The Shine's Wearing Off a Bit

Now, you don't want to complain. This is still definitely the best job you've ever had, even putting aside the awesome blowjob that...uh, whoever that was gave you. But you have to admit you're starting to get a bit antsy. You've been riding for a while now, and despite your palfrey having a beautiful gait and your previously unknown talent in the equestrian arts, you're starting to get pretty sore. Trundle would be much better company if he ever dropped character, or if the character he was playing didn't utterly loathe you. And you can't help but start to get weirded out by the fact that noone's come by to, like, say when your shift's over. Or, as a little voice pipes up in the back of your head, if it is ever over.

That's why you take the appearance of the picturesque castle in the distance with significant relief. Okay cool, maybe this is like a visitor's center or something. Or at least it'll be something different; you're pretty fucking bored of looking at trees and Trundle and Trundle's mule. You shield your eyes from the sun as you near, taking note of the line of what appear to be other mounted princes snaking out from the castle gates. You don't have much of an idea of what's going on, but you're confident that whenever you don't know what to do, getting into queue is probably the correct decision.

You pull your horse up to the end of the line, giving the prince with the giant feathered cap in front of you a nod. "Hey, 'sup?"

He grunts, giving you a slight incline of his head before turning around to stare back at the line ahead of him. Not super chatty, apparently. You start to press on with some questions when a little man with a scroll waddles up, self-importantly tapping a quill to the parchment as he squints up at you. "Name?"

Oh shit, hope they don't care about your stupid name. "Um, Prince, uh....Boldcock?"

He apparently doesn't care, checking off something on the scroll. "Largesse?"

"Uh...what?"

He doesn't bother looking up. "Your gift for the princess, dummy."

Well that's pretty fucking rude. Still, you're not sure what you're supposed to do. You look helplessly over to Trundle, who's rolling his eyes and already pulling some sort of present crapped up in patterned silk. He gingerly hands it to you, and you pass it to the little man, who barely glances at it before tearing off a little slip and handing it to you. "You're number fifty three. Give your slip to the guard at the door. If you lose your slip, you won't see the princess. Keep the line moving."

"Hey wait dude, what am I...."

He's already ignoring you, moving on to the rider who's pulled up behind you. You sigh, looking down at your slip of paper. Well, you're number fifty three apparently. You guess you can wait a bit longer.

"A bit longer" winds up being "a really fucking long time", the sun having all but disappeared by the time you reach the actual gates to the castle. The grim looking guard sizes you up for a moment, then grunts and shoves out a hand. "Slip."

He impatiently stands there with his out insistently outstretched as you frantically search your person, trying to locate the slip that you swear you put away just a second ago. If you have to wait in this line again you're gonna ride all the way back to that cottage and throw yourself down that waterfall too; let them deal with that on their goddamn insurance. To your immense relief you find the thing stuffed under your saddlebag, the guard rudely snatching the crumpled up piece of paper when you offer it to him. He scrutinizes it for far longer than is probably necessary, looking up to eye you suspiciously every few moments. Then he hawks, spits a massive glob of gunk on the ground beside him, and motions for you to go in with a brusque motion of his head. You should be annoyed, but you're just so glad to get down off of your horse that you pay the man no mind as you hope down, hand the reins to Trundle and start inside.

You're barely within the well-appointed throne room of the castle before you're set upon by a plump little chancellor with massive pompadour, the man practically squealing in outrage. "Remove your coif, you country oaf! You cannot appear that way before Her Highness!"

You sigh inwardly, sullenly reaching up to pull of your chainmail hood. You're all for professionalism, but you're getting pretty sick of this character stuff. Why did everyone apparently choose to make their character an asshole? The unimpressed advisor holds up a tiny mirror for you to fix your hair, which you are about to do before something gives you pause. Why do you have red hair now? Did they SERIOUSLY dye your hair while you were ****? That's so fucking outrageous! You're reluctantly **** to admit it looks pretty good though, really good actually. For whatever reason, having nearly crimson hair makes you way better looking than you ever remember being, you actually look like you belong in this prince costume. You'd continue inspecting yourself, because something is beginning to strike you as off, when a bored voice calls out from the back of the room.

"Are you going to stare at yourself all night? Because I've seriously got princes coming out of my ass over here."

You look up, noticing for the first time the woman perched on the throne ahead of you. She's certainly gorgeous, her almost white-blonde hair cascading down on a pert, graceful body that's thoroughly displayed by her snug blue gown. But she sort of ruins the delicate, classically beautiful features of her face with the unpleasant expression on her face, like she just bit into a lemon or something. You're quite confident that if she had a phone, she'd be irritatedly texting right now.

She sighs, waving you forward. "Come on, come on; I don't have time for you to be enchanted by my beauty. I guarantee you that I've heard all the rhymes in whatever poem it is you're composing for me, so let's just skip it okay?"

Uh, wow. Still, you shuffle forward. "Er...right, okay. So, I'm sort of the new guy, and I was wondering - "

She cuts you off. "What, this is baby's first quest? You're wasting everyone's time here kid; there are real princes waiting to accept my totally important missions and chores and stuff."

You frown in anger. Well, so much for staying friendly with all your coworkers. "Ugh, whatever. Just tell me what to do so I can, fuckin', get out of here. I've met some pretty rude people today, but you're really the worst."

The throne room goes totally silent as the princess stiffens, staring down at you in wide-eyed shock. "What did you fucking say to me?!"

You plant your hands on your hips. "Look, you heard me, lady. Can we go already?"

She stares down at you for a long moment, practically quivering in overblown rage. Then, she turns on a time, smiling down at you with utterly fake honey. " Okaaay~, you want a widdle quest? Fine. Go kill the dragon."

The court gasps, but you just furrow your brow. Dragon? Well that sounds interesting at least. "What dragon? Where?"

The princess jerks a thumb over her shoulder, indicating out the window. Sure enough, just beyond the castle walls is a barren looking mountain with a giant, skull-like rocky outcrop bursting from its pinnacle. Yep, that is definitely where a dragon would live.

You shrug, turning around and starting out as the court mutters and giggles. You're pretty over this anyway; you bet that Dragon Skull Fuck Rock Mountain will be a pretty good place to just hide out and chill for a while. No one's talked to you about breaks, but you're pretty goddamn sure you've earned a break by now.

Trundle barely looks at you as you step outside, quickly mounting your horse. "So hey. We're gonna go kill the dragon."

He does react to that, letting out a despairing moan. Fuck dude, just...take your Employee of the Month plaque and give it a rest for a while, will you?