Mesozoic Knights
It shone lustrously, feverishly, sun-painted red and gold, as though it were on fire—the Gateway to the West (although for us it opened eastward); the towering landmark that meant we had arrived at our destination, our Court of Pelles and Eliazar. Even so, it wasn’t the great arch of St. Louis that had compelled us—Sirs Mortigen, Black Duncan and myself—to ride some 1,500 miles (all the way from Ambergard in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho to the Missouri/Illinois border, on unshod horses), but, rather, the edict of King Craxis—who, having listened to the newcomer’s account (about what he had seen in St. Louis) had, at the behest of Mercurius, dispatched five of his knights—two of whom were now dead—to return physical proof of what the vagabond had (supposedly) seen.
And yet it was
