Desperately Seeking Alexander (KQ original fanfic)

[JudasFm]

AN: I toyed around with various plots and titles before deciding on this one.  Timewise, it takes place between Alexander's defeat of the Vizier and his marriage to Cassima.

One other thing: I've never played MoE or The Silver Lining (Mask of Eternity never appealed to me and unfortunately all four episodes of The Silver Lining at once is too big a file for my little internet connection to handle ) So if anything written here blatantly contradicts something in these games re: backstory etc, it's not intentional. Call it creative license Anyway, for those of you reading, I hope you enjoy it

Boring Disclaimer: I am in fact Roberta Williams.  And if you believe that, I have some beachfront property in Atlantis to sell you

Seriously though, any characters, places, etc which can be found in the King's Quest games as well are all copyright to their respective owners.  I don't own them; I'm just borrowing them for a while.  I'll give 'em back when I'm done

Chapter One

"Oh! what a tangled web we weave
When first we practice to deceive!" – Marmion, Sir Walter Scott

The mood on the Isle of the Crown was higher than it had been for a long time.  Not only had the Vizier been disposed of, but there was a royal wedding to look forward to and the townsfolk had already been plucking rose petals and shredding confetti in preparation, despite the fact that the nuptials weren't due to take place for another six days.

Inside the palace itself, Graham raised a hand to knock on his son's bedroom door, then hesitated.  He was very glad that Alexander was marrying the love of his life, but a small part of him couldn't help feeling a little sorry that the poor boy had had to go through so much to get to this point.  It seemed like even the smallest things turned into some kind of epic quest for his family.  He'd had to rescue Valanice from Kolyma, what should have been a simple journey home for Alexander had been littered with pirates, wizards and a three-headed dragon and it seemed he couldn't even go out for a walk without his whole family – and castle – being whisked away, shrunk down and stuffed into a wizard's jam jar.  Granted Crispin had managed to magic it back again, but when the family had gone inside they'd discovered that the bedrooms had ended up in the dining room, audience chamber and kitchen respectively, the fish pond had wound up in the servants' quarters and somehow the attic and the rose garden had switched places.  Graham was never sure whether this was down to a problem with Crispin's wand (who knew what that machine had done to it?) or something Mordack had done and at the time he'd been too grateful to have his family back to give it much thought.

All that aside, he couldn't help hoping that Rosella's wedding would involve a simple courtship and proposal with no wild adventures or magic spells or evil wizards or...or anything beyond what was normal.  Of course, Rosella was very much her father's daughter, but even so...

I'm getting old.  Time was when an epic quest would have thrilled him.  Now...well, he still enjoyed traveling and still fought off the occasional monster, but that was more for exercise than anything.

Well, at least Alexander's all set to settle down.  As for Rosella, we'll have to wait and see.

Raising his hand again, he knocked on the door, then stepped inside.

"Alexander?  Can you spare a moment?" he asked.

Alexander glanced up from his book and closed it immediately.  "Yes, of course."

"Good.  Cassima's waiting for you.  So is the Archmage."

"Archmage?" Alexander echoed, falling into step alongside his father as they walked down the hallway.

"Yes, he's in the little anteroom off the main hall.  He came to ensure no magical deception can take place before the wedding."

Alexander froze motionless for five full seconds, then said in a hoarse voice, "W-what do you mean, magical deception?"

"It's a good way to get power; lock up the bride or groom, turn yourself into a replica and marry your way to the throne.  By the time the spell wears off, it's too late.  There was a similar incident in Vir several years ago.  Since then, every royal who plans to marry will speak with an Archmage first, just to be sure.  His sole purpose is to detect any magical enchantment on either the bride or the groom.  He'll also be present at the wedding itself, but that's nothing more than a formality."

Graham had gone quite a long way down the corridor before he realized that his son was no longer with him and turned back.

"Alexander?"

"Why," Alexander said in the same hoarse voice, "did nobody mention any of this to me before I started talking about getting married?"

Graham blinked.  "I assumed you knew."

"No.  What happens?  Exactly?"

