Lost in Glory

The victory was total, unquestionable and utterly ridiculous. The General had no doubt that the battle should have been lost. Mostly because the orcs were numerous enough to slaughter every human and deer on the battlefield. The duel was simply silly, and the orcs running away from his horsemen... Horsemen, most of whom were awfully foggy and a bit transparent. Mainly because they were illusions, and poor ones at that. There also wasn't really that much of them, they were just spread out nicely. Overall, it was like the silliest strategy ever. But it worked, that was the important part. Enough of the orcs got fooled and started a stampede. Those who tried to stay and fight got killed by friendly-trample.

Ridiculous or not, Roseduck wasn't complaining. A bit of ridiculousness sure beat getting slaughtered. And now it was time to talk to the Hero. Well, as soon as he'd get back from wiping out the unfortunate orcs that weren't running away fast enough, that is. Roseduck remembered that the paladin's supposed quest was to defeat the Empire of Evil. The orcs most likely weren't the Empire of Evil. Most likely the Glorious Empire of the Falling Star of Questionable Smell was. Not that many Empires around after all. He couldn't help but notice that he was in command of the army of this particular Empire. He needed to persuade the Hero that he wasn't 'evil'. A failure to do that would end very badly. Alternatively, he could run away. Still, running away from Heroes... If fairy tales were any indicator, it was a hopeless endeavour.

And there he was, accompanied by the gnome and some girl. Now, how to start a conversation with that sort of person?

"Hail and well met! The day is ours!"

"The day is ours indeed! A glorious victory worthy of a song!"

"And who will they sing about?"

"Ah, my friend, you're speaking to paladin Arthaxiom the Great..."

Roseduck had already heard these titles. He didn't need to hear them again, but he didn't have much choice in this matter.

"...Turquoise Spearman of Heavens, Sword of Justice in the Gloom of Uncertainty! And you, friend?"

"I am General Eneumerius Roseduck, High Lord Commander of the Awesome Army of the Glorious Empire of the Falling Star of Questionable Smell."

This declaration somewhat dampened the paladin's mood, but not exactly because of too many ofs. "The Empire of Evil?" he inquired with suspicion.

"Not really, no."

"But you just said you are from the Empire!"

"Well, yes, but it isn't evil."

"They fought the orcs, didn't they?" Alexander pointed out.

The paladin scratched his helmet with his gauntlet.

Roseduck saw his chance. "Exactly! If we were evil, we would ally with the orcs!"

Arthaxiom appeared to be considering that. "Very well. I believe you. You have an honest face."

"WHAT?" Gaduria scowled. "You believe him just because you like his face?"

"I do indeed."

"And what kind of face you wouldn't believe?"

"Many types are evil. A goatee, for example. I would never trust a man with a goatee."

Roseduck quietly thanked all the supernatural entities he didn't really believe in for the inspiration to shave off his goatee. Had this all happened a year ago, he'd end up killed because of facial hair.

"Very well. So what happens now?"

The Baron had the answer to that. "He's a true Hero! He saved us all! We should declare him our new Emperor! He won't fall into a moat with lions!"

The peasants cheered. The soldiers cheered too. Roseduck actually cringed at Oxrabbit's words. No better way to start infighting in the troops. But no. Not even one voice of dissent could be heard. The General was stunned. This must have been part of this whole Heroism thing. No other option really.

"Wait! Wait! I cannot become an Emperor. Being an Emperor is evil!"

This time the crowd booed. All the euphoria died down. They really wanted the paladin as their Emperor.

"So become a King instead!" the Baron shouted. The cheers started again.

"King Arthaxiom! King Arthaxiom! King Arthaxiom!"

"Are they mad?" Roseduck whispered.

"Are you asking me?" the Marquis replied and smiled. "If so, I say yes. And I wouldn't worry."

"That sort of thing is perfectly normal around him," Alexander said.

"What, he drives people mad?"

"Yes. And dwarves too."

-I-I-I-I-

The peasants went back to their villages, the deer went back to their forests, and the army, with the addition of Arthaxiom, Gaduria and Alexander, was returning to the capital. Scouts were still following the remainder of the orcish army, but it seemed that the orcs had absolutely no intention on turning back. Roseduck was very happy about that. Some of the dumber soldiers weren't, but it was their problem. If they wished to get themselves killed there were many other ways, most of them more fun. The orcs were no longer a problem, but there were more problems at hand. The most immediate one was Arthaxiom the paladin and Baron Oxrabbit trading Heroic stories.

"...and I tried to wear this helmet, but lo! and behold! There was a possum inside!"

The General sighed. He had no idea if crowning Arthaxiom was a good idea. Surely he couldn't be worse than Mevrin, but would he be any better? In some of the stories he had read the Hero indeed became a king, but none of them said anything about what happened next. 'They lived happily ever after' and that was it. What did that mean exactly? Were they good rulers? He would most likely find out quite soon.

His other worry was whether the people would accept Arthaxiom as their King or not, but it wasn't a big worry. This paladin seemed to have a way with people. People were willing to follow him for some reason. The army was the first test. Not a single soldier expressed any dissent. And soldiers complained just about anything. Some thought they were going too fast, some thought they were going too slow, some didn't like the food... but everyone liked the Hero. Everyone. Absolutely nothing negative was being said about him. They were talking about how brave he was and how strong he was and so on and so on... Nobody even mentioned that he would have been killed if not for that flame-breathing shield of his, whereas Oxrabbit simply bashed that other huge orc to death. Yet everybody talked about Arthaxiom, and nobody about the Baron.

He needed to speak to someone about the situation. The only reasonable candidate was the Marquis. He rode next to him. "So, what do you think about our new King?" he asked.

The Marquis appeared somewhat absent as usual, but this time it wasn't the case. "Seems like a decent lad, doesn't he?"

"Yes. Yes he does."

"But you're not convinced?"

"It's like... we just chose Mevrin..." Roseduck couldn't verbalise what felt wrong to him about the whole situation.

"We did. Do you really think he will be a good Emperor? I heard he once had tried to ride a pig in his father's hall."

Roseduck hadn't heard that particular story, but he wouldn't put it past Mevrin. "Well... not really..."

"Don't think I don't know that you picked the candidate least likely to be controlled by one of the lords. A pity it meant the dumbest, although I don't think others were that much better."

"You voted for him too. Why?"

"We had to choose someone anyway and I wanted to go fight orcs."

"Why? Why did you suddenly decide to come with me?"

"Ah well, I might as well tell you... When I was young, a madwoman told me that someday I would save the Empire. I thought this might be it. Something to do with the orcs. Apparently not."

Eneumerius would laugh at believing in ramblings of a madwoman, but in the current situation, well... everything could be possible if it had something to do with the Hero. "That's why you spent all these years as a High Lord?"

"Yes. That, and none of my heirs is competent enough. I don't know how I could have sired such morons."

