Don't believe any of that stuff about slaying evil wizards or rescuing fair maidens from dragons. It's all a bunch of troglyn poo. Yeah, sure, the stories sound exciting and all that, but don't believe a word of them. I did. And that's how I got into this mess.

And it's all my mother's fault.

Okay, so there I was, standing in front of the main entrance of Castle Fringol, excited to begin my new life as a soldier in King Frankfurt the Fifth of Fingolia's (try saying that three times fast) army. Of course, they didn't know I was there to enlist, but I figured I would surprise them and bring them great joy. Why did I want to join the army? Well, for the adventure. Duh. How else was a skinny little fifteen-year-old going to get out there and rescue beautiful maidens in distress? Okay, so I was pretty young and naive at the time, unlike the wizened nineteen-year-old I am now.

A few weeks before I had heard through the royal troubadours that King Frankfurt was looking to expand his army. Now that I’d arrived, all I needed to do was find the royal wizard, Lord Korac, who was in charge of recruitment. It would then be a simple matter to let him know that Myrick the Great; warrior, magician, philosopher, poet, scholar, and let's not forget, lover; was there to aid the kingdom.

I sauntered through the main gate, taking a bite out of the apple I'd snagged from an orchard outside of the castle.

“Halt!” shouted a burly guard wearing a metal cap and brandishing a menacing-looking spear. “Who are you?”

I gave him one of my best smiles. After all, we were soon to be working together and I wanted to make sure I had a friend. “Myrick. I am here to sign up for King Frankfurt's noble and great army.”

I took another bite of my apple.

“Aren't you a little small to join the army?” the guard asked, trying to hold back his mirth.

I stretched myself up to my full five-foot-two-inch height. “I am big enough.”

The guard looked at me for a second, snickered a few times, and followed with a full, uproarious guffaw. His spear clattered harmlessly to the ground. When he could finally breath, he tried to say to his companions, “He . . . wants . . . (more laughter here) . . . to . . . (even more laughter) . . . army.”

His friends laughed with him. And I, being such a good sport, joined in. I even patted the guard on the back as we shared our laugh.

Once he recovered enough to bend down and pick up his spear, the guard said, “Now git home, kid.” He snickered a couple more times. “You ain't right for the army.”

Who was this man to deny me, Myrick the Magnificent? Okay, so I gave myself the title, but it had a nice ring. I straightened my shoulders and puffed out my chest to let him see I was serious. “I am here to see Lord Korac.” Obviously, these buffoons couldn't recognize real talent when they saw it.

All humor vanished from the guard's face. “I've seen urchins like you before. All ya do is pick pockets, steal stuff, and cause all sorts of mischief.”

I put my hand on my chest and gave him the most indignant look I could muster. “Me? How dare you accuse me of such things?”

The guard's eyes glanced down at the apple in my hand. “Where'd ya get that?”

“I walked past an orchard on my way from the village. I was hungry.” Having grown up in a small farming community, I was used to helping myself to local produce; we all did it.

The guard's face twisted into a sneer. “Those are the king's orchards. You are a thief!”

I handed the apple to him. “Here, you can have it back. I didn't know.”

He pointed his spear at me. “Git out of here!” He poked me in the shoulder.

“Ow!” It pierced my shirt and drew blood. “But I–”

“Git!” He smacked me in the leg with the shaft. When I turned around to walk away, he poked me in my sitting muscle.

“Hey!” I said, putting my hand on my offended posterior. The look on his face told me that the conversation was over. “Okay, okay, I'm leaving, I'm leaving. Sheesh.” I limped across the drawbridge, hand still on cheek, and back toward the village a couple of miles away.

Okay, so day one didn't go so well, but I hadn't walked the last week through rain, mud, poison ivy, and rabid skunks (you don't want to hear that story) to just turn around and give up. No, not me, Myrick the Masterful.

