Classic Castle dot Com
Events


Gaming

   C-C Roleplay

     Rules

     Map

     Members

     Join

     About

     Links

     FAQ

     Archives

   Game Links


ArchivesCCCSetsArticlesCreationsStoriesLinksContact

A Seafaring Saga

Chapter 6: The Coronation





       Targon was in a panic. Now all his plans were ruined. How dare the Crusader elite mess up his brilliantly planned schemes by moving the coronation to April 8th instead of May 8th! Well, there was nothing for it now…he would have to do the kidnapping during the ceremony…
       “Are you sure your information is correct?” said Targon, turning to the mousy peddler who had given him the detestable news.
       “Of course I’m sure.” said the man, “I was in Camborne just this morning.”
       “Camborne?”
       “Oh, that’s old tongue for Port Crowne. You see it’s derived from the ancient words: ‘camn’, meaning crown and ‘bearn’, meaning to bear away or transport. You see? Crown Port. Port Cr--”
       “Why did I even ask?” Targon mumbled under his breath as he trapped away.
       While perhaps on some other day Targon might have put up with the peddler’s rambling etymology lesson, he was in no mood for one now.
       Of course, thought Targon, moving toward the gates of Denderham, They would have to move up the date of the coronation. Just my bad luck! And I do seem to have an inordinate amount of it these days.
       Targon thought back over the past year. Wasn’t it bad luck that had gotten him exiled from his homeland? Wasn’t it bad luck that had made him fall overboard during the sea battle and bad luck that had kept him from escaping on Dragon Master Isle? Wasn’t it bad luck that had kept him from snatching the Emperor’s crown and worse luck still that Bargon had run into some kind of god-powers? Still…he had made it alive through all of it. And against greater odds then most men could imagine. Truly he had been dealt a great deal of good luck as well.
       “Yep,” he said, smiling to himself, “That’s why they call me Targon the indestructible.”
       Presently Targon approached the gates of Denderham. There was a large battalion of soldiers outside. Targon listened as the leader spoke.
       “The finest knights of the land, sent by the Count of Montburg, and the Earl of Yorkton at the Mayor’s request.”
       “Great,” said the gatekeeper, “The mayor’s been expecting you.”
       Strange, thought Targon, It looks like the new king has more to worry about then just pirates. Maybe that’s why he moved the coronation. Well, no matter. I should be in Port Crowne by this time tomorrow.

       “‘S’cuse me sir.”
       Targon was in Port Crown, making towards the front of the crowd, surrounding the theater. He wasn’t allowed into the seats of course, which were reserved for only the royals and select upper citizens of the kingdom. The masses that had turned out to see the coronation would have to content themselves with a view from a distance. Still, Targon did have a good position in the crowd. His view was practically parallel to the back of the stage, with a view of the back and the front. He didn’t like what he saw. Soldiers were everywhere, standing front and back of the stage and platform in the special crusader uniforms used for important occasions. Two of these ambled passed Targon, talking and laughing as they went to take their places.
       Targon frowned. This was bad. The theater was such a wide, open place that anything he did would definitely be noticed. Though located near the outer circle of Port Crowne, the theater was still surrounded by wattle and daub houses on all sides. I f he was successful, Targon knew he would make for one of those alleys. Yet, how could he even get that far? He would have to make it down to the stage unnoticed, grab whoever was there, and make it back to the alleys without being stopped by the crowd. Targon needed a plan.
       Suddenly there was a sound of trumpets and the royal procession appeared, coming down the street. Targon held his breath. He was still holding out hope that the King might be alone. If he was then Targon would have no one to kidnap. But as Targon’s luck would have it, the king was not alone. The royal family took their places on the platform. The king, the queen, the prince, and the princess.

       I can’t believe I wasted three days waiting for this tyco coronation Viktor swore inwardly, They don't even have food, what kind of megabloks rip-off is that?
       Now the Royal family was up on the stage and the bisho
       p began monologuing. “We are gathered here today…”
       What kind of cheap show is this? Where’s the beer? Where’s the celebration? If I don’t find a keg in five minutes I’m out of here...

