Six weeks ago my best friend Liam and I had been sent on a quest, by the king himself, for a simple chest. We had traveled all over Ireland and finally found it had been buried at the mouth of a cave in the north.
So here we stood on our last day with nothing still.
"Liam, how are we going to do this? There are only twelve hours left before the dead line."
"Calm down, Clara, we have time." He smiled at me. It was that grateful and content smile. Oh, why did he have to do that? It only irritated me more and he knew that.
I groaned, "Still", throwing my canister on the ground.
At the same time, we turned our heads slowly, as if in slow motion. Neither of us spoke as he dug out the chest.
It was a beautiful solid oak with Irish carvings covering the walls. Several charms and symbols surrounded the center in a gold outline. A lock sealing it from damage and a person's wandering eyes. , but that wasn't what made me gasp. No, it was the royal crest in the center, the king's crest.