Chapter 11
DISCOUNT DAMSELS AND TIN CANS WITH DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR
With his rucksack still firmly in place upon his back, Sir Eustace lifted his bugle to his lips and played a short fanfare. Then he let it swing from its red satin cord once more.
“The Discount Damsel Protocol,” he recited.
“Should an unwed princess or highborn lady (hereinafter referred to as the ‘Damsel’) be taken forcibly against her will (hereinafter referred to as ‘kidnapped’) by a member of the mythical species of creature known as Draco typhonus (hereinafter referred to as ‘Dragon’), the Discount Damsel Protocol (hereinafter referred to as ‘DDP’) must be enacted by a member of the Ministry of Folklore, Damsel Division by joint method of signal flare and proclamation.”
“What, no hereinafter with that one?” Dirk snorted. “And that was the longest one yet.”
“The DDP states that, upon being kidnapped by a Dragon, a Damsel’s bride price must decrease by half on the grounds of the inconvenience and mortal peril to be faced by a knight, noble, prince, king, every second son looking to improve his prospects, or anyone of the rescuing mind (hereinafter referred to as the ‘Hero’), as well as a societal reprimand to the family and/or court, if the Damsel is a ward, for not securing their house, court, kingdom, or country (hereinafter referred to as ‘Land’) against the perils of miscreants. ”
Millie gasped, but she was more intrigued than insulted.
“In the event of a kidnapping, the Damsel’s family and home Land will be alerted to the enactment of the DDP by the Ministry of Folklore.
Announcements of the kidnapping will be sent to all Lands within five hundred leagues of the Dragon’s tower to initiate the retrieval of the Damsel by any non-magical means necessary (hereinafter referred to as ‘Rescue’) as deemed fit by the Hero. ”
Dirk thwacked Bradley’s shoulder. “You see how he said tower there instead of abode, establishment, domicile, et cetera? He knows it’s industry standard so there’s no reason to incorporate any other edifices under an umbrella term.
It’s like I told you before—dragons lock their princesses up in towers. ”
“Of course,” Millie agreed. “Where else would a dragon stash a princess?”
Bradley just huffed.
“A Rescue is further defined as single combat or similar engagement between Dragon and Hero,” Sir Eustace rattled on.
“Should a Hero be accompanied by others, they are not to interfere once a Rescue attempt has been initiated, other than squires or similar staff, which may provide alternative weapons or equipment if called upon.
“The benefits gained by the Hero, or his liege lord if he be proxy, through marriage to the Damsel remain the same despite the discount.
If, after a period of ninety days, backdated to the initial date of the kidnapping, the Damsel is not Rescued from the Dragon by a Hero, the Damsel is presumed Unrescuable, labeled a Drain of Resources, and removed from the line of inheritance.
The Dragon may do with the Drain of Resources whatever he deems appropriate, including consumption, indentured servitude, release, et cetera.
“The discount then transfers to the next eligible female in the Drain of Resources’ familial line for the next ninety days as recompense for the waste of time, resources, and/or lives lost to the Dragon during the failed Rescue attempts.
This transference is only negated if there are no attempted Rescues of the Damsel by a Hero. ”
“How often does that happen?” Bradley signed, and Dirk shouted the question down to the little man.
“Never,” Sir Eustace answered crisply. “Now please let me finish.
“To ensure the rules of the DDP are followed, the ministry official who delivered the DDP proclamation is to remain on scene, unmolested by Damsel, Dragon, or Hero, in the role of a third-party observer. The official will keep a record of every Rescue attempt, to the best of his or her ability, including the Hero’s name and origin, occupation, method of Rescue, the Dragon’s method of thwarting said Rescue, and Rescue outcome, along with any details deemed worthy of note.
This concludes the DDP proclamation. You, Damsel, may now be Rescued. ”
The ministry official played another fanfare on his bugle to conclude his announcement, then promptly whipped out a chronicle as thick as his forearm and a very large and important-looking quill from his rucksack.
“Now, Dragon, I must inquire as to the identity of that young man with the unusually long dark hair up there beside you. It is unheard of for a dragon and his princess hostage to share their tower with another, so, pray tell, who is that?”
Dirk and Bradley shared an anxious look.
The ministry official obviously didn’t recognize Bradley as a sorcerer apprentice by his brown robe, and that was a good thing.
If word got out that this was no ordinary tower in the middle of a desert, but a sorcerer’s tower, why, it could attract the worst sort of individuals.
Treasure-hunters, rogue sorcerers, maybe even a witch of the waste or a soulless warlock.