The older man cast his mind back to his own Archmage's test prior to his and Valanice's wedding.

"The Archmage has an enchanted crystal that glows green.  So long as you answer his questions truthfully, the crystal stays green.  If it detects a lie...well, I'm not sure what happens," Graham admitted.  "There have been no cases of deception since these measures were brought in."

"So if I have to tell him my name—"

"Is that what's worrying you?  I know you still have trouble thinking of yourself as Alexander."

"You've no idea," his son muttered, not quite under his breath.

"It'll be fine.  I explained to the Archmage.  If the spell picks up on your uncertainty, he'll just ask if you're Gwydion of Llewdor.  After all, they're the same person."

Alexander shifted his weight.  "Ah...yes, but—"

"There's nothing to worry about."  Graham smiled at his son.  "Though I do understand what's going through your mind."

"No, I don't think you do," Alexander mumbled to his feet.  "Father, is this really necessary?  I don't like magic."

Graham chuckled.  "What?  After all those books you've studied and papers you've written on the subject?"

Alexander winced as if Graham had thrust a knife at him.  "I like doing it, I just don't like it being done to me, not after Manannan.  And Mordack.  And every other magic user who's wanted to challenge me.  Can't we skip the Archmage?  You know who I am, and Cassima knows who I am.  Surely that's all that matters?"

"Alexander, relax."  Graham put a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder.  "It's the crystal that's enchanted, not you."

"And what happens if it does detect a lie?  If...I mean, after that enchantment was...what's the penalty?"

It dawned on Graham – who had hitherto been too full of his son's upcoming wedding to pay much attention – that Alexander was taking rather too keen an interest in this, and he turned, frowning.

"Son, is there something you want to discuss with me?"

Alexander looked a little apprehensive.  "Well, I may have used a little magic to, ah, enhance my appearance."

"I see.  You don't have to worry; the crystal won't pick up something like that.  When the Archmage asks you if you're Alexander of Daventry, all you have to do is say Yes.  That's all.  Royal protocol says you won't be allowed to wed Cassima without it, so we may as well get it over with."

Graham led his son into the small room, where the Archmage and Cassima were already waiting.  The Archmage's face was hidden by a deep blue hood, worked in gold brocade around the edges.  Graham was certain that the man had worked some other enchantments to ensure his face was entirely shrouded in darkness – no one had a black space where a face ought to be – but Cassima's parents had known him for years, so there was nothing to worry about.

Without wasting time on greetings, the Archmage raised the softly glowing crystal high above his head.  Since he'd never heard of an enchantment whose efficiency was based on its height, Graham assumed the man was doing it purely to be dramatic.

"Are you Princess Cassima of the Land of the Green Isles?" the Archmage intoned.  (Yes, Graham thought, definitely being dramatic.  No one's voice echoed like that normally outside of a cave).

Cassima smiled up at Alexander.  "I am."

The crystal's glow remained a steady green.  The Archmage turned to Alexander.

"And are you Crown Prince Alexander of Daventry, also known as Gwydion of Llewdor?"

In a very low voice, Alexander mumbled, "Yes."

The explosion and accompanying blast of red light shook the entire castle and blinded everyone in the room, with the possible exception of the Archmage himself.  

When they could see again, Alexander of Daventry was gone.  In his place was a young man with a shock of dirty blonde hair.  He was the same age as Alexander, the same build, even his facial features were similar, but he was not the Crown Prince of Daventry.

There was a long, shocked silence.

"What—" Graham began.

The stranger glanced from Graham to Cassima, and then back to Graham with the expression of someone who knows his future depends on his saying exactly the right thing.  Something calming and reassuring, something that will defuse any mounting tension and hopefully won't be too much of a cliché.

Which is a shame, because what he actually said was, "Um, Your Majesty?  This really is not what it looks like."


AN: *nervous look* So...do you like it?  Hate it?  Want more?

[GrahamRocks!]

Hmmm... *nods* I like it so far!

[tessspoon]

Want more?

[Enchantermon]

"Okay, fine. My real name is Roger Wilco, space janitor extraordinaire!"

