King Glyn:      Wissly, you know you’re my most trusted advisor, do you not?

 

Wissly:           Trusted, yes, Your Highness. I know you trust me. But most trusted? I don’t know if I knew I was most trusted. There’s Coburn, there’s Plumst, there’s Gravewine.

 

King Glyn:      Gravewine? I don’t trust Gravewine any farther than you could throw him. How far do you think you could throw Gravewine, Wissly?

 

Wissly:           Four, maybe five inches, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      My declaration stands. I don’t trust him any farther than that. And it’s a testament to how much I trust you, Wissly, that I’m telling you how little I trust Gravewine. Because I know you won’t tell him, nor will you tell anyone else. Right?

 

Wissly:           Right, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      Good. Because when untrustworthy people know they aren’t trusted, then they become even less trustworthy. You’d think they’d want to improve their reputations, to prove themselves worthy of more trust, but, paradoxically, they don’t. Whereas trustworthy people, when they find out how much they’re trusted, they tend to become even more worthy of trust. They don’t say to themselves, oh, I’m very trusted? Then that means I can slack off a little, that means I can get away with something. Except in rare cases when the trust has been misplaced. But in those cases, they aren’t truly worthy of trust, they’re only mistakenly believed to be worthy of trust. That’s not the case with you, is it, Wissly?

 

Wissly:           I’m a little lost, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      A less trustworthy adviser would not have admitted that, Wissly. A less trustworthy adviser would have been too ashamed to admit they hadn’t been paying close enough attention. So even though you can’t answer my question, you’ve answered it indirectly, and I’m satisfied with that answer, so I’m going to do you the honor of broaching a subject with you that I’ve not yet broached with anyone else.

 

Wissly:           Not even the queen, Your Highness?

 

King Glyn:       Especially not with her.

 

Wissly:           Very good, Your Highness. I am prepared to be the first, and perhaps only, to be taken into your sacred confidence concerning the subject to which you now refer.

 

King Glyn:      Are you aware, Wissly, of the recent trend of monarchs embarking on quests themselves rather than simply commissioning groups of adventurers to undertake them on their behalves as has been the usual approach for the last, oh, two or three centuries?

 

Wissly:           I’m aware of the success of King Tommoso’s quest, Your Highness. And of the success of Queen Margold’s quest, her recovery of The Tilted Crown. Everyone is amazed. The Tilted Crown was thought to be lost forever. And there was the near-success of King Vemwyll’s quest. Or partial success, I guess you might call it.

 

King Glyn:      Actually, I would call slaying the wrong pirate, breaking your tailbone by “sitting down too hard,” and straggling home to find your throne usurped by your snaggle-toothed cousin neither a near-success nor a partial success. But yes, those are a few examples of what I’m talking about, and there are more. Not many more successes, of course, but there have been several noteworthy failures, and a few that are still in progress and as such undecided.

 

Wissly:           And you, Your Highness, wish to publically denounce this practice? You wish to come out strongly in favor of a return to the traditional approach to quests?

 

King Glyn:      No. That was not well-guessed, Wissly. No, what I wish is to participate in this new trend. I wish to embark upon a quest of my own.

 

Wissly:           Ah. I see, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      I’m sensing you don’t approve, Wissly. Fortunately, I don’t require your approval. I don’t even desire your approval.

 

Wissly:           But my advice, Your Highness? As your most trusted advisor?

 

King Glyn:      I seek your advice, yes, but not regarding whether I should undertake a quest. I’ve already decided that I’m going to do it. I’m asking for your advice, for your counsel, as to what that quest should be.

 

Wissly:           Something simple, Your Highness. Something close to home. Perhaps a quest that doesn’t require you to leave the kingdom? Or a quest that doesn’t require you to leave the castle, even? A quest of the mind or a quest of the spirit. A quest to read the most books of any monarch in the history of our kingdom, perhaps? Or a quest to fluently speak the most languages?

 

King Glyn:      Absolutely not, Wissly. You’re stretching the definition of “quest.” Everyone knows what a real quest is. My quest needs to be a real quest. It needs to be a great journey to either recover some sort of artifact, defeat evil, or both.

 

Wissly:           I don’t know of any quests like that, Your Highness. Not off the top of my head.

 

King Glyn:      I didn’t think you would, Wissly. But you know where the Compendium of Incomplete Quests is, and I’m asking you to retrieve it from the library and read aloud from it so that we may discuss which quest might best suit my purposes.

 

Wissly:           And what are your purposes, Your Highness?

 

King Glyn:      To gain renown. To become the subject of tales and songs. To become a legendary figure. To outshine Queen Margold.

