19 April 2024

“I don’t understand,” Elliott pouted. “You’re a pirate, aren't you? Why are you risking so much to help me set up this resistance?”

For a long time, Moira didn’t answer. Then she asked, “How many people do you think are willing to challenge the Pirate King face to face? To all but demand something from him when they do?”

Elliott blinked. “That sounds like suicide.”

“Right?” Moira turned to watch Charles, who was struggling to climb up the rigging after Arylwen. “And yet that boy did just that. In the King’s own throne room, even.” She chuckled. “Oh, he was polite about it. Said ‘please’ and everything. But even then, and even trembling with fear, he showed more spine than men three times his size.”

“That’s it?”

“What other reason would I need? It’s why I joined up with Jasper in the first place, after all.” She dipped her head in Charles’ direction. “Mark my words; that boy will be a king someday.”

Elliott’s stomach twisted, and it took effort to keep his face passive. “And me?”

Moira raised an eyebrow, then smirked at him. “We’ll make something of you yet, little princeling.”

17 April 2024

I was quite proud of this one. The mother and love stanzas need work still, I think, but overall I like how it turned out. Especially since every character listed, except (maybe) Elliott, is or becomes a dragon by the end of the series. For context, stanzas 1 and 2 are book 1; 3, 4, and 5 are book 2; and the last is book 3, which has a lot more focus on Arylwen and less on Charles, so that makes sense.

I actually started this by trying to see how few words I could use to “tell” the Majesty story. I wasn’t happy with that, and wound up here instead.

There stands a boy

Trembling in fear at the feet of the Pirate’s throne

Yet does not yield

And the Pirate hails him, King

There stands a boy

Looking into the face of an old, tired Mountain

And offers hope

And the Mountain hails him, King

There kneels a youth

His surrogate Mother fading fast

He, helpless, weeps

And the Mother hails him, King

There kneels a youth

A ring offered to the Love of his life

Promise ensured

And his Love hails him, King

There stands a man

Confronting she who has conquered the world

At last, triumph

And the Conqueror hails him, King

There stands a man

Betrayed by one who was once his dearest Friend

Together in death

Only then does the Friend hail him, King

24 July 2023

Well, this is the last thing I’ve actually written in Majesty at this point. Had ideas for some of the rest, but none of it’s actually been put down to paper yet. I just recognized with this scene that the flow of events was all wrong and felt stilted. I might throw everything together to identify the best point to split off and fix things; probably after the end of the naval battle. I was pretty proud of that scene, and I don’t think it’s affecting the problematic points.

Once the Pirate King had gone, the crew all turned to face the woman, anxious to see what she intended to do with them. She studied them all in turn, before she turned to Jakob and asked, “You there. You were the previous captain of this vessel?”

“Aye, ma’am.”

She held his gaze a moment. “What’s your name?”

“Jakob, ma’am. May I be so bold as to ask yours?”

The corner of her mouth twitched upward. “I’ve collected more than a few names over the years, both on and off the sea. But you can call me Moira.”

Jakob dipped his head. “Captain Moira, then.”

Moira nodded, then folded her arms. “You’ll be my first mate. Assuming you’re willing. What were your plans prior to our little…delay here?”

[Line from Jakob about seeking refuge from Roland’s city?]

“Hm. while the ship’s being repaired, send some men in boats to check the wreckage of the other ship. Survivors, valuable, provisions. I don’t expect to find much if anything, but it never hurts to look. Once we’re ready to move, resume the same heading we were on before.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Jakob flashed her a salute and started bellowing orders. Charles didn’t understand half of it, but he tried to stay out of everyone’s way as he hurried after Moira.

5 June 2023

It’s been a long time since I wrote this. I’ve been struggling with Majesty a lot, actually; not really satisfied with the opening scenes I have (with a couple exceptions), and I’m not really sure where I’m going with it, either. In particular, I don’t think this is how Moira gets introduced, or how the Pirate King handles this situation. Might have to let it stew in my brain a while longer…

…eyeing various crew members.

Then a fairly tall woman from the pirate ship strode over. “Alright, Jasper, that’s enough of that.” She had dark brown, nearly black hair cut roughly to jaw length, and wore a vest over a sleeveless shirt. Her pants went down to mid-calf.

The King chuckled, then eyed the woman. “You hae something to say?”

An easy smile fell on the woman’s face, and she leaned back against the ship railing. “This is a pretty nice ship. Don’t you think?”

“Eh. The big ol’ hole in the side dampers that a bit.”

“True. A bit of a shame, that.” She pushed off and began pacing around. “Do you have any plans for it?”

Charles and Elliott could only watch the exchange slack-jawed. Who was this woman, and how could she banter so easily with the Pirate King of all people?

For his part, the King just scratched at his cheek. “Dunno yet. Doesn’t seem to be much worth keeping.” Then he paused, and looked right at Elliott. A feral grin broke out across his face. “Well, well. What have we here?”

Elliott pinched Charles, who’d been about to answer. Instead, Elliott said, “Alan, sir. ‘Prentice carpenter. And this is my friend, Charles.”

The King raised an eyebrow. “That so? Say, Alan. Don’t suppose you’ve heard the little rumor that your prince is still alive, have you?”

Elliott started… [9 May 2023]

…think of that?”

“You know, boy,” the woman added, before Elliott could answer. She wasn’t looking at them. “If you’re going to try to hide your identity, you ought to at least make it believable. Your accent’s all wrong for a lowborn apprentice, and even from here I can see your hands are too soft for carpentry work.”

Elliott’s face paled, and he looked up at the Pirate King. The King reached out to grab him, but Charles couldn’t just watch any longer… [9 May 2023]

…decided to remain very still.

“If you’re finished deciding what you want,” the woman cut in, “how would you feel about handing the ship over to me? Complete with crew and passengers.”

Everyone around inhaled sharply. Once again, who was this woman, that she could talk to the Pirate King as an equal? And what would she do once she got them?

The King just raised an eyebrow. “Hardly seems worth the effort. I was thinking I’d just scuttle it and be done with it.”

Cries of alarm came from many of the crew, including Jakob, but neither of them paid attention to any of that. The woman smiled. “Then it won’t matter if I take them, will it? Consider this repayment on that debt.”

The King scowled, but thought for a moment. “And after this, we’re clear?”

“One hundred percent.”

He glanced at Elliott. “I’m still taking the kid.”

The woman shrugged. “What use do I have for a prince?”

