Valrigard's Travels: Freedom - Part 2

      The first thing that assaulted Valrigard’s senses was the sunlight that beamed into Meridell Castle from its many beautiful stained glass windows. The second was the sound of the hustle and bustle of the castle’s residents and visitors. Valrigard grimaced at them both. Was it always so bright and loud here?

     He felt Jeran’s strong paw clasp his shoulder once again. Valrigard looked up to see the Lupe grinning from pointed ear to pointed ear.

     “Welcome back to Meridell, Valrigard,” Jeran beamed.

     Valrigard couldn’t help but smile back, the sensation still feeling strange in the tiny scales that covered his face. He felt the cold steel of the jagged red sword pressing into his hip as he and Jeran walked out onto the marble floors. It had been strange to receive his favoured escape weapon as a “farewell gift” from the Grarrl guards, but he knew that if he had refused it, then he would never be able to get the guilty looks of the guards who had been less than kind to him in the past out of his head.

     Meridell Castle was as beautiful as Valrigard remembered. Cherry red carpets with gold trim lined the tiled floors, tastefully matching the blue-and-red checkerboard banners hanging from the stone walls. Neopets of all colours and species hustled about doing various chores and tasks. A few of them gave him a glance or a strange look, but none stopped to stare or talk, much to Valrigard’s relief. This was almost too much for him already. He had no idea what he would do, much less say, if a stranger approached him.

     Jeran led the Draik through familiar corridors, expertly dodging staff as they went. They eventually stopped at a massive set of dark oak doors.

     Valrigard felt his breath catch again. He knew these doors.

     Jeran gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping in front of the blue Draik to push the doors open. They groaned in protest, but complied to the strong knight in the end. Jeran strode confidently into the room before stepping off to the side, revealing Valrigard to one Neopet he never thought he’d see again:

     King Skarl I.

     The blue Skeith sat straight up in his throne, clawed hands clasping the arms of the seat. His furred red robe strained slightly against his bulging middle, and a gleaming golden crown sat between his pointed ears. His eyes narrowed as they bore right into Valrigard, and the Draik swallowed nervously.

     Feeling anxiety and confusion taking him over, Valrigard glanced over to Jeran for guidance. The Lupe met his eyes and gave a little jerk of his head to the side towards Skarl, indicating that Valrigard should step forward. Valrigard complied, trying to remember how he used to stride into the throne room in his nicked but strong armor.

     Instead of strong and confident, his gait was slinky and hesitant. He internally winced. Valrigard had spent too long sneaking around the dungeons. He had lost his knightly air.

     Covering up his embarrassment, Valrigard stopped halfway between the entry to the throne room and King Skarl and dropped to one knee, bowing his head respectfully to his king. He may not be very good at being a knight now, but he was still a loyal subject, despite his time in the dungeon.

     “Rise,” proclaimed King Skarl’s gruff voice.

     Valrigard obeyed, meeting his king’s gaze. Now that he was closer, he was able to get a better look at Skarl. To the average Neopet, King Skarl would look the same now as he did when Valrigard was first locked away. But the Draik had gained a trained eye from the time he spent observing guards’ mannerisms and memorising their schedules. He could see the stubble on King Skarl’s chin, the slight wrinkles around his frown, and the droop of his stomach.

     Valrigard furrowed his brow. His King looked... older.

     King Skarl raised an eyebrow at Valrigard’s expression, and the Draik hastily looked down again at the red carpet below his claws. Looks like his walk wasn’t the only thing the Draik couldn’t control nowadays. He felt a red tint rise to the scales of his cheeks.

     “Hmph,” was all King Skarl said in response, causing Valrigard to relax his shoulders and once again meet his king’s gaze.

     The Skeith rose from the throne before walking up to Valrigard. “Valrigard the Traitor,” he boomed.

     Valrigard straightened his back.

     “As I’m sure Sir Jeran has informed you, we have looked into your arrest back during our first war with Darigan Citadel.”

     Wait, first war...?

     “Through our research and the screening of all those who work under me, we have determined that you are not the one who sent intelligence over to Lord Darigan during the war. Instead, the culprit was found to be Sir Tarvon, who has been tried and will be punished for his crimes against Meridell.”

     A timid-looking Yellow Kacheek in a blue robe walked quickly out from around the corner of the throne and held a gleaming golden sceptre topped with a red ruby out to the king. Taking it in one paw, King Skarl raised it above Valrigard, and the Draik immediately bowed his head low.

     “I hereby pardon you of all crimes, by my power as the King of Meridell!” Skarl’s voice echoed around the chamber as he tapped the sceptre to one of Valrigard’s shoulders and then the other. “Rise, free Draik,” he added in a quieter but still rough voice.

     Valrigard obeyed once again.

     His gaze not leaving Valrigard’s face, King Skarl held out the sceptre behind him and dropped it. The Kacheek from before barely caught it midair before hustling away once again.

     Looking over his former knight, King Skarl’s eyes softened. “I won’t lie, Valrigard. You look like something the Meowclops dragged in.”

     Valrigard chuckled weakly. He felt like something an entire team of Meowclops dragged in.

     King Skarl sighed before placing a claw on Valrigard’s shoulder. The Draik looked at it in surprise.