 

Wissly:           You want to do something more impressive than finding The Tilted Crown?

 

King Glyn:       Yes. Or do something as impressive, but do it more impressively.

 

Wissly:           Your Highness. I…don’t think I’m cut out for quests. Not the kind that would gain you renown, anyway. Not dangerous ones.

 

King Glyn:      I’m not taking you with me, Wissly! Good heavens, what a disaster that would be! Why would I take someone on a quest who can’t throw Gravewine more than five inches? You wouldn’t last two days! I’m just asking you to help plan the quest! Why would you think you’d be required to come? I wouldn’t let you come if you wanted to.

 

Wissly:           I thought that’s why you were telling me I’m your most trusted advisor, Your Highness. I thought you were going to say that, you know, AS your most trusted advisor, I would need to go on the quest with you so I could give you trustworthy advice all along the way.

 

King Glyn:      No, no, no. Even if you didn’t immediately die, you’d be out of your mind with fear. How good would your advice be then? No, Wissly, you might be my most trusted advisor, but I know where you belong: here. Here, and pretty much nowhere else. I’ll take a party of adventurers with me, of course, but you will not be among them. You are not an adventurer. You’re whatever the opposite of an adventurer is. I suppose “coward” works as well as anything in this context.

 

Wissly:           Very good, Your Highness. Oh, very good. I’m so relieved. Although I’d be even more relieved if you were to stay here, too, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      That’s out of the question, Wissly. And if you suggest such a thing again, I’ll have you whipped. Now, fetch the Compendium of Incomplete Quests and you and I shall put our heads together and choose a winner.

 

Wissly:           Yes, Your Highness. I’ll be back with the Compendium as quickly as I can be.

 

TIME PASSES

 

King Glyn:      At last, Wissly, you’ve returned. Take a seat. Let’s dig in. And if it seems like you’re trying to steer me toward the easier quests, I’m afraid that will be a whipping for you. You’re my most trusted advisor, as I said, and I trust you to read out the kind of incomplete quests that will suit my purposes.

 

Wissly:           Shall we begin with artifacts to recover or evils to defeat, Your Highness? There’s also a category for quests that don’t belong in either of those categories: a “miscellaneous” category. And, of course, the category for quests that fit in multiple categories.

 

King Glyn:      Let’s go with artifacts, Wissly. I don’t think a quest to defeat evil is really for me. Not that I’m afraid of fighting, of course. I’m sure a quest to recover an artifact will also require plenty of fighting. In some cases, maybe even more fighting than a quest to defeat evil. I would just prefer the fighting crop up unexpectedly along the way instead of hanging over my head for the entire journey. We’re sure the information in the Compendium is up to date?

 

Wissly:           As much as it can be, Your Highness. Your scribes rewrite the entire Compendium whenever new information comes in. It’s fortunate for their sakes that quests are so rarely completed.

 

King Glyn:      I have to say, Wissly, that concern for inconveniencing my scribes does nothing to dampen my enthusiasm for questing if that was your intent.

 

Wissly:           It was not, Your Highness!

 

King Glyn:      Enough preamble. Find me a quest.

 

Wissly:           Hmm…this sounds promising. “The Mace of Mercy.”

 

King Glyn:      Great. What’s special about it?

 

Wissly:           It’s lost. And it’s priceless.

 

King Glyn:      Maybe we’ll come back to it. What else is there?

 

Wissly:           Romnall’s Scepter. It’s also lost and also priceless.

 

King Glyn:      So, the same as the last one.

 

Wissly:           I thought you might prefer a scepter to a mace, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      Find an artifact that has more going for it than just its lostness and its pricelessness. Something with some interesting history or some magical properties. Something that will enhance the tale of my quest.

 

Wissly:           Well, I could give you the backstory on the Mace of Mercy or Romnall’s Scepter if you-

 

King Glyn:      No, just find me something better!

 

Wissly:           Hmm…uh…OK, here we go. Here we go, Your Highness. “Gart’s Ring.” Apparently, if you put it on your right ring finger, it feels like it’s on your left ring finger.

 

King Glyn:      What if you put it on your left ring finger?

 

Wissly:           Then it just feels like it’s on your left ring finger like a normal ring would.

 

King Glyn:       No. Next.

 

Wissly:           “Sir Matmed’s Preferred Sword.”

 

King Glyn:      His preferred sword?

 

Wissly:           Yes, Your Highness. It says here that Sir Matmed had a beautiful sword, which was his main sword, his preferred sword, but he mislaid it somewhere and was forced to use a shabby replacement, and that was the sword with which he accomplished all of his storied feats.

 

King Glyn:      So the quest is to find the sword with which he accomplished no storied feats?

