Life is good. Romeo had an owner, who was over the moon to discover his little dog alive and well. Romeo’s real name is Marshal, and he will be having a new fence around his yard very soon. Marshal was thrilled to see his own little boy, and seeing the two of them reunited was wonderful. For me, finding he wasn’t an abandoned animal after all was wonderful. I hope they have him neutered, as that will help keep him from slipping his collar and wandering off again.
I’m gonna miss the little guy though.
But now, with my little companion of the week gone, I am back to work, making up for lost time. It’s time to wind up Huw, the Bard, as in write the final chapters and then move on.
Huw, you bad boy; you’re about to make the last stage of your journey to Billy’s Revenge. But what stands between you and the Rowdies? There must be some terrible ordeal waiting for you–after all you’ve had the worst six months of your life just getting to Bekenberg. Hah! There is, and its a…
No, it can’t be one of those because you just fought one and you have the scars to show for it. And it’s not fairies, because they’re not dangerous. Much.
I have it!
I don’t have it.
Well, what ever it is I’m sure we’ll get along swimmingly. Swimmingly? Where did that inanity come from? Oh no… it can’t be…
But yes, it is.
Sir Mortimer De Portiers.
Lackland’s older brother; the one who inherited the land and the title, but not the intelligence to manage them. The man whose horse – well, lets see – this is how his own cousin, John De Portiers, describes him to the Fat Friar while sitting at Billy’s Revenge with a tankard of ale on a rainy night:
“I mean think about it, Robert. Can you imagine what Morty looks like when he attempts to stay on his horse wearing his full suit of plate armor? Plate armor, for the love of God! Who the hell wears… oh never mind. The poor horse ends up dancing all over the place trying to keep his rider’s round arse balanced in the saddle! Morty is the only knight at court who would have to go to battle in a wagon because he can’t really ride a horse all that well!” John shrugged while Billy and Friar Robert laughed. “Of course, Morty would never actually ride to battle unless you tied him to the saddle and whipped his horse to a gallop, but he’d make an excellent target if only he would!”
You’re a fortunate man, Huw Owyn! How kind of the King’s Personal Guards to volunteer to escort you on the final leg of your journey!