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As
for
the
lad
.
.
.
he
was
a
distant
cousin
,
keen
and
vain
,
and
stupid
in
a
passably
aristocratic
way
.
Currently
he
was
under
guard
in
a
distant
farmhouse
,
with
an
adequate
supply
of
drink
and
several
young
ladies
,
although
what
the
boy
seemed
most
interested
in
was
mirrors
.
Probably
hero
material
,
the
Supreme
Grand
Master
thought
glumly
.
"
I
suppose
,
"
said
Brother
Watchtower
,
"
that
he
isn
’
t
the
real
air
to
the
throne
?
"
"
What
do
you
mean
?
"
said
the
Supreme
Grand
Master
.
"
Well
,
you
know
how
it
is
.
Fate
plays
funny
tricks
.
Haha
.
It
’
d
be
a
laugh
,
wouldn
’
t
it
,
"
said
Brother
Watchtower
,
"
if
this
lad
turned
out
to
be
the
real
king
.
After
all
this
trouble
-
"
"
There
is
no
real
king
any
more
!
"
snapped
the
Supreme
Grand
Master
.
"
What
do
you
expect
?
Some
people
wandering
in
the
wilderness
for
hundreds
and
hundreds
of
years
,
patiently
handing
down
a
sword
and
a
birthmark
?
Some
sort
of
magic
?
"
He
spat
the
word
.
He
’
d
make
use
of
magic
,
means
to
an
end
,
end
justifies
means
and
so
forth
,
but
to
go
around
believing
it
,
believing
it
had
some
sort
of
moral
force
,
like
logic
,
made
him
wince
.
"
Good
grief
,
man
,
be
logical
!
Be
rational
.
Even
if
any
of
the
old
royal
family
survived
,
the
blood
line
’
d
be
so
watered
down
by
now
that
there
must
be
thousands
of
people
who
lay
claim
to
the
throne
.
Even
-
"
he
tried
to
think
of
the
least
likely
claimant
-
"
even
someone
like
Brother
Dunny
-
kin
.
"
He
stared
at
the
assembled
Brethren
.
"
Don
’
t
see
him
here
tonight
,
by
the
way
.
"
"
Funny
thing
,
that
,
"
said
Brother
Watchtower
thoughtfully
.
"
Didn
’
t
you
hear
?
"
"
What
?
"
"
He
got
bitten
by
a
crocodile
on
his
way
home
last
night
.
Poor
little
bugger
.
"
"
What
?
"
