Sir Horace and Katelyn sat around the fire and talked. They talked of this and they talked of that and they talked about the crazy events that had lead to their acquaintance, and they talked of their adventures and their families and their lives, and, when they were finished talking, they lay down on their mats and let the fire crackle and pop and send sparks into the air as they fell asleep.
They had somehow become good friends within the span of a day. It was probably because Katelyn began singing this funny song about Griffins. It was about how they only had a hankering for the flesh of teddy bears, which they would steal from small children as they slept.
It was so absurd that Sir Horace could not stop laughing.
After she was done singing, he told her about how his dad once knocked a statue in his honor into the path of a raging dragon and then had a tantrum because the artist had made his face especially beautiful. Sir Horace didn't even think it was that funny, but Katelyn doubled over, laughing uncontrollably.
And so, a great friendship began.
The night came and went.
Sir Horace awoke at dawn. He crawled out of his bag and slowly stretched himself, breathing in the fresh morning air. He got a drink from the creek that burbled next to the camp and then quickly walked to the campfire because good heavens that water was cold.
Katelyn sat there, polishing her armor. Her wavy black hair was tied up in a bun and her cheeks were slightly rosy and her eyes were the color of a stormy sea. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and it took all of his willpower to keep from staring.
"Why are you up so early?" he asked, sitting down across from her and looking at the armor she was polishing.
She must have been at it for a while because Sir Horace could clearly see his reflection in her chest plate. He did not like the way his hair looked.
Or the rest of his face, for that matter.
She chuckled. "Well, first of all, I couldn't leave all this Gobbledegook blood on my expensive armor, and second because you snore like a mountain banshee in heat."
He decided to ignore that last comment.
"So... what brings you all the way out here?" he asked, looking back at Oscar III because he was making a weird noise in the back of his throat and it was really gross to listen to. Katelyn politely waited for Sir Horace to stop violently shushing his horse before responding.
"Well, it's a little hard to explain, but in short my dad wouldn't respect my decision not to go to the School of Proper Princessing, and so therefore exiled me from his kingdom forever," she said, sighing.
Sir Horace tensed up. If his ears did not deceive him, her father was a King. That meant that, if Sir Horace remembered correctly from his Royal Family Tree class, Katelyn was a princess.
He swallowed. He hadn't treated her like a princess at all, and doing something like that to any member of a royal family was considered highly offensive and was punishable by death, as long as the offender did not receive the forgiveness of said offendee. He cleared his throat, stood up and bowed. She gave him a quizzical look.
"My dearest Princess Katelyn, I would like to formally apologize to you for not treating you like a woman of your status ought to be treated. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I shall be eternally grateful," he said, looking down at his feet as he expressed his apologies.
Katelyn's face clouded over, and she stopped polishing her armor. She stood up and got right up in Sir Horace's face.
"I thought you were cool! I thought I could trust you not to treat me like some 'spoiled royal kid' who expects everyone to bend over backwards for them!" she yelled in his face. "So, I guess you can go find somebody else to talk to, somebody who has the same ideas as you do!" she then turned around and stormed towards his horse, realized that she had forgotten her sword, turned around to retrieve it, and then tripped over her shoelace and fell into the stream.
She swore. Loudly.
Sir Horace sat there for a moment in shock before jumping up and helping her out of the frigid water. She gave him a dirty look and walked over to the fire that was mostly dead by now. She angrily began to pile wood onto it, trying to get it to light up again. Sir Horace walked over to her and tried to apologize.
"Sorry," he said lamely.
She grunted. He looked down at his feet and tried again. "Look, I --" he began, but she cut him off. "Okay, I'm really pissed at you and my dad and this stupid fire, so I would really appreciate it if you would just shut your face for a few minutes, okay?"
She then turned her back to him and began yelling at the fire.
Fifteen minutes came and went. Sir Horace was leaning against Oscar III, reading a book when he saw Katelyn sit down again and grumpily begin to polish her armor.
"So... why did you decide to, y'know, become a knight? Decide to frolic around killing things and generally being awesome?"
"Why do you do it?" she asked him, looking down at her sword. He thought about it for a moment and then replied that he did it because it was fun and exciting and better than learning math.
"Exactly," she replied, and then began to polish her left gauntlet.
Sir Horace decided to do the same and walked over to the bag that held all of his armor and discovered that his left gauntlet was missing. He must have left it in the tree.
Sir Horace swore and then a knight burst out of the forest and into the clearing, almost as if Sir Horace had summoned him. Sir Horace and Katelyn jumped to their feet and drew their swords. The knight dismounted, cleared his throat and began to yell his message.
"I bring a message from the Great King Lawrence of Stonegate! He wishes to know if his daughter will return to him and respect his wishes to send her to the School of Proper Princessing! If she does not come willingly, he will send a team of professional kidnappers to bring her back against her will!"
He then lapsed into an expectant silence.
Katelyn lowered her sword. "No, I will not --"
"What is your message?!" he yelled. She gave the knight a quizzical look and tried again. "No, I will not --"
"Thank you for your time!" he yelled, and then, after saying that, got up on his horse, yelled 'onwards' and disappeared into the woods.
Sir Horace and Katelyn were left standing there in the clearing, quite upset and more than a little confused. Katelyn sheathed her sword and turned towards Oscar III.
"We have to get out of here," she said, picking up her armor and dumping it in a bag. "If my father sends a messenger just to threaten me with a kidnapping, then he's serious."
She tied the bag shut and threw it on Oscar III. Sir Horace did the same, and then, after packing up his sleeping mat, began kicking sand onto the fire.
Fifteen minutes later, they were on the road. The road to where, you ask? Well, they thought they were riding towards the town of Bamburgh, where they planned on staying the night and spending some time in the Bamburgh Museum of Everything.
But, alas and alack, Sir Horace held the map upside down, and so, therefore, led them straight into the Forest of Nothing.
Meanwhile, Beef feasted. He feasted on sheep and he feasted on goats and he even feasted on a few two legged prisoners he had, because it was a very special occasion and very special occasions deserved very special meals. Why was he feasting? He was feasting because he had successfully captured another town for his cause.
He had decided not to kill its Magistrate like he did in the other four, because this was a town that was strategically placed in front of a mountain pass that he planned on using for his Great Invasion of the Eastern Kingdoms.
He would have to come up with a better name for that later, but right now he was eating and eating took precedence over… well, everything.
He popped a screaming peasant into his great purple maw, and, as he chewed, closed his eyes and sighed in bliss. Peasants were, in his opinion, the most delicious of them all. He eyed another trembling human, a nobleman this time. He licked his lips and picked him up. He hadn’t ever eaten a human of this variety, and he was quite excited to be trying something new, a very very special delicacy.
He popped the human into his mouth.
He chewed once.
He chewed twice.
He chewed three times and then spit the remains of the nobleman out because he tasted of money and greed. He wiped his lips and decided that noblemen were disgusting.
He ate another sheep and stretched. Time to go talk to Anastasia.
He pulled on a giant rope that hung down from the cavernous ceiling above and stood up. Nothing happened. He pulled again, and still, nothing happened. He pulled again and again and again and finally the great ceiling opened up and he opened his great purple wings and flew out into the great beyond, headed for his ally’s great obsidian tower.
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