"Oh well. Happens to all of us." He suddenly realised it really had happened to all lords. To those that had children, at least. The current generation was as dumb as swamp toads. Some even as dumb as particularly unintelligent swamp toads. "Maybe your decision to vote for Mevrin saved the Empire?"

"Maybe. If so, it was quite anticlimactic. Worst foreboding ever."

"Right. So what now? Will Mevrin just step aside?"

"Let's ask his uncle maybe? Hey, Oxrabbit, come here for a second!"

"Yes?"

"So if we have a King now, what about the Emperor?"

"Ah, yes, don't worry. I'll tell him to go away. And just between us," he lowered his voice conspirationally, "he wouldn't make a good Emperor."

"And why is that?" Roseduck could come up with a dozen of reasons instantly and many more if he thought about it, but he was curious what the Baron's reasoning was. He expected it would be surprising and he wasn't disappointed.

"You know, he cannot, like, knock out a cow with a single blow. Needs at least two. Still better than the rest of the bunch probably, but he's not the one we need. This Hero guy can do it in one, I'm sure."

"Right."

"Indeed."

Suddenly a messenger arrived. It would be quite a bit less sudden, if anyone had been paying attention. A young man on a horse. He was terrified, as if a horde of demons was after him. Not one of the regular messengers. Roseduck was sure he'd seen him somewhere. A stable boy?

"General! General! The Archmage summoned the orcs!"

One of the characteristics of a good messenger is delivering the message to the proper recipient and not to everyone within earshot. The General would chide him for that, but first of all the man wasn't a professional in first place, and secondly, the damage was already done and now there were other things to take care of.

"Traitor!" the Baron roared. "That old goat is a traitor!" All the soldiers followed his lead.

"Do not worry! I shall free you from that evil tyrant!" Arthaxiom declared. The soldiers cheered.

Roseduck sighed. They just jump to conclusions like that. Neither one asked important questions, like, for example, 'How do you know that?' or 'Are you sure?'. Eneumerius decided he should ask some of these questions, although he wasn't quite sure what for, since the course of action had been already decided. While everyone else was shouting and cheered he took the messenger aside.

"Who sent you?" he asked the boy.

"Ah, General, they were terrifying!"

Well, that wasn't a good start. From the very beginning he had a nagging feeling about who was behind that and now he was almost sure. "Please elaborate."

"There was that guy in black and this lady in red. He seemed... creepy. And she was very angry. They told me to give you this message as soon as possible or else."

"Or else what?"

"I was too afraid to ask."

Yes, Vannard and Saalteinamariva at their best. "What exactly did they say?"

"They said something about some dark lord being a mage and that the Archmage wants to take over and that they summoned the orcs and then they scared the carp out of me that if I don't get this to you bad things will happen."

"Ah. Did they by any chance say what were they going to do?"

"I think they wanted to kill someone. Not sure who. Just hoped not me."

"They wanted to kill the Archmage!" Roseduck exclaimed. "What else was I expecting?" he added after a moment.

"I don't know," the messenger replied, somewhat confused.

"Well, neither do I."

-I-I-I-I-

The army was approaching the capital. They picked some more bad news on the way. Apparently, the new Emperor had raised taxes, locked up some people in the dungeon, and did some other not very nice things. People weren't too happy about that. As a result, making them shout about 'King Arthaxiom' didn't take long.

"Do not worry, good people! I will cease the senseless burdens being thrown upon you! This Emperor cares not for the well-being of his people, therefore now I truly see that my decision was a correct one! A new rule shall be established, rule of what's good and right and shiny! No more bending of peasant backs with too many rakes! No more using soldiers for building moats! No more feeding old people with mice!"

"King Arthaxiom! King Arthaxiom! King Arthaxiom!"

Roseduck groaned. "I didn't know that part of being a Hero is speaking like Oxrabbit," he said to the Marquis.

"Oh no, my boy. You might have already forgotten, but Oxrabbit is way worse."

"Worse how exactly?"

"I'm not sure, but I need more rabbits jumping in my head during his speeches to stop caring." He smiled. "Anyway, I think he's going to prove my point."

Indeed, Baron Oxrabbit also wanted to address the troops. "Soldiers! Before you, you see a man, who is a man, because he's a man! And a Hero! Yes! That man who is a Hero will soon be our King! We need such King! So even if he falls into a moat full of lions he'll emerge victorious!"

"Fall into a moat full of lions? Is this man mad?" Gaduria asked.

"Actually that's how our previous Emperor died. But apart from that, yes, he's quite mad," the General replied.

"Now he'll free us from the dark evil of taxes! From mages and their orcs! And from, like, locusts, and such, you know! Because he's the Heroic man who is our King now, well maybe not just yet, but any day now, yes indeed!"

"King Arthaxiom! King Arthaxiom! King Arthaxiom!"

"And when he becomes the King, he will, like, smash the enemies with his mighty hooves and stuff, because he's the Hero! Yes indeed! Turn their legs to jelly, he will! And eat them! Like, like... like them very small fruit thingies! Because that's all they deserve! Long live the King!"

"Long live the King! Long live the King! Long live the King!"

"They... liked it," Roseduck said weakly.

"They sure did," Alexander replied. "It's like magic. He must have borrowed some from Arthaxiom."

"Long live the King," the Marquis repeated absentmindedly and dozed off.

-I-I-I-I-

Duke and Duchess Thinoak were running away. In their particular case it was more like being carried away. In a carriage. Pulled by six horses. Four weren't enough. The Duke was very worried about the orcish invasion. He had serious doubts about Roseduck's chances to fend them off. Therefore, like other non-crazy High Lords, he decided to leave the capital. But whereas the other lords fled to their respective castles, the Duke didn't. Castles gave good protection, but were obvious targets. Distance gave a better protection than stone walls.

The problem of orcs was left far behind, but there was another problem. They were lost. What had started as a road some days ago was no longer a road. It was only a patch of dirt slightly smoother than all the other dirt around. At least the captain of Thinoak's personal guard hoped so. Either that or he was hallucinating from staring into the dirt for too long.

The Duke's personal guard was down to about a dozen. It was a lot less than they had started with. Many guards snuck away at various points during the trip. They decided to try their own luck instead of following the Duke on his journey to nowhere. The few who stayed did it because of loyalty or some other kind of stupidity.

Now that they were lost, the Duke decided to solve the problem. His solving mostly consisted of urging the captain to find out where they were exactly. The captain on his part urged his men to find out where they were. They did no such thing, because they didn't know how. As a result, the Duke and his escort kept moving forward along something that may or may not have been a road.

After a few days of that, a village was spotted on the horizon. It could be a good place to get some information about their current location, and also to resupply. They badly needed to resupply, because soon the Thinoaks would have to choose between eating the guards or eating the horses. Or possibly eating the carriage. Unfortunately, the Duke didn't take into account the fact that they weren't inside the Empire's jurisdiction anymore. Not in a real sense at least. The Empire had claimed a lot of wastelands as their own just because nobody else did, so technically this place might have still been within the borders.

