Alcatraz Versus the Knights of Crystallia

One week after the defeat of Archedis and the Librarians, I sat in the chamber of the Council of Kings. Grandpa Smedry sat to my left, dressed in his finest tuxedo. Bastille sat to my right, wearing the plate armor of a full Knight of Crystallia. (Yes, of course she got her knighthood back. As if the knights could refuse after watching her defeat Archedis while they lay on the ground drooling.)

I still wasn’t clear on what Archedis had done. From what I gather, the Mindstone was cut from the Worldspire. Like the spire, the Mindstone has the power to radiate energy and knowledge to everyone connected to it. Archedis had been able to resist the sundering as he’d cut himself off from the Mindstone earlier.

Either way, with both Bastille and Archedis being cut off—and with both wearing Warrior’s Lenses—their speed and strength had been equalized. And Bastille had beaten him. She’d won because of her skill and her tenacity, which I’d say are the more important indicators of knighthood. She’d worn her silvery armor virtually nonstop since it had been given back to her. A crystal sword hung from her back, newly bonded to Bastille.

“Can’t we get on with this?” she snapped. “Shattering Glass, Smedry. Your father is such a drama hog.”

I smiled. That was another sign she was feeling better—she was back to her usual charming self.

“What’s wrong with you?” she said, eyeing me. “Stop staring at me.”

“I’m not staring at you,” I said. “I’m having an internal monologue to catch the readers up on what has happened since the last chapter. It’s called a denouement.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then we can’t actually be having this conversation; it’s something you just inserted into the text while writing the book years later. It’s a literary device—the conversation didn’t exist.”

“Oh, right,” I said.

“You’re such a freak.”

Freak or not, I was happy. Yes, my mother escaped with the book. Yes, Swcbn escaped as well. But we caught Archedis, saved Mokia, and got back my father’s pair of Translator’s Lenses.

I’d shown them to him. He’d been surprised, had taken them back, then had returned to whatever important “work” it was he’d been doing this whole time. We were supposed to find out about it today; he was going to present his findings before the monarchs. Apparently he always revealed his discoveries this way.

So of course the place was a circus. No, literally. There was a circus outside the front of the palace to entertain the kids while their parents came in to listen to my father’s grand speech. The place was almost as packed as it had been during the treaty ratification.

Hopefully this time there would be fewer Librarian hijinks. (Those wacky Librarians and their hijinks.)

There were a large number of reporter types waiting in the outer reaches of the room, anticipating my father’s announcement. As I’d come to learn, anything involving the Smedry family was news to the Free Kingdomers. This news, however, was even more important.

The last time my father had held a session like this, he’d announced that he had discovered a way to collect the Sands of Rashid. The time before that, he’d explained that he’d broken the secret of Transporter’s Glass. People were expecting a lot from this speech.

I couldn’t help but feel that it was all just a little … bad for my father’s ego. I mean, a circus? Who gets a circus thrown for them?

I glanced at Bastille. “You dealt with this kind of stuff most of your childhood, didn’t you?”

“This kind of stuff?” she asked.

“Fame. Notoriety. People paying attention to everything you do.”

She nodded.

“So how did you deal with it?” I asked. “And not let it ruin you?”

“How do you know it didn’t ruin me?” she asked. “Aren’t princesses supposed to be nice and sweet and stuff like that? Wear pink dresses and tiaras?”

“Well…”

“Pink dresses,” Bastille said, her eyes narrowing. “Someone gave me a pink dress once. I burned it.”

Ah, I thought. That’s right; I forgot. Bastille got around fame’s touch by being a freaking psychopath.

“You’ll learn, lad,” Grandpa Smedry said from beside me. “It might take some time, but you’ll figure it out.”

“My father never did,” I said.

Grandpa Smedry hesitated. “Oh, well, I don’t know about that. I think he did for a while. Back around the time he got married. I just think he forgot.”

Around the time he got married. The words made me think of Folsom and Himalaya. We’d saved them seats, but they were late. As I looked around, I caught a glance of them working their way through the crowd. Grandpa Smedry waved enthusiastically, though they’d obviously already seen us.

But then, that’s Grandpa.

“Sorry,” Folsom said as he and his new wife seated themselves. “Getting some last-minute packing done.”

“You still determined to go through with this?” Grandpa Smedry asked.

Himalaya nodded. “We’re moving to the Hushlands. I think … well, there isn’t much I can do here for my fellow Librarians.”

“We’ll start an underground resistance for good Librarians,” Folsom said.