Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  Before he had a chance to act, the king burst into the biggest, rambunctious belly laugh that he'd ever heard in his entire life, bewildering all three friends. After thirty seconds or so, the king managed to regain his composure.

  Peter had no idea what was going to happen next. Unexpectedly, the monarch put his arm around Richie's shoulders in a fatherly sort of way.

  "Save the defiance for somebody else, my dear," he said, plainly amused. "It's wasted on me. I know about most of the things you get up to. I've followed your career with interest ever since I presented you with your prize for winning the 553rd History Fest Face-Off nearly fifty years ago in Bath. Ever since you graduated from the nursery ring, I've been getting reports with your name on them. Of course some of my advisors frown upon your actions, but then most of them are pushing three hundred years old and have never even visited the surface, let alone lived amongst the humans. Much the same can be said for some of the other dragons living in Salisbridge, I'm afraid, which is why I see so many reports linked to your good self. In all honesty, they'd like to see me give you some sort of reprimand or dressing down, I'm sure. But you remind me of..." A thoughtful expression crossed his weathered face. "Let's just say another dragon I once knew. He acted in much the same way and although many frowned upon his actions, his heart was in the right place, wanting only the best for the humans."

  A little smile broke the steely facade of Richie's face momentarily, as she remembered that day in Bath when she'd been given her full name.

  "That's not to say that I'm giving you some sort of permission to embarrass and ridicule human kind on a regular basis, you understand," voiced the king sternly.

  Richie's smile disappeared faster than a rat out of an aqueduct.

  "But, and if you tell anyone outside this room that I said this, ohhhh they'll be trouble," said the king, now smiling, "I trust you to keep the humans on their toes, and bring the ones that get too big for their boots, down to Earth once in a while." The king held out his hand for Richie to shake, before adding, "Deal?"

  Richie grasped the outstretched hand, her confidence restored. Instead of shaking it, she walked right up to him and planted a soft kiss on his weathered right cheek.

  Peter and Tank both winced as she did so. They were pretty sure that kissing the monarch without permission wasn't royal protocol. However, the king just let out a raucous cackle, much to the friends’ relief.

  Having finished laughing, the king turned to study Tank. Unlike Richie, Tank carried himself as always, with a cheerful expression and a larger degree of modesty. He stood happily as the king approached him and gazed into his large, smiling face.

  "And you would be... Tank?" suggested the king.

  "That's right," replied Tank, offering out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Your Majesty."

  A sudden frown crept over the monarch's face.

  "What... no kiss?"

  For a split second Tank's face was an absolute picture. Richie burst into laughter first, followed swiftly by the king and then Peter. Tank soon saw the funny side and joined in, always able to appreciate a joke at his own expense.

  "Sorry, son," chuckled the king, when the guffaws died down. "Couldn't resist I'm afraid."

  "No problem," countered Tank, meaning every word.

  "You're the one that nearly became a laminium ball player, is that right?"

  "Yes, Your Majesty."

  Peter and Richie shared a momentary look of astonishment. That was news to them.

  "And now you work for... Gee Tee?"

  "Yes, Majesty."

  "Less of the majesty," ordered the king. "We're all friends here."

  Tank nodded his big head in agreement.

  "How do you like working for the master mantra maker, son?"

  "It's fascinating," Tank asserted wistfully. "I had no idea that so many different types of mantras and magical artefacts existed. I've only seen a fraction of what's in the shop itself, but those that I have would make most dragons’ eyes pop out."

  This time it was the king's turn to nod in agreement.

  "Not to mentions the things Gee Tee himself knows," continued the rugby playing dragon. "Some of it’s mind boggling, it really is, but mostly it's just absolutely brilliant. I'm sure with more time and research, the mantras, combined with Gee Tee's breadth of knowledge could have astounding beneficial effects on human civilisation."

  About to go off on one as Peter liked to describe it, the king stopped the young dragon before he could go any further, having already got the impression that the youngster could talk about his work for a whole day or more.

