The morning after Grr Barker’s cryptic meeting with The Lady of the Shake, he rises early to greet the new sun. Trotting over to the stone window overlooking his Kingdom, he squints his eyes as the light meets his emerald, green eyes. His thoughts bark the question of whether he is worthy of such a quest, and he internally wonders if he is suited for the job. Before his mind has a chance to answer, he is interrupted by the gravest of news.
“Grr Barker!” A rat-servant hysterically shouts after climbing the many stairs to his Cage. “You must come! Your father has taken ill!”
“My…my father?” Grr Barker asks, immediately concerned.
“Yes! Please, follow!”
Scurrying off into the spiral staircase of the chamber tower, Grr Barker trails the rat-servant across the Castle Cage’s halls until they finally reach his father’s Kingly chambers.
“Father!” Barker howls as he sheds a tear from his glistening green eye, “please tell me you will persevere!”
Weakly lifting his head, Toother Mansbestfrienddragon takes his paw and wraps its around his son’s shaggy neck.
“My beloved Barker…cough cough…y…you must see that our Kingdom r…cough…remains. You must recover that which I have lost. My…my son…you must recover Excalibone!” The King manages to say, before his spirit sadly fades beyond the Veil.
“FATHER!! NO! AWOOOOOOOO!!!!” Grr Barker howls in pain. “How did this happen?!” He asks the surrounding servants and dogtors, suddenly displaying an expression of fury and hatred.
“My liege,” the King’s primary dogtor says, “we believe he was poisoned. His death was far too sudden for this to be a conventional illness.”
“Who is responsible?!” Grr Barker shouts, wanting answers.
“We believe it was the work of Corgin La Fey, my liege!” A tiny rat-servant who has been watching from afar squeals in a high-pitched voice. “There have been rumors that she lives on, and has sworn revenge against the Bone!”
Hearing this, Grr Barker slowly raises his head, looking up at the coat of arms mounted above his father’s chamber.
“She will be ended for this.” He snarls with a deep, sinister growl. “That wicked Phelyon will know my wrath. SERVANTS!” He barks. “Prepare my armor! Tomorrow, we ride!!”
Watching, as always, from the shadows, Squirrelin overhears the new developments. Knowing that the prophecies have now been put into motion, he retreats to his study to research what must be done.
To be continued…