Kelly Hess - The Fools Apprentice

Dragon Moon Press

The Fools

A pprentice

Kelly Hess

The Fool's Apprentice

Copyright 2016 Kelly Hess

All rights reserved. Reproduction or utilization of this work in any form, by any means now known or hereinafter invented, including but not limited to xerography, photocopying and recording, and in any known storage and retrieval system, is forbidden without permission from the copyright holder.

ebook ISBN 978-1-988256-07-8

www.dragonmoonpress.com

Dragons Launch

T he land of Tirra, stretching between two mighty oceans, was divided into eleven kingdoms. As with any such landscape of guarded borders and protected territories, wars were fought and alliances formed. In the heart of Tirra, the kingdom of Dragons Launch stood as a crystal example of peaceful prosperity. Although not without its troubles, Dragons Launch had remained at peace with its neighbors for decades under the rule of the even-minded and gentle-hearted King Greggor.

But even in times of order, dark forces will inevitably emerge from the shadows to disrupt harmony for their own nefarious ends. At this time, in Dragons Launch, events were taking place that threatened the stable tranquility of the kingdom.

Chapter One

The Ceremony

S ir Roland, master-at-arms, stood sleepily in the crowded throne room. Every year, the Apprentice Ceremony dragged on tediously long as each young person in the district having reached the age of sixteen was apprenticed to a chosen craft. This year was no different. In the great chamber, a throng of onlookers surrounded the gathered hopefuls who sat together in the center. The flag of Dragons Launch hung prominently behind the daisthe white emblem of a great dragon, its wings spread wide, glowed against a field of the darkest blue. Looking tired and confused, King Greggor sat with his crown slipping forward on his forehead and read aloud each name from a parchment and assigned a master. Following each apprenticeship, the assembled watchers applauded wildly, hooting and hollering like a mob of peasants.

Roland heaved a sigh as he looked down at the parchment he had been given before the ceremony. Everyone had been informed of their apprentice assignments in advance. He stared at the twisting markings on the page, trying in vain to understand their meaning. No matter, he already knew what they said. But, looking about the chamber, he realized the person listed on the parchment was not in attendance.

Just to be certain, he stuffed the parchment into the hand of the uniformed man standing beside him. Voss, I need to pay attention to the ceremony, he told him. Read this and tell me what it says.

Voss glanced at the parchment momentarily and then rolled it back up neatly. It says that Denrikk Barbary will be your new squire.

Roland nodded. As I expected. He scanned the crowd once more. Hes not here, Voss. Go and find him, and quickly! he ordered. Voss disappeared in a flash and Roland returned his attention to the ceremony. How he hated all this unnecessary pomp. His eyes wandered about the chamber as Leonard, a young man who Roland knew had trained for combat, was unexpectedly apprenticed to the kitchen.

Sitting always to the right of the throne, Alendria, the kings daughter, looked regal and beautiful, her raven hair circled with a silver band. To the left stood the rat-faced Gerald, the kings arrogant son and heir to the throne.

Beside Gerald, keeping close watch over the king, stood Malifec, the royal advisor, his eyes narrow and his bearded chin thrust outward. Roland watched the gray-clad advisor with contempt, though he had no reason to dislike him. He knew little of the advisor other than the king valued his guidance. Valued it too much, Roland thought. Malifecs position gave him powerful influence over the kings decisions, a discomforting prospect, in Rolands opinion.

Fumbles, the kings fool, wrapped in his usual ridiculously colored garb, stood far to one side of the dais. Normally boisterous and obnoxious, the little man watched the ceremony with uncommon reserve.

The crowd erupted again in raucous applause as a slender girl was assigned under the tutelage of Mrs. Killgard, the palace gardener. The girl walked with excessive slowness to stand beside the caretaker, who smiled proudly. Roland rolled his eyes, wishing silently that something would cut the ceremony shortan earthquake, a war, anything.

The king waited until the crowd again fell silent before announcing the next name. Denrikk Blueberry.

Quiet laughter rippled across the hall.

Barbary, Father, Alendria corrected. His name is Barbary. The king squinted down at his parchment. Ah, so it is! Barbary.

Heads turned this way and that, but no one rose to the name. Roland held his breath and scanned the hall expectantly. Where the hell is he ?

Well, as it appears that Mister Barbary is not in attendance, an alternate must be chosen, the king said. He looked in Rolands direction. The lad was to be assigned to your service, Master-at-Arms, is that correct?

Roland cleared his throat. Indeed, Your Majesty, he said. Where is that boy?

The king ran a finger down the names on the parchment. Ah! he smiled. Ding McPortly. A husky boy sprang to his feet from a seat in the center of the hall, a wide smile on his face. It says here, the king continued, that Ding is to be assigned to the stables, but if there are no objections? His eyes scanned the room.

The old stable master spoke up from the back of the chamber. I have no objection, Your Majesty. He glanced at the three young men standing beside him. It will mean more work for these lads, but Im certain theyre up for the challenge.

Very well. The king nodded. Ding-dong will, from here on, serve under our master at arms.

The hall erupted in laughter.

Father! Alendria admonished.

What did I say? the king asked. Unaffected by the slight, Ding strode proudly through the crowd to stand with Roland.

It was close to an hour later before the final names were called and the apprenticeships were completed. Only Fumbles, the kings fool, remained without a novitiate.

Im sorry my old friend, the king said to the colorfully dressed man. Yet again, there appears no one suited for the unique and special abilities necessary in your art.

Fumbles bowed grandiosely. No apology necessary, your greatness. For certain, it is a rare thing for a pupil with the required skills to enter these halls.

As if on cue, the great door to the chamber slammed opened with a thunderous boom. A young man with sopping brown hair and covered only in a shabby towel was ushered into the hall by the uniformed man Roland had sent. The man led the boy through the crowd of stunned onlookers and shoved him toward the dais. In comic-fashion, the boys wet feet slipped from beneath him as he attempted to steady himself. He twisted high into the air, his feet flying toward the ceiling, and landed face-down, his towel whipping up around his waist and exposing his bare backside directly to the king. The crowd broke their silence and laughter filled the hall.

Silence! the king bellowed. Alendria leaned across and spoke quietly to her father. At the same time, Malifec leaned in and also spoke into the kings ear. The king shook his head and waved the advisor away.

So, the king addressed the crowd, Young Blueberry has at last decided to join us, and in such splendid fashion.