That elicited another round of protests, which got no more of a reaction than the last. The King grinned and extended a hand. “Shake on it.”

They did, and the King immediately ordered some of his crew to begin repairing the ship. He grabbed Elliott by the collar and dragged him off. The wyvern sitting on Charles waited until they were aboard the Fortune’s Blessing before it hopped off and scurried after its master.

2 June 2023

I was trying (and am still trying, with varying amounts of success) to pin down the plot of Majesty book one. And since most plots revolve around the actions of the antagonist, rather than the protagonist, I decided to try and get information out of Roland. It didn’t pan out as well as I hoped.

I am once again seated with Roland. He raises an eyebrow at me. “And what can I do for you?”

The corner of my mouth quirks up. “I suppose I wanted to apologize. I was wrong last tim. It is not the Conqueror you are scared of.”

Roland blinks; he wasn’t expecting that. His reprieve is short-lived, however, and the smile on my face finishes forming. “No. You’re scared of Moira, and this new country of refugees she’s started up on your doorstep.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” Roland jumps up, far more agitated than I’d expected; he even sweeps the papers off his desk. “I tried to warn the Council, of the risks from having a literal dragon next door eyeing our city, but do they listen? Fortune forbid!” He slumps back into his chair and rubs his temples.

The outburst did startle me, honestly, but I make a point to continue sipping amy hot cider and act unperturbed. Once I’m fairly certain his rant has finished for now, I set my cup down. “So what are you planning to do about it?”

“What am I…?” He stares in wonder for a moment, then his eyes narrow. “You’re trying to get me to reveal it so you can counter it.”

“Hardly. No matter what it is, countering it isn’t the problem. After all, if I wanted to…” I snap my fingers and we are instantly teleported to the ocean floor of some coral reef. Roland’s eyes go wide and he reaches for his throat, desperate to breathe. I snap again, and we’re back in his office, torrents of water pouring off Roland as he gasps for breath. I, notably, remain completely dry.

“So you see, it’s not really even a matter of will I stop you or not. Realistically, I even already know how; I just need the details of your plan to see how it all fits together.”

Rather than say anything, Roland just glares at me. Ah, well. Suppose I can’t be too surprised; that was a bit heavy-handed, and even if I hadn’t been, Roland seems to be the stubborn sort. I sigh, bid him farewell, and leave the room.

9 May 2023

Honestly, a great deal of this section of Majesty just didn’t land quite right with me. That’s not why I took such a long break—we can blame Tears of the Kingdom and other video games for that—but I don’t think it helped that I knew something was off, and I didn’t know what to do about it. In particular, it’s not like there’s anything inherently wrong with this section, or with the alternate version of it I wrote in June and July. It just…wasn’t right for the story or the characters. I think I’ve pinned down a solution, but I’ve been writing other things this past week, so I haven’t actualized any of that.

…Jakob’s story. In the meantime, he prowled around the deck, eying the various crew members. When he noticed Charles and Elliott, he paused. “What’s your name, boy?”

Was the King talking to him? Charles opened his mouth to speak, but Elliott spoke up first. “Alan, sir. Carpenter’s apprentice. And this is my friend, Charles.”

The Pirate King raised an eyebrow, and looked the two boys up and down. “That’s interesting. Say, Alan, had you heard that your prince is still alive?”

Elliott started. He shook his head, trying to do his best to recover. The King nodded to himself. “Yeah. The Conqueror announced she’d killed off Averny’s king and queen, but that the princeling had scurried off like a cowardly rat. What do you think of that?”

Charles’ eyes went wide and he spun to look at Elliott. For his part, though, Elliott kept his face impassive as he shrugged. “That’s… good, I suppose? Assuming he wasn’t on the Siren’s Lament.”

The wyvern on the King’s shoulders chirped, and the King snatched Elliott’s arm, bringing his hand up to inspect, making Elliott gasp. “You know, Alan, for a carpenter’s apprentice, your hands are awfully soft, wouldn’t you say?”

Elliott struggled to free his hand from the Pirate King’s grasp, but to no avail. The King pulled him forward until his nose was almost touching Elliott’s. “Last chance, princeling. Who are you really?”

Charles couldn’t just watch any longer. He bit his lower lip, then tried to tackle the King. The pirate dodged, but he was distracted enough that Elliot was finally able to pull free. The wyvern jumped off the King’s shoulders and bowled into Charles’ stomach. It glared up at Charles, snapping at the boy’s nose, and Charles decided to remain very still.

Elliot pulled himself up as tall as he could. “You are right; forgive me for lying. I am Prince Elliott.”

There was a great deal of muttering from the crew, but the Pirate King ignored all that. His men came back from below decks, and one whispered in his ear. He nodded, and stepped toward Elliott with a feral grin. “Tell you what, princeling. Now that we’re being honest, how about a deal? You come with us, and I spare all those refugees downstairs. By Fortune’s breath, I’ll even repair the ship, keep ‘em from starving to death. What do you say?”

Elliott bit his lower lip. “And what do you intend with me?”

Jasper shrugged and paced behind Elliott. “Dunno. Might sell you; could get a lot for a fallen prince. Might try to strike a deal with the Conqueror, see what you’re worth to her.” Then he leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “Or I might get bored and just decide to kill you one day. Just for the fun of it.” He pulled back and watched the boy. “So what will it be?”

Elliott glared up at him. “You swear that the people on this ship will not be harmed?”

“I swear it.”

He debated only a moment longer. “Make sure they have enough food to get them to the nearest port, and we have a deal.”

Charles cried out, but both Elliott and the King ignored him. “Do you really think you’re in a position to negotiate?” the King asked.

Elliott said nothing. Finally, the King flashed a grin. “Well, you’ve got more guts than some of the royals I met. Alright. Deal.” Then he grabbed Elliott by the scruff of his coat and dragged him off. “Get this ship repaired pronto!”

Charles watched, tears in his eyes, as Elliott was dragged aboard the Fortune’s Blessing. Even after the wyvern flapped back to the King’s shoulder, all he could do was lie there and weep.

5 May 2023

Well, I have more of a backlog built up than expected, considering how much time I wasted this summer, so for a while, at least, I’ll be double-posting again. It’s also been long enough that many of my thoughts on what I’ve written have gone fuzzy, especially for today’s posts, which I actually typed in months ago and just never posted on here.

I do know that I feel the crew’s reactions are way too muted for their circumstances; they should be pissed off, and even if they can’t really act on that anger directly, it should still express itself in some way. Wouldn’t surprise me if Jasper even revels in such things.

