pessimistically, What's more. It's only for a stupid tower. "Have you seen Venaessa?" he asked.

"No. No, I haven't actually," replied Arnan, scratching his head, "I haven't seen her since Wednesday."

What could she be up to?, thought Draken, nervously. "Oh, okay," he replied, putting the sword and sheath in his belt. "You're going to love the new robes you'll have to wear," he added, "the brown rags you're wearing now don't really bring out your eyes like a Sage apprentice's robes will." They laughed and Draken held out his hand. "See you soon," he said. The prince and his slave shook hands. Arnan smiled and left in a hurry to get back to the Library.