The huts were somewhat different than the ones usually found within the Empire. Circular, not rectangular. The roofs were thatched with some sort of reed. Thinoak didn't take any notice of that. Neither he took into account that the inhabitants were somewhat different too. The most striking difference was that they were rather thin. As if they didn't have enough to eat.

As the caravan approached the centre of the village, more and more villagers stopped whatever they were doing and followed. The guards could see that many of them were looking at the horses and licking their lips. It made them uneasy.

The Duke's carriage stopped in the middle of what seemed to be the village square. It was a circle of slightly less dirty dirt right in the middle. Thinoak decided to do the talking himself and stepped out. As soon as he did, the whole village froze. All the eyes were on him. He should have realised something was terribly, terribly wrong. He did not. He was, after all, a High Lord. "Greetings, good people!"

"Food!" one of the villagers shouted and pointed.

"How kind of you to offer..."

"Food!" another villager chimed in. And another one. And many, many more. And suddenly the Duke realised that they weren't pointing at the carriage, or at his guards, or at their horses. They were pointing at him. He felt cold sweat. At this very moment, the Duchess decided to see what was happening.

"Food! Food! Food!" Another series of shouts erupted. The villagers were pointing at both humongous Thinoaks. They were getting closer. The carriage was encircled. The Duke's forces were badly outnumbered. The natives weren't well armed, but they had sticks and stones. A lot of them.

The captain of the guard noticed that his men didn't know what to do. He didn't blame them, he wasn't sure himself. The situation wasn't good at all. He estimated that an attempt to charge and fight through was doomed to fail. The only bright side was that the villagers weren't pointing at him, nor at his fellow guards, maybe because they were too skinny. He was always a believer in making use of whatever he could in order to survive. "Food!" he chanted and pointed at his employer. Probably former employer at this point.

"Men, protect me!" the Duke shouted, but it was no use. Most of them followed the captain's lead. Only two decided to draw swords and protect Thinoak, but they were quickly overpowered. The guards who joined the choir were left alone. The Duchess screamed as multiple hands grabbed her and dragged her away from the carriage. The Duke tried to fight, but to no avail. Suddenly a giant cauldron was brought from somewhere. Thinoak briefly wondered where did they get it from.

"You cannot eat me!" he shouted in one last attempt to save himself. "I'm a duke!"

They could.

-I-I-I-I-

The army was marching through the capital. The sun was shining brightly, as it was befitting the Hero's triumphant arrival. The soldiers' weapons and armour were gleaming in the sunlight. There was a lot of shouting and cheering. 'King Arthaxiom' was the most popular cheer. Many of the townsfolk ran away at the news of the invasion earlier and didn't come back yet, but some were still there and they joined the cheers. They had absolutely no idea who that 'King Arthaxiom' was, but they were quickly enlightened. There was no mistaking him, riding on the biggest steed available, shining the brightest, smiling at everyone and everything. He was the one to lower the taxes again and that was good enough for most people.

Riding next to Arthaxiom was Baron Oxrabbit, shining just a bit less, drawn to his glory like a moth to a flame. He was smiling and waving his hand and waving his sword and waving whatever or whoever he grabbed. And people cheered him too, because, well, he looked like a good person to cheer.

Then there was Gaduria, now commonly known as the princess Gaedhurienne. She had tried to explain to people she was no princess, but one word from the paladin had made all her efforts futile. If the Hero said she was a princess, then she had to be one. So in the end she decided that resistance was futile and resigned herself to being a princess. She even upgraded her name to something a bit more appropriate. In truth she didn't really mind being a princess, she was only a bit concerned that people might get upset. Sort of 'kill the evil royalty impersonator' upset. Oh well, in the worst case, she'd have a knight in the shining armour to save her. She had a nagging thought that he would even enjoy that.

There was also Alexander the dwarf, now known as Brave Gnomey, the Deer Rider. He didn't mind the Brave part, after all, he didn't run away or anything. He didn't mind the Deer Rider part. He rode a deer in battle. He wasn't sure why was it so important, but he did, so it was all right. On the other hand, he was really annoyed by the 'gnomey' part. He was a dwarf. His father was a dwarf and his mother was another dwarf. He declared that to everyone who listened and also to those who didn't, but they didn't care much. He tried to intervene with Arthaxiom, but the paladin said he still wasn't really sure about his dwarvenness. So for all practical purposes he was now a gnome. In spite of that, he waved his trident at people and tried to enjoy himself.

Marquis de Shaggysheep also waved at people, if a bit anaemically. He enjoyed himself too. He took part in the biggest battle in recent history. Well, was near it at least. It was more than Thinoak and those other cowards could claim.

General Roseduck on the other hand didn't wave at all. He tried to be as inconspicuous as he could, which wasn't too hard thanks to him being vertically-challenged a bit. He was somewhat upset about having no control of the situation. None whatsoever. He didn't feel like that since the times before he became the High Lord Commander. He could only watch and hope for the best.

The column moved through the city and then upwards, towards the Imperial Castle. The soldiers were still cheering, but Roseduck got tense. He felt that the difficult part was still ahead of them. Meeting Mevrin the First. Meeting the Archmage. Putting the reigns of both of them to end. It could get messy.

-I-I-I-I-

Emperor Mevrin the First was sitting in his throne room. His castle was even more empty than when he had first sat on his throne. One of the reasons for that was that he had grabbed whoever he could find and sent them as messengers to announce his tax rise. In the meantime he just wandered around his new castle looking for something to entertain him.

Sometimes he ordered something moved around or thrown away. Sometimes he ordered some randomly met person to do something silly, like attempt to replicate a mating call of a swamp fox while juggling lit candles. During meals he was throwing food and other things at those few remaining unfortunate souls who were tasked with serving him. Unfortunately, they got quite good at dodging rather fast. And all inhabitants of the castle got quite good at not being where the Emperor was rather fast.

Being the Emperor wasn't as fun as he had imagined. Activities he had found enjoyable in the past weren't so anymore for no particular reason. Something was lacking. He wasn't sure what. So he tried riding a horse indoors. In his younger days such attempts gave him a lot of joy. Especially the part where he was being chased and screamed at. This time the only thing he got were a few bumps on the head when he forgot to duck in doorways.

Saddened by that, he stuck with demolishing for now. This always cheered him up. And there was one other thing he had found amusing. Searching for the people hiding in his castle. It was like a game to him. Whenever he grabbed one, he called the guards and sent him down to the dungeon. What he didn't know about was that the guards were also playing a game. One consisting of letting those people go, so they could hide again.

The Master of Ceremony dutifully followed the Emperor around. He didn't use to do that with the previous Emperor, but the previous Emperor had known his stuff. He wasn't perfect or anything, but he did his job decently. The current one... well... The Master of Ceremony used to feel bad just because of having negative thoughts about the Emperor or his decisions. The Emperor is always right because he's the Emperor. Now he was beginning to doubt that.