Sorry, couldn't resist. Moar, plz.

[crayauchtin]

I hate you for ending there. More!

[JudasFm]

Wow, I never expected to get this many replies Thanks so much everyone, I'm glad you're enjoying it!

"Okay, fine. My real name is Roger Wilco, space janitor extraordinaire!"

I must have been having a slow day when I first read this, because it took a few seconds for it to sink in, at which point I promptly spat apple juice all over my screen

Anyway, without further ado, here's the next chapter!

Chapter Two

"My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,
And every tale condemns me for a villain." - Richard III, Shakespeare

For a long time, all Graham could do was stare at the young man.  In spite of his newfound fear for Alexander's fate, he also felt a small kernel of pity for the wretched looking youth in front of him.  No one could fake that level of distress.

No wonder he was so nervous about the Archmage.  He knew it would all be over for him the second he answered that question.

Graham glanced at the Archmage in question, who seemed just as stunned by what had just happened as the rest of them.

"Will you leave us alone please?" he asked.  He felt a strange sense of detachment, as though someone else were controlling his actions.

Cassima stared at the man who had been Alexander, then spun on her heel and rushed out the door.  The Archmage cleared his throat.

"Your Majesty—"

"Please," Graham repeated.  His tone was as courteous as ever, but there was an additional tone there that most people found very hard to defy.

The Archmage was no exception; he hesitated for a second or two, then turned with a swish of his robes and strode out.

Graham hunted among the chairs that had been blasted aside by the Archmage's spell until he found one that still had all four legs.  Tilting it upright, he sat down on it and studied the stranger in front of him.

"Alright."  He forced his voice to remain calm.  "Who are you, and what have you done with my son?"

The young man looked up at Graham with a wretched expression and swallowed hard.  "Zak, Your Majesty.  Prince Zachary of Kristallia, and I haven't done anything with him."

Graham frowned.  Kristallia was a long way from Daventry, but most royal families communicated with each other in some fashion.

"I don't remember seeing your name on the Kristallian royal lists," he said.

"You wouldn't have done.  Only females may inherit the throne.  Sons are of little interest, especially fourth sons like myself.  If we want to become any kind of king, the only way is to marry.  I swear, I never thought things would go this far."

"And couldn't you find enough suitable brides as Prince of Kristallia, that you had to sneak into my family and masquerade as the Crown Prince of Daventry?" Admittedly in the game of rank, Crown Prince trumped Prince any day of the week, but still, most girls dreamed of marrying a prince.

Glancing at Graham for permission, Zachary retrieved his own chair from the wreckage and perched on the very edge of it, running his hands through his hair.

"Your Majesty, I know what this looks like.  Believe me, I know.  But I didn't mean to deceive anyone."

"Didn't mean to—!" Words failed Graham for a few seconds, which probably wasn't such a bad thing.  "You took on my son's form, you stole his identity, and then you attempted to marry his fiancee!  What did you mean to do, if not to deceive anyone?  And what of your own family?  Your parents must be out of their minds with worry!"

"Um."  Zachary fidgeted on the chair, drew one leg up, then put it back down again with the same wretched expression.  "No disrespect, but I don't think they are, actually.  Like I said, my mother's not really interested in her sons.  I don't know who my father is; he could be anyone from Kristallia, and I do mean anyone."

This was a very odd thing to imply about a queen in Graham's opinion, much less your own mother.  Some of his feeling must have been obvious on his face because Zachary went on.  "I'm not sure you quite understand how things are in Kristallia."

"Why don't you explain it to me then?" A lot of Graham's initial anger had dissipated.  It was impossible to look at Zachary just then and feel anything for him except pity.

"My mother wanted as many potential heirs as possible, just in case something happened.  You know?"

Graham nodded.

"And she decided right at the beginning that she wasn't going to have an arranged marriage or a political one; she was going to choose the perfect man for herself.  So she took a knight and he gave her a daughter followed by a son, at which point she dissolved the union and took another man.  He gave her another son, so she dissolved that union.  Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Graham nodded again.  "Yes.  She takes a man she likes and keeps him as king until she gives birth to a son, at which point she throws him out in disgust and takes another partner."