  Peter smiled on noting how quick the king was on the uptake. Clearly one of the attributes of being the monarch was to be able to distinguish somebody that could talk at great length and know just when, and how, to stop them.

  "I do hope that before you use any of your newfound knowledge topside that you'll run it by the planetary development department at the Council."

  "Of course, Majesty."

  "You could also perform a small act for me," stated the king, "and don't worry, there's no kissing involved."

  All three of them smiled at the king's joke as Tank replied,

  "Anything, Your Majesty."

  "You could thank your employer for helping out in this instance, from me personally. Also, perhaps you'd be good enough to tell him that I'm sorry it's been so long, but I will pop in as soon as I get the chance. I look forward to examining some of his... mantra ink again."

  Taking a sip of water just as the king uttered those last few words, on hearing "mantra ink", Peter sprayed the entire length of the bed with the contents of his mouth, then went on to have the mother of all coughing fits. Richie patted him hard on the back, so hard in fact that his internal organs felt it. The king, meanwhile, gave him a knowing look.

  "You do know Peter, that certain mantra ink has an age requirement before you can use it?" declared the monarch, in a tone that could have been either very serious or a little light hearted. Finished with his coughing, Peter pretended not to know what the king was talking about, while it was abundantly clear that neither Richie or Tank needed to pretend. The king turned his attention back to Tank.

  "I'll certainly pass the message on, Majesty," said Tank, letting all the stuff about the mantra ink go over his head.

  "Good dragon," remarked the king, slapping Tank hard on the shoulder.

  "You know Gee Tee?" enquired Peter from his hospital bed.

  "Who doesn't?" replied the king quickly.

  Peter eyed him suspiciously, suspecting there was more to it than that.

  "Truth be told," added the king, looking around cautiously, "the old shopkeeper has helped me in much the same way he's helped you, on more than one occasion. In fact, I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't be standing here if not for his help. I owe him my life many times over, as I'm sure many other adventuring dragons down the ages do. Once again, I feel I'm trusting the three of you with one of my innermost secrets."

  "We won't say a thing," the three of them replied, almost in unison.

  Nodding, the king acknowledged that he could trust them, and then stepped back so that he could address all of them at once.

  "I think now might be a good time to take my leave and let the three of you catch up."

  Relief ran through Tank and Richie. Although honoured and gobsmacked in equal measures to meet the king in person, something very few dragons ever got to do, they were also more than a little unsure of how to act and behave in front of him. Peter, on the other hand, was very nearly overwhelmed by panic. At first he wasn't quite sure why, but a split second later he knew. He wanted answers, answers that perhaps he would never have the chance to get again. Quickly swinging his legs down to the floor from the bed, ignoring the searing pain, he stood up, and despite the fact that his head spun more than a little, he wobbled over towards the king. Tank and Richie rushed to his aid, but he waved both of them away and stood firmly in front of the monarch on his own two feet.
The king looked at him bemused.

  "Please don't go just yet," he pleaded.

  "I'm afraid I have some very important unfinished business to attend to," answered the king.

  "I... I... I... I have some more questions," stuttered Peter, gazing straight down at the floor.

  "Okay," agreed the king, picking up on just how important this seemed to the young dragon. "What's on your mind, son?"

  With the undivided attention of the dragon king, in this small hospital room, suddenly Peter felt under extreme pressure, almost wishing he'd kept his mouth shut.

  "Don't be shy son. You can ask me anything you like."

  Feeling the steam rising off him, much in the same way it did off his favourite steam trains in Swanage, nerves caused his stomach to rumble and tumble, while his legs wobbled like jelly. Grabbing his arm, the king led him back to the bed. Peter gratefully sat down on the edge of it.

  "Is it something you'd rather not have your friends hear?" asked the king, glancing over at Tank and Richie.

  "No... no... no... not at all."

  "Then ask," said the king. "I don't bite, well... not in this form anyway."