Communication with Mevrin was difficult. Short attention span coupled with general lack of knowledge made it extremely hard to explain even the most basic concepts to him. Like, for example, that the mere act of raising the taxes won't bring the gold immediately. On the other hand, when Mevrin got something into his hand, it was impossible to dissuade him. As was the case with the aforementioned taxes. And also with attaching stuffed animal heads to suits of armour.

This day was like every other one. Mevrin had just ordered a helmet from armour suit standing in a corridor replaced with a giant stuffed moose head from the Hunters' Chamber. The Master of Ceremony wasn't convinced that it was an improvement, but one does not argue with the Emperor. Suddenly they heard cheering. Also sounds of hoofs hitting the road, and sounds of soldiers marching... the army was returning!

Mevrin hadn't heard that the army was victorious. Nobody had bothered to tell him. He himself hadn't been worried about that. His uncle was there. He was good at hitting things until they stopped moving. No better man to take care of battles and stuff. And now it would be the right time to greet him imperiously. He decided to go to his throne room to accept the news about glorious victory.

He did that. He sat on his throne, and sat, and waited, and nobody came.

"Where are they?"

"I'll find out, Highness."

"No, I'll find out myself!"

The Emperor strode outside. He hurried, and the Master of Ceremony couldn't keep up. Outside he saw some sort of a knight facing the Archmage. His uncle and few others were behind the knight, and there were lots and lots of soldiers standing in respectful distance.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

-I-I-I-I-

Arthaxiom was pleased with himself. He felt like a true Hero now. He accomplished something. Something big! He saved countless human lives from an orcish horde! He duelled and defeated a fearsome orcish chieftain! Now he was going to face the one responsible for all that. He looked at the Tower of Magic. It was huge, but he was determined to tear it down stone after stone should need arise. It did not arise. When he approached, the gate opened and a person came out. Had to be the Archmage. Certainly looked like one. Maybe apart from all the ribbons.

"A Hero, eh?"

"A Hero indeed," Arthaxiom replied. "I, paladin Arthaxiom the Great, will end your reign of evil..."

"Yes, yes, yes," the Archmage interrupted him. "You'll do all of that, yes, of course, all Heroes do. How about we fast forward to the part where I explain my plan? I'm too old to listen to Heroic speeches."

"Very well. Speak what you will, before I swipe you from..."

"Skip it!"

"Ah. Right. Sorry, you evil, scheming... err... you know."

The Archmage sighed. "I know. I'll make it short too, no need to bore everyone to death. My evil plan was to have orcs attack the Empire. The army was supposed to be left with nobody competent to lead it and fail horribly. Everyone would see how weak the Empire is. Then I would deal with the menace and take over, for the good of the people of course..."

"What is the meaning of this?"

-I-I-I-I-

Marquis de Shaggysheep was standing a bit to the side. Observing. The future of the Empire was being decided right now. That was enough to keep him awake and interested. The Hero was facing the Archmage. They were talking... well, trying to talk. The Marquis assumed that that was what they were supposed to do. Declare their intentions and then have a go at each other or something. Should be interesting, although he wasn't sure how even the strongest warrior could withstand the most powerful magic user in the Empire.

He heard a voice next to him. Young Mevrin, the one they had elected as new Emperor, came out of the castle and demanded to know what was going on. Shaggysheep felt that interrupting the Archmage's speech was a bad idea. Indeed, the old man stopped and turned to the Emperor.

"Don't get in the way," he said, with malice in his voice. He raised his hand.

Time slowed down for Marquis de Shaggysheep. With perfect clarity he remembered the prophecy that a madwoman gave him many, many years ago. That he would save the Empire. With perfect clarity he knew that in a second some sort of spell would emerge from the Archmage's hand. A spell aimed at the Emperor. Killing him most likely. The Marquis was standing a bit too far. He knew that. He knew that he would be unable to push his ruler aside in time. But instead he could get in the way and throw himself in front of Mevrin the First. Protecting him from the killing blow, possibly. Dying in the process, most certainly.

-I-I-I-I-

The donkey cart was rolling through the streets of the capital. Townsfolk dancing on the streets and cheering were getting in the way. Saalteinamariva had to put a few on fire. Townsfolk running around trying to put themselves out didn't get in the way as much.

Otto the peasant was happy. Sort of. He wasn't happy about having to ride all the way to the capital. He wasn't happy about being threatened to be put on fire every fifteen minutes or so. He also wasn't happy about the sorceress using her magic to keep both him and his donkey awake, alert and able to function. No sleep for them. The magical fire inside him was invigorating, but also weird and disconcerting. In fact the only thing Otto was happy about was that they were almost at their destination and that soon he'd be able to start his journey back home. After a good day's sleep of course. Or maybe three days.

"Unholy carping skunking weasel!" the sorceress swore. Otto felt the temperature around him rise. She was getting angry again. "We need to get up there! NOW!"

A very loud noise came from the castle. A lot of shouting followed.

-I-I-I-I-

Saalteinamariva wasn't feeling well. Her leg was broken and probably a few ribs too. Fire couldn't heal that. Only thing she could do was to keep the peasant and his donkey going. Of course, she could have also searched for some sort of a healer, but she had no time for that. She had a sense of urgency. To get back to the capital as soon as possible. She wasn't quite sure why. As she was getting closer, she started feeling something. Not sure what exactly. Some... magic. Strange magic. Just as she crossed the capital, she understood what it was. She also felt something else. A powerful spell being cast. This wasn't good. She shouted at the peasant to hurry.

The effect of the spell could be heard by ears of normal people, but for her it was much stronger. She felt it inside. Otto muttered something about a tired donkey, but she was having none of that. She needed to be up there, and 'now' wasn't an exaggeration. She focused on the donkey. This thing still could run, it just needed a bit more fire...

The donkey eeyored and accelerated. The peasant started screaming. The sorceress grabbed onto something. The cart buckled on the uneven road. The donkey was going faster than a racehorse could. As they approached the castle, another problem emerged. The gate was packed with soldiers and the magically enhanced donkey had no brakes.

-I-I-I-I-

"Don't interrupt," the Archmage said, lifted his hand, and a beam of light fired towards the Emperor. Mevrin screamed. The Marquis didn't even flinch. He calmly observed Mevrin the First getting hit in the chest with a loud bang and subsequently being composed into the castle wall. There was a lot of shouting and screaming.

"Now that this is done, let's finish it before there are more distractions, shall we?" the Archmage said calmly, but somehow was heard above the commotion.

"Very well, evildoer!" the paladin boomed. He unsheathed his sword, he raised his shield and he moved towards the old mage.

The Archmage shot another beam of light. The paladin caught it on the shield. The shield held, but Arthaxiom was held in his tracks. Another beam made him go a step backwards.

"Hey, mister Hero? Something wrong?" the Archmage taunted him.