While Jakob surveyed the damage, Charles and Elliott headed above deck to see what was going on. The whole crew were dispirited; some were shaking with fear, while others just shook their head and looked at the Siren’s Lament with pity.

Their sister ship had already pulled a league or two ahead of them, and the pirate ship had drawn close enough Charles could make out the faces of individual pirates.

And just like Jakob had said, none of them gave the Dragon’s Flight more than a passing glance. All of their focus was on the Siren’s Lament. Charles noticed a man with sandy blonde hair, perhaps in his mid-20s, standing at the helm. He wore a bright scarlet coat with the sleeves rolled back to the elbows, and a green wyvern draped itself around his shoulders.

The man in the scarlet coat gave an order, and their cannons thundered. One of the masts on the Siren’s Lament cracked and fell, and it stopped dead in the water. They raised a white flag, but the pirates didn’t care. The man barked the order again, and another volley of cannon fire tore into the hapless ship.

The passengers and crew of the Siren’s Lament panicked. Some tried to prepare longboats, while others jumped straight into the ocean, trying to put as much distance as the could between them and the doomed ship. All the while, the pirates unloaded volley after volley, and did not stop until the ship had finished sinking.

Charles couldn’t pull his eyes away. His entire body shook, and nothing he did could make it stop. Next to him, Elliott bent over the railing and threw up. When he finally stopped, his face was pale and sweaty. He and Charles shared a look, and quietly collapsed onto the deck.

Soon, the pirate ship pulled back alongside them and prepared to board. Charles finally saw its name; the Fortune’s Blessing. He looked again at the remains of the Siren’s Lament and shuddered.

Jakob came back above deck right as the pirates began to board. The man in the scarlet coat was one of the first to arrive, and Charles noted he had an earring in one ear, a fang of some kind. He looked around, then demanded, “Who among you is captain?”

Jakob stepped forward, arms folded across his chest. “Aye, that’d be me. What can I do for you?”

For several long, intense moments, the man stared at Jakob. There was a sharp glint in his eyes, and Charles was sure Jakob was about to die. Then he smiled, which was quite unnerving, and offered a handshake. “Jasper. King of the Pirates.”

Jakob hesitated only a split second before he took the pirate’s hand in his. “Jakob.”

The Pirate King shook once and let go. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be helping myself to the contents of your hold. That alright?”

With a snort, Jakob answered, “Couldn’t stop you if I tried. Not with my ship in this state. Still, don’t tink you’ll find much. Got caught up in that mess back in Averny; with all the refugees, didn’t have much space for cargo.”

The King’s eyebrows rose, and his smile widened. He nodded at a couple of his crew, who headed belowdecks, probably to verify Jakob’s story.

3 May 2023

Hanging out with family is not particularly conducive to being timely with things. Especially when I’m a time zone over…

Anyway, this is exploring some potential story arcs for the end game, particularly Roland, who I was thinking could actually be the exact opposite of what I imagined, and be the one inviting foreign powers to take charge for one reason or another. This is trying to get a feel for that other power. She is not Asian, if she even exists; I went back to a more Egyptian vibe for her, after all, shortly after this.

I sit across form a woman straight out of Egyptian history; dark hair, tanned skin, lots of gold jewelry with her Egyptian-cut white dress. The room around is just as lavish; almost too bright for my eyes. I look over the Cleopatra look-alike again; I doubt she’ll be staying like that by the time I’m done. But who knows?

Then I have a thought and snap my fingers. The aesthetics shift, and we are sitting in an Asian tea room, and a very Chinese empress now sits across from me. I’d been considering adding or changing things to include oriental dragons; would this work?

The queen gives me a knowing smile. “This certainly does feel more comfortable.” She takes a sip of her tea, and for a split second I thought I saw fox ears. She’s certainly not a kitsune, but all the research on Japanese legends lately, especially Tamamo-no-Mae, is affecting my perceptions. How would I want to handle this?

For a long time neither of us speaks; we just study each other carefully. Then she says, “I hear you’re not sure if I even truly exist. Is that correct?”

“Indeed. I need a major threat Roland himself created; I’m not sure that has to be you.”

“Oh?” She leans forward. “And what, pray tell, would you replace me with? Volcanoes?”

“Perhaps.”

She scoffs at me. “As if anyone would accept that.”

“We’ll see.” My smile turns devilish. “But first, my dear queen, what on earth drives you to fear Agthere so much?”

She freezes, looking for all the world like a teenager caught sneaking back into the house past curfew. “Whatever do you mean?”

I lean back and waved my hand dismissively. “Come now. This is a story about courage, especially here in Book 1. Charles arc is about overcoming, and helping others overcome, their own fears. Am I wrong?”

When she didn’t reply, I continued, “And if you are the antagonist, you must serve as a foil. Ergo, you would have to be motivated by fear.” My smile turns malicious and I lean forward to rest my elbows on the table. “So then, tell me, O Queen, what are you so afraid of? And what do you intend to do about it?”

28 April 2023

I really hate our internet.

I really liked this scene, though. Even if the presentation is different, this scene comes directly from the dream that started this whole story. Well, that and specifically when the second ship is actually blown out of the water. The name of the second ship is probably going to change; I’m pretty sure its current name is the title of a comic on Webtoons I saw and read a bit of, though I’m not sure. If not, I might just keep it. Also, I figure they wouldn’t necessarily have the same motifs for their version of the Jolly Roger; I’ll have to figure out what I want to use instead and how to communicate that.

I am also considering, almost certain, that rather than send the boys to Moira’s ship, Jasper gives Moira and Arylwen this ship. Dunno if it got it’s current name [the Dragon’s Flight] before or after they took over, though, so it might change in this scene still.

There was a shout from the crow’s nest, and old Jacob’s face turned pale. He pulled out a spyglass and looked off to the horizon.

“What is it?” Charles asked. “What do you see?” He squinted, as if that would help him see farther.

“Pirates,” Jacob whispered. “And not just any pirates. It’s the bloody Pirate King himself!” He spun and barked a furious string of commands, eyes focused as he strode the length of the ship. Charles couldn’t understand more than half of them, but the crew scurried about, racing to keep their ship moving as fast as possible.

At a gesture from Jacob, they signalled their sister ship, the [Siren’s Lament], and even from here Charles could see how their crew, too, burst into a frenzy of action.

“I-is the Pirate King really that scary?” Charles asked. “Scarier than the Dark Conqueror?”

