There I was, standing in the presence of all the highest nobles of the land – each a conqueror of his own little plot of land, and each sufficiently able on his own. There was the Wight Knight of the Aging Forest with his squire Douggles. There was Messieur Rory of Tandem Row, London. There was Foster Foster, the Black Knight, and finally, His Excellency Robert, leader of the Knights.
I had ended up in the great hall of Doom Mansion after my knight had recommended me as a possible page girl for the great nobles. There I stood, day in and day out, waiting for Messieur Rory to ask me to send out a message of triumph, loving and fearing the wrath of His Excellency, and daydreaming about the Wight Knight.
My daydreaming interludes were interrupted frequently by two major characters, that should each be given ample introduction. The first was the Red Witch of the South by Southeast. She had entered the Great Hall under false pretences, telling Foster Foster and His Excellency that she was there to help. And help she did. However, her bid for power and lust of attention was insatiable. Within minutes she had cast the entire Great Hall under her spell. Even His Excellency cowered at her displeasured gaze. She took a liking to me early on, however, when I refused to perform one of her works of black magic, she turned on me. After that, she was full of icy and bitter words. She would cast spells to turn my hot drinks into cubes of ice, boil foul smelling potions in her corner of the room, and file her nails into points while smiling menacingly at me.
On the other hand, there was Sir Rupert Livingston, also known as “The Sherlock Holmes of Auditing.” Sir Rupert was a chubby little man, known for his drinking, foul language, and tough talk to his superiors. He had been born in a cheap little grass hut in West Peking, and through many struggles had risen to Knighthood when he recovered the crown jewels, stolen from Her Majesty by the evil Count Argo. All of the leaders respected Sir Rupert, although behind his back they were careful to outdo each other with grumblings about his humble beginnings.
Sir Rupert had taken upon himself as underling knight, my own Knight Adam, and therefore I was added to his crew as a squire. Under his tutelage, I learned many arts: the art of the sword, the art of the bow, horse-riding, and dancing. Truly, working with him was an honor – we were assigned the honorable task of opening the vault. Once all the pieces of gold were recovered from the depths of Doom Mansion, we would take the last piece and, using it as a key, unlock the vault that held the true treasure of the Mansion.
However, as my knight and I rode through the forest, in search of the last key, we came upon a hideous troll! He was a large, green, flappy eared troll with glasses and a mouth that was curled in a perpetual sneer. As a troll, he thought it his job to play with his food – asking them difficult questions before eating them. Sir Rupert, however, also knew that this troll controlled the mountain cave where our key could be found.
Thrice my Knight and I battled with this troll to no avail – Sir Adam would thrust, and I would come around behind, but the troll called in his support, in the way of mountain gnomes, and I was stuck fighting the gnomes, leaving Sir Adam to end the battle defeated and with many injuries.
However, back at the Great Hall, the Red Witch, Messieur Rory, and His Excellency were growing concerned that we still did not have the key. After discussing their fears with Sir Rupert, he left, alone, to go into the woods and fight the troll.
How that mighty fight played out, I’ll never know. However, Sir Rupert returned victorious: holding the key up high in his right hand, and dragging the troll, all tied up, behind him with his left.
When the troll was placed before Messieur Rory and the White Knight, they took turns pelting him with rotten vegetables. After which, the other pages took the troll away. What they did with him, I know not. However, it seems that the servants of Doom Mansion feasted on “roast” for many nights hence.
As for myself, when Sir Rupert walked up to His Excellency, bowed, and handed him the key, I had a hard time not crying. His Excellency stepped back to say a few words before opening up the vault. However, Sir Rupert turned around, looking to me, and said, “Run! Flee to the hills and find your destiny there!” And so I ran. I ran with my entire spirit.
To the frozen wasteland of Michigan….
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