As he read the computerized text of the ancient tale, he imagined himself a knight of King Arthur's round table fighting for honor and following the Code of Chivalry. Life was an endless series of meetings, audiences, and royal duties. The door chime sounded, and he reluctantly set his e-book machine aside. He could hear the annoyance ringing through the tone.
Before he could open his mouth to call out, the chime sounded again and Mother entered with a soft whoosh of satin. She frowned as she scanned his suite.
She was going to launch into one of her speeches about responsibility or how he must prepare to take the yoke of rule upon his shoulders.
"Crispin, why is there an unsheathed sword on your bed?"
He jumped to his feet. "Hello…"
She scanned the room with laser-sharp green eyes, targeted the scabbard, snatched it up, whisked the sword into it and tossed it to him in less time than it took him to greet her. "…Mother." He traced the elaborate dragon shooting pewter fire from its toothy mouth with its talons poised to strike.
"Put that ridiculous toy away and come to the audience chamber."
Ridiculous toy? Why did she always treat me like a lazy idiot? There was a bowl of fruit on the table beside her. He slid the sword from its sheath and sliced an apple perfectly in half.
"Very cute. Now come along." Her dark green skirt swirled around her long legs as she walked away in quick measured steps.
He tossed an apple half into the air and caught it in his teeth as he followed in her wake
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