“I don’t know about that, but he’s terrifying enough. Unpredictable.” Jacob set his mouth to a grim line. “Run along down with the other refugees, lad. Leave this to us.”

Charles wanted to protest, but Jacob looked as serious as Charles had ever seen him. Reluctantly, he headed below decks. Almost immediately, Elliott came over and started interrogating him. “We can hear the crew up there, busy as bees. What’s going on?”

“Pirates,” Charles said simply. “Jacob said it was their king.”

There were more than a few gasps and sobs from the other refugees. One even fainted on the spot.

Elliott’s own face soured, and strode to the stern, Charles on his heels. Soon enough, he’d found a porthole and smooshed his face up into it. Charles squeezed in next to him.

By now, the pirates’ ship was clearly visible, even with the naked eye, including the flag featuring [a dragon’s wings]. Combined with the black sails and all the cannons, the ship looked very intimidating.

Over the next hour or two, the boys took turn watching the pirate ship creep closer and closer. It wasn’t until then they heard the distant roar of cannonfire, followed by a column of water bursting upwards just a hundred or so yards behind them. There were a couple more shots, as both they and the [Siren’s Lament] returned fire, but they were still too distant yet to do more than try to warn them off.

But one didn’t earn a moniker like “King of the pirates” by backing down from a fight. The pirate ship continued closing in, and soon enough they were exchanging fire with both refugee ships. 

Then, there was a pause from the cannons on the [Siren’s Lament]. Worried they’d been hit, Charles darted over to a portside porthole, and saw that no, the other ship was fine. They had just been turning their cannons…

Which were now aimed directly at the Dragon’s Flight.

Charles could only stare mutely as their sister ship prepared to fire on them. Elliott barely had time to pull him down before cannonballs tore into the ship, leaving them crippled in the water.

Only a moment later, Jacob stomped down the steps to survey the damage. “Tend to the wounded,” he ordered the refugees, “and stop up the holes as best you can. Ship’s carpenter’ll be along when he can.”

From there, he headed over where Elliott was stilling covering for Charles. “You alright, Your Highness?”

Elliott shrugged and sat up. Charles looked up at Jacob. “Why? Why would they do that?”

“Because they’re damn fools, that’s why,” Jacob spat.

“They thought, since the pirate ship had us outgunned and outmaneuvered, only one of us would escape. Then they wanted to make sure it would be them, am I right?” Elliott’s voice carried more than a trace of bitterness.

“Like as not. That was a mistake; must not have heard much about the latest King o’ Pirates. May the Goddess have mercy on their souls.” He saw the confusion in the boys’ faces, so he explained, “This King might be unpredictable, but if there’s one thing he hates, it’s cowards. And what’s more cowardly than shooting an ally in the back so you can escape yourself? He’ll sink ‘em without question.”

20 April 2023

Well… there’s definitely issues here. The general vibe almost makes it feel like I’m pro-dictatorship and anti-democracy, which is not how I feel. So I’ll need to come up with another way to bring up Ferghus, and another way for Roland to start thinking how ill-prepared they are to defend themselves from the Conqueror and other, similar threats.

“And who would helm this coalition, then?” Roland demanded. “You? One of the other monarchs? Perhaps that princeling you dragged in out of the ocean? No, we will not leave ourselves vulnerable to some arrogant bastard declaring themselves our king or queen.”

“And what if you picked one of your own?” Moira leaned back against the table, arms folded. “Appointed them as your leader, even if only temporarily?”

Roland kept pacing. “And once we gave them that power, do you think they’d give it up? No! No, they would not.”

With a sigh, Moira pinched the bridge of her nose. “So you refuse the slightest risk of a monarch of any sort taking power.”

“We’ve managed without so far.”

“And what will your people do then, when a real dragon appears? When some foreign king or queen arrives in a storm of scale and claw and fang? When the Black Conqueror herself lands on your shores? Who will defend you? The living statue of a dragon holed up under the city?”

Living statue? What did Moira mean by that? Charles pulled away from the door and shot a questioning look at Arylwen. She shrugged; apparently she didn’t know what her mom meant, either. Charles grabbed her hand and said, “Let’s go find Bethany.”

Arylwen scrunched her nose. “Why her?”

“She’s from this city; he dad’s even on the Council, right? I bet she knows.”

Despite her scowl, Arylwen nodded. 

They found Bethany moping quietly in the grand library. [AN: I guess they rejected her earlier or something?] Arylwen sulked off to the side while Charles walked up to her. “Um. Hey, Bethany.”

Bethany jumped a bit, then hurriedly tried to wipe the tears from her face. “U-um, h-hi, Charles! What brings you here?”

Charles hemmed and hawed for a bit, and then finally asked, “Do you know anything about a living dragon statue under the city?”

Bethany blinked a few times. “Do you mean [Ferghus]?”

Both Charles and Arylwen cocked their heads.

“You know, Ferghus? The old king who set up the Council two hundred years ago? He’s not actually a statue, but he’s really, really old, and dowsn’t really move much any more.”

Arylwen’s eyes lit up. “How big is he?”

“Huge! I saw him once; he must have been as big as the whole palace!”

When he saw the smile that spread across Arylwen’s face, Charles’ stomach dropped. He’d seen that smile often enough to know it was never good news.

Sure enough, a moment later, Arylwen announced, “Let’s go see him! You can take us there, right?”

11 April 2023

this was a very good day for figuring out what the plot of Majesty book 1 will be. I needed an antagonist, in particular one that would be defeated by kids without removing the threat the Conqueror herself imposed. And combined with the theme with Charles and courage, I decided on a coward.

I’d actually initially named him Richard—as an ironic twist, from Richard the Lion-Hearted—but it just really did not fit. So he’d Roland for now. there’s a lot that’s shifted even in the couple days since I wrote this; their country no longer has a sovereign, but is, in fact, just ruled by this Council he’s a key member of. A lot of political finagling. It’s also unclear how much his motivations will actually be motivated by fear of the Conqueror, and how much will be tied to the Pirate King (both fear and rage, based on the reveals towards the end, depending on how close he was to his brother-in-law, or how devastated his sister was at her husband’s death).

I drop Roland into a large jungle setting, where the plants are ridiculously oversized, in order to make him feel small. As his eyes dart this way and that, trying to figure out where he is, I study him. He is tall; possibly even matching my own 6’2”, though I’d guess he’s closer to six foot even. He’s skinny, though; there’s so little meat on his arms I wonder for half a second if he’s ever lifted anything heavier than a pen.