I looked down at what remained of my clothing. A week of hardship on the road left them as little more than filthy rags. I looked like something that had been licked up by a Samsoden Fur-dragon and spit out as a hairball. But what could I do? I had no friends, no money, and no place to stay.

Of course, there was always the option of going home; back to farm life under the cruel hand of my evil step-father. I could tell you some horror stories. Can you believe he used to make me get up before dawn, before dawn, to milk the cows? And on top of that, he expected me to plant crops, weed the fields, and all sorts of other menial tasks. Do I look like a farmer to you? Of course not! I just had to join the army, even if it killed me. What other way was there to gain fame and great fortune? How else could I stride across battlefields with my magical sword held high as I vanquished vile dragons and rescued fair maidens?

As I walked the streets of the village, a new plan began to formulate in my superior brain. If I improved my looks to that of an upstanding citizen, they'd have to let me through to Lord Korac. Of course, that meant I'd have to find some better clothing. Now, I didn't 'steal' the clothes I found on the clothesline, I 'rented' them. I returned the clothes later and paid a small fee (I gave them an apple from the king's orchard). Honest. Even we lowly peasants have some morals.

Renting the nicer clothing was the easy part. Finding a place to bathe proved to be a bit trickier. At first, I checked out several houses, but people were arriving home for the evening. I had to walk out of town a ways before I found a spot that would work. The farmer who caught me in his cow watering trough didn't seem very pleased, though. He forced me to grab all my clothes and run off into a wheat field as naked as a newborn. At least the place he poked me with his pitchfork was on the opposite cheek from where the guard stabbed me.

After a less-than-refreshing night's sleep in a barn (don’t chickens ever sleep?), I slunk out before sunrise to prepare for my next attempt to join King Frankfurt's army. When I reached the castle, I looked at my reflection in the moat. I had to humbly admit, I was pretty darn good looking. It would be impossible for them to refuse me now.

I strutted over the drawbridge and under the portcullis like I owned the place. I smiled; I would be the best thing that ever happened to Fringolia. I was dashing, I was in control, I was confident, I was going to become rich and famous.

“You're going to the dungeon,” I heard from behind as a heavy hand landed on my shoulder.

I spun around and saw my old friend with the spear. “How are you doing, good sir?” I held out my hand, smiling. “It is such a pleasure to meet one of the brave and fearless soldiers of our great kingdom.”

The man gave me a friendly snarl as he tightened his grip on my shoulder. “I told you to git, now stay git!” He pushed me back toward the gate, causing me to lose my balance and land on the paving stones; right on my tender bum. He hoisted his spear and pointed the business end at my chest.

With my rump reminding me how sharp that spear was, I jumped up and ran before that thing came anywhere near my precious hind quarters again. Obviously, Mr. Bum-stabber had an overzealous desire to keep me from reaching my righteous destiny. But I would show him; I just needed another plan.

I wandered around outside the castle, lost in thought, until I reached a cliff with a waterfall falling into the moat. The back part of the castle jutted up against the cliff face, probably to save money on castle walls. Yes, the royal Fringol family was frugal to a fault. There's another tongue twister there somewhere.

I sat down on a rock and stared at the waterfall. The area was secluded and off the main road. I looked up the cliff face and wondered if I could climb high enough to scramble over the castle wall. Unfortunately, the rocks looked slick and dangerous with very few hand holds.

It was then that something struck my eye, or I should say, nose. Right where the castle wall met the cliff, I saw a balcony-like projection with holes on the bottom side; a castle toilet. The toilet holes emptied into the moat below, causing me to make a mental note to never swim or bath there. There were two holes, one of them with a rusted grate over it but the other was open. It also looked wide enough for me to squeeze my slight frame through. A scraggly tree had managed to take root in the side of the cliff just above the privy holes. If I could get a rope around that, I might be able to swing across the distance and climb up through the hole. Now, I didn't necessarily like the idea of crawling through a toilet, but at this point I was beginning to feel desperate.