  Peter managed to smile at the king's attempt to put him at ease.

  "It's just that... it's just that... why me?"

  The king looked questioningly back at him. Peter knew he hadn't made himself clear.

  "I understand the whole Cropptech, Manson thing... he was after the laminium and I was just in his way. Wrong place, wrong time and all that. It's just, well... I was wondering why you sought me out all those times in the past? Do you do that for everybody or is there some sort of reason?"

  "Ahhh," sighed the king. "I did wonder if you would ask."

  Peter lifted his head expectantly.

  "Perhaps the three of you should sit," suggested the king, motioning towards the bed.

  Tank and Richie perched down on the edge, one either side of Peter. The king in the meantime looked as though he was doing some serious thinking, deciding no doubt just how much he could tell the three friends.

  After pacing the length of the room twice, the monarch stood in front of the trio and began.

  "I haven't always been king, as I'm sure you're all aware. I've already mentioned that at the start of my career on the Council, I was also a knight. What you probably don't know, and only a few do, is that I wasn't just any knight. In fact, I'm guessing with a little help, Peter can tell the two of you exactly who I once was, before I became king."

  Tank and Richie turned towards Peter, waiting for him to work it out.

  Feeling the pressure and expectation on him mount, Peter didn't care for it very much, and had no idea how he was supposed to work out the king's puzzle. He'd never met a genuine knight, only heard the stories like so many of the other dragonlings. Noting the youngster's creased face, the king took pity on him, giving him the clue that he so needed.

  "What would be the most ironic thing, bearing in mind your favourite nursery ring tale?"

  Racking his brains, he tried desperately hard to think what the king meant. No good at quizzes at the best of times, he felt this most certainly wasn't one of those. As the breath from each of his friends caressed either cheek and steam rose steadily from beneath his dark, curly locks, he gazed up into the king's worn, but kindly face. In that moment, it looked as though it had seen terrible tragedies and remarkable sorrow.

  'What would be ironic?' he thought over and over to himself. His favourite tale with or without a knight was of course George and the Dragon. He'd heard it so many times that he knew it off by heart, but ironic?

  Abruptly, the light bulb moment in his mind arrived.

  'You've got to be kidding me!' he thought, smiling at the king, trying to gauge if it could be true. The old man persona had a perfect poker face and gave nothing away.

  "Are you really him?" Peter asked quietly.

  The king gave a gentle nod in return.

  "I've always thought it ironic that your favourite tale was that particular one."

  Richie and Tank were frantic, bursting to know what was going on.

  "Is anyone going to let us in on the little secret?" requested Tank, feigning annoyance.

  The king smiled at them all.

  "As a knight, I believe you would have known me as... George. You might even remember a little encounter I had with a... dragon."

  It took a couple of seconds for the penny to drop, but for anyone who was watching, the wait would have been thoroughly worth it. Richie's eyes were as wide as dinner plates, while at the same time Tank's jaw nearly hit the floor.

  "The George, from George and the Dragon," the two friends said as one.

  Once again the king nodded, remembering fondly his time as the knight, George.

  'So long ago,' he thought, 'far simpler times.'

  "All my secrets are coming out today, it would seem. You may all address me as George in private. Otherwise you'll have to stick to Your Majesty."

  All three friends nodded at once.

  "The reason that I've followed you with interest, Peter, is that your grandfather, your mother's father, was one of my most trusted comrades. We fought side by side for decades and developed something of a friendship."

  Peter's face had gone totally ashen. He'd never met his grandfather, but had inherited the house in Salisbridge and all its contents from him, never really knowing what had become of him.

  The king, glancing over at Peter's face, decided to press on.