 

Wissly:           Yes, Your Highness. But some like to imagine how much more storied the feats Sir Matmed might have accomplished with his preferred sword would have been.

 

King Glyn:      Why wouldn’t I try to find the sword with which he accomplished all his storied feats? The replacement sword?

 

Wissly:           That one’s not lost. His family still has it. Taking that sword would just be theft, Your Highness. You’d probably start a war.

 

King Glyn:      Are you going out of your way to tell me about artifacts unlikely to inspire questing, Wissly? Stop highlighting artifacts that haven’t been recovered mostly because no one has bothered to try.

 

Wissly:           If you insist, Your Highness. What about this one? “The Thumb Emerald,” also known as “The Emerald Thumb,” also known as “Emerald, the Thumb,” also known as “Thumb, the Emerald.” This one’s in a cave in the Mountains of Misery. Basically, it’s an emerald that looks like a thumb, but much larger than a real thumb, and legend has it that the perspectives of those who behold it are forever skewed to expect thumbs – real thumbs – to be bigger than they actually are, to be perpetually disappointed when faced with the undeniable truth of actual thumb sizes.

 

King Glyn:      It’s cursed?

 

Wissly:           Yes. And priceless. I forgot to mention that.

 

King Glyn:      As an avowed curse-skeptic, I’m not fully opposed to questing after artifacts alleged to be cursed, and a quest to a cave in the Mountains of Misery sounds appropriately challenging, but the curse attached to this “Emerald of Thumbed Aspect,” or whatever it’s called, doesn’t sound like the type to impress people.

 

Wissly:           Well, Your Highness, here’s a figurine that wishes grants.

 

King Glyn:      Grants wishes?

 

Wissly:           Wishes grants. It wishes for itself or others to receive sums of money given by a government or other organization for a particular purpose.

 

King Glyn:      What purpose?

 

Wissly:           No one knows.

 

King Glyn:      And the wishes of this figurine for itself or others to receive grants…come true?

 

Wissly:           Not necessarily. Not as far as anyone knows. But it’s certainly a magical property of this figurine that it can wish at all regardless of whether or not those wishes come true.

 

King Glyn:      No, no, no. Next!

 

Wissly:           Ah, now this looks intriguing. “An Impossible Helm.”

 

King Glyn:      “An Impossible Helm?” Not “The Impossible Helm?”

 

Wissly:           It’s written as “An.”

 

King Glyn:      Because…there’s more than one?

 

Wissly:           No, there’s less than one. There are no impossible helms.

 

King Glyn:      So…the quest is…?

 

Wissly:           The quest is to recover an impossible helm of any kind. A helm that, because of one or more of its characteristics, should not exist, yet does. Since the helm you’d be looking for would be impossible, one might also argue that the quest itself would be, therefore, by definition, also impossible. But imagine the renown if you pulled it off!

 

King Glyn:      I like the “helm” part of the quest, but nothing else. Are there any other helms I could try to recover? Helms that are known to exist, I mean?

 

Wissly:           Helms, helms, helms…Ah, yes, “The Giant’s Helm.”

 

King Glyn:      Wow! A giant helm! That sounds great. We’d need to bring a cart, of course. Maybe even a large cart.

 

Wissly:           Not so, Your Highness. The helm itself is not giant. It simply belonged to a giant.

 

King Glyn:      Why would the giant have a helm that was not itself giant? What good would that do him?

 

Wissly:           According to legend, the giant was a miniaturist of moderate skill.

 

King Glyn:      A miniaturist…?

 

Wissly:           Crafting miniatures was this giant’s hobby, Your Highness. Miniature figures, miniature furniture, miniature objects.

 

King Glyn:      So it’s smaller than a normal helm.

 

Wissly:           No, it’s the same size as a normal helm. To a giant, a miniature helm is a normal-sized helm for us. To our eyes, The Giant’s Helm would just look like a regular helm, but worse due to the difficulty of crafting a regular-sized helm with giant fingers and only moderate skill.

 

King Glyn:      Enough, Wissly. Close the Compendium. This is getting us nowhere.

 

Wissly:           You no longer desire to undertake a quest, Your Highness?

 

King Glyn:      I’m tempted to have you whipped based on the hopeful tone of that question, Wissly. But no. I desire to undertake a quest as much as ever. However, I’ve decided to take measures to generate my own quest. Why should my quest center on finding something that others have deemed worthy of questing after if I don’t personally agree? No, Wissly, I’m going to quest after something important specifically to myself. I’m going to manufacture a quest of great personal importance. A quest should be undertaken passionately, for without that passion, where is the drive to succeed against overwhelming odds? So, then, here are your instructions, Wissly: I want you to choose something that belongs to me without telling me what it is, I want you to then give it to Sir Frass, and I want you to tell him that his king requires that he take it far away and put it somewhere difficult to reach. You must choose something I feel strongly about, Wissly, something I would be loath to lose, something that will motivate me to pursue it despite what should be, if Sir Frass does his job right, overwhelming odds.

