Chapter 1: Princess and Knight Meet the Dragon
WHITE puffs escape my lips. The chain mail armor I’m used to wearing weighs heavily on my body. The shield I always shoulder on my back is cumbersome. But I’ve donned this gear for many years, until they became extensions of my body. I’ve never been bothered by their weight before.
I’m fatigued. I’d hate to admit it, but either my age or this rain is taking its toll on me. Or it’s because… I let Rob leave.
The endless downpour’s heavy raindrops pelt my cloak, splashin’ into beads as they hit the fabric and roll off. Drop after drop. Rain ceaselessly batters my cloak. Almost none of it manages to seep through the oil-soaked wool. But Princess’ clothing ain’t the same. Sure, her clothing is of the highest quality with precious material and meticulous stitching, but it’s not like the tailors sewed her clothes thinking she’d be trampin’ around through the woods or wastelands in her dresses.
The rain still hasn’t let up. White fog sticks to the air, closing off the surroundings. I can’t even see my horse’s ears. Fog rolled in just as we—me, my horse, and the cheeky pipsqueak princess—galloped into the forest.
Really is a bizarre fog. It came gushing out of the overgrown trees like it’d been belched out by the forest itself. Our pursuers quickly lost their bearings and stumbled around blindly through the dense growth. In the end, fear got the better of the cowards and they scampered away with their tails between their legs, just like the dogs they are! All hail Lord Designs Siegfried’s cheapskate nature! He didn’t even issue our heads a high enough bounty to help his hounds overcome their instinctive fear of the forest.
Damn straight! That’s what you get with hired soldiers. They’ll only work as hard as the gold you fork over. Fine with killin’ on the battlefield but scared witless by the unknown.
“Gideon.”
Princess sticks her head out from where I clasped the sides of the cloak together. The soft red curls she inherited from her mother spill out around her face. Her eyes, that shine like new spring leaves greeted by the sun, are a gift from her father. Freckles are scattered across her chubby cheeks and button nose. Maybe these features make her charming when she smiles, but I haven’t had the good favor of seeing this kid smile, ever. At least not yet.
Her tiny body is excessively warm and ticklish. When’s the last time I’ve been in direct contact with such a frail living thing?
“Did we…enter the forest?” she asks.
“Yeah, we’re inside.”
I’m secretly relieved, to be honest. My heart almost jumped out of my mouth, thinkin’ she’d ask, “What happened to Captain Rob?” It’s the worst possible question to think about. Answering or even hearing it would stir darkness in my chest.
“I’m surprised you noticed,” I comment.
“It sounded like we did.”
Guess that makes sense. The forest distances us from the sound of rain. Thick, tightly wound branches and the countless leaves disperse the raindrops before they reach us. Not that none of the rain passes through the leafy canopy—cold trickling water is slowly but surely zappin’ away our heat. And tiny children grow cold fast.
The fog still won’t let up. My horse has been nervously snuffling the air for a while now. Making a hard choice, I remove my cloak and hold it out to Princess.
“Wear this.”
“Ooof. Why?”
“Don’t move around. Hang on tight.” I leave her on top of my horse and dismount. Then, dropping my voice an octave, I murmur, “Good boy, Buttercup. Settle down. No worries here. Fog’s just a wee bit thick. Let’s take it slow.”
“…So its name is Buttercup.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
I take the reins and stand in front, since who knows what’s waiting for us in the forest. You can think you’re walkin’ on the trail when suddenly a swamp or a pit will open up below your feet and swallow you whole. It’s no joke. People and their horses tumble into the unknown because of carelessness all the time. Taking cautious steps, I lead Buttercup by the reins. A person’s eyes are closer to the ground than a horse’s.
Princess does as I ask and covers herself with the cloak, stayin’ perfectly still in the saddle. At a glance, you’d think she was luggage. And that’s how it oughta be. Groping through the thicket, I push our way through, choosing sparse patches of undergrowth as our path. Something—man, beast, or something else, I’m not entirely sure—had taken this path back and forth enough times to trample the shrubs and soil.
“Oh?”
We’re in luck. Dark-purple tiny fruit are danglin’ from one of the branches I cleared away. Straining my eyes, I locate bunches of the fruit here and there on other branches. I pluck a handful’s worth and offer it up to Princess.
“Here. You can eat these.” Tossing three into my mouth, I devour the blessing granted to us by this tasteful forest. “…It’ll help ease your fatigue.”
“Blackberries! They grow in the forest too?”
“They come from the forest.”
“They were in the castle gardens though?”
“Those plants came from the forest.”
“…I don’t get it.”
Oh bother. There she goes, turnin’ her lips down at the corners into a little pout. I’m the one who doesn’t get it, Little Princess. What ‘n the world just soured your mood?
“I mean that the trees growin’ in the castle gardens originally came from this forest,” I try to explain.
“How did they come to the castle?”
“Birdies ate the fruit, flew to the castle gardens, and dropped the seeds.”
“How?”
A weird sound comes from my throat. The corners of my lips twitch. I think I just laughed—in this situation and place, of all things.
“Well, can’t tell ya that…”
“You’re making fun of me.” She pouts, yet she still goes on to pluck a blackberry and bring it to her mouth. Her eyes instantly squeeze shut. Her lips pucker, and she shivers. “So SOUR!”
I laugh, “Because they’re wild.”
“But they’re yummy.”
“Good to hear.”
“What about Buttercup’s share?” Princess asks on behalf of her mount.
“Not a problem. He eats on his own.”
Mostly leaves, that is.
I throw the last blackberry from the handful I picked into my mouth. Princess stares at me.
“…What?”
“Your mouth turned purple.”
“Ah. That’s what happens when you eat raw blackberries.”
I casually wipe my lips with the back of my hand. Black gloves are convenient in times like this, since dirt and grime won’t stand out.
“…!”
Oh, she’s noticed. She’s looking at her fingers. Now then, how’ll she handle this?
Heh, she’s catching the rain in her palm…and rubbin’ it on her lips. Clever girl. She repeats the action several times. Then she takes a moment to think, before readjusting my cloak around her.
I know you’re wiping your lips on it, Princess. While pretending to adjust how you sit.
Did she not want to dirty her own clothes? Well, I kind of get why. She’s a girl after all. Props to her for not wiping her lips on Buttercup or the harness.
“Shall we move on?”
“I am ready whenever you are.”
Guiding the horse once more, I walk onwards. A single thorn pierces through my armor and stabs my chest.
Oh, right. The tiny thorn is immaterial. I didn’t even have the time to bring a single handkerchief with me.
“Ah-CHOO!”
A tiny sneeze chills me to the bone.
I need to hurry up and find us cover from the rain. Before the sun sets. While this sassy little princess still has enough energy in her to prattle.