Realms of the Dragons vol.1

Act V

Krion-as Talbot had come to think of the dragon-muttered a few grudging excuses and flew away the moment Talbot removed the sword from his foot. Talbot imagined the dragon was chasing after Mnomene once more, and he hoped he would catch up to his daughter in another city-any where but Selgaunt.

He stood alone in the smoldering remains of the Wide Realms, long after the fire brigade had left. He counted his blessings as he accounted the losses. The calculation was simple: Of the playhouse, total ruin. The foundations that survived the fire were not worth saving. Any rebuilding would have to begin from the ground up, and even the coin from King Krion was insufficient to begin such a grand project.

On the positive side of the tally, and more than a little miraculously, no one had died in the conflagration. Lommy and family had fled the moment they smelled Krion arrive, but they were homeless, as was the troupe. Even mounting a new production of the popular play would be only a tiny first step toward rebuilding the Wide Realms. Innkeepers always kept fifty percent of the receipts, and they could accommodate only much smaller audiences.

If nothing else, Talbot thought, he learned that he, with a little help from his fellow players, could write a play that would "break a miser's heart"… or at least really, really irritate him. More than that, though, Talbot had written a play that spoke to all sorts of people, from the groundlings to the snootiest members of the Old Chauncel, all while finally coming to grips with his own feelings about a father to whom he had said far too little in the time they had left.

"I suppose I should apologize," said Krion.

His nostrils full of smoke, Talbot couldn't smell the dragon approach. Krion was once more in human form, but he had given himself far more modest garb.

"Nothing says 'I apologize' like fifty thousand five-stars," said Talbot, estimating the amount he would need to begin rebuilding.

"That is a handsome sum," said Krion. "No doubt, were I to subject myself to your human laws, you might extract it from me through your courts. I have never understood how you mammals equate treasure with civility. As I said, I apologize "

Talbot did not correct him, and he tried not to entertain any notions about other ways in which he might extract the coin from the dragon. Even at his most furious, he was not insane enough to think that even the Black Wolf was a match for a gold dragon.

"I have had a notion," said Krion. "One that might serve us both in the long term. While the content was of dubious value, this notion of a play intrigues me."

"No," said Talbot.

"Now that you have had some experience with the collaborative process, and with a more mature patron guiding the story…."

"Oh, no," said Talbot. "If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times."

"I am certain that your audience will appreciate my story of a monarch much abused by his ungrateful children."

"We…don't… do…"

"With that great big sword of yours," said Krion, "you did cut a rather kingly figure."

"Did you really think so?"

"Let's talk terms."

"Fifty thousand fivestars."

"Bah! Twenty."

"Plus another twenty for my assurance not to revive King Krion."

"What? That's extortion!"

"No, that's an annual, renewable stipend."

"You drive a mean bargain, wolf," said the dragon.

"Thank you," said Talbot. "I learned it from my father."