Maggie and the Dragon, Part II.

Well, the title says it all. I'm adding more because Sarah told me to, and I do what Sarah says (especially because it's been YEARS since Sarah told me to do anything). Welcome to Maggie and the Dragon, Part Deux


Claudius circled the city of Shemraeth, where the new Castle of the Kings, Roislin, loomed white and large over the city, rather like an obnoxiously ostentatious poodle. It had been named for the first Queen to inhabit it, who had been similarly pale and enormous.

When Claudis landed in the plaza before the palace, the guards on duty took one look at him and ran for their lives--all except one, a young one with brilliant red hair and a brilliant red face to match. He ran at Claudius, shouting furiously, drawing his sword and taking an almighty swipe--

--and gasped as his sword shattered on Claudius' armored bulk. Claudius sighed and picked the man up by his overlarge shield. The guard hung on for dear life as a set of green eyes bigger than his head scrutinized him.

"Let me guess," Claudius said wearily. "You name is Gawain or Tristan or something like that..."

"C-Caradoc...actually..." gasped the guard, nearly losing his grip and tumbling to the white cobblestones below. Far below.

Claudius lowered the hapless Caradoc to the ground gently. "That was my next guess."

Caradoc gaped at Claudius for a moment before closing his mouth and gesticulating angrily with his now-jagged sword. "You broke my sword! Do you know how hard this kind is to find? It was forged by the great dwarven smith Steelhand Forgebones from iron that came from the heart of a earth-fallen star and you--broke--it."

Now it was Claudius' turn to be surprised. "You broke your sword on me.

Caradoc would not be deterred. "You broke my sword, and she had a name, I called her Cloudcarrier, and she cost me all of 10 crowns, 5 shillings, and 3 pennies. I demand recompense."

Claudius was now annoyed. "Here's recompense. I have not yet BURNED YOU TO A CRISP. His last words were a roar that spent the next half-hour bouncing through the narrow streets and tall buildings of Shamraeth, frightening the citizens, except for the children, who thought it was the best thing ever.

Caradoc was no longer red-faced. Enough color had drained from it to make his face a particularly delicate shade of salmon pink. "Point taken," he mumbled, his shoulders drooping.

Claudius studied Caradoc. He's scarcely more than a boy, a small, quiet voice said inside his head. You're not supposed to care about that, said a stronger, more strident voice. Claudius shook his head. Maybe he had overdone it in Liguria if he was arguing with himself over an underage palace guard. "I wish to see your king," Claudius told Caradoc in a low rumble. "Have him attend me. Hastily."

"Yes sir...I mean, yes lord...I mean, yes, your Dragonness." Caradoc turned on his heel and fled, broken sword still in hand.

Claudius settled himself down to wait, lashing his tail like a perturbed house cat and knocking a few rents in the cobblestones. Anyone who had been in the Great Plaza had found somewhere else to be very, very quickly. It was completely still and silent, apart from the sound of Claudius' smoky breath. Several minutes went by; Claudius began to grow irritated. I could just melt it, he thought idly. It looks like a giant sugarcube anyway. No...I did enough of that in Liguria. Best to wait.

After a few minutes more, Claudius could hear the sounds of many heavy footsteps. Suddenly, bursting out of the door and flowing down the shallow steps leading from the Plaza to the Castle Roislin, many guards in green livery came with pikes lowered and helmets on. Behind them lumbered a rotund man just past his middle years. He had food stains, old and new, all over his tunic and even on his ruff (An ermine ruff, or I miss my guess, thought Claudius). He also had a thin gold circlet embossed with three-clover and ivy. A girl and a boy, both in their teenage years and golden-haired, trailed in his wake. They stopped several yards away from Claudius, still on the palace steps, and the guards fanned out in a semi-circle front and back of the three.

It took Claudius a moment, studying the slovenly circlet-wearer, to assess the situation and who he was facing. When the realization struck him, he began to laugh, spewing more smoke from his nostrils and making everyone present a little nervous.

They let this old fool be king? he thought with amazed amusement. This...genetic throwback? (Despite their overall bloodthirstiness, as a race dragons have always been a few centuries' thought ahead of humankind. Or a few millennia.)

A skinny guard shouted, "His Grace King Artwr of Kiseog, Protector of the Outward Islands; Defender of Widows, Orphans, and Fools; Master of the B-"

"That's enough, Caradoc," the king said with a benevolent smile. Claudius permitted himself a small smile as well; Caradoc had somehow quickly acquired himself a helmet and a pike like his fellow guards, but his broken sword had been jammed back into his scabbard. He scowled defiantly at Claudius.

The king fixed Claudius with a stern, light-blue gaze that was almost freezing in its intensity. Claudius began to feel as if he might have underestimated the man. The small voice from early, the soft one, piped up. You should introduce yourself...it's only polite.

"Greetings, King Artwr of Kiseog," Claudius said, drawing himself up to his full height, inclining his head just a fraction, and pronounced the w-as-vowel flawlessly. "I am Claudius, Prince of Drakes, originally of hottest Aeggippus, late of Liguria..."

King Artwr looked at Claudius with a skeptical eye. "We had heard of your...exploits...in Liguria, Prince Claudius, but we had dismissed them as nothing more than fanciful tales. All Ligurians lie. You could even call them Lie-gurians." He grinned as if it were a fine joke, and his eyes twinkled.

The pun was met with a dutiful handful of snickers from the guards. The blond boy to the right of Artwr was expressionless, but the girl to his left grimaced. Claudius looked at her; she had fine-spun golden hair exactly like, what was it, yes, wheat fields in sunset, and eyes as blue as the heavens he traversed. She was tall for a woman, and well-made. In truth she was a perfect princess.