After nightfall, I put my new plan into effect. And, no, I didn't use the clothes I had rented. I returned them that night and put my old clothes back on. It would be the last time I would need them since I would either succeed in joining the king's army or I would be cast into a deep dungeon for the rest of my life. Either way, I'd at least get free food.

I crept alongside the waterfall and waited for any guards patrolling the wall above to move on. Once it was clear, I took a rope I 'rented' and tied it to a long, straight branch I had found. It took a few tries between patrols, but I finally succeeded in getting the branch around the back side of the tree in the cliff. I hoped the roots had dug into the rock deep enough to hold my weight. I gave the rope a tug and the branch lodged behind the trunk; just as I'd planned.

Torchlight flared overhead, forcing me to duck behind a bush.

I heard feet shuffle around on the wall above and torchlight flickered closer. My heart stopped when I realized that the rope could be seen stretching from my hand to the tree. If the guards saw it, I was done for. I prepared to let go of the rope and make a run for it.

“Did you hear somethin'?” a guttural voice asked from the top of the wall.

“No,” another voice said. It seemed forever before the footsteps resumed along the walkway and the torchlight went away.

I let out a sigh and crept from behind the bush. It was now or never. I steeled my courage and gave the rope one last tug. After taking a few steps back, I ran toward the bank of the moat. I leapt and pulled myself upward at the same time to keep from dragging through the moat. Once airborne, I swung toward my destiny.

And missed.

My fingers just barely scraped the side of the wall when I swung back over the moat. This was not good. I had at most another minute before the guards would be back. And, to my dismay, the rope dragging through the water decreased my swing so much that I couldn’t even come close to touching the wall again, leaving me hanging precariously over the slimy water.

I had to put my fantastic brain to work in an effort to avoid dropping into the water and swimming to safety. It was then that I noticed the cliff wall right next to me. I put my feet against it and pushed my way back toward the castle. When I made it as far I as I could go, I realized that I was still a couple of feet away from being able to grab the grate at the bottom of the privy hole. My only chance was to push off from the wall and hope I could swing over to it. Footsteps sounded from above. It was now or never. I pushed with all my strength and flew toward the hole. I lashed out with my free hand and barely managed to grab the grate. At the same time, the branch that had wrapped around the tree slipped and fell into the moat. So much for my emergency escape plan. I let go of the rope and brought my other hand over for a better grip.

“Did you hear that?” a guard asked.

“Yeah, I did.” Torchlight flickered down the wall, forcing me to have to pull myself under the overhanging toilet.

“What do you think it is?”

“It’s probably that fur-dragon again. It’s been preying on the local sheep lately. The other night I saw it down there laying in the moat.”

“I wouldn’t want to be caught in that thing’s jaws.” After a few seconds of silence, the torchlight went away and I heard their footsteps walk away.

I took a deep breath to calm my heart rate. But now that the danger was over, I realized the smell coming from the privy hole was the worst thing I’d ever smelled in my life. My resolve to climb in the castle that way began to waiver. All I had to do was let go and fall a few feet back into the moat. But then, the news about the fur-dragon being in the area caused me to cancel that thought. Why doesn’t the tourist board ever let people know about things like that?

One stone in the wall protruded enough for me to get my foot on it and reach toward the other privy hole. That one didn’t have a grate, so I pulled myself in by finding more stones to cling to.

It was tight fit. Fortunately, I'm not a very large person. Once inside, I looked up. Bad idea. The tube was a lot longer than I expected. Holding my breath as much as possible, I squirmed my way up. The journey was miserable, and when I emerged through the hole into a dark privy room I took a deep breath of unstinkified air. I'd made it!

The wood wall next to my ear shattered into splinters, jolting me out of my recovery. I looked up and saw a spiked mace embedded in the wall next to me. A large hand clamped around my throat. Since I couldn't see my adversary, I tried diplomacy.