“Well?” Sir Eustace demanded.
“This is Bradley. My, uh, valet.”
The ministry official squinted, as if that had any sharpening effect on his hearing. “I beg your pardon?”
“My valet,” Dirk replied in a more confident tone, fully committed to this ruse now. “If knights can have squires, why can’t I have a valet?”
Sir Eustace, who had overseen many a DDP, had never heard anything so outrageous in his entire life, and he was approaching his six hundredth birthday this August. “Because you’re a dragon!”
Dirk crossed his arms over his chest. “I never saw any fine print on my birth certificate saying I couldn’t have a valet just because I’m a dragon.”
“But—”
“I am a dragon, meat sack! I do what I want!”
Sir Eustace obviously couldn’t argue with that, though he disliked the dragon’s tone. Sniffing his displeasure, he noted that a human named Bradley was Dirk the Dangerous’s valet in his chronicle and shucked his rucksack.
For a moment, the three in the tower remained craned over the balcony railing to watch the little man in his three-piece suit go about extracting a cabin tent, a cot, a petite wood stove, a cast-iron skillet, a potted tangelo tree from Lagunas, a canteen, and all manner of camping equipment one might need for a prolonged stay.
“Wonderful,” Bradley groaned as he signed. “Nothing like a bunch of tin cans with delusions of grandeur showing up here, hurling insults at my friend, and trying to break down the tower while I’m working. It’s only my whole future on the line.”
Either Millie and Dirk didn’t notice he was signing, or they ignored him entirely.
“The Discount Damsel Protocol.” Dirk tapped his chin with a claw, releasing a sprinkle of carmine dust. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of that one, but how exciting!
Just think— Oh, Millie, I’m sorry. How are you, um, feeling?
You know, now that anyone who comes to rescue you is only doing so for the half-off-the-Amberly-throne sale? ”
“It’s perfect,” she whispered, turning towards them. The delight on her face was borderline manic. “Don’t you see? In ninety days, I’ll be legally free of the throne. I’ll be free to become a pirate! And there’s no one in the Amberly court who can do a thing about it.”
Dirk let out a whoop and corkscrewed through the air.
“You’ll see to it, Master Dirk, won’t you? You’ll thwart every rescue attempt for the next eighty-nine days?”
“Of course I will. Just think of all the Heroes I’ll be able to test my mettle against.” He rubbed his paws together and cackled. “Think of the loot!”
“No,” Bradley said firmly, then signed, “You know how a knight rescues a damsel? By killing the dragon, that’s how! You are confined to the tower for the next ninety days. Let the two hundred feet of tower deter them.”
“But, Bradley—”
“No buts. Your heart is going to stay in your chest where it belongs, you hear me?”
“More like I see you signing,” he grumbled. “This is going to absolutely ruin my budding reputation, you know that, right? Dirk the Dangerous will downgrade to Dirk the Deserter, for I won’t be seen terrorizing anyone for the next three months! I’ll have to start from scratch all over—”
A sly grin spread across his muzzle, and he flew up to poke the air in front of the sorcerer apprentice’s nose. “I’ll stay in the tower if you can say it. Aloud. A Designated Sorcerer Companion only has to obey direct verbal orders.”
“Dirk,” Bradley growled.
The little luck dragon merely folded his arms over his chest and maintained a hover, tufted tail flicking. “Say it. Or the first Hero who comes here I’m meeting on the desert sand and lighting on fire.”
Now it was the sorcerer apprentice’s turn to grow smug. “And how are you going to do that without a fireball spell?”
“We have some matches, a bottle of cooking sherry, and some very ugly curtains,” the little dragon shouted. “I’m sure I’ll think of something!”
“Uh-huh.”
“Maybe I won’t even need fire! I still have all these—” Dirk drew out a fistful of crumbled rice paper spells from his satchel.
He had forgotten they were all cracked and broken from yesterday’s coin purses.
The black ink, which was a beautiful jet made from acacia resin, the juice of Kyoho grape skins, and olive oil, degraded to red if the spell was compromised in some way.
Usually from a letter breaking off or a crack running through the word.
The broken scraps of red-streaked rice paper drifted through the baby dragon’s claws, caught the desert wind, and drifted away. Dirk’s golden eyes grew glassy, and Bradley wiped the smug expression off his face.
For a moment, the little dragon’s bottom lip quivered with defeat, then he seized two wafers with a violent, “Ah ha!”
Fulminis and amplio were written in careful, precise, black lettering.