Mishaps and Popping

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Come to think of it, there weren't always dragons, and Vinter Crushem wasn't always a mad scientist. Well, maybe he was always a mad scientist. Perhaps it was his overactive drive to invent new things, or the fumes from his many concoctions having seeped into his brain, Vinter had since been labeled mad and a criminal to boot after his new creation began self-multiplying and wreaking mischievous havoc all across the kingdom.

Vinter, a scrawny man with a symmetrical face and disproportionately small body with greying hair so alive that Medussa herself would be remised not to comment on it, sat silently in a dark dungeon awaiting his trial and wondering exactly how he came to arrive at his peculiar circumstances. He knew that his calculations were right, the math was all there, so how did he create such a colossal blunder? Laying on his bed with his arms crossed and his spindly fingers brushing along his unshaven chin then pondered if he had measured all of his ingredients correctly. No, that wasn't it. People often conflated madness with genius, and Vinter knew he was a genius, so it was not that he had measured anything incorrectly.

A few hours passed, and with no epiphanies and no sleep, Vinter could hear the piercing sound of metal scraping on metal and the unfamiliar sound of keys rattling at a consistent pace. Despite the rumors that circulated throughout the kingdom, Vinter was not an escapee from a leper camp, he did not start the plague, and had never found himself thrown into a cell. After all, Vinter was a genius, not a criminal.

Vinter, always taking account of his observations, noticed that there was a pattern to the rattle of the keys, a specific and harder clank with what he assumed to be each step forward. The shadow of the light seemed to have a subtle up and down pattern, only noticeable to someone who wanted to see small changes in their environment. Vinter figured to himself that the other creatin's interred in these dark cells would not have noticed. He also assessed that the person walking in his direction must have a limp, and began plotting possible ways to escape. Vinter may not have a criminal record, but he was a genius, or so he thought.

After a few minutes, the sound of a long hefty sigh that suggested a deep sense of boredom with monotonous tasks and slowly shifted into a deep voice that said, "Vinter Crushem, you are hereby requested to present yourself before the venerable and honorable King Gregory Franklin the Third to be tried for your crimes against the Ligorath Kingdom."

As the guard reached for his keys Vinter confirmed his own bias toward genius-level thinking by seeing that the guard did not just have a limp, he had a wooden leg. Vinter was too bothered to get up as he was trying to calculate the odds, based on the limited familiarity with his surroundings, for simply running out of the cell. He may be scrawny, and a mad scientist, but surely he could outrun a guard with a wooden leg and what was likely a soon-to-be existential crisis. Perhaps this would help boost the guard's morale by providing some excitement with an escape attempt.

"Please walk forward and place your arms through the hole," the guard said with a flatness that suggested to Vinter that the guard was as excited about the impending trial as he was. Which was not at all.

Vinter decided that his odds of escape were higher if he faced his crimes rather than running. He preferred making informed decisions, and he simply lacked the necessary data to make an adequate run for his life out of the dungeons. Vinter stood up and walked hastily to the cell door and placed his hands through the narrow horizontal hole. As the guard fumbled with the shackles, Vinter began to think about what information would be most relevant to present to the King in order to maximize his chances of survival. Where should he start? Should he explain why he decided to create a new species? What if he just forwent all of that, proclaimed guilt, and begged for his life?

After what felt like an eternity, the guard finished ensuring that the shackles were secured on Vinter's wrists. "Almost had to go get a smaller set of shackles. Done now. Come with me," the guard said, as bored as ever.

"That's too bad," Vinter said, "I was hoping I could make a run for it."

Vinter might be a genius, or so he thought, but humor was not something he was known for, which was confirmed by the guard releasing another deep sigh as he began to move forward.

The walk from the cell to the throne room seemed to take less time than it did to get the shackles on. Vinter had postulated that many people in the kingdom would be in attendance, but he was not prepared for what he saw as he walked through the large double doors into the throne room. The room was so full of people that Vinter began to feel claustrophobic. While not a particularly social person, he had no problem talking in front of large groups of people. But this felt different.

As the guard escorted Vinter to the end of the blue velvet walkway, he could not help but notice that the entire room was quiet. Vinter had attended public trials and executions which were often filled with yelling and angry people as they dealt with the crimes against the Kingdom in whatever manner they needed. But this was different. Vinter had never been to a public trial in which the King did not have to demand silence.