“Ack . . . urk . . . gaaahhh,” I pleaded.

“Who are you?” asked a gruff, female voice.

Great, I thought, I had been captured by a giant female guard. “Mrrrrkgle,” I introduced myself. The grip lessened on my throat. “Myrick the Magnanimous.”

“What are you after, thief?”

“I'm not a thief. Honest.”

“An honest thief, eh?” She sniffed. “You stink.”

“Well, you look like a cow,” was the line that escaped my lips, even though I still couldn't see her. Someday I should break the habit of saying the first thing that comes to my mind.

The grip tightened again, cutting off my air. I flailed my arms trying to breathe. After a few seconds, her hand loosened and allowed me enough air to stay conscious.

“Now, let's try again. What are you doing here?”

I tried something different this time: the truth. “I'm here to join the army.”

The hand quivered, then released from my throat. I rolled away and sat up, gasping for breath. At first I thought I heard my captor crying until I realized she was laughing.

“Okay, so I'm a little small, big deal. I can wield a sword as good as some big, brainless guy.” I was really getting tired of being laughed at.

She chuckled a few more times before reaching down and pulling her mace out of the wall. Her humor vanished as she ordered, “Get up.”

Her large hand grabbed my armpit to haul me to my feet. She then 'gently but firmly' led me out of the toilet room and into a torch-lit stone hallway. I stole glances at her as she marched me along. Her blond hair was cut short in a military fashion. She was tall and broad shouldered with well-muscled arms. I expected that in a guard. I also expected a guard to wear chain mail or something like it. My abductress, however, wore a pink, frilly silk dress.

Her free hand pressed against my chest and pinned me against the wall while she examined me in the torchlight. Her nose wrinkled into a snarl as she got another good whiff of my cologne ala privy. “You look and smell like a thief.”

“I'm just a peasant who is looking to improve his lot in life by joining King Frankfurt's army. Really.” I poured all the honesty and sincerity I could into my eyes.

She shook her head before taking her hand off my chest. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Just take me to the court wizard and I'll prove it to you.”

The giantess shook her head. “I'm not allowed to do that.” She looked me up and down with a judgmental eye. “And if I report you, you will be thrown in the dungeon . . . or executed. Probably both.” The woman sighed and looked up the stone hallway lost in thought. A few seconds later, her head snapped back in my direction. “But maybe we can help each other. I'll help you join my father's army if you help me escape from this prison.”

“I . . . uh . . . what?” My brain did a somersault. “Your father? You're Princess Frederica?”

She smiled glumly as she caressed her mace. “That's me.”

“I thought you'd be more beautiful.”

She glared at me. The hand holding the mace rose a few inches.

Whoops. Stupid lips, speaking before I told them to. The last few years, the king's royal troubadours had been singing songs about his beautiful daughter and her suitors traveling from all over the world to win her hand in marriage. The minstrels had obviously never seen her.

I kept my eyes glued on her mace. “I mean, sorry, it's just you're not what I expected.”

Her glare turned into an introspective frown as her shoulders slumped. To my relief, the mace lowered, too. “I'm never what anyone expects, thanks to my father's troubadours.” Her eyes took on a steely look and stared deep into mine. “That is why I need your help. I want out of here so I can have a normal life somewhere. Somewhere in the open without walls.”

“What are you in prison for?”

“For not being beautiful.”

“What?” I had never heard of that being a crime, but then again, royals might have different laws. But still, that didn't seem very fair, even to a lowly peasant like me. And it wasn't like she was ugly, either, she just wasn't very . . . uh . . . princessy. But I knew I had to help, because Myrick the Merciful (that's better) could not stand by while a princess was being held captive. “Okay, I'll help.”

Frederica nodded as her nose wrinkled again. “But first we need to find you some clothes that are a little less . . .”

“Stinky?”