"More or less.  King is an honorary title in Kristallia; there's no power or responsibility associated with it.  They're not even publicly acknowledged as such unless the queen chooses to make it so, and Mother doesn't share power.  I was the only child she had with my father, so he was thrown out of the palace the moment I was born.  If anyone noticed I was gone at any point, I'll be very surprised."

"That still doesn't tell me where Alexander is, nor why you were trying to marry his fiancee."

"I don't know where he is.  Truly, I don't.  And Cassima's not Alexander's fiancee; she's mine.  I was part of your family when Mordack took them, so it was me Cassima met in his castle.  I just...didn't look like me."  Zachary stared at his thumbs.  "I suppose the wedding's off now.  It's a shame.  You probably won't believe me, but I do love Cassima."

"So does—" Graham began, and stopped.  He had been about to say so does Alexander, but if Zachary was telling the truth, then Alexander had never met Cassima.  Alexander had been elsewhere when Mordack had sucked up the Castle of Daventry.

Zachary gave him a wan smile.  "You see?  And I never put on any kind of act.  I behaved the same as Alexander as I do as myself, if that makes any sense.  It wasn't really like I tricked you."

"Yes it was."  Graham's tone, while not angry, brooked no further argument.  "You came into my house – my family – as Alexander, not Zachary, and you went to a lot of trouble to look like my son.  What I still don't know is why."

The young man shook his head, his entire face taut.  It was an expression that Graham had seen all too often on—no, he corrected himself brutally, he'd never seen it on his son's face.  He'd only ever seen it on Zachary's.

"Your Majesty, I swear I don't know.  I think that must have been part of the enchantment, to make me forget everything about the spell.  I don't know who did this or where your son is.  I know I met him but I can't tell you where.  It's like there's a gap in my mind.  I know I went on some kind of journey – I remember leaving – but I don't remember where I went."

Graham was silent for a long time, mind working as he tried to put it all together.  At last he said, "It was that voyage, wasn't it?  When he went away for nine months.  Alexander sailed away from Daventry and you sailed back."

Zachary nodded.  His misery and guilt were so palpable that Graham softened a little.  Whoever was behind this, it wasn't this anguished young man.

"Alright.  I give you my word you will not be harmed in any way, but you have to be honest with me now.  What do you remember?"

"I remember seeing Alexander once, but I don't remember anything specific.  Just...I have this memory of him in my mind."

"If you remember seeing him, you must remember something about the location.  Even if you don't remember the name, you should know whether you saw him in a forest or in the mountains or somewhere completely different."

Zachary nodded again.  "Yes, I do.  We were in...I don't know how to describe it.  Like a dungeon, but not."

"What do you mean?"

The young man bit his lip, not looking at Graham.  "People usually think of dungeons as being dark and full of damp and moss.  This one...the walls were white.  Really white.  I know it was definitely somewhere underground, but it didn't look like the kind of place you'd lock people up in.  I don't know.  I'm not being very helpful.  I'm sorry."

"You're doing fine."  There was no question that Zachary was telling the truth.  Graham had spotted what the others hadn't; the Archmage's crystal had rolled under what was left of the table and was still glowing a steady green.  Just as well; he didn't think the little anteroom could survive another explosion.  "Do you remember leaving?"

"No.  I mean, I remember that I did remember, but...I don't know.  It's like breaking the spell destroyed my memory or something.  I remember everything about my life and about the time I spent as...as your son, but nothing about how I got from one to the other."  He swallowed.  "What will happen to me?"

"You'll have to stay here for the time being, until I can find out who's behind this."  Graham didn't think the royals of the Green Isles would object to that; after all, Zachary had done quite a lot for them regardless of what he'd looked like at the time.

Or had he?  If you could enchant someone to forget, could you also plant false memories in their head?  Suppose this had been done just after Alexander had defeated the vizier?  The crystal would only react if the person lying knew they were lying; so long as Zachary genuinely believed what he was saying, it would register as true.