No, that’s not quite right. He’s fit enough; it’s just masked by his flowing robes. What is his position, anyway? Is he a Denethor? The similarities are quite uncanny… Hopefully, he’ll prove a little more competent, however. And less crazy.

Finally, I emerge into the light in front of him. “Goodman Roland, I presume?”

He starts, then nodes, somewhat relieved to see another person here. “I am. I… am afraid you have a distinct advantage over me. May I ask your name, sir?”

“Cloud will do.” I wave my hand, and the foliage rearranges itself to create us chairs, or something similar. “Please, take a seat.”

Roland mostly manages to mask his unease; I’m honestly a little impressed. Once he’s settled, I ask, “Would you mind telling me a bit about yourself?”

He seems confused. “Is there something in particular you wish to know?”

I shrug. “Anything will do. What is your position? How did you come by it? Do you have any family?Anything you think to be of note.”

Roland nodded, then mused quietly to himself. “I suspect you are already aware of this, but I am head of the Council, the governing body for our kingdom in our queen’s absence.”

I make a not of that. “And forgive me, but where is your queen? I am not from the area. She has not turned dragon has she?”

“Not to our knowledge, no.” He gave me a polite smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “After the Conqueror invaded her sister’s realm, she headed to the southlands to seek allies. She believes it is only a matter of time before the warlord extends her reach beyond the sea.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Do you disagree?”

He shrugged. “It would be incredibly costly. If the Conqueror is not provoked, what reason would she have to take the risk to come here?”

I keep silent. Clearly, he judges the Conqueror by is own values, rather than acknowledging the evidence that shows how different hers are, Instead, I ask, “Any news of the queen’s sister? She was a queen in her own right, no?”

Roland nodded. “Married to the king of those lands. Before the Conqueror came, anyway. Alas, multiple eyewitnesses confirmed both the king and queen perished at her hand.”

“And the prince? They had a son, Elliott, did they not?”

Roland pauses, and when he answers, he is a lot more cautious with his words. “I can’t say that I’ve heard one way or another. Rumors persist that he miraculously survived, but… Even should such reports prove accurate, it would be best for everyone involved were he to stay hidden.”

Once again I raise an eyebrow. “You believe his presence could be the spark that draws the Conqueror here?”

Roland pursed his lips, but the silence itself spoke volumes. I nod and make a quick note. I consider asking what he’ll do if Elliott does arrive, seeking refuge, but as fun as it might be to challenge Roland on his cowardice, that is not the point of today.

Once I finish, I ask, “Alright then. Do you have any family? Wife, children?”

Roland offers a wry smile and shakes his head. “I’m afraid I’m all but married to my job; I’ve little time for such matters.” His face softens. “I do visit my sister and her two children when I can, however.”

“Oh?” A genuine smile begins to form on my face. It’s nice to see him legitimately happy about something, no matter what he’s done or might do later in the story.

“A niece and a nephew. The older one is nearly twelve; the other just turned eight this past month.”

“And their father?”

Roland’s smile vanished. “A sailor. He died when the Pirate King targeted his ship some eighteen months ago.”

“I’m… sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged. “Such is life. He left them enough that they get by, and I help out where I can. Life is full of little sorrows like that.”

5 April 2023

I wrote this kind of late, and honestly I’m still not sure what to think of it. I was trying to lay the groundwork for Arylwen and Bethany to develop a friendship while they’re still kids, but I don’t think this approach is going to be the best. Moira will still intervene, but it will be more chastising Arylwen. I also don’t know that I fully agree with the logic here, and it definitely feels out of character for Moira, even if I’m having trouble pinning down why. Additionally, I don’t want to even imply that bullying is in anyway justified. It’s not. So yeah, this is getting scrapped. It does help me figure out some of what’s going on in Arylwen’s head, though. And I might just have to tone this sub-arc down, so she’s not actively mean or malicious to Bethany.

The little girl curled up tighter, wrinkling her dress. “I just… I want to be friends, too. Why is she so mean to me?”

Moira leaned forward, resting her arms on the balcony railing. She pondered the question for several moments. “You may not believe me, but you and Arylwen have a lot in common.”

Judging by the expression on Bethany’s face, she didn’t believe her. Moira had to chuckle at that. She said, “I’m guessing you didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, right? Spent most of your days around adults, all trying to teach you how to be a ‘proper’ lady?”

Bethany nodded. Moira continued, “It’s not so different for Arylwen. There’s not that many kids on pirate ships, and the small handful Arylwen did meet were all terrified of her, especially after hearing she’s a dragon.”

31 January 2023

Between this and my interview with Bethany later, it doesn’t paint Arylwen in the best light. I promise she’s cool, and is a good person! I’m working on finding the scenes that show that the best.

So, for context in the scene below; this is happening in Book 2, roughly a decade (maybe a bit more) after the other Majesty scenes I’ve posted. The main cast is in their late teens or early twenties. They met Bethany sometime during Book 1, and she was a nobleman’s daughter, and very shy to boot. Arylwen wasn’t impressed. I don’t think she did anything actively malicious, but she definitely let Bethany know about her disapproval.

By the time of this scene, things have at least hit a status quo of some kind; I don’t know yet if Arylwen has merely accepted Bethany’s presence, or if she actually considers Bethany a friend. Regardless, it’s still a big deal that Bethany was able to blow up at her like this. Charles and Arylwen have been getting closer together, and Arylwen’s starting to freak out about it, since romance isn’t something easy to understand. She says something rude (I don’t know what yet), and Bethany reacts.

Arylwen was interrupted by a sudden stinging on her cheek. She looked in shock at Bethany–quiet, timid Bethany–and could barely believe the girl had slapped her.

Bethany certainly wasn’t timid now. She glared up at Arylwen, the corners of her eyes glistening. “Charles isn’t like that. You know Charles isn’t like that. And I’ll never forgive you if you ever say something so cruel about him again.”

Arylwen wanted to get mad. To return Bethany’s slap with twice the force, to scream and shout obscenities. But that prick in her heart she’d been ignoring held her back. What good would it do to get mad at Bethany, when Arylwen knew she was right? With some reluctance, Arylwen relaxed the fists at her side.

Bethany nodded once, like that’s what she’d expected. She turned to walk away, but first she said, “If you don’t want him, fine. At least have the courage to reject him properly. I’d be more than happy to finally have a chance with him, and I’m not the only one.” She began to walk off.