 

Wissly:           Something you feel strongly about, Your Highness? Can you give me an example? Do you have something specific in mind?

 

King Glyn:      You know me, Wissly! You know which things are important to me, maybe even better than I do. I don’t want to lay it all out too explicitly. I need it to be a surprise so I can use that initial moment of shock and dismay to solidify my determination to succeed on my quest. If I tell you exactly what to send Sir Frass away with, I’ll start mentally preparing myself for the loss, I’ll already begin becoming accustomed to its absence, which can’t be good for quest motivation. But I will say that I have a few candidates in mind, possessions the absence of which would be certain to set aflame my passion to quest.

 

Wissly:           And…and…you aren’t willing to give me any hints, even, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      You don’t need hints, Wissly! I’ve given you more than enough to work with! Now, go! Do not keep me in suspense! Sir Frass should be carrying my precious possession somewhere remote and perilous within the next few days.

 

Wissly:           Yes, Your Highness. As you say.

 

TIME PASSES

 

King Glyn:      Well, Wissly. You blew it.

 

Wissly:          What…where…where did I go wrong, Your Highness?

 

King Glyn:      You chose poorly. Very poorly. What could you have been thinking, Wissly? I wanted you to choose something for Sir Frass to take away which would spark within me a great passion to recover it. Instead, you chose something that has filled me with despair at the prospect of failing to recover it, despair at what that could mean for future generations of my family, future generations of this kingdom, and future generations of humanity. Despair is not a good motivator for questing, Wissly. Quite the opposite.

 

Wissly:           Well, yes, Your Highness, I knew you felt strongly about the painting, but I thought that’s what made it a good choice for-

 

King Glyn:      It’s not just “the painting,” Wissly. It’s the first, and thus far only, painting I’ve ever painted. And it’s of my daughter when she was an infant. Is it a masterpiece? By the standards of some, no. However, if I ever do get the time to produce paintings more widely regarded as masterpieces, then my first painting – the painting you sent away with Sir Frass – will become an extremely important part of my history as a great painter of masterpieces, and I’ll be the first great king to ever be a great painter of masterpieces as well, which will make its status as my first painting that much more significant.

 

Wissly:           Yes, Your Highness. I agree with all of that. Which is why I thought that if Sir Frass took it away, you’d be filled with a great passion to quest after the painting, recovering it and returning it to its rightful place here in the castle. And hopefully again displayed in a place of prominence once Princess Larina is a little more mature and realizes the painting is nothing to be embarrassed of, but rather something to be-

 

King Glyn:      Shut up, Wissly. You miscalculated badly. Had Coburn, Plumst, and Gravewine not just been caught conspiring to have me exiled, I seriously doubt I would still consider you my most trusted advisor. As things stand, however, you are still my most trusted advisor by default.

 

Wissly:           Thank you, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      I in no way intended it to be complimentary.

 

Wissly:           Yes, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      Anyway, despite your blundering, I still intend to pull myself together as best I can and quest after the painting. I want to depart as quickly as possible in hopes of overtaking Sir Frass before he can deposit the painting somewhere too difficult to reach. However, that may not be possible, in which case I will need to ensure that I’m questing with the best possible assortment of co-questors, adventurers of the highest caliber. I am forced, Wissly, to give this task to you. Find as many willing adventurers as you can, interview them as thoroughly as you can in a short amount of time, and then bring the likeliest names to me so that I can make the final decision as to who will join me on what has now become, thanks to you, perhaps the most important quest of all time. It must not fail!

 

Wissly:           I won’t disappoint you, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      I wish I could believe that, Wissly.

 

TIME PASSES

 

King Glyn:      Wissly (sigh)…This process is taking far too long. At this point, we’ve no chance of overtaking Sir Frass and the precious painting he carries. Now I’m worried that he’ll hide the painting in a place where it can be damaged or destroyed or where someone else will find it before I do, recognize its value, and take it for themselves, carrying it off to a distant corner of the world where rumors of its beauty may take years or decades to reach me. I need names of adventurers of the highest caliber now.

 

Wissly:           Of course, Your Highness, although given a few more days, it may be that the overall caliber of the interested adventurers could-

 

King Glyn:      Now, Wissly. Tell me about the best adventurers you’ve interviewed as of right now.