"Stop. You will stand here," the guard said. Vinter watched as the guard struggled to kneel down in order to lock the other end of the shackles to a thick metal ring attached to a metal plate that was bolted to the floor. As he waited for what he figured would be an even longer event than his wrists, Vinter looked around to see if there was any remote chance he may be able to survive an escape attempt.

Clank! Vinter's study of the room was interrupted by the loud noise of the shackles hitting the ground. As was expected, the very bored guard was struggling to clasp the shackles. In a flutter of growls and what Vinter mistook for flapping like a bird, the King waved his arm and said "be gone with you! This mad man wouldn't make it ten feet before being impaled by the Royal Guard." Vinter, in a rare moment of humility, helped the guard to his footing (or foot, as Vinter thought to himself) who slowly and still very unenthusiastically went and stood post by the entrance to the throne room.

Vinter watched as a very tall man encased in a single black robe and a bowl cut extended a scroll and began to read from it. "Vinter Crushem, you have been brought before the venerable and honorable King Gregory Franklin the Third to be tried for your crimes against the Ligorath Kingdom. The crimes for which you have been charged are as follows. Conspiracy to overthrow the crown! The practice of dark magic! The practice of sorcery!"

Vinter began to raise his hands to point out the functional differences between sorcery and dark magic but stopped himself before his impulse to correct inaccuracies got the better of him. "Three hundred and forty-seven counts of property damage. One count of aiding and abetting a sworn enemy of the Ligrorath Kingdom. Manufacturing of substances deemed dangerous to the kingdom absent a royal decree. One count of slander against the King, and fifteen-thousand four hundred and two counts of producing dangerous and magical creatures without a royal decree!"

The man rolled the paper up, tucked it flush under his shoulder, and yelled "how do you plead?!" with his nose held high and without any eye contact.

Vinter, still trying to take in the large number of crimes he had just been charged with committing, and without thinking at all responded by saying "are you asking me or the ceiling?" The man in the robe shot a look at Vinter that presented great displeasure, or what he thought might well have conveyed that the man wished immediate death upon him.

The venerable King Gregory Franklin the Third was not amused and swiftly dispensed with the sarcasm. "How do you plead?!" the king roared.

"May I take a moment to think about it your venerableness?" Vinter had deduced that with such a long list of crimes there was a near-zero chance of walking out of the throne room alive.

Along with humor, Vinter lacked coping skills and often resorted to sarcasm and personal slights when experiencing intense emotions. Or emotions in general. In fact, that was simply Vinter's primary method of communication which likely helped to propagate the myth that he was deranged and mad. Deranged? Not likely, but not ruled out. Mad? All the time.

King Franklin, on the other hand, was known among his kingdom for being a generally fair king who preferred pragmatism and utility rather than emotional outbursts and rushed decisions. He was a well-calculated man who had been successful in reaching an accord with the Kingdom of Frosts for which there had been a nearly two-hundred-year conflict. King Franklin preferred peace over prosperity, but would not hesitate to make decisions that increased the latter.

The King, leaning in his chair, assessed Vintor from his throne for a few moments before standing up. He was a towering and brutish man who did not seem to age, although nearly three times the age of Vinter he remained in fit condition and retained all of the color in his hair that resembled rich mahogany.

"I don't think that you understand the severity of, the sheer gravity of the alleged crimes, or the plunder that you have brought about this kingdom," the King said. "Do you see these people standing in this great hall?"

Vinter kept his eyes locked on the king as he spoke. "Answer me!" the King yelled.

"Obviously, your highness. How could I not? There's so many people in here I am surprised tha..." Vinter retorted.

"Silence!" the King bellowed. "I am in no mood for insolence. The kingdom is burning, and it is your fault!"

"I would disagree with that assessment, if your..." Vinter said, cut off again by the enraged King.

"I hereby sentence you to death!" the King declared.

"According to article six of the..." Vinter, again interrupted. "Guards! Take this man to the gallows immediately!" the King yelled. Vinter began to wonder what had happened to the revered qualities of law and order that the King had bestowed upon the kingdom.

As the guards began to swarm towards Vinter from all directions, the tall robed man who read aloud the list of charges stepped toward the king and promptly, still with his nose in the air, declared "according to the laws of this kingdom, as declared in article six, all persons accused of crimes of any kind will have an opportunity to state their record, offer witnesses, and defend their innocence." Upon finishing, the robed man stepped back behind the throne and stood silently.

