A vase shattered near Sir Gillard’s feet.  The shards, bouncing from the chamber’s stone floor, welted his hand and rang the greave he strapped upon his shin.

“Your Highness,” he shouted, looking up, “what in the five underworlds was that?”

Princess Adelaide stood before him, arms crossed, wearing her powder-blue, crinkled morning gown.  Her waist-length auburn hair, uncombed and unbraided, frizzed out around her.

“You weren’t paying attention to a word I said,” she shouted back.

Sir Gillard breathed deeply, his light mail marking the contours of his bulky shoulders and upper chest as they expanded.  In a lower voice, he replied, “I’m trying to prepare for battle, your Highness.  I ride shortly.”

“But we haven’t had a proper conversation in weeks.  I just want to speak to you and hear more than a mumbled reply as you think upon your next task.”

“Things have been busy around the castle, you know that.”  He reached down and resumed fitting the greaves.  “We had the delegation from Went last week, then I had to help the steward with the new stores.  You know your father expects much of me.”

“And what should I expect of you?  A kiss on the cheek as you ride off to battle and another as you collapse exhausted into bed at night?”

“Please, your Highness, be reasonable.  Smashing vases is not becoming of a lady.”

“And what is proper conduct for a lord?  How should he treat his wife?”

Sir Gillard remained silent.

“When you first courted me,” continued the Princess, “you spoke such beautiful words.  You told me you would do anything for me.  Now you can’t even spare time to speak with me.”

“I fulfill my responsibilities as your consort.  I am always at your side at important social events, and,” his face turned a light shade of red, “I do my duty to try and keep our lineage alive for another generation.”

“Is that all it’s about, responsibilities?  What about romance?  Love?”

“I do love you, your Highness.  I love you as much as the first time I saw you.”

“Then why don’t you show it?  How about flowers, songs, poems?  Or better yet, just talk to me.”

“Please woman, I’m a warrior, not some pouty minstrel.”

The Princess began to cry.

Sir Gillard stood, fully armored except for his helm and gauntlets which he held under one arm.

“Princess,” he said, “there is a dragon on the loose in the countryside.  As the King’s Champion, I must slay it.”

He strode towards the door.  As he passed by the Princess, he paused.  She lowered her head.  He reached out an arm, almost touching her, but after a moment’s hesitation pulled it back and walked out, his armored feet clanging on the floor.

Sir Gillard reined his horse and scanned the countryside.  After a few moments, he spurred the horse on again.  He repeated the process in silence for several hours.

Finally, at one of his stops, he grumbled, “The woman expects me to go out picking roses when there’s a dragon on the loose.  Doesn’t she know I need to concentrate so I don’t get myself killed?”

“Did you say something about roses?”

Gillard jerked his lance toward the sound, positioning it inches away from a man’s face.  “Where in the five underworlds did you come from?”

The man showed no reaction to the abrupt movement.  “I live here,” he replied.

The man, middle-aged, wore patched-up clothes made from undyed wool.  His straight hair lay long upon his shoulders and back, and his beard grew almost to his navel.  His leathery skin looked as if it had been slowly roasted over decades.

Gillard lowered the lance.  He removed his helm and looked around.  “You live here?  I see no cottage.”

“Here,” replied the man, holding his arm out, “the countryside.”

“Very well.  What is your business?  Why did you sneak up on me?”

“It was not my intention to sneak up.  I heard you mention roses, and I was going to tell you I know of a place where you can find some wonderful specimens, not far from here.”

“I’m not looking for roses,” snorted Sir Gillard, “I’m looking for a dragon.”

“Oh, well I know where you can find one of those as well.  Although the roses are quite nice, you really should consider giving them a look.”

“Are you mocking me, man?”

“No, not at all.  The roses really are beautiful.”

“I mean about the dragon.”

“Oh yes, it’s a beautiful dragon as well.  Not far from here.  Would you like to see it?”

“My intention is to slay it.  I am Sir Gillard, Consort of Princess Adelaide, third daughte -- [End of Preview.]