 

Wissly:           Yes, Your Highness. There’s a pair, Your Highness, a duo. Their names are Tall Robert and Small Robert.

 

King Glyn:      How tall is Tall Robert?

 

Wissly:           5 feet and 10 inches.

 

King Glyn:      That doesn’t strike me as tall enough to earn the title of “Tall.” How tall is Small Robert?

 

Wissly:           Also 5 feet and 10 inches.

 

King Glyn:      That’s not small!

 

Wissly:           I believe he earned the title when he was smaller, Your Highness. Or he hails from somewhere with a higher average height than we have here.

 

King Glyn:      But if they’re the same height, how is one to tell them apart?

 

Wissly:           Oh, they look nothing alike, Your Highness. For example, Tall Robert has red hair, Small Robert has black hair. If one associates redness with tallness as I do, it’s quite simple to keep track of which is which.

 

King Glyn:      Who else, Wissly? More names.

 

Wissly:           Chod Triniver, Your Highness. He has eyes in the back of his head.

 

King Glyn:      That sounds quite useful, Wissly. You should have led with him.

 

Wissly:           Yes, well…one thing I should mention, Your Highness, is that Chod cannot see with the eyes in the back of his head. They’re only useful for crying.

 

King Glyn:      Crying? So, the eyes…he cries with those eyes instead of his regular eyes? Allowing him to maintain clear vision in moments of extreme grief or pain?

 

Wissly:           No, Your Highness, the crying eyes supplement the crying of the regular eyes. When the regular eyes are crying, the eyes in the back are also crying, thereby doubling the output of tears.

 

King Glyn:      Wissly…who else?

 

Wissly:           Garrett of The Hill.

 

King Glyn:      Which hill?

 

Wissly:           I’m not sure, Your Highness, and even as king, I would advise you against asking him that question.

 

King Glyn:      Names, Wissly, names. There must be better adventurers.

 

Wissly:           Darla Mintzel. And her two dozen horses.

 

King Glyn:      Two dozen horses? Why so many? Why not leave 23 of them stabled at home?

 

Wissly:           She has to keep them under near-constant supervision to ensure that they don’t gnaw at their own or each other’s scabs.

 

King Glyn:      Are they good mounts, at least?

 

Wissly:           They can’t be ridden. Riding them is almost as bad for their scabs as being gnawed is.

 

(pause)

 

Wissly:           There are other names, of course, Your Highness. There’s…there’s…Albertina the Intrepid.

 

King Glyn:      She sounds promising. Intrepidness is a good quality for an adventurer to possess.

 

Wissly:           Yes…

 

King Glyn:      What aren’t you telling me, Wissly?

 

Wissly:           She’s not very nice, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      Surely intrepidness is more important for an adventurer than kindness. Right, Wissly?

 

Wissly:           I suppose so, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      She tore your shirt, didn’t she, Wissly.

 

Wissly:           Yes, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      And put that glob of tar in your hair.

 

Wissly:           Yes, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      And affixed that sign to your back that reads “behead me.”

 

Wissly:           I wasn’t aware of the sign, Your Highness, but yes, I imagine that was her doing as well. And thank you for not heeding its instruction.

 

King Glyn:      Come over here, Wissly. I’ll remove the sign for you. But I can’t promise that I won’t enlist the services of Albertina the Intrepid on my quest. Although I would certainly be less likely to welcome her into my party, however grudgingly, were you to provide me the names of some higher caliber adventurers.

 

Wissly:           Of course, Your Highness. There are so many, it can be hard to recall them all…let me consult my notes…let’s see…ah, yes, Voland the Adventurer.

 

King Glyn:      An auspicious title, indeed!

 

Wissly:           Yes, Your Highness, but there is one thing, and that is that he is currently in the middle of sixteen as-yet-unfinished quests. But if you agree to hire him on, he says he’ll certainly look into your missing painting if he hears anything about it and it happens to be convenient.

 

King Glyn:      It doesn’t sound like my quest would be a very high priority for this Voland the Adventurer.

 

Wissly:           He explicitly said that it would not, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      Unacceptable. I need party members who are willing to die in pursuit of my quest, Wissly, or at least make more of an effort to fit it into their schedules. Who else should we consider?

 

Wissly:           How would you feel about adding a huntress to your party, Your Highness?

 

King Glyn:      I’d feel quite good about it, Wissly. Who is she?

 

Wissly:           Riva Talontid, Your Highness. Quite adept with a bow, equally adept with a knife, not quite as adept but still pretty adept with a rapier.

 

King Glyn:      OK. And what else?

 

Wissly:          What do you mean, Your Highness?

 

King Glyn:      What else about her? What’s wrong with her? What’s perplexing or frustrating about her? What’s bizarre about her?