The King, flushed with rage, threw his weight into the throne and sighed. "Halt. Return to your posts," the king said with a sigh. "I did not end two hundred years of oppression just to start squandering it here, even though your creation is running rampant and destroying my kingdom."

Vinter very still and very silently, processing the fact that he was right again. He, in fact, had a less than zero chance of surviving this trial. Opposed to nihilistic thought, and not prone to pragmatism, Vinter acknowledge the fact that he was still alive, which meant he still had a chance to make things right.

"In accordance with the law, you may begin by stating your record of events," the King said calmly, "but first, how do you plead?"

Vinter thought deeply about how best to respond. Stating that he was guilty would give the perspective that he is willing to take ownership over the situation, but would mean almost certain death. On the other hand, stating that he is innocent would be a lie because, as he astutely acknowledged to himself, if it was not for his creative mind and genius he would not be here. Vinter nodded as he thought to himself, and realize the irony that his intellect landed him in jail, which he always thought, naively, that only idiots and the pious belonged in the dungeons.

"I please not guilty, your highness," Vinter said confidently.

"Of course you do," the King said with a smirk and slight displeasure. "Get on with it, then."

"First, I would like to make clear that I only produced one 'dangerous and magical creature' without a royal decree. The other fifteen thousand four hundred and one creatures are not my doing. I would also like to know how such a number was determined. My estimate was in the range of three or four dozen," Vinter began by saying, placing particular vocal inflection when stating "one."

The King interjected, "we have mobilized our entire military to hunt down these creatures, and the scouts are reporting this number from throughout the kingdom, mostly contained to the valleys in the south and west."

"Ah," Vinter began to say, "that's much worse than I thought."

"What do you mean 'worse than you thought'?" the King asked with a mix of sternness and confusion.

"I knew that they were multiplying, and quickly, but it appears that they are doing so at a quicker rate," Vinter proclaimed. "But we'll get back to that. I would also like to state that any crimes committed by these detestable little demons should in fact not be levied against me, but instead each beast. This should reduce the number of charges levied against me from fifteen thousand seven hundred and fifty-five to just seven."

The King's head fell into his hand, propped up by his fingers in an obvious state of frustration, appearing to have been slighted with stupidity, "am I to hear you correctly, that the citizens, many of whom stand in this very chamber, that have lost property in part or in whole, should take legal action against a dangerous and magical beast as opposed to the person that created them?" the King inquired.

"Again, I am only responsible for one of those creatures, but in essence yes, that is what I am saying," Vinter responded.

"Can these beasts communicate?" the King inquired.

"All creatures that draw breath can communicate, just becau...," Vinter began before being interrupted.

"Can these beasts speak our common tongue, convey thoughts, and defend their innocence in a trial?" the King asserted with a tinge of sarcasm, distaste for Vinter's insolence.

"Well, no. No they cannot speak in our common tongue. But I suspect I could help in that regard, and they would likely succeed in trial by combat," Vinter clarified.

"Talking beasts?! You're telling me, indeed the whole kingdom, while declaring that you are innocent of practicing dark magic and sorcery..." the King began to say, and upon hearing this Vinter was again compelled to address the differences between dark magic and sorcery and began to lift his hands when the King interrupted himself and said, "don't you dare," providing a pause between each word so as to emphasize his order.

Vinter was again prevented from educating the crown. "As I was saying, you're declaring innocence while offering to teach these...whatever you call them...beasts how to speak?!" the King said.

"Dragons," Vinter said.

"Dragons?" the King repeated. "What are dragons?"

Vinter looked in both directions, confused that he would need to repeat himself to such a venerable person of such significance, and said "yes. Dragons. They're called dragons. The single dangerous and magical creature that I created is called a dragon."

"What kind of a name is that?" someone in the crowd yelled, followed by abrupt and deafening laughter reverberating in the vast hall. After a few moments, the King waved his hand to gesture for silence, and upon finishing his chuckles asked, "how did you come up with that?"

"Erm," Vinter struggled to find his words for what he was about to enter into his official record in defense of innocence. "I saw it dragging the carcass of a deceased cow that it had felled."

