Running Man (Again)

And all the while as he ran he couldn't shake the thoughts that rambled with intense speed throughout his cranius maximus; How could he have been so stupid to befriend a stranger, a strange dog that spoke with intelligence?! How could he have brought a complete unknown to the very doorpost of the Wizard of Kamiro?! Aaaah, poor, poor mage!

A great and horrid sound broke into Frederigo's reverie: "Sophmoric fool!" growled the Dragon. "Your legs shall carry you unto your death!"

The good Lord of the Kingdom ran onward, not heading the accursed words of the great Wyrm. His thoughts ran as well, to all that had been wrong-- wrong from the very start: How could I, a Knight of the Kingdom, go to quest without a horse?! How was it that I came without my sub-vassals?! Why did I not equip myself with the aid of the Flemish mercenaries or even the stealthy Circus Freaks of the Principality of Canadia?! Where are my crossbowmen? my longbowmen? or even my peasants with strong and able arm most capable with pike and fork?! Has my Knighthood been nothing more than ritual and ceremony? Have I gone the way of such languid gentry as the Dukes Zular and Sarlo - closed, self-conscious aristocrats whose goal is nothing more than self-glorification based upon the 'nobility' of their blood and not based on the holy ambitions of service to our fellow Man?

These thoughts were again interrupted by the roar of the Dragon, who was gaining on the poor Lord of Suffex; the great oaks slowed the Dragon, but did not stop him altogether.

Lord Frederigo, son of a grand Duke, member of the Knighthood, defender of the downtrodden and inheritor of the genius of seven generations of Dragon- slayers kept on running. He barely took hold of his surroundings, rather his mind harked back to the beginnings of his life: he recalled his boyhood; he remembered his older brother Charles who had gone the way of magical studies under the care of Master Crom and others whose names were seeped in mystery; he saw the day he was sent off to be a page in the Household D'Facto (he was only some 8 full seasons old); he recalled his rudimentary education at the hands of Master Tiberius and the gentle care of the Lady Wilimina; once he reached some 14 full seasons he was squired and trained in arms - and oh, the great and awe-inspiring day flashed in his mind when he took upon him the Order of Knighthood! Oh! he had made speeches that day, and oaths - many oaths of fielty and chivalry - and then he was dubbed by the great Lord. And now, some many years later, here he was without aid, without friend or companion, without the weapons necessary to slay the great Wyrm that chased him through these woods of oak and ash and moss.

1. Then, to make matters worse, the poor Knight tripped on a stone and fell flat on his face.

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