Having opened the door, he found himself face to face with a very plain looking, dark haired human in brown overalls, holding a small box about the size of a tin of biscuits. His first thought was that it couldn't possibly be his trunk, as it was way too small for that. But then the delivery dragon smiled and said,
"I was ordered to make sure the package was safely inside your house before I got you to sign for it."
Not able to sense any kind of deception, quite the opposite in fact, he let the delivery dragon into the hallway. On doing so, he glanced over his shoulder and noticed the van parked right outside. In bright white letters on a dark brown background, it read 'Majestic Deliveries.' Peter chuckled to himself.
'The king certainly has a sense of humour, that's for sure,' he thought as he followed the dragon into the living room.
"How are you today sir?" asked the delivery driver, placing the package on the floor, smack bang in the middle of the room.
"Uhhh... fine, thanks for asking."
Taking a step back, the dragon mumbled something Peter couldn't quite make out, and for a split second, a bright white all encompassing light engulfed the entire room. Instinctively he'd closed his eyes. When he opened them, his grandfather's trunk sat there right in front of him. Turning to face the delivery dragon who was sporting a huge grin, Peter said,
"Thanks."
"You're welcome," replied the dragon. "Can I trouble you for a signature please?"
Peter signed for the package, showed the dragon out, and then returned to the trunk, eager to check out its contents once again.
As he opened the lid, the old hinges gave a laboured squeak. Inside the contents had been neatly rearranged, he assumed by the king himself. On top of everything lay a handwritten note. It read:
Everything is here and accounted for. Please keep the item we talked about 'safe' as mentioned. I apologise for the interruption on Sunday. I was really keen to spend some quality time with you and your friends as I so rarely have visitors but it wasn't to be... sorry. I hope you are recovering well. Your physician constantly updates me on your progress and I know he's working tirelessly to find a cure for the minor ailments that persist in causing you pain. Anyway, as I'm sure you can understand I must go now... there's a lot to do if you know what I mean, and I'm sure you do, especially with regard to your grandfather. By the way, Flash sends his regards. We're still in the process of getting him settled but he says once he is relocated he will drop by and see you and Tank. Any support you can give him would be appreciated because as you well know, he's been through quite an ordeal, much like yourself, and I think it will be some time before everything that's happened has sunk in.
Take care my young friend.
George.
Peter felt a little sad for the king. He seemed so... lonely. It was hard to imagine really: all that power, surrounded by all those other dragons and yet so alone. On that note his thoughts turned inward towards his grandfather. Lonely didn't begin to cover it from Flash's description. How could anyone or anything do that to another sentient being? How had his grandfather survived all this time without going mad? Peter was pretty sure he'd have gone insane a long time ago, but from Flash's description, his grandfather had seemed mentally sharp and had aided in the Crimson Guard's escape. Tears welled up inside him at the thought of a mighty dragon like his grandfather being held somewhere like that.
'Possibly the most brutal place on the planet for a dragon,' he reflected, wiping the tears away with the sleeve of his jumper before they dropped into the trunk.
'I will get to meet him,' he vowed through gritted teeth, 'even if I have to take Tank and Richie to Antarctica to rescue him myself.'
A shrill ringing abruptly interrupted all thoughts of a snowy rescue. Following the noise, he picked up his vibrating phone from the kitchen table, pressed the green answer button and said,
"Hello?"
"Where are you then?" asked a familiar voice.
'Pants,' thought Peter.
"I'm really sorry. Where are you?"
"Richie and I are on the platform at Salisbridge, ready to board the monorail," replied Tank, just a hint of frustration in his voice.
Closing his eyes, Peter banged the palm of his free hand against his forehead.
"I'll be there in two minutes," he assured his friend, before hanging up abruptly.
Grabbing everything he needed, he sprinted into the living room, vaulted over his grandfather's trunk, yanked the Galileo thermometer back as far as it would go, and with the piano swinging out towards him, disappeared into the small, dark gap that appeared behind it. Rushing down the winding metal staircase two steps at a time, stubbing his toe in haste, he was in too much of a rush to even let out a curse. Triggering the hidden lock that opened the door to the hidden world of the dragons, he sprinted down the path, jumped the wall and continued on at full speed towards the station. Swerving in and out of the other dragons at full pelt, frantically he searched for his friends. Finally he spotted them... sitting on a dragon sized bench on one side of the plaza, stuffing their faces by the looks of things. Peter pulled up abruptly, breathing heavily.
"Sorry I'm late," he puffed.
"That's okay," replied Richie, chewing on a charcoal doughnut.
"We decided to get a bite to eat while we were waiting," added Tank, knowing full well that Peter was probably hungry, as he nearly always was.
"Great," ventured Peter, forcing a smile, still out of breath.
"Don't be like that," declared Richie.
"Yeah," said Tank. "Or we won't let you have this," he added, producing a freshly cooked charcoal fajita from somewhere out of view and offering it to his friend. Instantly Peter's eyes lit up.
"I don't deserve you two," he said, gratefully accepting the fajita.
"I think he's probably right," stated Richie, turning to Tank and raising her eyebrows.
Tank coughed and spluttered, trying dragonfully not to spit out the huge mouthful of charcoal kebab he'd just taken as he struggled to stifle a laugh. This started the other two off, and within seconds all three of them were splitting their sides with laughter, much to the bemusement of all the dragons around them in the busy plaza.
Ten minutes later, the three friends boarded the monorail, excited at the prospect of watching a laminium ball match for the first time in ages. Today was a league match against the Colwyn Bay Buccaneers, a team currently fourth in the league, compared with a paltry eleventh place out of thirteen for the Indigo Warriors. The match itself was taking place at the amazing Seabed Arena in Porthpean near St Austell in Cornwall. With a massive 150,000 capacity, the newly refurbished stadium was one of the jewels in the crown of the BLB (British Laminium Board).
To get there, the three friends first had to journey to Taunton, and then on to Plymouth, via Exeter. There the monorail would head straight across to St Austell where it was just a short walk to the entrance of the Seabed Arena which was situated below the village of Porthpean. Extending well out across St Austell bay, the arena itself covered an area of approximately ten square miles.
Squeezing up next to each other in the tightly packed carriage, Richie leant in towards her friends and asked,
"How did it go on Sunday?" This was accompanied by her usual conspiratorial wink.
Knowing that however quietly he responded, all the other dragons with their enhanced senses would still be able to hear his reply, Peter decided to try and be as cryptic and vague as possible.