 

Wissly:           Nothing at all, Your Highness. Well, I suppose there’s the fact that she looks remarkably like that woman who accosted you on the street a few years ago, denounced several of your planned proclamations that no one else knew about, loosed a shriek piercing enough to crack several nearby shop windows, and then melted into the crowd, somehow evading capture despite your mobilizing the entire city guard to find her with the assistance of your Royal Spymaster and his army of street-level informants.

 

King Glyn:      She looks remarkably like her? Or exactly like her?

 

Wissly:           It’s remarkable how close to exactly like her she looks.

 

King Glyn:      How close to exact, Wissly?

 

Wissly:           Remarkably close. She looks remarkably close to exactly like her. But I doubt it’s the same woman, Your Highness. As I recall, there was no indication that the woman who accosted you on the street was quite adept with a bow, equally adept with a knife, and somewhat less adept with a rapier. Of course, now that I think of it, there was no indication that she wasn’t. She was mostly focused on accosting, denouncing, shrieking, and disappearing, not wielding various weapons with slightly varying degrees of aptitude.

 

King Glyn:      Wissly…(long pause)

 

Wissly:           Would you like more names, Your Highness? I have quite a few more here in my notes…

 

King Glyn:      Yes. I would.

 

Wissly:           Gadj Friendfellow.

 

King Glyn:      Gadj Friendfellow? That’s quite a name. What stood out to you about this Gadj Friendfellow, Wissly?

 

Wissly:           He seemed like a very capable adventurer to me, Your Highness. He has a long list of accomplishments.

 

King Glyn:      A list of accomplishments? What do you mean?

 

Wissly:           I mean that he presented me with a piece of parchment with an extensive list of accomplishments written thereupon, Your Highness. Some of the accomplishments were impressive!

 

King Glyn:      Like what?

 

Wissly:           Well, let’s see, I jotted some of them down here. He’s a hard worker, he’s a team player, he’s results-driven, he’s detail-oriented, he’s a self-starter, he-

 

King Glyn:      Those are not accomplishments, Wissly. Does he have any real accomplishments? And apprenticeships do not count.

 

Wissly:           Um…uh…(tsking searching noises)…

 

King Glyn:      Next name, Wissly.

 

Wissly:           Graham Lookliss.

 

King Glyn:      And what’s his deal?

 

Wissly:           He seems like a pretty good adventurer, Your Highness, but I should note that he despises Chod Triniver, the adventurer with the eyes in the back of his head, so Graham mostly wants to join your party in hopes that Chod Triniver will also be in the party, which Graham believes will present him with opportunities to murder Chod in his sleep or otherwise.

 

King Glyn:      Did you explain to him that I will not stand for party members murdering other party members in their sleep or otherwise?

 

Wissly:           I did not, Your Highness, as that preference had not been made clear to me until just now.

 

King Glyn:      So you thought that maybe I would approve of party members murdering other party members in their sleep or otherwise?

 

Wissly:           I didn’t want to presume, Your Highness. I figured I’d mention it, and if it was a problem, you just wouldn’t have me hire him. Or, you’d have me hire him and not Chod. Although I got the impression that Graham may not be interested in joining your party if it won’t present him with opportunities to murder Chod. Or, if both are hired, he might desert the party once he’s murdered Chod. The more I think about it, Your Highness, the more I think Graham might be a bad choice for the adventuring party. Because, also, he’s extremely allergic to horse scabs, which would obviously present a whole other set of problems if you intend to hire Darla Mintzel with her two dozen scab-covered horses.

 

King Glyn:      I do not intend to hire her, Wissly.

 

Wissly:           Ah, but still, Your Highness, it’s likely that your party will be riding your horses through some rough terrain, through some dense underbrush, some of which will inevitably contain thorns, so I’d say it wouldn’t be too surprising for your horses to acquire some scabs along the way, which would obviously then become an issue for-

 

King Glyn:      Let’s move on from Graham, Wissly. I’ll not be inviting him to join my quest.

 

Wissly:           Probably for the best, Your Highness. What about Joel Brymmer? He’s a Master of Hound.

 

King Glyn:      Hmm. How big is his pack?

 

Wissly:           Oh, no, Your Highness. Master of Hound. Singular. Not “Hounds.”

 

King Glyn:      He’s Master of A Hound? One hound? I thought you meant it like “Master of Horse.”

 

Wissly:           No, Your Highness. “Master of Horse” is plural.

 

King Glyn:      “Horse” is not plural, Wissly.

 

Wissly:           It’s like “Master of Deer,” Your Highness, or “Master of Moose.”