Alright.  Graham left the anteroom (it was clear Zachary had no intention of bolting) and started to walk, not going anywhere in particular.  Walking had always helped him get his thoughts in order.  So we have two possibilities.  Either Alexander was taken when Zachary believes he was, or he was taken after the fight with the vizier.  

Briefly Graham considered the third possibility – that Alexander had been taken at some other point during his stay on the Green Isles – then dismissed it.  Put simply, there wouldn't have been enough time.  Besides, what would be the point?

He shook his head.  Hypothesizing like this was all very well, but he didn't have anywhere near enough information for those hypotheses to be even half accurate.  

Graham drew to a halt outside the door to the guest bedroom he and Valanice had been given for the wedding.  For a long time he stood there staring at it, not sure whether or not to go in.

You're just putting off the inevitable.

Yes, that was true.  He knew what he had to do.  That didn't mean he had to like it.

Decision made, Graham opened the door and stepped inside.  A distressed looking Valanice was there, pacing the room in a manner quite unlike her normal stately bearing.

"Cassima told me everything," she said as soon as her husband had closed the door.  "Who is that boy?"

Thank goodness for Valanice's down-to-earth manner, Graham thought.  Other women might have waxed hysterical at losing their son for a second time, but not her.

"Prince Zachary of Kristallia," he answered.  "Unfortunately he can't tell me who did this or where our son is.  I think that part of his mind's been enchanted.  He's as much of a victim as Alexander, wherever he is."  Graham took a deep breath, held it for a few minutes, then expelled it with a sigh.  There was only one option open to him, albeit an unwelcome one.  "We know where Alexander went on his voyage.  I'll go to Kristallia, find out where Zachary went on his.  Their paths must have crossed at some point and when I know where, I'll be a lot closer to finding our son.  And I'll see if there are any magic experts in Kristallia as well; they may be able to tell me more about this enchantment."

The enchantment.  That was the biggest problem.  Graham had very little personal knowledge of magic, but he'd picked up enough from Alexander/Zachary to know that whoever had cast an enchantment as complex as this one was powerful.  Exceedingly powerful.  Even Mordack and Manannan had been fooled into thinking they had the real Alexander.  Graham wasn't sure how much magic Manannan still possessed, if any, but Mordack had been one of the most powerful wizards alive.  If he hadn't realized he had the wrong person...

Why would he? a little voice inside Graham whispered.  He could have found out easily enough, but Zachary looked like Alexander, he acted like Alexander, he sounded like Alexander and he was in Alexander's home with Alexander's family...why in the world would Mordack suspect that he might not be Alexander?

Graham stared out the window.  The view from this room was breathtaking, but he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice it.

He had enemies, of course, but this kind of subterfuge wasn't really their style.  It couldn't be espionage – his enemies were personal, not political – but that didn't leave many more motives.

And if none of those enemies are behind this...then just who is?

[Enchantermon]

"Okay, fine. My real name is Roger Wilco, space janitor extraordinaire!"

I must have been having a slow day when I first read this, because it took a few seconds for it to sink in, at which point I promptly spat apple juice all over my screen

You're doing well; keep it up!

[Arkillian]

*paws monitor*

Awe- poor Alexander! I need to know what happened to him T.T *sobs*

[JudasFm]

You're doing well; keep it up!

Thank you I'll do my best.

Awe- poor Alexander! I need to know what happened to him T.T *sobs*

You will...eventually. I think Graham's got a long way to go before he and his son are reunited

Chapter Three

"It's hard to tell who has your back from who has it long enough just to stab you in it." - Nichole Ritchie

"Kristallia?"

The captain of the Crown's Honor couldn't have looked more astonished if Graham had told him he wanted to sail to the moon.

Graham nodded.  "Yes.  Is there a problem?"

"It's in the Eastern Three.  I don't know those seas, and I really don't know the countries."

This gave even Graham pause.  He'd not really considered that aspect of his voyage before.  The Eastern Three referred to the three continents on the other side of the world.  Although the bigger trade ships did occasionally sail to Daventry, and the royal lists from the larger kingdoms there – including Kristallia – came out once a year, it was too far for most to make the trip.