     “Son,” King Skarl muttered so that only Valrigard could hear him. “If you need anything... Let me know.” He released his paw from a shocked Valrigard and turned back towards his throne. Valrigard had to strain his ears to hear what his king added:

     “And Valrigard?”

     “Yes-” Valrigard paused to clear his throat and remove some of the strain from his voice. “Yes, sire?”

     “I am truly sorry.”

     The Skeith made his way back to his throne, leaving Valrigard with his jaw hanging open for a second time that day. King Skarl I hoisted himself back in his worn seat and leaned his cheek against one paw while waiving the other dismissively. “Now go enjoy your freedom somewhere else. I have a lot of waiting Neopets to see.”

     Valrigard felt like his paws were glued to the floor. It wasn’t until Jeran placed a paw on his shoulder that he realised he hadn’t yet followed orders. “Come on, Valrigard,” Jeran said softly, and he gently led the shell-shocked Draik out of the throne room.

     * * *

     “And then,” Valrigard choked out before erupting into a fit of coughs. All of this talking was beginning to wear out his dusty voice box. He took a swig of water from the wooden cup that Jeran had provided along with a hot meal in the castle dining hall. “And then the king apologised? To me?” He clutched his head with one claw. “I still can’t believe today is real.”

     Jeran chuckled. “Well, you’d better get used to it. This is going to be your new normal soon enough.” He gestured to the castle around him.

     Valrigard paused in the middle of scooping up more steaming mashed potatoes with gravy off of his plate and into his mouth. “What do you mean by that?”

     Jeran quirked an eyebrow. “I mean, you were a knight. One of the best ones.”

     Valrigard looked puzzled.

     “I assumed you were going to pursue that again? Knighthood?” Valrigard’s expression stayed and Jeran’s grew embarrassed. “I’m sorry, did I assume too much?”

     Valrigard shoved his suspended spoon into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully on his second hearty meal that hour. “Hmm,” he muttered after swallowing the potatoes. “Honestly, I hadn’t really thought about what to do after clearing my name. I had a plan to expose Sir Tarvon’s lies, but all of that was tossed when you told me why you were visiting me in the dungeons.”

     Jeran looked thoughtful. “Well,” he mused, scratching his scruffy chin with one paw. “I’ve already caught you up on the basics of what happened in Meridell during the war against Lord Kass, but a lot more has happened to Neopia since then.”

     It was now Valrigard’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Such as...?”

     Jeran chuckled. “Where do I even begin?” His laughter then slowly subsided as his brow wrinkled in thought. “Actually... Where do I even begin?”

     The meals in Valrigard’s stomach suddenly felt very heavy. “It’s been that long?”

     “Pardon?”

     Valrigard grew serious. “That long since I’ve been in prison. So long that you’re having trouble thinking of what else has happened since then.”

     Jeran said nothing, but his eyes betrayed his guilt.

     Valrigard sighed deeply. When his memories were failing him earlier that day, he had accepted that it could have been countless years since his arrest. The thought of missing out on so many historical events and experiences in the world stung, but it didn’t break his heart. After all, he was free now. He could make his own events and experiences out in Neopia.

     Then it dawned on him.

     “Jeran,” Valrigard said excitedly, jumping up from his seat at their table. “I know what I want to do with my freedom!”

     Jeran had nearly toppled over backwards from his friend’s sudden outburst. “A-and that is...?” he asked.

     “Travel!”

     Jeran tilted his head like a confused Baby Lupe before a look of realisation came over him. “That’s brilliant, Valrigard!” He grinned, and Valrigard just barely saw the Lupe’s tail wagging excitedly before Jeran grabbed the fluffy betrayer of emotions.

     Valrigard grinned back, feeling his enthusiasm over the concept of seeing the world filling his heart. He had never left Meridell even before his imprisonment, and he had been trapped in the dark for so long, just the idea of going anywhere in Neopia made him tremble in excitement. “I’ll leave today,” he told Jeran. “No, I’ll leave right now. Thank you, Jeran, for all your help.” The Draik grabbed Jeran’s paw and shook it rapidly over the table before starting towards the entrance to the dining hall.

     Jeran’s concerned voice called out, “Wait, Valrigard! You were just released today, you need to-”

     The voice suddenly sounded very far away as the ground rose up to meet Valrigard, and the Draik went clattering to the floor.

     “...Rest.”

     Valrigard’s head swam as Jeran helped him up from the ground. “Y-yes,” he muttered, clutching his brow. “Perhaps you’re right.” His limbs suddenly felt like they were made of lead as sweat dripped down his temple. Was it always this hot in the dining hall?

     Valrigard felt Jeran place one of his arms over his armored shoulders. “Come on, we have a spare room ready for you.” The Draik’s vision and consciousness grew fuzzy as Jeran led him up a flight of stairs and into a small bedroom. The Lupe helped Valrigard into a plush bed covered in fresh sheets. The soft sensation of the pillow and mattress felt strange to Valrigard, but still distantly familiar. When was the last time that he had slept in a real bed?

     “Sleep well, Valrigard,” he heard Jeran say as his eyelids began to close. “Call out if you need anything. We’re all here to help you.”

     Valrigard managed to get out a weak nod before sleep overtook him.

     To be continued…