Click here to go back to the panel.
The Chief Warlord cleared his throat. "Queen Jillian Zamussels, Commanders of Faq, honored guests, I present His Royal Highness, Prince and Heir to the throne of Faq!"
"State your name," she ordered.
He tilted his head far to the side, as if trying to shake the information out of his brain. "I'm Prince Albert," he said, after a moment. "Zamussels, I guess," he added, with less enthusiasm.
"Albert." She nodded. "You have your own crest," she said, looking down at his chest.
This was news to him. Albert looked down and saw a design on his plain white cotton shirt: a black circle, with three throwing knives arranged to form a letter A. He grinned again. Yeah, that'd work. He'd allow it.
"Uh huh," said the Prince.
Queen Jillian narrowed her eyes, looking at him closely. A hint of a smile formed on her lips.
"Two specials," she said, nodding. "Two good ones. Should I say? Or do you wanna show everybody what you got?"
He took it as an order, and uncoiled like a spring. With one sweeping motion, he snatched one of the boot knives out, and threw it underhanded in the direction of his mother. It rose, missing the top of the high-backed throne, and kept sailing upward until it stuck in the eye of the gwiffon in Faq's crest that was painted on a white canvas, high above the archway behind Jillian.
The Queen twisted on her throne to see, then turned around and stood.