"Can you get me to any port in the Eastern Three?  Anywhere at all?" Even if the captain didn't know how to get to Kristallia, someone in one of those ports probably would.

The captain was silent for a few moments, then he said reluctantly, "Yeah.  I could take you to Aeiroa, but that's the only port I know.  It's the closest, but the voyage is still going to take a few months.  But if you really want me to take you..." the man added in the tones of one who is waiting for the other person to say no.

It was far from ideal, but it was a starting point.  Graham hadn't been able to search for Alexander before, thanks to several urgent matters (not least of which was that three-headed dragon).  There was no way he would sit at home and wait for his son to escape under his own steam a second time.  He could still remember one of the first conversations he'd had with Alexander.  It hadn't gone well – it had been a spectacularly bad day for both of them, albeit for very different reasons – and his son's parting shot had burned itself into his memory.

"If I had children, I would die before I sacrificed them!  And if one was carried off, I would tear the world apart until I found him, no matter how long it took!"

"Alright.  That will be fine."  No, he wasn't going to leave Alexander to his fate a second time.  He could probably get passage from Aeiroa to Kristallia.  If there were no direct routes, then at least he would be able to find someone who could point him in the right direction.  "How soon can we sail?"

The captain shifted from foot to foot.  "Two hours, Your Majesty."

It wasn't quite as fast as Graham had hoped for – the father in him wanted to leap on that ship and go after his son immediately – but it was better than nothing.

"That's fine.  I'll be back soon."

Turning, he headed away from the dock toward the palace, and from there to Zachary's room.

There had been long debates about what to do with Zachary.  The Archmage had questioned him again and confirmed what Graham already suspected: that the young man had been telling the truth when he'd said he couldn't remember what had happened.  He remembered the time after the enchantment, when he sailed to Daventry, and the time before when he was in Kristallia, and he remembered leaving Kristallia, but nothing in between.  Unable to decide if Zachary was a part of this plot or if he'd been taken against his will and enchanted to resemble Alexander (and therefore unable to decide whether to toss him in the dungeon or send him home) the royal family had eventually compromised by keeping him locked in one of the guest bedchambers and only allowing him out under armed guard.

The two guard dogs outside Zachary's room tensed slightly as Graham approached, but didn't try and stop him knocking on the door.

"Come in."

From the way Zachary's face dropped when Graham entered the room, the king guessed he'd been hoping for Cassima.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Fine."  Zachary brushed his own well-being aside in favor of a more vital issue.  "Is there any news from Cassima?  Or her family?"

"None yet," Graham admitted.  "I came to tell you that I'm leaving for Kristallia."

"Ah."  Zachary swallowed.  "Uh..."

"Yes?" Graham prompted, after the young man had been silent for several minutes.

"Are you going to tell my mother where I am?"

Graham raised his eyebrows.  "I think I'd better, don't you?"

"I suppose."  Zachary didn't look overjoyed at the prospect.  "Will I have to go back?"

"I don't think the royal family will let you go anywhere until Alexander returns, which brings me onto the reason why I came to you.  Do you have a map of the Eastern Three?"

Zachary looked up swiftly, a new light in his eyes.  "Yes!"

Jumping off the bed, he hurried over to a chest and opened it, throwing various items over his shoulder as he searched.  "Yes, I do, but it's not very detailed.  It only shows borders and the main kingdoms within those borders."

Graham ducked just in time to miss a flying shoe.  "May I borrow it?"

"Of course, but you'll find far better ones once you arrive.  If I can just—ah, here it is!"  Zachary scooted backward and got to his feet, holding out a sheet of yellowed paper that was cracked in places.

"How old is this map?" Graham asked as he took it gingerly from the young man.

"Brand new when I got it.  Most people in the Eastern Three don't think a map is a proper map unless it's cracked and old, so most of the cartographers cut slits in the edges and then go over their maps with a tea-soaked cloth."

"Ah."

