At this point, both Peter and Tank were busy trying to stuff two fingers into their mouths in a mock attempt at making themselves sick. Richie looked at them both and said,
"So Flash, tell me... what makes you want to hang around with these two kids?"
Flash laughed. It was something he rarely ever did, or at least used to do. More and more of late he found himself genuinely laughing... and it felt good, despite the fact that he was stuck in this wretched form.
"You of all dragons, Richie, should appreciate there's more to these two, and yourself, than meets the eye. To use your own words... you're all my kind of dragons, so to speak."
And so the fun began, with the game starting, but not before Peter had taken all the fake money back and made Richie (now the banker) count it all out fairly. After only about ninety minutes, it was evident that only one dragon was going to win... Richie, of course. Peter was the first out; at the point where he had to sell all his property back to the bank he gave in, much to the others' disappointment. It was Tank next, and as usual he conceded defeat with the good grace that had always been part of him. Flash lasted the longest, and for a while (well, only really a few moments) it looked like he might give Richie a run for her money, but simply put, she trounced each and every one of them, something Peter and Tank were used to, and something that Flash was very much starting to get the hang of.
Game over, and with nobody wanting to start again after such a clear cut victory, Flash and Tank kicked back, watching the television. Meanwhile, Richie joined Peter in the kitchen to top up the snack and drink situation. Peter got the distinct impression that there was something on Richie's mind that she wanted to talk to him about. Finishing popping some crisps into a large bowl with a whole load of others of all different flavours, in a kind of crisp Russian roulette, he watched as she walked right up to him.
"Peter," she whispered, "there's something I need to tell you."
"Sure Rich... what's up?" he responded, noticing her gaze fall from his face, down towards his chest. Gently she slipped a finger just inside his open necked shirt and carefully pulled the alea he was wearing, out from its hiding place.
"Ohhh... I'd almost forgotten all about this," she said dreamily. "You can almost feel its power, its history, the souls of the dragons that created it."
"Come off it Rich... you're having a laugh aren't you? The souls of the dragons that created it... really?"
"Are you telling me you can't feel anything from it Pete? Nothing at all? Nothing special? Not... anything?"
Part of him wanted to say yes, wanted to tell her that it was just like any normal modern day jewellery, and that he only wore it because it looked good, but he knew in an instant that it was impossible for him to lie, especially to her.
"No... there's certainly something that I can't explain radiating off it... but the souls of the dragons who created it? I'm pretty sure that's not it. And anyway, what makes you think it is? It's an odd thing to even consider, let alone say out loud," he said, trying to make light of the situation.
With that dreamy look on her face, Richie thought for a moment before saying,
"It's just that when I touch it, and look at it at the same time... that's when it screams out at me. I can see the dragons shaping the jewels, heating the metal, composing the mantras. It's almost as if I were there with them, witnessing it all for real. It sends shivers up my spine, my arms, my tail. I don't know how else to describe it."
Gently Peter uncurled Richie's fingers and tucked the alea and its chain back down behind his shirt, letting the dreamy look on Richie's face fade away, bringing her back to the present from somewhere in the past.
"The reason I wanted to talk to you..." she started. But before she could continue, Peter put his finger up to her lips.
"Shhhhhh," he whispered, grabbing her by the hand, leading her out into the hallway, without either Tank or Flash noticing. Still holding her hand, he guided her up the stairs and opened the door to his bedroom.
"Gosh Peter," she exclaimed. "This is all so unexpected. What's Janice going to think?"
It was only then that it dawned on him exactly how this could be taken to be something that it wasn't.
"Uhhh... well... ummm... well... I... ummm... errr... well... it's... um... not... er..."
Richie gave him a huge slap on the back.
"I know it's nothing like that! Come on Pete... where's your sense of humour?"
Well aware that he could probably have lit up half the town if his face looked only half as red as it felt, he gave a smile that appeared more like a grimace.
"Sorry Rich... I know. Just wasn't thinking, that's all."
"No harm done," she replied. "So why exactly am I here in this notorious den of iniquity?"
"Ahhhh... hang on a minute."
Clambering over his double bed, he jumped down onto the floor and opened up one of the doors to the wardrobe beyond, proceeding then to rummage around inside. After a little rustling and a few clothes being thrown on the floor, he began to pull out something altogether heavier. It was his grandfather's chest.
"Give us a hand will you, Rich?"
She came round to join him, and together they heaved the chest up onto the bed.
"I really wanted you to see this."
"I bet you use that line on all the laddiieeeesss you bring up here. Is that what worked on Janice? Do you want to come back to my house and see my... CHEST?!!!"
Even Peter thought that was funny, with the two of them laughing until tears rolled down their faces. Wiping away the moisture, he explained what it was and all about the king giving it to him, also telling her that nobody but the king knew what it contained, not even Tank or Flash.
One by one, Peter pulled all the objects out of the chest, placing them carefully on the bed, unable to hide the pride he felt for his grandfather when showing Richie the Flaming Cross. It wasn't often that Richie was lost for words, but she was and gave her friend a big hug, telling him what a wonderful dragon his grandfather must have been.
Skipping through the robes, the canister of 'Fox's Igniting Scale Enhancer' and the two giant sticks of charcoal, he pulled out the half sheet of newspaper. Reluctantly he explained what the king had told him about his parents. Richie sat and listened intently, well aware of how much pain it was causing her friend to even talk about the subject. If she'd been amazed at the revelation about the Flaming Cross, she was shocked to the core about Peter's parents supposedly colluding with the Nazis. More than a few tears were shed by Peter in telling the story, but it was only when he shared the burden he'd bottled up with one of his best friends that he realised the weight he'd been carrying and just quite how much it had been bothering him. Reaching into the, by now, almost empty chest, he pulled out something tiny, wrapped in a clean, but old piece of tissue paper and handed it to his friend.
"For you. I really want you to have it. I haven't had the opportunity to give it to you before now."
Slowly and carefully, Richie unwrapped the tissue paper, curious to see what it was. Like buses, the surprises were coming all at once today. Letting the tissue paper float to the floor, she held up the alea directly in front of her, allowing it to twirl of its own accord from the end of the silvery chain.
"I'm not sure I understand Pete. Why do you have two?"
He went on to explain how the one he was wearing had belonged to his grandfather and was identical in every way to the one that Mark Hiscock had left him in his will.