It is usually logical to assume logical things.
V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet
How could it be a fake?
Simple. It was built as a fake.
Rats and a Heifer!
King Arthur was a cunning rat. If indeed he was the one that faked it.
But first things first. Otherwise, the second and third things start to try and fight for first place. Never a good thing, you know, you know.
Anyways and some, the tavern was ugly.
I looked for a place to hide.
There was none.
It’d be a battle.
The door swung open behind me, and I turned in slow motion–sorta like in the movies.
But standing in the doorway wasn’t Mr. Magi…
…it was Fats Henry.
And he was huge, and huge, and scowling, and huge.
He was also carrying a bat with spikes.
The professor stood his ground, of course, and drew out the katana with plastic jewels. It might’ve been a fake, but it was still steel. Which is far better than steal still.
I picked off a fake ruby from the hilt.
“Well, well,” Fats Henry boomed.
A hush fell upon the tavern. Not that there were many people there. But still, they hushed right up like a bunch of olives in a salad of fruit.
(Olives are intimidated by fruit, see, that’s why they hush. Mindeth-never.)
“Who would’ve thought I’d run into you here, huh?“ Henry swiped at me with his bat.
The professor dodged and I chucked the fake ruby at him. It bounced off his head.
“I bet you did,” I said. “After all, you saw me land here, I do believe. And you came looking here.”
The professor threw an emerald this time.
“What?!” Henry roared. “I always knew you were rich, but not rich enough to waste precious gems! Now give me the katana!!”
And he swung again, but I caught it on the sword this time. Henry thought this was the real katana. An interest.
We entered into an intense battle of swordplay. Well, batplay for Fats.
Now, the thing is, Mr. Magi entered soon after Fats Henry did.
He came barging right through, like a bison to a party.
“What…” he sputtered. “Enough of this!”
And out came his cane.
Which is bad.
It’s sorta like a wand, don’t you see. And sometimes he does things with it he doesn’t mean to do.
He swung it once, twice, then thrice.
“Oh no!” Henry yelled, ducking for cover.
“Professor VJ Duke, you handsome bastard,” I said, “run.”
(Sometimes I have speaks with myself. Helps me stay motivated, see.)
But it was all fruitful. Wait. Fruitless. It was all fruitless. Yes, that’s it.
There was a flash, a twinkle.
And then the professor found himself inside Prince Beef’s palace.
Clara Higgins was standing right there.
She dropped the tea cup she was carrying.