 

King Glyn:      One, I’ve never heard of a “Master of Deer” or a “Master of Moose,” and two, no, it isn’t. The plural of “horse” is “horses.” It’s a very normal pluralization.

 

Wissly:           All right, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      I wish I could justify whipping you for the skeptical look on your face, Wissly. And I probably could, given very little time, but we don’t have any time. So this Joel Brymmer and his dog, you think they’d be an asset to the party?

 

Wissly:           Joel might. I’ve not seen his dog, but he wouldn’t be bringing it with him on the quest. It’s at home with his wife and kids.

 

King Glyn:      So he styles himself “Master of Hound” simply because he owns a dog?

 

Wissly:           Yes.

 

King Glyn:      And does dog ownership define or influence anything else about him?

 

Wissly:           He expressed some interest in obtaining some rare treats for his dog, Your Highness. Types of treats only available in the far-flung regions to which your quest might take you.

 

King Glyn:      He doesn’t sound like a serious person, Wissly. Who else is there?

 

Wissly:           Kivin Prett, Your Highness. An interesting fact about him: he had his gallbladder removed.

 

King Glyn:      No gallbladder, Wissly?! But the human soul resides in the gallbladder! You’re suggesting I bring a soulless being on my quest? Who knows what knavery he’d get up to!

 

Wissly:           I’ve long been under the impression that if the gallbladder is removed, then the soul migrates to the tonsils, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      Oh, Wissly. That’s nothing but an old wives’ tale. Trust me, when the gallbladder goes, the soul goes with it.

 

Wissly:           Well, then, yes, I shall strike Kivin Prett from the list, and I’ll also warn the city guard to keep an eye out for him so he can be confined to a dungeon for the rest of his unnatural life. So, then, moving on…Jasmine the Tireless, Your Highness. As her title suggests, she never gets tired.

 

King Glyn:      Oh, wow, that could be very helpful indeed. A party member who never sleeps? She could take guard duty every night!

 

Wissly:           Well, she does sleep, Your Highness. She sleeps in spite of never getting tired.

 

King Glyn:      Why?

 

Wissly:           She likes it, Your Highness. She likes to sleep. She started out sleeping recreationally, I believe, but she now says it’s become more like a craving that she constantly yearns to satisfy, but never fully can.

 

King Glyn:      A tireless woman addicted to sleep.

 

Wissly:           Also, she can get winded. Being winded is not the same as being tired, or so she says.

 

King Glyn:      So she’s as bad as the rest of them.

 

Wissly:           Or as good, depending on how you look at it, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      I look at it as her being as bad as the rest of them, Wissly.

 

Wissly:          Then so do I, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      I sense you’re nearing the end of your list of names, Wissly. Give me one more. Give me the best name remaining. I know that no one’s perfect. Of course I know that. There are no perfect people. No perfect kings, no perfect advisors, no perfect adventurers. But give me one more name, Wissly. Let me cling to hope for a few more seconds as I await your presentation of this final name.

 

Wissly:           Of course, Your Highness…let me look…let me see…

 

King Glyn:      Consider carefully, Wissly. This is your last chance to salvage this whole process. If the best available adventurer to join my questing party is one of the people you’ve already mentioned, I shall be sorely disappointed. My despair will deepen.

 

Wissly:           Ah, Your Highness, I’ve settled on a name. A final name. Are you ready?

 

King Glyn:      Yes, Wissly. Tell me the name.

 

Wissly:           Mark Hadwerl.

 

King Glyn:      Mark Hadwerl?

 

Wissly:           Yes, Your Highness. Mark Hadwerl.

 

King Glyn:      I know Mark Hadwerl.

 

Wissly:           Oh! A friend of yours?

 

King Glyn:      Not at all. Not in the least. He’s terrible, Wissly. Just terrible.

 

Wissly:           In what way or ways, Your Highness?

 

King Glyn:      In every way. In all ways.

 

Wissly:           Oh.

 

King Glyn:      Yeah.

 

Wissly:           So…should I find a different final name, Your Highness? A better note to end on?

 

King Glyn:      No, Wissly. My despair is complete.

 

Wissly:           Are you…canceling the quest, Your Highness?

 

King Glyn:      I am not. I will compose an adventuring party from the meager scraps you’ve dropped at my feet like an overeager housecat with no concept of its owner’s taste in scraps, and I will ride forth in a few days on a quest as vital to human culture and my personal well-being as it is doomed to disaster.

 

Wissly:           Maybe your adventuring party will surprise you, Your Highness. Maybe you’ll find a way to coax the best from them, the odd bits and pieces will cohere into something unexpectedly mighty, and the ultimate success of your quest will be all the more glorious for the misfit qualities of those who accompanied you.

