Shattered Illusions

The young Lord Frederigo D'Honaire steadied his sword as he entered the Dragon's cave. It was pitch black save for the flickering light of his torch, which glinted on the incredible horde of treasure that covered the floor of the vast cavern. He gripped the handle of the sword that had served generations of his family so well and let the little dog-boy lead him on.

Seven generations of D'Honaires had stepped in these caverns to face this dragon. Each had driven it into the cave depths, scattered its forces, and undone its plans, yet each time it seemed to come back stronger and more powerful than ever before. As he remembered this, for the first time, he felt genuine fear. Five of the D'Honaires who had ventured into the caverns had not left, including his father. What made him think that he, a man who had not lived even a score of years, could accomplish such a thing? He had been trained in the arts of war since he was a child and killed monsters before, but the dragon was old and cunning and had killed far worthier men than him. He had often wondered whether he had only been sent here on the basis of the legend that followed his name. D'Honaires had defeated the Dragon before, and so once he had returned another one would be sent, even though he was untried as a common peasant soldier. But he had no choice. The King himself had tasked him with this sacred duty, and he would do his best to fulfil it.

Fred knew very well that the Dragon was far from the Kingdom's only problem. The tyrants of Hespan had been growing in their cruelty and lust for power and were none too pleased with Allaria's efforts to keep them in check, especially the incident with their Archmage. Rather than repent once the Pontifex of Anar had chastized them, they exiled or killed all the priests who served him, and had managed to acquire enough international support through selling their technology to get away with it. War with Allaria and its allies was only a small step away. If the Dragon's attacks kept depleting Allaria's natural resources, it would cripple Allaria in such a war. And that was yet another reason why the Dragon had to be defeated as quickly as possible.

The Dragon seemed oblivious to him as it slept on its mountain of pillaged treasure. But Fred knew that it could simply be toying with him, ready to strike at any moment. As he stepped forward through the treasure, he watched the Dragon's every involuntary movement, barely daring even to breathe, hoping he wouldn't be distracted even for a moment by the sharp light off the sparkling treasures or given away by the gold coins that crunched under his feet like hard snow.

Then he noticed that there was a strange blurred quality to the room, as if it were suffused with mist almost too faint to notice. It was subtle, and he would have barely noticed it had he not been concentrating to intently, but it was disturbing. The more he concentrated on it, the more the mist seemed to obscure everything. It was now dark grey and threatening, blowing through the room in great billows. The dragon seemed translucent and unreal, like an image in a stained glass window. There were two figures clustered at the side of the room, and these seemed dark and solid and somehow very real. They were talking in loud voices, but he couldn't make out the words.

Fred's first impulse was to simply assume that this was some sort of trick of the dragon's and attack it. But the more he looked at the dragon, the more he realized that it and not the two figures was an illusion. Then he thought to attack the two figures, but first he needed to understand what they were. The more he looked at them, the more definite they became. The first seemed to be a fat old man, while the second was a middle-aged man who didn't seem particularly distinguished. The mist was now fading away, and colors began to enter the figures. He could hear snatches of what they were saying now: "...thought it was impossible for him to see through it..." The voice was that of the fat old man--high-pitched, smarmy, annoying.

"It should be," said the other man. "...how thick-headed he is, just like... There's no way... I can't understand it. My illusions have never failed me before." His tone was dull and pedantic.

"Well, obviously they're failing you now," said the fat man, his voice slurred slightly as if he were drunk. "He's passed his test--if he can see through your illusions, he can take anything the dragon can give him. Now get out of here. I need to talk to him alone."

By now, Fred could seem them with almost complete clarity. The fat man was a ruler of some kind, dressed in rich red robes with a bejewelled golden crown, which made him look all the more grotesque somehow. The other man was just as undistinguished as he'd sounded, but there was something unnerving about him. Fred felt like he had just woken up from a dream and couldn't be sure if he was asleep or awake. He knew that the two figures should be familiar, but he didn't know from where. The boring one shuffled out of the room and closed the door behind him.

As Fred began to fully take in his spacious, ornately decorated surroundings, he realized for the first time where he really was--in the King's chambers. After several moments of incredulous staring, he realized that the fat man he was speaking to was the King. Fred instinctively shuddered--it was considered healthy for a noble to be somewhat fat, showing that he could afford a rich diet, but this man seemed to be a grotesque mound of blubber. How could he have seen the King so many times in recent months and never noticed this before?

The King then actually leered at him. "Hi cutey!" he said, grabbing Fred's buttocks with a strong grip. Fred was too shocked to even react. "What's going on?" Fred stammered weakly.

The King released Fred's buttocks and walked to the other side of the room, but his leer grew ever sharper. "Well, my love," he slurred, "I had to test your worthiness. So I had Bert the Enchanter create a mock-up of the Dragon's dungeon. Congratulations! You have proven yourself worthy." He slapped Fred on the back. Fred cringed, but the King didn't seem to notice.

"What now?" asked Fred. He realized that the mist was still clinging faintly to the room, even though the enchanter had left. He was once more sinking into dazedness.

"Now you can go on your real quest!" said the King. But Fred wasn't listening. The King's leer abated into a confused dumb stare.

In his brief time in Camelyn, Fred had seen many terrible things. Many of the more powerful nobles seemed to buy into the mystique that went with his name and lineage and were hoping to get their claws into this up-and-coming young noble. Many of them had propositioned him with deals that would make any honorable man disgusted. Many of the lesser nobles and peasants were becoming increasingly disgusted with those in power. There were riots and revolts breaking out in the East, and it was an open secret that many were funded by Hespan. The rebels had accused the King of losing his reason and being ruled by monsterous raging lusts. Whatever people thought of their means, more and more agreed with their sentiments, even some who were close to Fred. Some even came to the point of saying that Allaria had no right to condemn Hespan considering the state it was in. But Fred had known in his heart that in spite of the accusations the rebels threw around and in spite of the corruption that was so strong in Camelyn, the Allarians were a good people at heart and it would show true in their King. But now it seemed that he was wrong and the King himself was no less tainted than the others.

The mists were growing stronger every minute, not at the rate they had before but no less persistently. The Dragon's cave had seemed perfectly real, but then it turned out it was an illusion. What if this was an illusion, created by the Dragon or some other enemy to weaken his resolution. "What-what did I say?" said the fat "King", blubbering with confusion. At the mere sound of his voice, Fred was filled with revulsion and drew his sword, a sharp real sound. The King drew back in fright.

And then the door swung open and someone stepped in. Fred's first impulse was simply to ignore the illusion and plunge the sword into the false King's foul flesh, but then he saw her more clearly. She was a tall dark-haired girl, not much older than him, and seemed full of the very beauty and dignity that the false King lacked. "Are you all right?" she asked Fred. Her voice was filled with powerful and strong compassion, which broke Fred's heart. It felt wrong to kill in the presence of such a woman. Then she turned to the "King." "Father, what are you doing?" she said, and Fred realized who she had to be--the King's daughter, Exotica. He has seen her briefly a few times during his stay in Camelyin, and what he had seen seemed to prove his impressions of her true. But she had to be an illusion too. If the King were really this monstrous, how could he produce a daughter this beautiful? The "King" said something, but Fred couldn't hear it. "You are a monster!" Fred shouted, preparing to plunge his sword in to the King, but then Exotica held him back with an amazingly strong grip. How could she defend someone like that, even if it was her father?

1. Will Fred kill the King, or will he hold back?

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