  "I first met your grandfather the day after the battle with Troydenn. He was one of the first to arrive in the city. Although already a seasoned warrior, what impressed me most about him was his ability to recognise what needed to be done, and then to get on and do it. Immediately he helped set up the first of the emergency hospitals... no more really than a large hall with an array of tables and a primitive grasp of medicine. But straight away he mucked in, organising triage, making use of everything available in an effort to save as many humans as possible. They were desperate and dark times. While others slept from exhaustion, he'd wander the wreckage of the beleaguered city looking for anything that had been missed. Most thought him mad, myself included at the time. However, we were all proved wrong when, on the second night, he was heard shouting out for help. For a moment we all thought our worst nightmares had sprung back into life and that Troydenn had escaped. Not so. Your grandfather had moved a huge amount of rubble on his own and found a pregnant woman trapped in a hole about thirty feet deep, still alive. She was only moments away from giving birth. With the surrounding area unstable and ready to collapse, and with the child about to spring into this world, your grandfather, with absolutely no thought for his own safety, tossed me the end of a rope, and then clambered down into the hole, gripping the rope with one hand, carrying a lamp in the other. While I and a few others watched from atop the rubble, your grandfather safely delivered the baby, a girl if memory serves me correctly. He then, calmly as you like, tied the baby to the rope, wrapped in his own clothing and let us bring her out, doing the same with the mother shortly after. Only after they were safe did he come out himself. I've fought battles against some of the harshest monsters this planet has to offer, but I can honestly say that incident was one of the bravest things I've ever witnessed."

  Peter couldn't hide the stream of tears that gushed down his cheeks from his friends sitting either side of him, listening intently.

  "After that night, I made a point of finding out about your grandfather. He was the kind of dragon I wanted by my side. Brave, fearless, inventive, he possessed all those qualities and more. During that damned episode he helped transport Troydenn back underground and but for a quirk of fate would have been one of the guards that accompanied the conspirators on that fateful journey to the South Pole. The king at the time had heard about his heroics in the city, mainly from me but from others as well, and rather than let him go to Antarctica, instead promoted him and assigned him to partner me. And the rest, as they say, is history.
He stayed, avoided death at the Pole, got promoted, we worked together and became the best of friends."

  Stopping all of a sudden, the king rubbed his forehead, looking as sombre as any of the friends had seen him that afternoon. Tears continued to stream down Peter's face at the thought of the valiant and heroic deeds his grandfather had performed alongside George, all those years ago.

  Continuing where he left off, the king started pacing again.

  "As the years went by, I became enthralled by and embedded in the politics of the dragon kingdom, looking to make an impact and shape the world in that particular forum. Your grandfather had little time for politics and especially politicians. He thought them time wasters and frauds. Many a night we would down an ale together and nibble on some charcoal, putting the world to rights, fighting like cat and dog about how best to serve the world. God I miss those nights so much," sighed the king. "Although our careers kept us apart for long periods of time, we always reunited wherever possible. The bond of friendship between us remained strong. Eventually I was crowned king, not in the most pleasant of circumstances, but something I'd worked towards for a very long time. One of my first acts as the new monarch was to recall your grandfather from the mission he was on. When he arrived in my chambers, he was livid, raging on about how important the mission was and how I had wrecked everything, calling him back at a moment's notice. It took some time, and many broken relics, for him to calm down. Those chambers were never quite the same after that. In due course, he listened to what I had to say. Most rulers have their own emissaries, right hand dragons, call them what you will. I explained to your grandfather that I wanted him to be mine. He scoffed and laughed at me for quite some time. Finally, however, after I explained to him that he was the only dragon on the entire planet that I trusted completely and utterly, he started to listen. I explained that not only would it be diplomatic matters that he would deal with, but also delicate matters that might require a more... covert approach. This got his attention, and somewhat reluctantly he agreed to take up the position. From my point of view, I never looked back. Despite his reservations, he was a wonderful diplomat: courteous, understanding, intelligent and tough as nails when he had to be. Carrying out covert operations with such cunning, skill and guile, he undoubtedly saved tens of thousands of lives, both human and dragon, most certainly making the world a much better and more civilised place.