       Slowly Targon reviewed his prospects. The prince was a tall young man in his late teens with broad shoulders and an ornate sword in a sheath at his side.
       I’d have some trouble taking him in. thought Targon.
       That left the queen and the princess, a teenaged girl somewhat younger then her brother. Of the two, the princess seemed the lighter, which ought to be taken into consideration if the need arose to throw her over his shoulder. So Targon had his target, but he still didn’t know how to execute the kidnapping. Targon thought on this for a good while as the bishop droned on. He would have to come up with something quick.
       Bloody soldiers. Who’s idea was it to bring them?
       Wait a minute. Maybe that was it. The two soldiers that had passed him before were standing right behind the prince. Slowly a plan formed in the Dragon Master’s head.
       A teleharm is a terrible thing to waste.
       Methodically, Targon focused on individuals throughout the crowd, whispering thoughts into their heads.
              Would you look at that gaudy dress the queen is wearing? Why, it’s a crime against fashion! She ought to be slapped.
       Ugh, the reign of King Richard still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
       Humph! They act like we should be happy. This king will probably just raising the taxes and oppressing the people.
       Soon the crowd was mumbling and grumbling amongst themselves.
       Perfect! thought Targon, Now for part two of the plan.
       The Dragon Master now focused on the prince, trying to remember the voices of those two guards.
       So, what do ya think of the king?
       I like ‘im. ‘e seems to ‘ave a certain strength about ‘im ya know. A shame ’e didn’t pass any o that on to the prince eh?
       Heheh, p’raps ‘e’s not even the king’s son. I ‘eard the queen is been mighty friendly with some o the ‘ansomer nobles.

       Suddenly the prince whirled around and snapped something at the two guards. Targon watched in amusement as the dumfounded guards tried to apologize. The Dragon Master grinned. And not a moment after the prince had his back turned, he was at it again.
       Heh, Prince. More like a princess.
       Yeah, the Prince is a princess and the Princess is a queen…


       Rosa had taken residence up upon the balcony of an inn. She had a keen view of the whole square, but it didn’t make the dull coronation any more interesting. Her mind wandered, and she began sizing up the persons and on the stage.
       I could beat him she thought, eyeing the King-to-be.
       Her eyes moved to the bishop. I could beat him.
       Next, the queen. I could beat her.
       Then the prince. I could beat him.
       Lastly, the petite princess. I could beat her.
       Her contemplations were interrupted suddenly, when the prince went mad.
       “WHY YOU VILE MEGABLOKS!!!” the prince shouted, whirling around, slicing one of the guards across the chest and running the other though the heart. Targon smiled. Perfect.
       “Look!” he shouted, “The prince is attacking the innocent soldiers! Stop him! A bas la tyrannée!”
       With an enormous roar, the crowd poured down on the stage. The soldiers were in a state of confusion, not knowing whether to stop the prince or the mob. The mass of humanity surged forward like a tsunami. Most of them had no idea what was going on, but they all continued forward, shouting and cursing. Viktor could do nothing to stop the surge, and simply went with the flow. That was, until, the soldiers turned upon the raging peasants.
       “HALT OR BE CUT DOWN!” shouted a captain, drawing his sword.
       The other soldiers follow his signal, and weapons were whipped. Peasants in the front tried to halt, but, the mass behind them forced them forward into the blades of their countrymen. Meanwhile, Targon made a beeline for the princess.
       “Hang on missy.” he said, flinging her over his shoulder, “We need to get you to safety.”
       Quickly Targon made his way out of the mob and into one of the alleys. Yes, things were going his way. Rosa’s eyes grew wide as she watch the crowd swarm. What it Chodan’s name had caused them to charge like that?
       “The peasants are revolting.” she pronounced ironically to no one in particular.
       Then her eyes narrowed. Someone, a big man clad in foreign-looking armor had jumped onto the stage, whisked the screaming princess into his arms, and vanished back into the crowd.
       “That was odd.” Rosa pronounced to herself. Then, quietly, she left the balcony.

       “I CAME HERE FOR SOME BEER!” snarled Viktor, randomly slashing at someone.
       Not for a uprising. he thought to himself. Well, nothing for it now. I’ll probably have to kill off a few of this poor, mindless megablocks and then I get the bloody tyco out of here. Some adventure this is...

|   Previous Chapter    |    Next Chapter   |

 Home | Archives | City | Events | Sets | How-to | Creations | Stories | Links | Contact 


© 2004 Classic-Castle.com. Site design © Anthony Sava and Benjamin Ellermann. All rights reserved. This is an unofficial fan created LEGO website, and is not sponsored, authorized or endorsed by The LEGO Group. Visit the official LEGO website: www.lego.com