"I'll cut your head off, you wretched seed of destruction!" Arthaxiom shouted and charged. The Archmage yawned ostensibly. Some invisible force crashed against the paladin and hurled him backwards. He tried to stay on his feet, but the inertia made him sit.

"I'm actually surprised you're still alive," the Archmage said. "Must be one of those Hero things. But time to finish this, don't you think? It's not like you're going to hurt me or something." Arthaxiom got up. "Oh please, just give up and die, will you?"

-I-I-I-I-

The donkey was unable to stop on its own. Soldiers were too busy watching the scenes happening inside to take notice of some panicked screams coming from behind. Otto the peasant saw what was going to happen, so he jumped off the cart. Saalteinamariva also saw what was going to happen, but she didn't consider jumping off an option. There was another way.

The cart and the donkey crashed into the crowd of soldiers. There was a lot of blood, screaming and cursing. And the cart exploded. The sorceress was thrown in the air. She sailed above the crowd gracefully as a cat launched from a catapult. Flailing and screaming.

She landed in the courtyard, just where all the fun was. It actually was more like a semi-controlled crash, but she managed not to harm herself any more than she was already. She magicked some more fire into her broken leg so that she could stand upright, at least for a moment. Her sudden meteoric arrival made the two combatants postpone the hostilities for a moment.

"More distractions... Didn't I already kill you?" the Archmage asked pleasantly.

"I got better," the sorceress replied. She tried to sense her surroundings. There was the Archmage, obviously. A lot of mages in the Tower, also obviously. Out of sight, but she felt them watching. This armoured man here, he felt strange. Was this that Hero that Roseduck was talking about? Had to be. But there was something else... where was it exactly...?

"So what do I owe the pleasure? Do you think you can defeat me this time?" he mocked.

"Yes," she replied. She strode towards the bystanders and approached Gaduria. "Give me that, will you?" she asked, as she took the surprised princess' hand and pulled off her ring before she had a chance to answer.

"Hey! That's mine!" Gaduria shouted, but Saalteinamariva ignored her. She turned back towards the Archmage.

"Prepare to fry." She put the ring on her finger.

The Archmage just laughed.

-I-I-I-I-

Roseduck felt very, very uncomfortable. While technically still in charge, he had no authority anymore. The troops responded to 'King Arthaxiom'. And King Arthaxiom was intent on removing the Archmage. Because he had summoned the orcs. Supposedly. No proof needed.

The General wasn't really sure if challenging the Archmage to a duel was a good idea. He tried to explain that to the paladin, but to no avail. Furthermore, he had even more doubts about filling the courtyard with soldiers. Should the mages start an all-out battle, having all the targets in one place kind of played into their hands.

He somewhat hoped that that Archmage would be already dead. That Vannard and Saalteinamariva had managed to kill him. But apparently they didn't, because the Archmage was alive and well. He even came out of his tower. Alone. To duel with Arthaxiom. Must be that Hero stuff again, because the Archmage wasn't supposed be stupid. Of course, they had to talk first. Roseduck already knew or guessed most of the Archmage's plan. The part about it being for the good of the people amused him a bit. Well, it would, if it was followed by some ridiculous explanation, instead of the annihilation of the Emperor.

The duel commenced. It was looking quite bad for the paladin. Roseduck wondered if he should order the soldiers to swarm the mage, but he decided against it for the moment. The Archmage couldn't have overlooked that many. If he came out despite them, it meant that he had some sort of a plan for dealing with them if need be.

Then there was a bang, a scream, and a somewhat dishevelled sorceress landed on the battleground. That was a surprise. Roseduck assumed that if the Archmage was alive, she had to be dead. She seemed somewhat... distracted. He watched in surprise as she approached them, as she took the ring...

Roseduck realised that another duel would commence in just a second. A purely magical one. Being in the vicinity of one would be inadvisable. And the entire army was in the vicinity. "Run!" he shouted. Nobody did. They simply couldn't hear him, there was too much noise. He elbowed Oxrabbit. "Tell them to run away!"

The Baron noticed that the General was rather agitated about this. He didn't argue. "RUN AWAY!"

-I-I-I-I-

The distressed donkey ran out first. Soldiers were right behind it. They didn't argue with the order. If Baron Oxrabbit wanted to run, they wanted to run too. Oxrabbit was not someone one would expect to run away. So he probably had a good reason. No sense in waiting to see what it was exactly.

There was a lot of shouting, trampling and screaming, but given the circumstances the retreat was quite orderly. A few trampled to death, but not as many as one could expect. Roseduck stopped at the gate. He reckoned he would be reasonably safe there and he wanted to see the fight. He was joined by a few others. Oxrabbit, who didn't want to completely run away. The Marquis, who didn't care about his own safety that much. Alexander, who didn't want to abandon the paladin. Gaduria, who didn't feel like running any further.

-I-I-I-I-

Arthaxiom the paladin was in trouble. It was difficult fighting someone he couldn't reach. His usual approach consisted of using his sword to hit the opponent. Repeatedly. Until he dropped dead. Inability to hit the Archmage basically prevented any dropping dead on his part. It was worrying.

Something else dropped instead. A woman in red. Very strange. Women shouldn't fall from the sky like that. And they shouldn't get up that quickly afterwards. Apparently she was acquainted with the Archmage and not on the best terms with him. He didn't think about it much. The duel was a more pressing concern. The pause was nice, but the fight was only delayed a bit. He tried to think what to do when it starts again, but he couldn't come up with anything else than charging and sword-waving once again.

"RUN AWAY!"

"Heroes don't run!" was Arthaxiom's first reaction. He heard Oxrabbit shout, he witnessed the stampede. And he remembered what the fish had told him. Sometimes running away is a good idea. Maybe it was right. Especially that everyone else seemed to be doing that. And that he was unable to hurt the Archmage anyway.

Of course, he didn't plainly run away. He commenced a tactical retreat while Heroically protecting the rear. That's what Heroes do.

"So, what do we have here?" the Archmage asked. "You miraculously survived and now you return just in time for the big fight, eh?"

"Indeed," Saalteinamariva replied calmly.

"And you get some sort of... a magical artefact? From a random bystander? One that I didn't sense?"

"You didn't?" She had wondered about that too. There was a powerful ring right under the Archmage's nose and he hadn't snatched it? There could be only one reason for that. Well, actually there could be quite a few reasons, but she chose the one that would be most annoying for him. "Female only." She smiled nastily. She felt the ring's power. Soon the Archmage would turn into a pile of ashes. She savoured the moment and let the Archmage gloat one last time.

"Yes, yes, surely female only. Everything at the right place and at the right time to save mister Hero's backside, eh? Don't you think it's a bit silly?"

"It's Heroic!" Arthaxiom shouted from distance.

"I just said that, didn't I? Silly."

"I'll fry you silly!"