Vinter could see the King's expression was that of utter confusion that needed no repetition of what he had just heard. Pure bewilderment for not having yet made a connection for how a deceased cow could lead to such a baffling name for a dangerous and magical creature.

"The name is meant to be a double entendre. It was struggling to drag the cow, and I watched for what felt like hours. Time just dragged on as this pitiful manifestation of my ingenuity failed to move its sustenance to a secure position. Thus, drag on, became dragon," Vinter explained.

The King sat silently, digesting what he had just heard, and upon speaking could only find an insult, "it's too bad that your superior intellect did not grace this abomination with a name befitting its ingenuity."

"Can't have it all, I suppose, otherwise I'd be the king," Vinter retorted, only then realizing the suggestion of his sarcasm in light of being charged with aiding and abetting an enemy and conspiring to overthrow the crown. Rather than try to correct himself, he decided to remain silent.

"We do not have all day," the King said, attempting to move the trial at a quicker pace than it was going. "Let's move on to the rest of your charges. What do you have to say for slandering the crown?"

Before Vinter could speak, the King interjected, "does anyone hear that sound?"

The tall robed man, that up to this point had remained largely silent after reading the list of accusations, leaned over and whispered "what noise, your highness?"

The King, appearing confused and annoyed, said "that incessant popping noise!" Members of the crown began to whisper and look around wondering if their king was the mad man rather than the lanky shackled one standing in front of them.

The King curled his lips inward and with a push of air forced his mouth to make a popping noise. He repeated this several times, and with a rage demanded assurance that he was not the only person hearing the noise, "this is what it sounds like - pop - pop - pop," by this point the robed man took a few steps back behind the throne and for the first time his nose faced the floor as he made a gesture towards the guards that they may need to detain the King.

Vinter, upon hearing the sounds emanating from the King's mouth, felt his body go limp, realizing the truth of the matter. "No matter, we must move on, but the moment I hear that any of you heard these noises and allowed me to look like a fool will be pilloried!"

"As I was saying," the King began before being interrupted again by clamoring and yelling from the outside. The King, clearly concerned and depleted of patience, stood up and demanded that four guards go see what was happening. Before making it to the doors, a courier ran into the throne room, gasping for air and yelling "they're here! They have made it inside the castle! We need to take shelter!"

Upon uttering these words the room became filled with gasps and squeals, and all manner of anxious rustling, "silence!" the King demanded. "Who is inside of the castle, are we under siege?"

The courier, a young boy, panting and keeled over only holding onto his knees, pushed himself to stand, "not who, your highness, what. The creatures have made into the castle." Upon finishing his sentence he fell backward and landed squarely on his buttocks, having exacerbated his lungs.

Before the King could respond, a loud shattering noise filled the air, bouncing off of the walls. Everyone in the hall looked straight up to a stained glass window in the ceiling falling to the ground, reining glass and metal down upon the citizens. Guardsmen rushed to place their shields above the king, while everyone else used books, scrolls, and their arms to protect against bodily injuries.

After the debris had made its impact, the King stood up to assess the damage, and immediately drew his sword, along with every member of the Royal Guard. "Is that one of these foul creatures?"

Barely out of arms reach from Vinter, wriggling around the debris, was a creature slightly bigger than a typical house cat. It had the body of a gecko, the wings of a bat, and a plume of short hair that extended from the base of its head to the end of its tail, with two small horns sticking out above its eyes, was a dragon.

"I wouldn't say foul, personally I think they're kind of cute," Vinter said.

As the tiny dragon oriented itself it let out a sneeze from the dust settling around it, and a small flame ejected from each nostril. Upon seeing these, the entire chamber was filled with yet another gasp, followed by the sound of a blood-curdling screech that sounded similar to a mosquito trying to give a speech.

"What dark sorcery is this?" one of the Royal Guardsmen shouted.

"It's about to multiply," Vinter said calmly, entirely prepared for what was about to happen.

Everyone in the throne room watched curiously as the dragon appeared to vibrate, squealing as it did for a few moments, getting louder as time went on, culminating in a loud pop. Curiosity turned to horror and confusion as they watched one dragon turn into two, and immediately began fleeing from the chamber through the main entrance and side doors.

Vinter calmly looked up at the King and slyly said, "I guess that'll be fifteen thousand four hundred and three counts of producing dangerous and magical creatures without a royal decree, which I still declare that I am guilty of only having produced one."