Chapter Three
For the next few weeks, Esmer adapted to her new life as a dragon's princess. She took to all her chores with a lusty enthusiasm that greatly disturbed all the other dragons in the vicinity, and she often heard them muttering, “unnatural,” when they passed her. Her limited eight food wonder dish gained popularity with Gerran and some of his closest friends, and he grew confident and cheerful of inviting them over to his abode to try out Esmer's steaks or potato bake dishes. It seemed to be quite the novelty to have a princess that actually knew how to bake things.
The other dragons spoke out their concern as well when Esmer was allowed to go wandering around the prince's residence and out onto the streets. Several had even stopped her, thinking she might be escaping, and she needed to explain to them, over and over that she wasn't escaping, just walking around.
It became frustrating after a bit, because no one wanted to believe her. Even the other princesses currently captured by dragons seemed to think Esmer might be possessed by demons or something, because they didn't understand how she liked being a dragon's princess.
“It's easy,” she explained to one green eyed princess known as Otera, clearly growing out her hair to try and use it to break out her tower at a point, “because I hated life back in Naterus. My mother was going to marry me to some pimply prince, and that wasn't for me.”
“But you should want to be married to a prince!” Otera blinked her fabulously long eyelashes, her pretty face agape in horror. “That's unheard of! No one wants to run away to avoid being married!”
“I did,” Esmer said, suppressing the sigh that threatened to come out, along with the urge to roll her eyes and possibly strangle Otera. Most princesses held that same, air head quality that princes found so endearing, for some reason. It made Esmer seriously contemplate homicide to encounter it.
Gerran, of course, loved the attention she created. For him, Esmer suspected, she was a novelty, a highly unusual creature that only came across the dragons once in a blue moon, though there had been tales before of princesses actively choosing to be a dragon's princess over life in the hundred kingdoms. Alright to hear about them, something else to witness it in person.
Gerran kept his cool, even when the first of the Questers started coming. To date, Esmer watched him fight three knights, one ice mage, and a band of five with conveniently balanced abilities, from a warrior to a healer to a ranger. Thanks to Gerran's Idol of Despair, a particularly powerful witch enchantment that the Questers unfortunately hadn't received the antidote for, Gerran thrashed them all quite admirably.
One time, he showed Esmer his collection of enchantments, and Esmer simply sat there, impressed, as the noble faced prince took out the objects from his hoard one by one. “I have a Cloak of Illusion. Perfect for sneaking around, though people tend to look down on you if you resort to trickery in these places. Got it for a spell from a swamp witch. And then there's the Dragon Horn. The human kingdom of Vrytal, hundreds of years ago, possessed this, but they didn't read the fine print that stated that the dragons you can summon with it may not necessarily obey your commands. As of now, Vrytal is the second dragon kingdom in the Wilderness.”
Esmer listened to this with her lips curled in faint amusement. She pictured some hapless prince blowing on the horn, and then a great swarm of dragons bombarding their kingdom moments later, summoned by the power of the artefact.
“This is a Genie bottle, here. But you can't open it, because someone wished for the Genie to be sealed so tightly that no one can ever release them again. Shame, I would have liked my three wishes.”
He casually handed Esmer the bottle, with the stopper in it, and two eyes squashed against the glass, looking rather pissed off. She tapped it, and the eyes blinked.
“The Cauldron of Endless Food is a truly remarkable enchantment, though there's an inherent design flaw in that it just won't stop producing the food you ask it to.” Gerran indicated a shiny black cauldron perched on a table, hissing softly. “I'm planning to go on an artefact hunt. You're welcome to come along with me, since I'll be visiting a witch along the way. You wanted magic lessons, right?”
“Right!” Esmer immediately snapped to attention, quivering in excitement. “But are you sure I can come along? I'm not exactly a fighter or anything of the sort.”
“Ah, that's nothing. I can gear you up in some of the gear we have here.” Gerran smiled eagerly at her, before he rummaged through the glimmering treasure pile, gold coins spraying everywhere. The shower of gold meant nothing to Esmer, she saw enough of it in the royal treasuries. Gerran acted more like a big kid, playing with his treasures, and he threw out objects towards Esmer's feet.