A spike of anger flared in Arylwen’s chest. “Are you calling me a coward?”

Bethany spun around and returned Arylwen’s glare with a steely one of her own. “Aren’t you? Charles is willing to lay everything down for you, and all you can do is belittle his efforts behind his back? What, exactly, is brave and noble about that, miss dragon?”

Once again, Arylwen was at an utter loss for words. This time, when Bethany stalked off, Arylwen let her go.

24 January 2023

Sorry about yesterday; I completely spaced it. I did get my writing in for the day, though, so I’ll be back on track after this.

This is a direct continuation of my interview with Moira in this post; I’d already figured out the last story was 90% BS, as I mentioned there, but I pulled a lot of good information this time. Though this early in the drafting process, any and all of it is subject to change. Also, this was the day when it felt like I finally snapped out of the funk I’d been in all month. Not really sure what did it, but I’m grateful. Still had ups and downs since then, of course, but it’s been much more manageable.

I start jotting notes, then I pause and glare at Moira. “You just made that up, didn’t you?”

She shrugged and flashed me a cheeky grin. I groan and rub the bridge of my nose. “Is it at least something that did happen to you, pre-dragon or was it completely off the cuff?”

“Who know?” She pointedly avoids my gaze and swishes her drink.

With a frown, I shuffle through my notes for other things I wanted to ask her. “Ah right. What can you tell me about dragon culture? That vale you mentioned.”

The drink stills in her hand. Slowly, Moira turns to look at me, eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know?”

Hm. That is an interesting response. I hesitate only a moment before a wicked smile forms on my face. “Oh, I was considering sending Arylwen there in book 3, sometime after she’s become queen. I want to know what she’d be getting herself into.”

Moria’s eyes flash, and the next thing I know I’m slammed up against the wall with her claws around my throat. Good thing I’m not actually physically present; that seems like it would have hurt.

“Don’t you dare,” Moira hissed, “send my girl into that pack of arrogant, self-serving pigs.”

The version of me she’s holding collapses to dust. She spins around to see me leaning against the table, utterly unconcerned. “That’s very interesting.” Moira growls at me, but I ignore that and ask, “Were they all like that? Arrogant and self-serving, I mean?”

“No, you also had the ancient relics, that might as well have turned to stone for all the good they do.”

I raise an eyebrow, and for quite a long time, neither of us say anything. Then Moira sighs. “There was one–maybe more than one, honestly, but it’s not like I stuck around long enough to find out. He was… kind. But he wasn’t the most powerful, or charismatic. I don’t think most of the world’s ever heard of the country he ruled.” She looks away; it feels like she’s looking at something specific, far in the distance. “I couldn’t stand the way they treated him.”

“So you left?” When Moira nodded, I asked, “Did he come with you?”

Her expression softened into sorrow. “That would have required more confidence than he had left, I think. And he was never the impulsive sort, anyway.”

There. There it is. That fits, to me. I think that’s who Arylwen’s father is. And may have been what attracted her to Jasper’s brazen arrogance, too.

I put my papers away and look Moira in the eye. “If it’s any consolation, I’m not sure yet whether or not Arylwen does visit. I don’t know enough about the plot of the 3rd book yet to know if it’ll make sense.” I grin. “And if she does, well. Let’s just say you raised her well.”

Moira raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“One of them makes the mistake of referring to her as Charles’ ‘pet dragon’. During the ensuing duel, she doesn’t even bother going dragon; it stirs up quite the hornet’s nest.”

For the first time since I brought up dragon culture, Moira laughs. “Oh, that’ll be fun to watch.” Then her face falls. “Still, I would greatly appreciate it if she didn’t have to go at all.”

I shrug. “We’ll see where the story takes us.”

Moira grimaces, but she nods. “Was there anything else?”

With a shake of my head, I say, “That’s it for now. I’ll swing by again if there’s anything else.”

“Cool.” She signals the bartender, who hands he a six pack. Beer, I think. Not sure how I feel about that. She waves as she saunters off down the beach. “Take care of yourself, old man.”

I frown, but before I can protest I’m still in my thirties–and anywhere from a couple decades to several centuries younger than she is–she walks off, out of sight.

12 January 2023

I have a thing I do, where I interview my characters. This isn't unique to me, by any stretch. But I tend to make the interview itself more of a narrative format; seeing how my characters react to me or to weird, non-canonical situations can tell me a lot about them. And I like to hear their impressions of other people, too.

That said, it turns out the last bit, about Arylwen's father, is complete BS. I don't know if it's something that did happen in a different part of Moira's life, pieces of several events, or completely off the cuff, but it's definitely not about Arylwen's dad.

I take a minute to center myself before I invite Moira over. Where are we? Somewhere suitable to her. After a moment, I open my eyes and see that I’m in an open-air beachfront cafe, though other than the man behind the counter there is no one around.

Not long after I decide I’m ready, Moira walks in, wearing a collared vest and black pants. I gesture to the seat across from me and she takes it, lounging comfortably, with her feet on the arm rest of another of the many empty chairs.

I lean back and study her for a moment. “So, Moira.” I cock my head. “Just Moira?”

“For now.” She flashes me an impish grin, then signals the bartender. He brings over a tall, orange drink with a fancy straw. I assume it’s alcoholic.

I review my notes. “Well, first off, what do you think of the boys? Where I’m at, they’re just joining your crew.”

“Ah, yes.” She smiles, a toothy thing that dimples her cheeks, and sets her drink on the table. “Charles is fascinating. There is a light to him, and an honesty, that is precious difficult to find in men.” She ponders for a moment, then adds, “Or women, for that matter.”

She grows more somber. “As for Elliott… There’s a darkness to him I didn’t recognize at first. I hope it doesn’t consume him.”

I carefully maintain a neutral expression, making her chuckle. “No spoilers on that one, eh?”

With a smile, I say, “Not yet, at least.” I kinda want to pursue the bit with Elliott, but that’s not the priority today. “So, why a pirate?”

“Hmm?”

“Well, you’re a dragon. You could have gone anywhere, done anything. Singer, artist, baker. So why did you choose to become a pirate?”

“Call it a whim.” Her eyes got a far off look, and she chuckled to herself. “I happened to run into Jasper one day, and he intrigued me.”

I nodded and made a note, then paused. “How did that happen, exactly? Did he attack the ship you were on?”