King Artwr noticed Claudius looking. "My children," he said, gesturing lazily at the boy and girl in turn. "My son, Prince Lesdred, and my daughter, Princess Beatrice. There will be no need to give them their full titles, Caradoc," he said quickly as the guard opened his mouth again to shout.

"Are you really the Prince of Drakes?" Lesdred asked bluntly. Beatrice grimaced again. Claudius tore his eyes away from her to focus on her brother.

"All dragons are considered princes," Claudius said, forcing himself not to look at Beatrice. He was hungry.

"What about girl dragons?" demanded Lesdred.s

"They are princesses," Claudis conceded. "But--"

"So you're like the Ligurian provinces, you don't have a centralized government?" Lesdred pressed. Smoke escaped from Claudius's nostrils in irritation, and his eyes took on a faint glow. Everyone but Lesdred took a step back, excepting the king, who stepped in front of his son.

Claudius forced his voice into a semblance of patience. "We have a king and a queen, just as you do." He shuddered at what the Prismatic Emperor would think of being described as a mere "king."

"Well, don't you think having so many princes and princesses rather dilutes the title?" Lesdred replied seriously. "I mean, it seems a rather stupid system--" Several people looked to have swallowed their tongue, including a knot of courtiers, male and female, who had come out to watch.

Here is a man...a boy, Claudius corrected himself, who is too foolish to value his own life. He looked into Lesdred's unguarded mind and found a rather snake-like intelligence, meaning it only really functioned on warm days and was devouring itself tail-first as fast as it could. (In those days, few people knew that dragons could read most human minds fairly easily.)

The king cleared his throat. "Forgive me, your Highness. My heir is a bit...curious."

He's an obnoxious little quibbler, you mean, thought Claudius. But he was watching Beatrice, who had shot a glare encompassing both her father and brother at the word "heir." He did not even have to read her mind; he knew. She's a firebrand, and no mistake. She may be fun to match wits with. I will have her.

He turned back to King Artwr. "Your Majesty," he said, as pleasantly as he could manage. "I have come to ask permission to inhabit one of your castles." Everyone looked shocked.

King Artwr blinked. "One of my castles? You...want to...er...which castle?"

"I do not know the name. It's very...dark. And crumbling. It has a rather deep moat," Claudius added helpfully.

King Artwr's eyebrows knit together in thought. "A deep moat? You mean.." He paused. "You mean you want to live in the Castle Ack? My dear drake, of course! It's yours, no questions asked. The Crown--"

"That is Kiseog royal property, father," Lesdred said, over the sudden murmurs of guards and courtiers. "You can't just--"

"Shut up Lesdred," King Artwr hissed out of the side of his mouth. Then he beamed at Claudius. "I would be happy to draw up a deed--"

Claudius smiled lazily, like a dealer who has checked the cards beforehand. "Oh, I don't know. I was thinking more of a gentleman's agreement, if you'll pardon the term. Something like, I'll live in the Castle Ack and everything in a three-mile radius is under my purview, and in return you won't send your soldiers and palace guards and youngest sons to my waiting maw." And here, Claudius smiled his largest, most diplomatic smile and let a few thick streams of smoke escape through his teeth.

If he had been a dragon, King Artwr probably would have been a match for Claudius, especially in strength of will. Unfortunately for the king, he was human, and extremely flammable, and scared for himself, his people, and most of all his children. He quailed.

"Fine," he said in the hollow voice of a beaten man. "That sounds fine." Claudius did not stop smiling.

"Er...your Majesty...there are a few more requirements..."

"Of course there are. Name them," Artwr said, still in that hollow voice.

"First, I require a great deal of gold and silver, both as coinage and as items of fine jewelry, as well as many loose gems."

"Done," the king said. He had the eyes of a man watching his Royal Treasury vanish out from under him. Several people gasped, for King Artwr was notorious for keeping a sharp eye on the finances of the kingdom.

"And," Claudius said, "you will supply me with one genuine, bona-fide princess."

Beatrice shrieked the shriek that angels would shriek if they shrieked. The gathered crowd began to murmur, more loudly than before. The King and Lesdred both went pale.

"No, Father!" Beatrice cried. The sound of her voice in agony seemed to rouse something in the defeated king. He straightened his shoulders and he looked Claudius hard in the eye.

"Prince Claudius," he said, raising his hand to point a claw-like finger. The strength of Artwr's gaze and voice was such that Claudius nearly backed up until he realized he was much, much bigger than the king. Artwr continued, "You may take my old castle and the lands surrounding it, for I have no need of them. And you may have half the Royal Treasury, for I daresay I can accumulate more quickly. But my daughter is a jewel beyond price, the delight of my age, and I cannot create her like again."

"You could avoid an expensive dowry," Claudius suggested in his greasiest voice. Beatrice glowered at him. It only made her more beautiful.

"I said no." Artwr's voice was steely. Everyone but the king and Claudius seemed to be holding their breath.

Claudius gave Artwr a level look. "Think it over. You have until sundown tomorrow to deliver the treasure and a princess to me. Else," and he grinned toothily, causing a few female courtiers to faint dead away, "I will turn you and your subjects to ashes, and scorch all of Kiseog to the ground. Good day, your Majesty." With that, he rose into the air, flapping his wings and dislodging several roof tiles from surrounding buildings. He did not look back as he flew. He did not have to.

Diplomacy, he thought with satisfaction. Works. Every. Time.