Within moments, Esmer was wearing a ring of strength, designed to boost her physical power beyond ordinary princessy means, boots of speed for increasing her average running speed, an amulet of protection against most conventional attacks, anti-curse earrings and a Sword of Slaying, which apparently enhanced her combat skill.
In short, she felt enormously boosted by the offerings.
“A good Quester would have similar items,” Gerran murmured, as he fished out one more thing. “This ring, as well. It's a teleport, currently fixed onto my front doorstep. I have one as well,” he said, displaying his own teleport ring. Esmer couldn't help but notice how he wore it on his left hand, fourth finger, and wondered if he knew the symbolism behind it. She slid the ring onto her thumb, the only thing big enough to hold it.
“Are you that sure I'm not going to run away?” Esmer teased, smiling at Gerran as he stepped back to admire her new enchantments. In response, Gerran approached her, and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.
“I'm sure.”
Esmer's brain shut down. Her mouth opened and closed as the prince winked, then departed the treasure room, leaving her in a near comatose state.
What?
Her heart sped up to almost triple the pace. Strange, floaty gooey things stirred in her. And then there was that odd effect in her stomach. People described it as butterflies, but it felt more like a a flock of bees buzzing in there. Oh my.
He was that confident, was he? That she'd be some common girl, quick and easy to become besotted with whoever showed her the slightest bit of affection?
She stared at the ring for a long time, rolling it around on her thumb, mind still drifting to the cloud, when she finally left the room, and it sealed itself shut.
I can't believe he just did that. Like, there wasn't even any build up! He just kissed me on the lips like someone tripping me up on the street. What the blasts?
She drew out the Sword of Slaying from its sheath and examined the fine, glimmering gold blade. Gerran stood on the other side of his chambers, and he raised an eyebrow, before grabbing a sword of his own and approaching her.
“Let's get you warmed up with your new items, first, princess.” He struck a pose, and Esmer bowed awkwardly, feeling foolish. However, when Gerran lashed out, she found the sword instantly responding in her hand, as if it had a mind of her own, to block his blow. Still controlled by the sword, Esmer took a few steps forward, her speed boosted, her strength enhanced, and Gerran swerved out of the way so that she hacked clean through his leather sofa.
“Oh no! I'm so sorry!” Esmer spun on the spot, still unable to control herself, as the sword sought him out again. Gerran blocked blow after blow, neatly stepping away when her enhanced strength imbued itself into the attacks, laughing at her dismay.
“You can switch it off. Just concentrate on not wanting to fight and you'll stop hacking away. I do uh,” he said, after avoiding another slash from Esmer, “recommend placing it back in the sheath. It's quite trigger happy.”
“Oh,” Esmer squeaked, gritting her teeth and forcing herself to stop trying to kill Gerran. The sword dipped, no longer fuelling her limbs, and she hastily shoved it back in the sheath. “That's such a cheat. Who needs years of training when you can have this do everything for you?”
“They're not easy to come by,” Gerran said, noting her flushed face, her deep breathing, her heaving chest. “And generally you'll find they come with the soul of a swordmaster in them. This one doesn't talk, but some do.”
Esmer placed her hands on her knees for a moment, and Gerran laughed again, placing a hand on her shoulder. “How did you feel?”
“I don't know,” Esmer said honestly. “I don't usually go around trying to kill people.”
“Uh huh. Look, I think you have something here...” Gerran said, pointing his finger to her chest. Esmer looked down, and Gerran flicked her nose.
“Oh, for God's sake!”
“Got you.” He winked, and left the room, leaving Esmer even more irritated. This wasn't the first time she'd been caught out by his random trick, and yet she still kept falling for it. Every time. It didn't even make sense. He just pointed to her, she looked, and then he flicked her, and always acted like he pulled off some excellent trick.
Shaking her head, she went to get something to eat from the kitchens, preparing herself for the trip, and possibly her first magic lesson.