Fire erupted from the sorceress' hands. It engulfed the Archmage. Well, the area around the Archmage. There was some space between him and the roaring flames. He was smiling condescendingly. "This is all you have?" he asked, not loudly, but somehow he was heard perfectly despite the storm of fire. He waved his hand. The flames died out, and he was standing unharmed in the middle of the scorched courtyard.

"Oh dear oh dear, it appears that your new toy didn't help your spells at all," the Archmage mocked her. "How sad. Or maybe it's just part of the drama? So, what miracle will happen next? More cavalry to save the day? A rain of some unlikely creatures? Or maybe I'll simply explode, eh?"

"Let's see." Saalteinamariva pointed the ring at him. He simply exploded.

"That was anticlimactic," the Marquis remarked. A smouldering wizard's hat fell on his head. "On the other hand, quite impressive."

"You don't say?" the Baron said. A pelvis hit his helmet with a clang.

The gates to the Tower of Mages opened. A rather upset mage emerged. "You killed the Archmage!" he shouted.

"You bastards!" another mage exclaimed. More of them ran out. Twenty, thirty, forty...

"Die." The sorceress pointed the ring at the lead mage. Nothing happened. "Damn. One use only? This skunks."

The mage smiled. "You die."

-I-I-I-I-

Most people would react sensibly when faced with a few dozens of hostile mages. They would run away. Arthaxiom the paladin wasn't most people. He ran towards them.

"For the glory of the Rainbow Sturgeon, CHAAARGE!"

The mages hesitated. In addition to the sorceress who had just exploded their Archmage, they were now faced with an armoured, sword-waving madman. Their recent experiences with sword-waving madmen weren't too encouraging.

"Recall the troops!" Roseduck shouted. He wasn't too sure about that, but having their new king magicked into little pieces would be definitely bad.

"TURN BACK!" Oxrabbit roared after the fleeing soldiers. Some of them listened, but they were quite far away already. The Baron didn't wait for them. He ran after Arthaxiom. He had always wanted to punch a wizard.

"Blast them! Aaaagh!" the mage screamed, because a corpse fell on him.

-I-I-I-I-

Vannard fell into the vortex. Swirling colours engulfed him. He was still falling. He thought so, at least. Not sure which way. His companion was still screaming, which somewhat annoyed him, so he stabbed him. It worked. As usual.

So now he was falling with a dead mage. How fun. And falling wasn't really falling. More like... floating. Because there was nowhere to fall from and nowhere to fall to.

Red swirls around him slowly turned into purple. How interesting. Not knowing where he was and where, if anywhere, he was floating to, annoyed him a bit. Getting bored annoyed him a lot more. With nothing better to do he floated towards the deceased mage and rummaged through his pockets. A piece of string, an amusingly shaped piece of candy, a talisman shaped like a two-headed weasel. Nothing interesting. He stole the talisman anyway, because, well, why not? Meanwhile the swirls turned blue. How quaint.

He stabbed the dead mage a few more times. Nothing better to do really. He tried to sing. He wasn't a singing person, but he still had nothing better to do. Unfortunately, the inside of this vortex didn't have good acoustics. He tried juggling knives, but they didn't fly. They floated. He gathered them back. The swirls turned yellow.

Well, wouldn't it be amusing if he starved to death here? He tried to amuse himself with that thought, but it wasn't really that funny. He'd eat the mage first anyway. Then he realised that he wouldn't, because in fact he would die of thirst first. Now that was amusing.

The swirls turned orange. Vannard had no idea how much time passed since he fell into the vortex. Couldn't be too long. He didn't get hungry yet, nor thirsty. Nor he needed to use the potty. That last one could get messy. Unless one didn't need to do that in this place. He hoped it was the case. The alternatives weren't amusing.

After some time the colour changed again, this time to beige. Seems somewhat ancient. Before Vannard had a chance to ponder on that, the vortex suddenly disappeared. And he was back where he started. About two-thirds of the way down. At least he felt that stupid vortex slowed him down a bit. Only a bit. In any case, something changed. Now there were people below.

"FAT!" a voice came from above. The most corpulent of the mages looked up. He wasn't as fat as Duke Thinoak, but well on the way there. Of course, he had always claimed he wasn't fat, and of course he reacted to the shout to berate the one insulting him. It didn't matter. Someone fell on his chest, knocking him down and stabbing him in the eye a blink of an eye later. At the very same moment, a corpse squashed the mages' new leader.

"Hi! Deus ex assassina!" Vannard's sudden appearance unpleasantly surprised the mages. Now they were faced with a homicidal maniac in their midst. Quite a few of them had met that very homicidal maniac a few days before and that made it even worse.

When suddenly faced with something unexpected and scary, a lot of the mages instinctively tried to do what they did best. Blow it to pieces. Unfortunately for them, the target of their spells was extremely good at dodging. Friendly fire ensued. As well as friendly lightning, friendly magic missile, friendly enchanted stream of surprising venomous flowers and whatever other spells were being cast.

The distraction was enough to allow Arthaxiom to close into melee range and proceed in his customary Heroic way, which was hacking them to pieces while shouting nonsenses. Meanwhile Saalteinamariva was attempting to put on fire everyone wearing a robe. That inconvenienced quite a few of the mages, as well as one heavily hung-over priest who had wandered in the way for some reason.

As soon as Baron Oxrabbit joined in the fun, followed by soldiers pouring back onto the courtyard, the mages surrendered. At least some of them did. Those who were fast enough to do that before getting killed and lucky enough to be standing next to someone who cared.

-I-I-I-I-

The Grand Hall was full again. Another coronation was in progress. It was a very unusual one for quite a few reasons. Obviously one of these was that it was a King being crowned instead of an Emperor. A less obvious one was connected with the Master of Ceremony. For the first time ever he was improvising.

The Master of Ceremony was reluctant at first to crown Arthaxiom. Roseduck took it upon himself to persuade the old man. He pointed out that the paladin had the people behind him. He pointed out that he looked the part. He pointed out that there was no Emperor alive anyway. He pointed out that there weren't enough High Lords around to choose a new one, and in any case, a new one probably wouldn't be any better than Mevrin. Finally, he pointed out that in case of refusal, the Master of Ceremony might die. Violently and painfully.

Not long ago the Master of Ceremony would say that he'd rather die than go against the Codex. It wasn't the case anymore. After experiencing the short and pointless rule of Mevrin the First he was willing to admit that going by the Codex wasn't necessarily the best idea. Unfortunately, the old man had asked Arthaxiom himself for some pointers and got some interesting notions from him. Even more unfortunately, he had an excellent memory.

"Dearly beloved lords and ladies, soldiers and wives of soldiers, townsfolk of both genders, peasants and female peasants! We have gathered here today to crown paladin Arthaxiom the Great, Deliverer of Light, Slayer of Evil and Wicked, Guardian of the Ancient Secret of the Holy Mysterious Summoning of the Mythical Archpegasus, Apostle of the Rainbow Sturgeon, Holder of the Hidden Antique Malodorous Anvil of Ancient Knowledge, Thirty-ninth Warrior of the Joyous Beige Dragon, Crushing Flame from the Eerie Enchanted Eastern Island, Turquoise Spearman of Heavens, Sword of Justice in the Gloom of Uncertainty as our rightful King!"