“Got it in one.” She took another swig of her drink. “He wasn’t a captain yet, just a lowly deckhand. I was on my way to some place new, when his crew attacked. Long story short, most everyone else on either of our crews wound up dead. Even once he learned I was a dragon, even once I had him pinned to the deck with my claws at his throat, he still smiled fearlessly. He even had the audacity to invite me to his crew.” She shrugged. “I figured, why not?”

I give Moira a sidelong glance. “You like collecting interesting people, don’t you?”

She just grinned. I asked, “Was this before Arylwen was born? Did you know you were pregnant?”

Moira shrugged. “I knew, but it wasn’t showing yet. She’s spent just about her whole  life on those boats.”

I hesitate for a bit. “If I may ask, who was–is–her father? What’s the story there?”

“Ah, that.” Moira’s smile turned sad, and she pulled her feet off the other chair. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“If anyone my side of the screen should, it’s me.” I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees.

“Well, he was human.” She chuckled. “A surprise, right? I know you wondered if any of the bastards back in the vale were nice enough to catch my ey, but…” She shrugged. “I met him not long after I’d left. I was in a bit of a tight spot, and he offered to help. We slowly got to know each other, and fell in love.”

Moira’s eyes were distant, now. I doubted she even remembered my presence. She continued, “He was always the odd one in his family, which was one of the lesser noble ones in the area. Rather than a warrior, he was a scholar, and loved to research what he could about plants and animals and the like.”

Her face fell. “They came the eve of our wedding. They hadn’t known my true identity, and I was able to fight them off… but I missed a sniper outside, and failed to catch the arrow in time.” Her eyes blazed, and her voice grew cold. “They’d dressed to make it look like a rival family had attacked us, but I knew the scent, the faces of the assassins. His own family believed he’d dishonored them when he chose to be a scholar, and again when he married me. So they decided to remove him from the line of succession.” Her smile grew feral, and she concluded, “Now there aren’t any of them left. Unless you count Arylwen… and I don’t. She’s mine. Not theirs.”

7 January 2023

Continuing from the last Majesty post. Figured out a lot more of the current dynamic between Charles and Elliot with this. Ironically, even though he spends all his time talking about Charles, I learned more about Elliott here; it helped me finally get a pin on his character. Which made some of the earlier bits a little painful to reread, honestly, since he’s a bit over the top with the “noble privilege” in those.

“...anyway? Isn’t he some commoner trash, according to you noble folks?”

“Don’t call him trash.” The princeling glared at Arylwen, then stared back into the sea. “Why do you care?”

Arylwen shrugged and sat on the railing. “Just curious. Everyone seems to see something special in him. Even you.”

For a long time, the princeling didn’t respond. “Charles has this…core to him that no one else has. He’s honest–stupidly so, sometimes–and in a world of nobles scheming for power or asking for favors… well.” He smiled grimly and shook his head.

“So, how’d it start? When’d you meet?”

Elliott chuckled. “Well, he already spent most of the time in the castle, since his mother was one of the royal bodyguards. At first, he mostly played with the other kids in the castle, but one day he randomly noticed that I spent my time alone in the library.”

“Ah. More of that brooding.”

He shot Arylwen a glare, but continued. “Whatever the reason, he decided–on his own, I might add, whatever I thought–that I needed friends. At first, he tried to drag me out to play with the other children, but, well.” He grimaced. “After that, he parked himself next to me in the library. Sometimes he’d try to talk to me, but more often than not I’d ignore him. So he’d grab books and try to read. Honestly, it was exasperating how much he couldn’t understand, but…” For the first time, the princeling actually smiled for real. Arylwen felt a hint of a blush on her cheeks.

4 January 2023

This one is short, because I spent most of my evening planning things out for this story and trying to figure out who Elliott was better. In particular, I want to get a better grasp on the dynamic between Elliott and Charles, and the way that will evolve over the course of the series.

Arylwen found the princeling brooding over the railing at the stern. It figured. What else would blonde princelings do in their free time?

She dropped down next to him. She was a bit disappointed when he didn’t jump; he must be getting used to her by now. She asked, “Where’s the other one?”

“With the captain. I guess he wanted extra sword lessons or something.”

Arylwen shuddered. “He could still move after her normal ones?” When the princeling didn’t respond, she flipped around the rail to get a better look at him. “So what, he’s busy, and you just mope out here?”

Elliott shrugged. “More or less.”

“Why do you hang out with him, anyway?”

2 January 2023

Elliott’s still more hung up on royal pride than I think he should be. His shock at the difference between her demeanor and her implied heritage should still be there, but I think he’d express it differently in a less class-ist way.

Also, Arylwen is one of my favorite characters, at least as far as I’ve gotten to know her so far. She’s got this spunk to her, and absolutely will not take crap from anyone. It’s going to be fun, especially in the later two books.

A moment later, a figure with large, black bat-like wings glided down from the crow’s nest. When she landed, Charles and Elliott were shocked to see a girl their age, and even more when the wings folded into her back and disappeared. “What’s up, Mom?”

Captain Moira gestured to the two boys. “I’ve got a couple new cabin boys to work with you, straight from Jasper. Show them the ropes, would you?” She turned to the boys. “This is my daughter, Arylwen. I’ll be having her take care of you two, alright?”

Elliott still stood with his  mouth open, staring at Arylwen. Charles wasn’t much better, but he managed to pull himself together enough to offer a handshake. “Um, nice to meet you. My name’s Charles.”

Arylwen shook it halfheartedly, and she narrowed her eyes as she looked at the two of them. “Eh… Really, Mom?”

“Don’t judge the just by their looks; I’ve taught you that already. This one here used to be a prince.” She jabbed a thumb at Elliott, who had yet to regain his composure, then waved a hand at Charles. “And that one went down and talked with Jasper unannounced.”

Arylwen’s eyes grew wide, and she stared at Charles. “And you’re still alive?”

Charles nodded. “He’s, um, he’s really scary, but he think he m-might be kind of nie, too, in a way.” He bit his lip, then asked, “W-were those wings real? Are you really a dragon?”

“Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

At that, Elliott finally reacted. “But, that means you’re some sort of royalty! And yet, you’re dressed like [that], without any of the dignity a royal should have!”

Arylwen shrugged. “I don’t care about any of that crap. If you want details, ask my mom.”

31 December 2022 part 2

And with this, we are finally caught up; exactly one week behind my actual writing. That felt good.

