I’ve always thought dragons and lawyers have been badly treated.
When I see a dragon, it’s usually being attacked by St George and skewered
with a lance. Lawyers are criticised for defending people the public have
condemned already in their own minds.
I decided to write a fairy tale about a dragon who becomes a lawyer to help
the sentient beings who’ve not been treated well in the fairy tales of yore.
Of course, this can only take place in a parallel universe to our own where
those fairy tale characters try to make the best of things for themselves.
When they need or want legal help, Wendy Draig is now there for them.
Wendy is the Dragon Lawyer who tilts the Scales of Justice in favour of the
underdog, undercat, and every other member of the underclass.
Buy the book here for $1.99 USD
This is Chapter 3
Wendy was pleased she’d gathered more evidence to use against Prince Charmless and his family. After arriving in The Next Town, she gave the papers to the court and filed a complaint with the sheriff’s office regarding Prince Charmless and his family. Wendy then had a look around town, in particular the shops selling materials and cloth, before she headed to the home of the boy who first broke the news story that the Emperor’s New Clothes were in fact no clothes at all.
The boy needed a lawyer to defend him against the charge of telling untruths about the state of dress of the head of state and impugning the reputation of the two tailors who had created the clothes for the head of state. Wendy walked down the garden path admiring the well-tended borders with their miniature pansies and arrived at the brick-built house. She picked up the brass knocker and rapped it on the stout oak front door, which was soon opened by a small boy with freckles and a cheeky grin, showing white teeth and healthy gums.
‘Are you Wendy, the lawyer who’s a small dragon?’ asked the boy.
‘I am,’ she said and smiled.
‘Can you fly and can you burn things? Can you make me some toast?’ asked Cedric with a hopeful look on his face.
‘I can’t fly, and I’ve learned to control the fire breathing,’ replied Wendy. ‘Starting fires is easier than putting them out and people don’t like being singed and having their eyebrows burnt off.’
‘That sounds exciting,’ said Cedric.
‘It’s not really, it can be painful. Anyway, are you the little boy who saw through the emperor’s clothes and told everyone?’
‘I am,’ said the boy. ‘He wasn’t very pleased with me, and I think I might have been done away with if the Ugly Duckling hadn’t been with me. As you know, the Ugly Duckling is really a swan, but everyone shuns him because they think he’s a small duck. The Ugly Duckling, who’s really a swan, escorted me away before the emperor’s men could catch me. However, this meant that it was easy to follow me home, and I had to admit it was me when confronted by the emperor’s representatives.’
‘That’s a very detailed analysis and I’m glad you mentioned the Ugly Duckling, who’s really a swan, as there’s another example of people not recognising the evidence of their own eyes and persisting with a thought or belief that makes little sense. You did the public a service and they ought to be thanking you for it, not prosecuting you.’
‘The trial is tomorrow. It’s been fast-tracked because of the nature of the complaint, but we can have the Ugly Duckling as a witness.’
Wendy contemplated this idea. ‘That might be a good idea, although the Ugly Duckling might also be useful as an exhibit, for the reasons I just gave. I’ll think about it. How close were you to the emperor, by the way, were you looking through a crowd or at the front?’
‘I was at the front. Being small has its uses sometimes.’
‘Yes, I understand …ah, here are your parents, Don and Angela, isn’t it? I’m Wendy.’
‘Hello, Wendy, yes that’s us,’ said Angela, trying not to let anxiety show in her blue eyes. ‘We’re so pleased you can help us defend Cedric here against the emperor’s lawyers who are making all kinds of stupid allegations about his loyalty, that he’s working for a foreign power, and his lack of diplomatic skills.’
‘His defence is that he’s telling the truth and that those two tailors, or so-called tailors anyway, are charlatans who can’t deny under oath that they created an invisible cloth especially if we ask them to provide a sample of this cloth and show it to the court. If we can do that and make sure the emperor doesn’t lose face, then we should do well.’
‘There’s nothing to worry about then?’ asked Don, taking off his glasses and rubbing them on his jumper.
‘No, I don’t believe there is,’ replied Wendy. ‘I really don’t because Cedric told the truth and exposed everyone else’s prejudices. Besides, who will not fall in love with his cheeky smile?’
Cedric’s face lit up like early morning sunshine reflecting from a golden plate.
‘Well, let’s see what tomorrow brings and we’ll try to remain optimistic,’ said Angela.
Wendy waved au revoir and headed back into the centre. She sensed Cedric’s parents were nervous and she knew why as they were up against The Establishment, and you can never quite be sure what tricks they would get up to if they were so inclined. Wendy found the Ugly Duckling looking pleased with himself on a local swan pond. Wendy showed the bird a list of the prosecution witnesses who were going to be called and the Ugly Duckling said that all of them had referred to him as the Ugly Duckling rather than a swan, which is what he was. The bird said he was prepared to be both a witness and an exhibit if it would help Cedric.
Wendy had booked into The Cat and Fiddle Hotel on the main street in The Next Town. She went to her room and gave the tabby cat sitting on the writing desk some catnip, so it would be happy to play the fiddle for ten minutes while she unpacked and had a shower. The cat played the fiddle as a human would play the cello and soon she was hearing Stravinsky’s Cat Lullabies, adapted for the violin, in the background as the hot water cascaded over her.
After the shower and drying, Wendy got dressed into her non-work clothing, treated two blisters she’d created today with her long walks, and then went into the bar, where she selected a corner red leather seat with a view of the street. She ordered a pint of the best bitter and the hottest Sri Lankan curry from the menu.
The moustachioed waiter studied her closely. ‘That’s an extremely hot curry you’ve ordered there. It’s five peppers out of five.’
‘That’ll be fine. I like hot spicy food and that curry sounds perfect for me.’
‘You’re the lady lawyer, aren’t you?’ said the waiter, looking around before placing himself delicately on a stool next to Wendy. ‘Many people in these parts can’t wait to meet you as they hope you’ll represent them in the courts. They reckon they can’t trust the local lawyers who are in the pockets of the landowners and gentry.’
‘Well, if you wouldn’t mind, please ask anyone who wants me to represent them to leave a message with reception here at the hotel and I’ll contact them,’ whispered Wendy.
The waiter winked conspiratorially before rising. In a stage whisper, he said, ‘Certainly, madam, I’ll get that straight away.’
The waiter soon brought over the bitter on a silver tray. He took a white towel he was carrying and polished the surface of Wendy’s table. He placed the bitter on a beer mat depicting the name of the hotel.
‘That is on the house,’ he said, tapping the side of his aquiline nose.
Chapter 4 will appear on Substack on 8th May
Julian Worker Fiction 