“Yeah. Follow me.” Frederica led me down a short hall and to a door. She opened it and we went inside. A candle cast a dim light in the room, illuminating a weapons rack, some practice dummies (well used, I’ll add), and several quivers of arrows.

“Where are we?" I asked.

“This is my bedroom.”

When I looked again, I saw a bed but it looked very utilitarian. Not the fancy, frilly four-poster bed I thought a princess should have.

Frederica went to a chest of drawers and opened the bottom one. She pulled out a shirt and pants. “Here, these should fit you.”

“Where did you get these?” I asked as I took them.

“They were mine. I went through a growth spurt a couple of years ago and out-grew them.”

“That was some growth spurt.”

Whoops again.

She glared at me. I kept a close eye on that mace of hers since she seemed way too adept with it for my comfort. I tried to cover up, “I mean, these don't look like princess clothes.”

She relaxed and put the mace down, helping to calm my nerves. “They were my practice clothes. It's kind of awkward swinging a sword while wearing a dress.”

“Yeah, I'll take your word for it.”

She pointed to a small door in one wall. “You can change in there. There's also a wash tub with some water. I suggest you use it.”

“Will do,” I said as I went into the room, pleased with myself that I had made it into the castle and was closer to my goal. I'd even found an ally. I still had to help the princess escape, but if I got caught, they might think I was trying to kidnap her. And I had no desire of getting a closer look at the king's guillotine.

Once finished, I left the bathing room and saw the princess had changed out of her pink dress. She now wore an outfit similar to mine with a coat of chain mail over it. I had to admit, in spite of her size and muscles, she wasn't half bad to look at.

I clapped my hands, smiled, and said, “Alright, what's the plan?”

“You're going to show me how you planned to get back out.”

My smile faded. “I, um, planned to go out the main gate as a member of the army.”

“You're serious, aren't you?” She shook her head as she bent down to cinch the top of her pack closed. “Didn't you have a secondary plan?”

“Uh.” I started to feel smaller than my already towering five foot two inches.

“Didn't you know that you were breaking into the upper dungeons?”

Great. “No.”

Her shoulders drooped. “Oh.”

“Aren’t there any other ways out?” I knew I could squeeze back out through the privy, but there was no way she could fit through. And then there was the rancid reek and the possible fur-dragon waiting below.

She shook her head. “There's only one door out of here. My father always has guards posted there. I escaped too many times when I was younger.”

“And that's the only way out?”

“That and the privy hole.”

I rubbed my temple. This rescuing princesses business was more complicated than I thought. Why couldn't she have been tied to a stake and waiting for a dragon to eat her? That would have been a much easier rescue.

She shattered my concentration by dumping her pack on the floor. “I guess I won't be going anywhere.” She took her chain mail off and tossed it on her pack before shuffling over to her bed and sitting down. It creaked under her weight.

It was more than my little heart could take. Poor little princess. Well, actually, poor large and muscular princess. I knew there was no way I could get her out as things stood. But what if I were a member of the king's army? I could get guard duty outside her cell and then, perhaps, be able to find a way to sneak her out. It might take a lot of time, but it was a good plan. I didn't call myself Myrick the Magnificent for nothing. I strode boldly up to her, got down on one knee, and took her hand. “My princess, I swear with every fiber of my being that I will join your father's army and find a way to release you from your horrific imprisonment.”

Frederica swiped a tear from her cheek. “Really?”

“Yes, my princess.”

She stared at me for a moment before a weak smile crossed her lips. “I guess that gives me something to hope for. Thank you.”

I stood back up. “Then I shall take my leave.” I steeled myself to have to endure the privy hole again and hope there were no dragons about. “I suppose you'll want these clothes back before I go crawling out the toilet.”

“No, keep them. I don't need them.”

“Well, princess, it was a pleasure meeting you.” I turned around and headed for the door.

“No, wait.” Princess Frederica stood, reaching for a grate in the ceiling. “If you can fit through the privy hole, maybe you can fit through this. It opens over the main market area of the castle.”