 

King Glyn:      Or maybe the Master of a Hound’s hound will choke to death on exotic dog treats and that will be all we have to show for the entire venture.

 

Wissly:           I certainly hope not, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      Leave me, Wissly.

 

TIME PASSES

 

King Glyn:      Well, Wissly. What did I say about Gravewine?

 

Wissly:           That you trusted him no farther than I could throw him, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      Even that was too much trust for the villain Gravewine. And now here I am, confined to my bed for the foreseeable future as the poison with which he besprinkled my mutton does its abominable work. Did you know the healer says it may still kill me, Wissly?

 

Wissly:           I’d heard that, Your Highness, but I don’t believe it. I believe you’re improving.

 

King Glyn:      Oh, do you, Wissly? And what word would you use to describe the appearance of my skin right now?

 

Wissly:           I..uh..

 

King Glyn:      I know the word “pallid” immediately sprang to mind, Wissly. I could practically read it in your eyes. “P-A-L” in your right eye and “L-I-D” in your left eye. I know what that spells. I know how to spell. And I know what the word means, Wissly, I have a substantial vocabulary.

 

Wissly:           Of course you do, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      So…Sir Frass is back. Much earlier than expected.

 

Wissly:           Oh, really?

 

King Glyn:      Don’t play dumb, Wissly. You know what happened. Masked and heavily-armed thieves with thick foreign accents knocked Sir Frass on the head and stole from him my first and only painting, a portrait of my daughter when she was an infant, which you entrusted to him. He has no idea what the thieves look like. He could not identify their accents. He dimly recalls them saying something about a long journey ahead of them. Last he saw, they were not handling my painting with appropriate care. I dare not contemplate in what manner it may already have become marred.

 

Wissly:           This is grave news, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      Don’t say “grave,” Wissly. It reminds me of “Gravewine,” that devil.

 

Wissly:           Forgive me, Your Highness. Should I also avoid saying “wine?”

 

King Glyn:      Don’t be absurd, Wissly. Listen, I have an important task for you.

 

Wissly:           Anything, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      I need you to lead the quest to recover my painting.

 

Wissly:           But…but Your Highness! You said I wouldn’t last two days on a quest! You said you wouldn’t let me go on the quest if I wanted to!

 

King Glyn:      Circumstances have changed, Wissly. Desperate times call for desperate, perhaps even foolhardy, perhaps even idiotic, measures. Sir Frass will accompany you, along with every adventurer from your list. I’m opening the vault for this one, Wissly. I’ll pay whatever it takes to get my painting back.

 

Wissly:           Every adventurer on my list?

 

King Glyn:      Yes. Well, no, not Mark Hadwerl, of course. But the rest of them, yes. And before you protest, oh, what if Graham murders Chod? What if Darla’s many scabrous horses stampede? What if Kivin tries to steal your soul? What if Gadj Friendfellow’s list of accomplishments turns out to be exaggerated? The answer to all these questions and more, Wissly, is that I don’t care. I’m willing to try anything to recover my painting, and anything includes everything, so I’m trying everything.

 

Wissly:           Except-

 

King Glyn:      Except Mark Hadwerl, yes, yes.

 

Wissly:           But Your Highness…who will advise you while I’m gone?

 

King Glyn:      Well, Coburn, Plumst, and Gravewine are still here, so I’ll have to make do with them.

 

Wissly:           Gravewine, despite his treachery, has not been relieved of his duties as an advisor, Your Highness?

 

King Glyn:      What did I tell you about letting those you don’t trust know you don’t trust them?

 

Wissly:           Not to.

 

King Glyn:      Exactly. Now go, Wissly, and prepare for your quest. I want you to leave as soon as possible. And one more thing: ever since he got knocked on the head, Sir Frass has been different. So watch out for that.

 

Wissly:           Different how, Your Highness?

 

King Glyn:      I’m too tired to describe it now, Wissly, but you’ll see. I’m going to sleep. Assuming I survive the night, I hope to awake in the morning to news that you were last seen riding out of the city before dawn at the head of a host of better-than-they-sounded adventurers, a look of grim determination transforming your feeble features into something almost heartening. And when – if – I ever see you again, Wissly, you’d better have that painting with you or you know what will happen.

 

Wissly:           A whipping, Your Highness?

 

King Glyn:      Precisely, Wissly. And, in the event of my death, my whole line of succession knows to whip you if you show up here without the painting, too.

 

Wissly:           I understand, Your Highness.

 

King Glyn:      I thought you would, Wissly. Not that the competition is all that noteworthy, but you really are my most trusted advisor. You know that, do you not?