Just so you know, we have trouble. I don’t just mean the kind of trouble that involves the queen’s daughter Resplendant’s heart, either. The sweet and fair Resplendant’s been officially dumped by the prince upon his father’s orders. There’s been crying. So much crying, and wailing, and head-bent, draggin-ass moping, a common storyteller like myself could almost need an antidepressant to help her get through the day.
Also, for future reference to all those who wish to visit a castle because it’s cool? Castle walls make for one helluva echo.
Alas, here in Shamalot, we don’t have Ben and Jerry’s and old T-shirts in the realm for our poor Resplendant’s funk. You try soothing a broken heart with a new crinoline and some thistleberries with roasted boar. It’s just not the same as a hearty scoop of Chunky Monkey and a vodka gimlet, you know?
Needless to say, nothing is easing our gentle Resplendant’s pain-swollen heart, for she loves Prince Iver Daring with all her being. She is his one true love, no matter what the doddering old Roz says.
Since King Dick, on the advice of the Great and Wonderful Roz, ordered the end to his son’s relationship with Resplendant. Prince Iver, too, has been moping about the castle, wandering from room to room, sword dragging pathetically at half-mast by his side, refusing to speak, let alone hear his father’s reasoning.
But King Dick is certain he’s made the right move for his firstborn and he won’t hear another protest.
As you can imagine, Queen Angria’s pretty bent out of shape at this point. Not only has her daughter been ditched, but she’s been foiled over and over by a mere snippet of an icky human girl (her words, not this storyteller’s. I personally like the kid’s chutzpah), and she wants blood.
Spilled.
Everywhere.
She also wants to know WTF is up with this guttersnipe and her amazing warrior-like skills. Where did she learn to do battle with such adeptness? Who is her sensei?
Why isn’t he working as one of the queen’s masters in weaponry?
And where did she get those fabulous shoes? Oh, the sparkle—it makes her giddy.
The queen’s beside herself now that our bedraggled band of realm-hoppers is almost to the castle. But she’s decided, rather than bring the battle to them, why not let them bring the battle to her? Why not wait until the much-touted Christmas Eve ball and really turn it into a party chock-full of blood and gore?
Why not let them all believe they’ve made it to safe harbor, and then take everyone out in one deliciously fell swoop? King Dick and his precious son Prince Iver Daring for dumping her beautiful Resplendant, this misfit pack of wanderers who talk too much and have managed to escape her wrath, and Toni of the fiery hair and sparkly shoes?
None of the particulars mattered anymore. All that mattered was everyone had to die on a night that would go down in infamy as the night King Dick would always remember crossing Queen Angria was unacceptable.
In fact, why not make it a double coup—like an all-out massacre—and steal the castle and the kingdom while she’s at it?
The queen’s decided this could be LOL hilarious—a way to make her mark and force the inhabitants of Shamalot to bow down and worship the very ground she walks upon.
And she likes that. She likes that a lot.
Then there’s our rugged, chivalrous Jon Doe, falling head over heels for a woman he might have to part with. Torn between two worlds—the one to which his fair maiden must return to possibly reunite with her beloved brother, and the one where he has many obligations.
Because our Jon has a secret. One I’m quite confident you’ve figured out by now.
However, it’s the journey, not necessarily the destination, yes? Plus, for Nina—this entire tale in a yellow dress, bluebirds singing above her head—retribution can be good for the soul. Just ask this storyteller.
Anyway, there’s a battle looming—filled with potential death and despair, and as we rejoin our band of misfits, everyone appears to be blissfully unaware…
Toni was the first to hit the top of the cliff overlooking the castle, her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the beauty sprawling before her. Snow-capped mountains surrounded the gray castle, their majesty rising into the low clouds above.
Stained glass windows in the shape of elongated ovals, glowing with candles, spanned the high towers, preparing for the coming night. Neatly trimmed, tall hedges nestled along the endless miles of the castle, almost glittering in the freshly fallen snow. People milled about the small knoll in front of the steps dressed warmly, selling goods and fresh market fare.