I walked back to her side and looked up. It was wider and squarer than the privy hole, but it wasn't as tall. In fact, it looked a little bit smaller. But it might be worth a try. This way, I would still be in the castle and I wouldn’t have to endure the privy hole. Besides, what's the worst that could happen? Get stuck?

“It looks tight but I'm willing to try.” I took a closer look at the grate, “But how am I going to get past that?”

“Easy.” Without warning, she swung the mace through the air. It smashed into the grate, turning it into a crumpled mass of metal. One more swing knocked it free from the wall. It crashed to the floor loud enough to wake the dead.

Footsteps raced through the hall to be followed by a pounding on the door. “Princess, you alright?” came a gruff voice from the other side.

I looked around in panic before ducking behind the practice dummy.

Frederica dashed to the door and opened it a crack. “I'm fine, Reldon. Just doing a little bit of practice.”

“At this hour?”

“Couldn't sleep. Sorry for the racket, I'll try to keep it down.” With that, she closed the door and turned toward where I bravely cowered. She whispered, “It's safe, just keep your voice down.”

I stepped out and looked back up at the hole. All I had to do was squirm my way toward my destiny. I looked about for something to stand on. Two powerful arms grabbed me and lifted me as if I were an infant. I pulled myself into the hole. “Thanks for the lift.”

“My pleasure,” Frederica replied with a melancholy look. “Take care of yourself, Myrick.”

I squirmed my way in until my shoulders became stuck. My feet still dangled in the air. I flailed as gracefully as I could as I tried to find something to push against. “A little assistance here, please.” Hands grasped my ankles and pushed me forward. My shoulders cleared the obstruction and I could now continue oozing to freedom. “Thanks,” I said again.

“Just don't get stuck,” I heard, though it was muffled by the stone around me.

The journey was, shall I say, worse than the privy hole despite the lack of stench. Several times, the passage narrowed down and I almost became wedged for the rest of my life. Fortunately, I was able to clear the obstacles and get through. And, of course, the family of rats that I intruded upon wasn't very happy to see me. It was with great relief that I reached the other side and even greater relief when the grate came off with a minimum of fuss.

I leaned out the hole. It was a long way down. I couldn't help but smile when I saw the straw cart parked nearby. All I had to do was aim for it and let it break my fall. How lucky could I be?

Not lucky enough. My forehead smacked the side of the cart and I ended up lying sprawled out on the paving stones. I couldn’t even have the fortune to get knocked out so I had to lay there moaning in pain. At least I didn't break anything, but I had some new bruises added to my collection.

I stiffly stood, rubbed my back, and limped to a dark corner where I could sleep until morning.

It didn't feel like I'd been asleep for very long when I felt someone kicking my leg.

“Oi. You. Wha' ya doin' 'ere, ya little booggah?”

I opened one eye and saw an old farmer sneering down on me.

“Sleeping.” Never hurts to state the obvious. Well, actually, that's not true. Sometimes it hurts a lot; like this time.

After I bravely thrust my stomach into the man's foot several times, he said, “Now git outta 'ere, ya lout. This is my spot.”

What was it about this castle? Up to this point, the nicest person I'd met had only tried to splatter my brains with a mace.

I struggled to my feet while clutching my stomach. The farmer took a step toward me with a raised fist, which prompted me to heroically turn around and run for my life. I dashed around several buildings before I looked back to find I'd lost him.

After I caught my breath I made my way back to the marketplace. By now, several wagons had arrived carrying produce, clothing, and other wares. I had to slap myself on the head when I realized that it would have been a lot easier to sneak into the castle aboard one of those wagons than to swing my way in through the toilet. Oh well, live and learn. I put that plan into my mental quiver for next time.

