The Denerspellian army was long. It was tall. It was tired and greasy
and trailing all along the edge of the marsh. In fact, it stood in a
long thin line before the march. The horses shook their heads
uneasily as if to say that no, they could not be convinced to go into
there. The riders too, shook their heads and whistled uncomfortably.
At the head of this mass stood the prince's horse, and upon this horse sat the prince. The horse, as it was, was a beautiful and sleek mare. Tender, gentle, and altogether a little fat from the prince's treats he gave her. She was bedecked in red and black (as all mounts for evil rulers ought to be) and there was a trick to her reins and around the bridle that made it look as if flames were wafting out of her breath. It was a very impressive feat in battle, or jousting, or upon poor peasants. Upon anyone who knew this horses' gentle nature, it was quite the farce.
So much could not be said of the prince. Like all future evil rulers, he was decked in red and black with monstrous decorations bearing snake fangs carved into his breast plate and helmet. A long plume of died horse hair descended from his helmet like a trail of evil thoughts. Unlike the horse, he was not hiding a good nature beneath all this pomp and ceremony. He was glaring straight ahead, determined to force his army through the marsh.
The marsh, pray beware, was a talking marsh. It whispered cruel things about your grandmother, it squelched uncomfortably around your boots, and it smelt worse than any sounds it could make. The marsh, however, thought itself a poet.
“Oh, woe-e-e-e,” the marsh whispered to the long, thin, and truly miserable army. “Woe to all who enter here!”
The prince sat, unmoveable and determined. He was awaiting the return of his scouts. They had been sent ahead a day ago, and were supposed to have found the swiftest way through the marsh. Any moment now, they should arrive.
“Woe! Woe! Beware the gurgling spot! Woe-”
Loud squelches, accentuated by the unnatural sounds of the marsh, reached the ears of the prince. An instant later, silhouettes were seen slogging forward through the mist that shrouded the loud marsh.
“Oh look! A straggler arrives!” The marsh said snidely. “And they didn't even pay tribute! Oh woe, woe to all who travel in my bowels and-”
“Sire!” The first scout said, trotting forward. She had a gaunt face and hair that was pulled back in multiple braids. Her tunic was waterlogged and she was covered in mud. But in her arm, lifted aloft, a glowing light emanated from her hand. Or rather, from a pair of wings sprouting from between her fingers.
On the other side of her hand hung a grumpy and muddy fairy.
“I've caught a spy!” the scout said, thrusting the unfortunate fairy towards the prince.
“Oh, woe-e-e-e!” wailed the marsh.
The prince leaned forward to gingerly inspect the fairy. The fairy pulled her tongue at him. The prince drew back with a face. “We've caught supper,” he announced. “Put it in a cage and-”
“Wait!” shouted the fairy, waving her arms dramatically. Little glimmers of magic flew about her in all directions. “Are you mad? You cannot eat me!”
“You will find that we can,” sneered the prince. “Because you are not turnips, nor barley.”
His troops laughed mercilessly, albeit with a tremble of fear. Eating a fairy? That was surely unheard of!
But yea, be calmed gentle reader. For the prince was full of trickery and stealth, and he truly did not intend to eat the fairy. Rather, he intended to trick her. And so he lifted his nose up into the air to prove he did not care. To the scout he ordered. “Away with her! Lead us through the marsh!”
“But you'll all turn into toads!” shrieked the fairy. “And you will become ugly!” she waved her hands and glitter spewed in all directions. The marsh coughed from the sheer amount of glitter that was landing onto it. “Let me show you the way!” the fairy yelped.
The prince stifled a smirk. He turned a cruel eye to the fairy. “I do not think you know the way,” he said, just to egg her on. She, being a young and innocent fairy true to the nature of her kind, fell for it completely.
“But I do know the way!” she announced. “I was sent to show you the way through the mountain!”
“Oh have you?” the prince asked coldly. “And why would that be?”
“Because, because,” the fairy withered on herself. She wrung her hands, unsure whether they were to share their plan or not. The chieftain hadn't specifically said outright that their plan was secret, but it certainly had seemed to be so.
The prince reached over and rapped the tiny fairy on top of her head with his knuckles. “Answer me!” he ordered. “Why would I trust you?”
The army behind him murmured. They had rarely seen anyone act like this towards a fairy and survive. My, they thought, how our prince is brave!
Brave, and successful. The fairy began to cry. It was all too much for the poor kind soul. The prince pressed his lips together firmly to keep himself looking stern. Deep within, he wanted to take her in his arms and give her a warm blanket. But he was a prince with a plan, and a devious plan at that. So he let the fairy cry, alone and cold.
After several loud hiccups, the fairy finally spoke. “Our chieftain wants you to defeat the evil frogs that have taken over the castle.”
“Ah, hah,” the prince said proudly. “Now you are speaking the truth. Put her in a cage and have her point the way.”
The scout nodded as the fairy began to weep again. She rushed away, holdign the fairy aloft. A large bird cage was taken from several pigeons, and the fairy was placed in it. The soldiers, being kinder of heart than their prince, gave her a blanket to wrap herself in. Then the fairy was rushed back to the prince's side. There the scout held the cage aloft. The fairy meekly pointed to the right side of the marsh. The prince clucked his horse forward, and the long voyage began.
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