After a couple of minutes pondering the nature of all this, he took off the alea left to him by Mark Hiscock and replaced it with the one left to him by his grandfather. It felt exactly the same, the weight against his chest, the slight tingling sensation as it brushed against his skin, everything. Putting the spare alea safely inside his wallet, unsure of exactly what to do with it, he set off to find the king and see how things were progressing with Flash.
On entering the main room of the king's residence, the first thing that struck Peter was that it was a far cry from the relative quiet he'd left an hour and a half ago. Gee Tee was barking orders at different members of the King's Guards who all seemed to be dropping off one item or another, with Tank doing his very best to control his employer's distinct lack of manners. Yoyo was leant over Flash on the sofa, keeping a sharp eye on the Crimson Guard's condition. All the time the king stood watching in disbelief as the once spotless room looked very much like a bomb had gone off in it.
Skirting the edge of the room until he reached the monarch, Peter stood and waited until the king was ready to speak. It didn't take long.
"Never in all my time have I felt like I was going insane, but I do now. Those idiot councillors drive me mad sometimes, but this, this is... just crazy. I swear he must be doing this on purpose, no doubt exacting his revenge for me not having gone to see him for all this time."
Not knowing what to say, Peter kept quiet.
"Aaarrgggghhhh," moaned the king under his breath, as across the room, the old shopkeeper found something else to complain about.
Suddenly Peter wished he were anywhere but here.
Shaking his head and wiping his eyes, the king turned to look at him.
"Sorry," he whispered. "It's just that this is my most... private of places. Where I come to when I want to unwind, relax, just think. It's all so hard to take in. Anyway, how did you get on with the... trunk?"
"There are some things I'd really like to ask you about if that's okay," he replied, really not sure if this was a good time.
"Of course, of course," replied the king, buoyed. "Let's go and have a look now and you can ask me what you like... lead the way."
Peter headed back through to the bedroom, followed hotly by the king who seemed determined to get away from the chaos of the main room as quickly as possible.
Upon entering, the first thing the king noticed was the small metal canister on the floor by the side of the trunk.
"Well I'll be..." he uttered. "It can't be, can it? I haven't seen this stuff in well over fifty years," he recounted, picking up the canister and turning it over and over in his hands. "Ohhh... it is, it is," he cried jubilantly. "'Fox's Igniting Scale Enhancer,'" mused the monarch, a faraway look in his eyes. "This is the stuff of legend Peter. As far as I know, they stopped making it some time ago. If you want your scales to look their best, then this is the stuff for you."
"I've never heard of it."
"Not surprising really," replied the king, a little sadly. "Its creator died about half a century ago. Fox, as it states on the bottle, was a genius... oh he had a few other potions and gimmicks on the market, but this was..." said the king, holding up the canister, "this was the real deal. I've never seen or heard of anything like it to this very day. Others have tried in vain to recreate it, all with little or no success."
Peter was surprised that such a simple thing could provoke such a passionate reaction from the king. With a twist from his strong, worn hands, the monarch unscrewed the cap and inhaled deeply.
"Ahhhh," he sighed. "Reminds me of the good old days." Offering out the canister so that Peter could have a whiff, the youngster shook his head at the invitation.
"Don't know what you're missing," ventured the king. Peter declined once again.
"Anyhow, just so that you know, to use it, you pour a little on, and then work it in until it turns to lather. Covering your whole self like this, you let it dry. Once dried, it's time for the good part. You just simply ignite it with your flame and wwwhumpfffff, the whole thing goes up in flames, eventually burning out. When it does, you'll have the best looking scales in the kingdom, I guarantee."
Nodding, intrigued, Peter wondered if he would have the courage to try using it at any point.
"Anyhow, I take it from the look on your face that this wasn't what you wanted to ask me about," put in the king, lowering the canister back to the floor.
"Ummmm, no, not exactly."
Picking up the frame containing his grandfather's Flaming Cross medal, he handed it across.
"I'd hoped you could tell me more about this."
Looking through the smoky glass at the medal inside, the king took his time, reading all the words.
"Oh my goodness... I... I... had no idea... but... now it makes... so much sense... of course... it was... him," spluttered the monarch.
Peter sat there shocked, until he engaged his brain.
'Of course,' he thought, 'it was the previous king that awarded that medal. Why didn't I realise that?'
Turning to Peter, the king handed him back the frame and said,
"You should be very proud of him, he was a great dragon. We all knew someone, around that time, had been awarded one of these, but no one seemed to know just who it was. Back then, I spent part of my time on the council, and part with the King's Guards. There were rumours of someone receiving one of these, but the odd thing was, no dragon ever started showing it off. Most would have, believe you me. It was something to be proud of and let others know about, but I suppose your grandfather was different like that, in a good way of course. Thinking back on it now, I really should have guessed it was him and called him on it. I feel a bit stupid. It seems so obvious now."
"He was a very private dragon then?"
"Private and modest," replied the king. "Sorely missed," added the king, wiping a tear from his eye. "Anything else you'd like me to have a look at?"
"Two more things if that's okay?"
"Fire away."
Picking up the dagger wrapped in rags and holding it as far out in front of him as possible, he offered it to the king.
"Once you unwrap it Majesty, it is incredibly powerful... be careful," he suggested.
The king gave Peter a look.
"What did I tell you? When we're alone, please call me George."
"Sorry I forgot."
"No problem," said the king, smiling. "And don't worry about powerful. The ring," he announced, lifting up his hand to show off the dazzling band, "does more than just store mana, it protects me from almost any magical harm."
Peter looked more than a little sceptical.
"Not convinced I see," declared the king. "It's okay, I'll be just fine," he said taking the bundle from Peter and putting it on his lap. Just like Peter had earlier, the king carefully unwound the rags until a sliver of metal appeared. And just like his young charge, the king pulled out the dagger as soon as he saw it. His eyes nearly sprang out of their sockets once the weapon was fully revealed. Holding it out in one hand, he turned it over and over, inspecting it fully, clearly not affected by its power, much to Peter's relief.
Both sat in silence for a matter of minutes, the king taking in every jewel and detail of the dagger. Not for the first time, Peter didn't know what to say, and so decided to say nothing at all, lest he utter something stupid or inappropriate. He was still largely intimidated by the king's presence, despite the time spent with him at Salisbridge hospital and the king's best efforts to put him at ease and make him feel welcome.