The map turned out to be in color and beautifully lettered in several different styles of handwriting and different colors, which Graham assumed marked major land masses, sea names, regions and kingdoms.  All this made it a lot more eye-catching than most maps.  It also made it rather difficult to read in places, but Graham thought he could puzzle it out on the ship.

"The captain of the Crown's Honor said that the only port he knew was Aeiroa."

"Yes, that's up here."  Zachary indicated a small dot in the northernmost area marked as the Frozen Wastes.  "Aeiroa's the only port in that area that doesn't care about niceties like where a ship comes from.  All the others keep a list of ships registered to each port, and if your ship's not on there, they won't allow you to dock."

"Why not?"

"Shardan pirates.  They terrorize...well, just about every sea and ocean.  They never bother with the Wastes though, so there's nothing to worry about, but the rest of the Eastern Three are far less safe."  Zachary got to his feet, pacing restlessly.  "And yet you must go.  He is your son."

He sounded more as if he was trying to convince himself than Graham.

"Is there any message you would like me to take to your family?" he asked.

Zachary shook his head.  "No.  Mother wouldn't listen anyhow.  Just...if you're going to explore the Eastern Three, Your Majesty, then be careful.  Please.  Be very, very careful."


In spite of Zachary's warning, the voyage went far better than anyone, including the captain, had anticipated.  The winds were good all the way, and the Crown's Honor completed the three month journey to Aeiroa in just two and a half.

It was at this point that they hit a small snag.

"What do you mean, you can't dock?" Graham demanded, staring at the captain.

The man folded his arms, not quite meeting his stare.  "This is a bad time to come, Your Majesty.  Too much ice.  Too many icebergs.  Can't sail her through them without knowing the waters a lot better than I do."

Graham stared over the ship's railing.  The dock was only a few hundred yards away.  If he'd been in a warmer climate, he would have just dived in and swum, but this far north, the cold was likely to kill him. 

"Alright," he said aloud.  "What about a lifeboat?  Could one of your crew row me ashore?"

The captain was silent for a few minutes, then said, "Yeah.  Guess so."

"Then please have them do so.  I'll be back in a moment with my supplies."

Without waiting for a reply, Graham headed back to his cabin.  He did his best to get along with everyone he met, but that captain was really trying his patience.  The man had even refused to give him his name, stating that a king probably wouldn't bother remembering it anyway.

Opening his chest, he took out the few items he'd brought with him.  One was a large bag of gold, on the basis that while other countries might balk at accepting foreign currency, gold was usually welcomed everywhere.  Unsure of the reception he was likely to get when he arrived, he'd also brought along supplies such as a tinderbox and lantern and a thick cloak with a hood, in case he had to camp out.  With that, he felt confident he could survive whatever the Eastern Three was going to throw at him.

He was just trying to think of anything he might have forgotten when there was a knock on the door.

"Yes?"

A lone crewman entered, carrying a bowl of something hot and savory-smelling. 

"Your Majesty—" (Graham had given up trying to persuade the sailors to call him by name)— "I brought some soup up from the galley.  The cook thought you should eat something before you disembark.  Who knows what the food in this place is like?"

Now? Graham thought but didn't say.  As they'd drawn closer to Aeiroa he'd been too absorbed in poring over Zachary's map to pay much attention to eating.  Maybe starting his search on a full stomach wasn't such a bad idea.

"Thank you.  It looks delicious."

Knowing from experience that the sailor would wait for his verdict on the meal to take back to the cook, Graham took a mouthful.  The soup was excellent, lightly seasoned with herbs with pulses for added texture. 

"Very good," he said dutifully, and glanced out the porthole at the dock.  He was beginning to feel drowsy.  Suddenly lying down on the bunk seemed like a good idea. 

As his vision went dark, he was dimly aware of the sailor's voice saying, "I'm sorry, Your Majesty.  Captain's orders."

Why? Graham tried to ask, but his voice would no longer respond and his mind slithered into darkness.

When he woke up, he was lying on the dock of Aeiroa.  His supplies were gone, his money was gone, and so was the Crown's Honor.

[GrahamRocks!]

Well, well, well... a traitor! This isn't good!