Now, all I needed to do was find the court wizard, Lord Korac. Normally one might ask for directions, but with my success rate at talking to people, I decided to strike out on my own. I headed toward the back of the courtyard where I saw some kid about my age wearing a dorky red uniform of some kind. He walked under an archway into a deeper part of the castle. I decided to follow him to see if he might lead me to Korac.

“Hey, you there!” I heard a familiar voice say behind me. I turned and recognized a spear point I was well acquainted with. And at the other end was my old buddy, Bum-stabber. This time I decided not to stick around and chat. I saluted before I took off into the crowd.

“Stop that thief!”

I overturned a turnip cart, knocked over a roll of textiles, and plowed over a little old lady during my escape. Once again, my fleetness of foot kept me away from the guard. I darted down a narrow street between the Temple of Korum and the armory, emerging onto a small but mostly vacant street. Heavy footsteps clomped along behind me, so I took off at a full sprint. Up ahead, I saw a sign that said “Recruitment.” I’d made it. I glanced back to see two other soldiers emerge, point at me, and give chase. I knew with that chain mail they wore they didn't stand a chance of catching me before I reached the door. I smiled and started preparing a taunt.

The next thing I knew, I was looking up at blue sky framed by stone walls. Then I realized that my nose hurt.

“Think yer smart, huh kid.” As my eyes came into focus, Bum-stabber's ugly face sneered over me.

“Smarter than you,” my mouth said before my brain could stop it. And believe me, that comment did smart.

After he was satisfied with my pleas for mercy, Bum-stabber grabbed the front of my shirt (well, Frederica's shirt, but I wasn't going to tell him that) and put his ugly mug next to my face. “How 'bout a nice long visit to the dungeons with you. I'm tired of yer ugly face.” Man, did the guy have bad breath. It made the privy smell like roses in comparison.

“And I'm tired of your uglier one,” I retorted. Ouch. Once I recovered from my face meeting his palm, I asked, “What do you have against me?”

“Nuthin', 'cept for bein' an ugly, thievin' peasant with no business 'ere.”

“I told you, I came to join the army.”

“A runt like you? I can smell a dirty thief from a mile away. An' that's what you is.” Bum-stabber grunted as he dragged me up the street. His two colleagues joined him. I tried to scramble out of his grip but couldn't.

“What is going on here, Sergeant?” asked a deep voice from behind us.

Sergeant Bum-stabber stopped and turned around. “Lord Korac. Sorry to have bothered you. I'm just takin' this load of garbage to the dungeon.”

I twisted my neck around and saw a large, heavy-set man in a glowing, purple robe. He held a turkey drumstick in one hand and wore a frown on his bearded face. “On what charge?”

“Fer bein' a stinkin' thief.”

Lord Korac looked at me. “Is this true?”

“No, honest,” I said. Bum-stabber raised an arm to slap me.

“Stop!” Lord Korac commanded. “I thought I heard this young man say he wanted to join the army. Bring him to my office.” He turned and headed through the door under the recruitment sign.

Bum-stabber snarled, but he obeyed the court wizard by dragging me roughly inside. The two other guards waited outside while we entered a room with three tables. One table was covered in books and papers while another had glass containers holding various liquids and dried samples.

Korac sat behind the third table. “Now, I'd like to hear the charges against this young man.”

Bum-stabber stammered for several seconds. I smiled my sweetest smile at him, which earned me a kick to my already tender rump.

“You haven't answered my question, Sergeant.”

“I'm sure he musta stole somethin'. Those clothes fer instance. They ain't the ones he wore yesterday.”

Korac turned his attention toward me, “And what do you have to say for yourself, son? Did you steal those clothes?”

I stood up and brushed myself off. “No, sir. They were given to me.”

“By whom?”

“A nice, young lady. She saw the deplorable state of my old clothes and gave me these.” I poured all the 'poor little urchin' look into my face as I could.

“And you want to join the army?” Korac asked.

“Yes sir.”