The crowd cheered. Excessively. Arthaxiom was standing in front of the former Imperial Throne, now the Royal Throne. He was still in his armour. It was not required for coronation, but he refused to acknowledge that. At least he agreed to wear a nice royal cape. He waved at the cheering crowd until they settled down. That took quite some time.

"If anyone knows any reason why this man cannot be crowned let him speak up now or remain silent forever!" This part was added to make it clear that this coronation was indeed the will of the people. The Master of Ceremony didn't really expect that someone would speak up. He was wrong.

"I know one reason."

A murmur went through the crowd as Vannard stepped forward.

"And what would it be...?" the Master of Ceremony inquired.

"I want to kill him." The crowd got agitated. Nobody expected that.

"Vannard, no!" Roseduck shouted.

"Shut up, Ducky."

"Why do you wish to kill me, evildoer?" the paladin asked. He didn't seem concerned.

"You are a Hero. I want to try to kill you. Also, I failed to kill the Archmage. I'm told Sally did. That hurt my ego. And... Wait, what am I doing?" Vannard realised he wasn't feeling all that well. Explaining himself? He never did that. At least not honestly. "I'll kill you simply because I can and I want to!"

"Very well. I accept your challenge. Nobody interfere, please. Make us room. This won't take long."

The Master of Ceremony abandoned his post. The onlookers stepped back dutifully. Nobody seemed particularly concerned. After all, one of the combatants was a Hero. Their Hero. Their soon-to-be King. He could not lose. Not to this... nobody.

The only concerned people were General Roseduck, who, unlike the crowd, knew what Vannard was capable of, and Gaduria, who thought the idea of duelling was silly. He should just call the guards and be done with it. But no, dumb Hero had to fight himself. Those stupid orcs back there did exactly the same thing, and it ended quite badly for them.

Roseduck quietly approached Saalteinamariva. "Please kill him. You can do it, can't you?"

She had been wondering about that herself. She had a good aim at Vannard's back. He was focused on the paladin, surely he wouldn't notice a nice little fireball before it was too late...? A normal person wouldn't, but Vannard was definitely not a normal person.

"I can, but I want to see how it plays out."

"I pay tenfold..."

"No."

The paladin was still in his suit of armour. Alexander approached with his helmet, sword and shield."

"Do you require armour?" Arthaxiom asked the assassin.

"Don't be ridiculous." Vannard was wearing his usual black clothes. His only visible weapon was the black sword he was wielding. "Just let me know when you're ready. But please don't take too long, I'm really eager to kill you."

"Don't do that! It's stupid! Have someone else kill him!" Gaduria protested loudly while the paladin was preparing.

"Do not worry! He'll emerge victorious!" the Baron replied.

"Yes, it will work out," Alexander said. "It always works out for him."

"I am ready now."

"Good. Let's have fun!"

-I-I-I-I-

This time Arthaxiom had all the advantages: size, armour, Heroism... It was all worthless and he didn't even know it yet. He was a Hero, but his opponent was an insane homicidal maniac. An insane homicidal maniac who was suffering from bruised ego to make it even worse.

"Catch!" Vannard shouted. The paladin didn't even flinch. A dagger hit his helmet and fell down on the floor. The assassin shrugged. He didn't really expect to succeed. Daggers ware good for lesser enemies. He had to use sword for this one.

"Withdraw while you still..." The paladin tried to reason with his opponent, but stopped. He realised that reasoning wasn't going solve this, mainly because the assassin was running towards him. This shouldn't be too hard, no armour, no shield... He swung and he missed. Vannard ducked under his blade in full run and crashed into him. Arthaxiom gave ground despite being bigger and armoured. He tried to push Vannard away with his shield, but the assassin already retreated a bit and tried a vicious strike aimed for the head. The paladin barely parried. The crowd cheered.

"You have him now!" Baron Oxrabbit boomed, while it was apparent that the paladin was far from 'having' him.

"Hit him in the nadgers! In the nadgers!" someone else shouted.

"Tear his face off!"

"His mother was a lady with an ermine!"

Having all the onlookers against him didn't worry Vannard. He didn't care. He also didn't mind that everyone seemed to think that the paladin had the advantage. He was focused exclusively on the fight and he was enjoying himself immensely.

Arthaxiom tried to cut down his opponent, but he couldn't. However he tried, Vannard just wasn't there. Instead he was somewhere else, striking in unexpected ways, never pausing, never hesitating. The paladin could barely keep up, and at the same time he had this gut-wrenching feeling that he was being toyed with. He was an amateur, a talented one mayhaps, who was facing a skilled artist. One who had been practicing all his life.

The fight continued. It was getting more and more one-sided. The Hero, badly encumbered by his armour, was getting tired. The assassin was getting bored. The crowd wildly cheered the paladin despite him clearly losing. Arthaxiom knew it wasn't going well. He tried praying. That had always worked before...

"Need another miracle, do you?" a fishy voice mocked him in his head.

"Yes please!"

"You're out of luck!"

"Just one little flame..."

"And you really think it will help you? Against him? Very well. Point the shield in the right direction, will you?"

Arthaxiom did as he was told. The fish sigil was pointed directly at the assassin. Flames erupted from the fish mouth. The assassin fell on the floor backwards. The stream of fire flew harmlessly above him and hit the wall on the far side of the hall. Some tapestries started burning.

"Nice! I want that shield!" Vannard said. The paladin tried to hit him while he was down. His sword hit the floor. The assassin was too fast once again. He rolled aside and got up before Arthaxiom managed to swing again. Now it was time for him to stop fooling around, because he really didn't want to experience any other Heroic surprises.

Vannard pressed on and Arthaxiom simply couldn't keep up. One awkward parry, a little flourish by the assassin, and the Shining Slaughtering Sword of the Silver Sun was smoothly sailing towards the stony surface. The spectators went crazy.

"I win," Vannard said simply and moved in for the killing blow. He tried to, at least. He couldn't for some reason. Something held him back. He turned his head. There was a swirling red vortex pulling him in, not unlike the one he had fallen into not long ago. The pull was increasing. "So, I was deus-exed just to slaughter those mages? How inconvenient and degrading," he said calmly, before getting sucked in.

The portal collapsed. Everyone went silent. Only Saalteinamariva spoke up. "Inattentively cast temporal displacement spells often have some unforeseen delayed after-effects." It didn't clear up the confusion.

"Magic gone bad," Roseduck translated. The crowd murmured with understanding.

-I-I-I-I-

Order got restored, the paladin recovered a bit, and the ceremony commenced.

"Is there anyone else who has something against crowning Arthaxiom the paladin?" the Master of Ceremony asked, his tone of voice indicating that he would be very cross with such a person. "No? Good. You are now King Arthaxiom the First!"