More shenanigans with Charles and Elliott. I think I made Elliott too arrogant for this section; I don’t have a solid enough grasp on his character and how it shifts over the trilogy. His side of the story is, unfortunately, something of a tragedy, in contrast to Charles’ more heroic arc. I’d like to foreshadow that, of course, but I still need Elliott to be relatable, and a respected member of the team before all that goes down, which is hard to nail down.

The ship name—the Dragon’s Flight—is more than just a pun. It’s also not set in stone, so if I come up with something better I’ll use that instead.

Jasper raised an eyebrow and sat back. “Why?”

Charles blinked. He hadn’t expected that. “Um, well, he’s my friend. And he’s a prince, even if he doesn’t have a country right now, and, and–”

One of the wyverns hopped down and sniffed at Charles, who squeaked and stepped back. Jasper asked him, “Are you scared, little man?”

This was it. He was dead. Charles gulped and nodded, but rather than give up words started pouring out of his mouth. “I-I know you hate cowards, and you’re probably going to kill me ‘cause I’m so scared, b-but at least promise you’ll set Elliott free! He hasn’t even had a chance to try to take [our country] back yet, and he’s amazing, not like me, so if he had help–”

Jasper gave a signal, and another wyvern shrieked and snapped at Charles, silencing him. With a languid air, Jasper rose to his feet and began to circle around the boy, eying him up and down. Once he was back in front of Charles, he squatted down on his haunches and looked the boy in the eyes. “Let me get this straight. You’re freaking terrified of me, and you’re dead certain I’m gonna kill you. And even then, you came down here on the off chance you might be able to get me to let your friend go. That right?”

Charles nodded. Jasper tilted his head, almost ninety degrees, and narrowed his eyes. “This wasn’t some order from that princeling, was it?”

With a shake of his head, Charles replied, “Elliott told me I was b-being stupid actually. But, if you’re just going to sell him back to [the Conqueror], I had to try something. I think she’d do worse things to him than just kill him.”

Only the sound of the wyverns shuffling about could be heard. Charles began to sweat bullets, but he held very still, and even tried to hold his breath.

Then Jasper started laughing, and Charles about fell over. The pirate king clapped Charles on the back, hard enough it stung, and said, “I like you, kid. You’ve got guts. Alright, I’ll give you lot a chance. We’ll see if this princeling measures up.”

For a moment, Charles couldn’t believe his ears. It worked? He’d done it? By the time it sank in, Jasper had already pushed him above deck. Then all the tension drained out of Charles’ body, and he fainted to the floor of the deck, with a smile on his face.

The next day, Charles and Elliott were reunited. Elliott rubbed his wrists where his manacles had chafed, his displeasure clearly evident on his face. He looked at Charles in wonder. “What the heck did you say to him?”

Charles shrugged. “I don’t really get it, either.”

The ship they were on pulled up alongside another, smaller vessel. Probably another one of the ships in Jasper’s pirate armada. The crew pulled out planks to lay between them, and they herded Charles and Elliott across.

Elliott looked around, and with what little dignity he could muster he demanded, “Where’s the captain?”

“That’d be me.” A tall woman strode toward them wearing a loose, patched-up tunic, and a pair of breeches with one leg torn off at the knee. She had dark brown hair that fell around her shoulders in waves, and piercing green eyes that seemed to peer into the depths of Charles’ soul. He shivered, but he tried to match her gaze as long as he could.

Elliott opened his mouth to say something, but the woman held up a finger. She studied him next, then pointed at Charles. “You’re the one Jasper was telling me about? The one that impressed him?”

Charles shrugged. “I, I think so. I talked to him yesterday, at least.” 

The woman raised her eyebrows. “Well. Looks can be deceiving, then.” She turned to Elliott. “As for you… The princeling, right? You’re just as he described, so far.”

Elliott’s eyebrows scrunched together, and he frowned. “And what does that mean?”

The woman ignored him, and instead looked over them one more time and sighed. “I’ve really got my work cut out for me this time.” Before either of them could respond, she pointed her thumb at herself and said, “I’m Moira. You can call me ‘Captain’ or ‘Ma’am’. From now on, you’re not princes or servants or any of that. You are deckhands aboard the Dragon’s Flight, and that means you answer to me. Is that clear?”

Charles saluted and said, “Yes, Ma’am!”, but Elliott just glowered. “I’m not some lowly deckhand; I am a prince, and–”

“You were a prince, you mean,” Moira cut in. “You have no country, no authority, and no reason for me to respect you. If you want to change that–any of it–you start by doing what I say. Am I clear?”

“But–”

“Am I clear?”

Elliott shut his mouth, and his face turned pink. He bowed his head. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good. You actually can learn; that’s a good sign.” She looked up into the rigging and whistled.

28 December 2022

This story is actually an idea I’ve had for a long time now - at least a year, maybe two. It was a fusion of a vague idea I had about dragons being associated with the concept of majesty/majestic, and a dream I had of a pirate king who hated cowards. It kind of converged into this story where kings and heroes become dragons the more “majestic” they are (100% my own subjective opinion right now; I may or may not figure out specific rules later).

It’s planned to be a trilogy, with each book occurring at a different phase of Charles’ life. It’s one of my focus stories for January, actually, and hopefully one of the drafts I plan to finish this year. Also, random trivia fact, for the longest time Jasper was called “Jack” in my head, despite my image of him being nothing like Sparrow/Johnny Depp.

When Charles stepped down below deck, he was shaking in his boots. Everyone had heard how ruthless Jasper the Pirate King could be. And worse, everyone knew how much he hated cowards. Charles wasn’t 100% sure, but he figured he counted, and Jasper would kill him.

But if he didn’t at least try, Elliott would just get sold off, or worse. So down he went, until he stood in front of Jasper’s makeshift throne, with a huge flock of wyverns eying him from everywhere throughout the room.

Jasper himself was quite intimidating. He wasn’t a large man, per se - he was only of average height, and wiry, rather than bulky. But there was a sharpness to his gaze, and he had a subtle tension that made Charles feel like a mouse caught in a serpent’s gaze.

For several long minutes, Jasper said nothing. Finally he confirmed, “You’re that boy that was on the ship we boarded yesterday, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Don’t ‘sir’ me, kid. If you have to call me something, call me ‘Captain’ or ‘Your Majesty’.”

“Y-yes, Your Majesty.” The words still felt wrong to Charles. After spending his whole life calling the old king that, it felt uncomfortable to use the title for someone else.

Jasper’s face soured, and he leaned forward. “So, what do you want, little man?”

Charles bit his lower lip, then mustered up his courage and said, “I want you to release Prince Elliott!”