Imbroglio

As Decreed by the Princess
(written june 24th 2023)

A peaceful, low-lit, quiet workshop, all to himself.

That’s all that Lio had ever wanted in life, ever since he was a young dragon fashioning primitive devices out of dead branches and twine, and here at this old fortress, he’d managed to find the space, blessedly far away from his obnoxious birth clan back in the Bramble. He let out a pleased sigh at the sight of all of his various tools, practical supplies, fasteners, baubles… all in their appropriate places, within old cabinets or upon the large slate work table where he would be spending most of his days, chipping away at various projects.

That was when the sound of shattering porcelain broke the silence.

It came from outside the old oak door of his new shop. Alarmed at the possibility of an intruder, still unaccustomed to life at the Ring and having no idea what sort of threats the knights faced here, Lio carefully made his way over to open the door with caution.

A flick of his tongue through the cracked door gave him the scent of a young female Spiral. Not the most alarming subject ever, but one should never be too careful. There was no time for excessive carefulness, however, as the unknown dragon noticed him almost right away.

“You!” Her voice was certainly… loud. “What are you doing in our workshop? I’ll have my mother remove you immediately if you don’t answer quickly!”

Lio poked his head out, careful to not flare his neck fans too much.

“Lohengrin just moved me in here.” He mumbled, voice gruff. “...Is she your mother?”

In his so-far brief time living here, he’d managed to learn that the founder had two daughters who lived within the fortress. He never figured that one would be such an adorned Spiral, so dissimilar in impression to the powerful, stoic Guardian.

“Oh, you’re the new repairdragon!” Her demeanor changed instantly. “Yes, my mother is Lady Lohengrin of the Lake. I am Cross, princess of this land, heiress of night and all things unfortunate. Your name?”

Lio chose not to question how the daughter of a knight could possibly be a princess.

“Lio.”

“Lio!” She barked. “Your timing couldn’t be better. This vase just happened to throw itself before me and break. Fix it, if you will.”

Lio couldn’t stop his fans from flicking in instinctual irritation. Who was this almost-complete stranger to order him around? The expression on her face gave no indication that she was joking around, a haughty air of royal entitlement swirled within her eyes as she kept her steady gaze fixed upon him.

Still unsure of his place in the pecking order here, not wanting to step on the toes of Lohengrin’s potential daughter, the Bogsneak sighed.

“Okay. Then help me gather the pieces, please.”

~

Applying clear adhesive to large porcelain shards was simple enough. It really took no time at all, but the princess fluttered around and watched in awe, regardless, as if witnessing a never-before-seen alchemical miracle.

“Couldn’t you simply use magic?” The Spiral pestered. “It would be faster.”

“I don’t like to.” Lio remarked, hoping she’d go away soon. “Magic’s not my thing.”

“Ohhh, hmmm.” Cross pondered audibly, almost certainly tapping her chin with one of her claws.

It was fixed in no time, thankfully. He carefully slid the vase to the side in Cross’ direction.

“There. Done.” Lio stated. “Careful when you put it back. I have other things to work on.”

“Amazing!” Cross held the vase, scanning it all over with her huge eyes for signs of imperfection. “Not a sign of a scratch. You surely used magic, there’s no other way.”

“I didn’t.”

“Let it be so!” The spiral crowed. “Lio, the Magician Knight. I bestow this title upon you for showing me such unique yet subtle magic.”

Lio could feel his irritation rising again. “...Look, I just said I didn’t use-”

She was out the door before he could finish his sentence, the vase placed back on its pedestal, off to tell the whole of the Order of their new addition.

Lio was not a knight. He was a tinkerer, he had no interest in things such as combat or patrolling. Other residents would hear of his new title over the coming weeks, the true knights generally bemused at their newest “comrade.” Lohengrin herself eventually came to his door for a routine check-in, informing him that her eldest daughter was in the habit of giving all residents titles, and it was not to be taken seriously. She was still young, still very playful, apparently. She apologized for the trouble, informing the Bogsneak that no knightly expectations were to be placed on him unless he personally inquired.

He only nodded, going to obscure himself within his workshop, checking his notes for the details of his next project.

As long as I can do what I want in here, then fine. So be it.