The crowd cheered. Now it was time to put a crown on the King's head, but since Mevrin's crown got disintegrated and there was no spare, there was a problem with that. Fortunately, Baron Oxrabbit was up to the task. He took a simple wooden chair, tore off the backrest and beat a hole in the seat. "It's temporal," he said. The crowd cheered some more.

The King looked doubtfully at his new crown. Even he knew that wearing a chair on his head was a bad idea. On the other hand, he was supposed to wear it. After a moment of hesitation, he put his left arm into the hole. The crowd cheered even more.

"Thank you, thank you! I would like to thank you all for coming here! It is a great day for me, and a great day for you, and a great day for the Empire, because it's a Kingdom now!"

"King Arthaxiom! King Arthaxiom! King Arthaxiom!"

"I would also like to thank all the people and other beings that helped me to become what I became! I would like to thank my mother and father who delivered me upon this world, though I do not really remember them because I got hit on the head!"

"King Arthaxiom! King Arthaxiom! King Arthaxiom!"

"I would like to thank whoever was responsible for hitting me on the head!"

"King Arthaxiom! King Arthaxiom! King Arthaxiom!"

"I would like to thank my sidekick and companion, Deer-Riding, Trident-Wielding, Stone-Slinging, Brave Dwarf-Impersonating Gnome Alexander!"

"Gnome Alexander! Gnome Alexander! Gnome Alexander!"

Alexander sighed. "I'm officially a gnome now, I guess," he said quietly.

"Could be worse," Gaduria tried to cheer him up. "At least you're not a kobold."

"Guess so..."

"For his invaluable contributions to the just cause, he will be named the Royal Counsellor of Equal Racial Opportunities!"

"Gnome Alexander! Gnome Alexander! Gnome Alexander!"

"Hooray," the new Royal Counsellor said weakly.

"Congratulations," Gaduria said.

"I would like to thank the Four Imaginary Fish for their advice!"

"Four Imaginary Fish! Four Imaginary Fish! Four Imaginary Fish!"

"This is getting ridiculous," Roseduck whispered to no one in particular.

"I would like to thank the nice man he brought me an army just in time, Marshall Tulipgoose!"

"Tulipgoose! Tulipgoose! Tulipgoose!"

Roseduck held his face in his hands. Every soldier in the Empire knew his name. Now they were all repeating the paladin's mistake like sheep. The Master of Ceremony whispered something in Arthaxiom's ear.

"Ah, sorry, I meant General Roseduck of course!"

"Roseduck! Roseduck! Roseduck!"

That was better, but still... he could have named him Dungeagle and the crowd would go with it.

"General Roseduck in recognition of his service will remain commander of the army! And I will promote him to a marshall anyway!"

"Roseduck! Roseduck! Roseduck!"

"I would like to thank Baron Oxrabbit for his Heroism in the duel with very big orcs!"

"Oxrabbit! Oxrabbit! Oxrabbit!"

"In recognition of his service, he will also become commander of the army! Because two commanders are better than one!"

"Oxrabbit! Oxrabbit! Oxrabbit!"

"Weasel damn it," Roseduck said.

"At least you're not a gnome," Alexander said. "Hey, Gaduria, didn't he skip you?"

Gaduria wasn't too sure that he did. Definitely not an accident. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

"I'd like to thank a person who helped me on my journey! He was a mage, a hermit, or a wise man possibly!"

"Wise hermit-mage! Wise hermit-mage!"

"And also Deer Lord, who gave me a quest and some battle deer!"

"Deer Lord! Deer Lord! Deer Lord!"

"And finally, the brave and beautiful princess Gaedhurienne!"

"Gaedhurienne! Gaedhurienne! Gaedhurienne!"

"Please come forward!"

She did, somewhat reluctantly. She feared what will happen next. She dreaded it. Yet somehow she knew.

The paladin knelt on one knee. "Will you marry me?"

The crowd held its collective breath. The hall fell silent. Someone farted from excitement, and nobody laughed.

After a few heartbeats, she replied. "Yes." The crowd went mad.

-I-I-I-I-

As a result of the engagement people started crying, laughing, screaming and running around for no good reason really. Alexander approached Gaduria.

"You said yes?" he asked, clearly surprised.

"I did."

"But you said he's dumb and all that..."

"Yes, he is. Most men are, and he isn't the worst-looking one. And I'll get to be a real Queen instead of an imaginary princess!"

"Ah. That explains a lot."

Meanwhile, details of the marriage ceremony were being discussed.

"So, when will the wedding happen?" the Master of Ceremony asked.

"Right now!"

"This is highly irregular..." he started, but then remembered he was talking to the King. With the chair on his arm and all that. "...but of course it can be arranged."

"Splendid!"

"There surely is a dress fitting for the princess somewhere in this castle. Also a best man will be required..."

"ME!" Oxrabbit shouted. The paladin nodded.

"Hey!" Alexander protested. "Why not me?"

"Uh... sorry, but... best MAN," Arthaxiom said.

"Oh. Right." He saddened. It was one of the rare moments when he regretted pointing out he's not a man all the time.

"You can be a bridesdwarf," the princess Gaedhurienne said.

"That I can be." He smiled. He would be the best bridesdwarf these lands had ever seen.

"Last one to the cathedral is a donkey bottom!" the Baron shouted and started running towards the exit, pushing people aside and causing a commotion. Many spectators joined him in his mad dash. Roseduck wondered when would they all realise that the Great Hall doubled as the cathedral.

-I-I-I-I-

A suitable gown was found. It was long, white, and covered with an incredible amount of glitter. Just perfect for a royal wedding, as long as nobody told the bride that it really was one of High Priest's robes.

The best man returned, people trampled to death in the stampede were scraped off the floor, an altar was brought in and put on the dais and the ceremony could be started. The Master of Ceremony was also leading this one. The High Priest was misplaced again and after his last performance nobody bothered to look for him.

The usual blabbering commenced, but it was unusually short for such an occasion. The bride, the groom, the best man and the bridesdwarf all insisted that it would be best to get over with this before anything more dramatic happened.

"If anyone knows any reason why these two cannot be married..."

"...then Baron Oxrabbit will hit him. With a chair," Marshall Roseduck said.

"Damn right I will!" the Baron agreed.

In view of such a threat nobody dared to raise any objection.

"Do you, King Arthaxiom the First, with all your titles I will not list here because I am supposed to keep it short, want to marry Princess Gaedhurienne?"

"I do."

"Do you, Princess Gaedhurienne, with all your other names you probably have, from some place I probably never heard about, want to marry King Arthaxiom?"

"I do."

"Good. I declare you King and wife, and husband and Queen! May the Lord of Light, the Flaming Fish of Fury and all of the other ones bless your union! You may now kiss the bride."

"No he may not! He needs to have a bath first! And get rid of that ridiculous chair hanging from his arm!"