At least Korac didn't laugh, but he stared at me long and hard. He frowned and shook his head. “You are telling the truth. But I'm afraid I can't accept your request. Go back home to your family.”

“What?” After all I'd been through he was going to turn me down? That just wasn't right. I put my hands on my hips. “Look, I know I'm not large, but I'm fast, and I can wield a sword as good, if not better, than any other soldier in the kingdom. My father fought and died in the service of King Fritz. You owe me a chance to serve King Frankfurt!”

My rousing speech earned me enough sympathy to get a whack along the side of the head from Bum-stabber.

Korac pointed at the door. “That will be enough, Sergeant. Out!”

“But, m'lord, he's too small and–”

“OUT!”

Bum-stabber sneered before turning and leaving the building with a resounding slam of the door.

Korac took his time looking me over. I tried to stand as tall and heroically as I could. Finally, he shook his head. “I'm sorry, kid, I like your spirit and all, but you'd be chopped up faster than a cow in a butcher shop if you went to battle. You may go, but if Sergeant Uchdehn gives you any more trouble, come see me.”

That was it? I was just to turn around and return to the farm with my proverbial tail between my legs? No, not I, not Myrick the Majestic. “Isn't there anything else I can do to serve the king?”

Korac scratched his beard and looked at me some more. “You say you're fast? How good are you at running?”

“Running? I can run all day without stopping. I'm faster than a frightened deer; I have the endurance of a Decidian dragon.” Okay, I exaggerated a little, but who doesn't during a job interview?

Korac smiled and nodded. “I may have a position for you after all. How would you like to be in the king's royal messenger service?”

“Sure,” I said, before my brain could think about it.

He pulled a piece of paper from the pile on the desk. He held it up and asked, “Can you read this?”

I almost said 'yes', but stopped before my mouth ruined my chances. My mom taught me how to read from a book of legends. Unfortunately, it was illegal for peasants to know how to read so I couldn't let Korac know. “No, my lord.”

“Good.” He put the paper down on the desk and chanted, “Hoba longa ten dush-ee!” His fingers thrust out as if he were sprinkling water on the paper. I didn't see anything, though. He then handed me a quill with ink on it and said, “Put your mark on that line.”

I smiled enthusiastically and put my symbol on the page. As I finished the mark, a strange, golden glow ran out from the paper, into my hand, and up my arm. I jumped back and shook it, but it had returned to normal. It took a while before I learned that I had signed a magic contract; one that cannot easily be broken.

Korac grinned and rolled the contract up. He sealed it with some wax and put it on a rack with several other scrolls. “Now we need to get you dressed properly.” He went over to a closet and pulled out a red uniform. A dorky-looking red uniform. “Here you go, lad.” He tossed it to me.

I tried not to grimace as I caught it. “Thanks.”

A thought occurred to me. If there was a uniform, perhaps there would be armaments, like a magic sword or something? “Do I get a weapon, too? Something to protect myself?” I asked a little too enthusiastically.

Korac scratched his armpit as he considered my request. He reached back into the closet and pulled out a little knife in a sheath. A really, really little knife. I caught it when he lobbed it my way.

My enthusiasm faded as I looked at the tiny thing in my hand. I only had one hope left. “Is it magical?”

Korac laughed and put a hand on his round belly. “I guess, if you want it to be. What is your name, son?”

“Myrick.” The Mortified.

“Well, Myrick, welcome to King Frankfurt's Royal Messenger Service.”

* * *

Thus began my illustrious career as a message carrier for King Frankfurt the Fifth of Fringolia. I left the castle later that day with my first bag of messages and armed with my magic toad-sticker. During my time, I did gain several magical items and met some very strange characters. I also battled bandits, enemy soldiers, undead sorcerers, troglyns, and even a dragon once. No, I'm not kidding, a real live, fire-breathing dragon. Okay, it was a baby, but so what?

But I knew more than anything else that I had an even more important mission in life: to rescue a princess.