Little Devil
The following takes place following: The Shadow of Walgoth
Some time later, the Master regained consciousness to find himself in a dark cell, tied to a chair. He tried desperately to wriggle free, but the ropes were secured with so many Skunk knots—and seemed to be glued tight with some kind of secreted resin.
Master Devlin: “Oh dear… Widdle Frunkut! WIDDLE FRUNKUT!!”
wF: “Ah, Danny! You’re awake! Splendid.”
Waldo walked straight between the bars, entering the Master’s holding cell. He came in holding the morning edition of the Waldopolis Chronicle.
wF: “You were out for some time. Fugue’d! We thought you outgrew that? No matter… You’re back now. Lots of happenings...”
Waldo chucked the open paper onto the Master’s lap before perching on his shoulder like a little devil.
wF: “Birdonia through the back door, eh? Oh dear… Guess the strong-man routine for Travie was short-lived… Of course I imagine the Masta is all too familiar with backdoor shenanigans, haha…”
The Master read the opinion piece by the Chronicle’s Jeremy Kyle, blasting Travers for bringing Tess into the administration and even pardoning the infamous Reg Van Der Beak. Having been tracking Waldo for days, he’d been unaware of what was happening at the Waldhouse. He felt the fury building.
wF: “Tell me, Danny, how does this make you feel? After all that effort. After all those trials and tribulations… The humiliation as a result of your unwavering support to the Travers man… only to be replaced by your old pal Reg, who is said to have entered the Waldhouse as an advisor… It must sting a little, huh?”
Master Devlin: “Why should I believe this? Knowing you, it’s most likely fake. Waldo always lies.”
wF: “You no believe Wiffuhuh?? How rude! Well, no matter, we can prove its. Let’s see what’s going on at the Waldhouse, shall we…”
Waldo pulled a tablet out of his pocket and tapped it before resting it on top of the newspaper on the Master’s lap. It showed a livestream press briefing with the new Education Secretary, Why Bird:
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Why Bird: “Oh, look at you, my lovelies! All here and ready with your little notebooks and everything… It’s like a school assembly all over again! Now, now, don’t all shout at once—you’ll give me a headache, and I haven’t had my cup of tea yet. Right, who’s first? You there—yes, you, pet, try to keep up, there’s a good lad. Go on, love, what’s your question?”
Reporter 1: “Stewart Neeson, WTV News… Secretary Llewellyn-Darvill, some critics are saying you lack the qualifications necessary to oversee Waldonia’s education system. What’s your response?”
Why Bird: “Oh, Stewpot, bless your little cotton socks. Qualifications, is it? My darling, I’ve been an educator since 1988! Have you not seen me teaching the alphabet, numbers, and life lessons at the Why Bird Stop? I dare say I’ve taught more children than any professor in this country! And I’ve done it with songs, which is far more effective, if you ask me. Next question, please—yes, you, my dear…”
Reporter 2: “Maria McGregor, Widdlington Post… Secretary, some are questioning the influence of the ACPP in your appointment and recent policies. Can you comment on their role in the administration?”
Why Bird clasped her wings dramatically over her breast.
Why Bird: “Oh, Maria, you’ve been reading too many conspiracy novels, haven’t you, my love? The ACPP is just a group of hardworking birdies trying to make a better world for us all. And as for my appointment, well, the president himself saw my potential. He’s a very wise president, that one. Knows talent when he sees it! He said, ‘Why, you’re exactly what Waldonia needs. A National Treasure!’ And I said, ‘Oh, go on then!’ So here I am, my lovelies, ready to sprinkle a bit of Why Bird magic over education.”
Reporter 3: “Derek Gibson, Why News…”
Why Bird: “Ooooh, my favourite! Oops. I’m not supposed to say that, am I? Never mind then, hahaha.”
Reporter 3: “Secretary, many are concerned about the pardon of Reginald Van Der Beak and his potential return to public life. What are your thoughts on that decision?”
Why Bird: “Oh, Derek, my dove, young Master Van Der Beak is a changed bird. Honestly, he’s just a big softie underneath all those feathers. Yes, he made a few, um, ‘whoopsies’ in the past—haven’t we all? But he’s learned his lesson. He’s like one of those naughty little boys who finally says sorry and tidies his room. So let’s not be mean about it, eh? Give the poor dear a chance…”
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The Master let out a frustrated growl.
Master Devlin: “Turn it off.”
Waldo tapped the tablet, disconnecting from the stream.
wF: “Tell us, Sidney… Has you ever considered that perhaps yousa bein’ on the wrong side all this time? Surely you must miss being Wiffuhuh’s life mate? For over a century we ruled the Waldoverse together! No one could touch us… Then the Travers man came along and your filthy cheating eyes were drawn away to fresh new goblin talent… But where was Travers when we took down Birdonia the last time, eh? When we fought to reclaim these lands only to have him show up at the eleventh hour to claim victory—and to offer legal representation to Reg of all people!
Where was he when we fought side by side at McMurdo Station?? I’ll tell you where! He was at home! Combing his moustache!”
Master Devlin sat silently as Waldo whispered in his ear. He couldn’t help agreeing. Of course Waldo was the last goblin to be trusted—yet he spoke the truth about Travers in this instance.
wF: “Y’know, there was a time, not too long ago, that the Masta absolutely hated the Travers man… so much so that you purposely let him take the fall for the dragon-brand scandal that put him in prison! That was real swell. Where’s that old pasta man? Bring him back! We miss him…”
Master Devlin: “It’s true that I was not always a fan of Travers, but, well… I guess you could say he has grown on me… And for all his faults, he’s not a mass-murdering little monster like you… You, Widdle Frunkut, who thrives on chaos and murder. I could never join you. I can only do my best to mitigate the damage you do. Try to channel the carnage. Such is my lot in life.”
wF: “Oh yes, that’s right, blame the crazy goblin for everything. As if you don’t enjoy it… You see, Stanley, the thing about the Masta is, despite the façade of being a civilised and respectable high-society dragon man… we know what you really are. A beast. A violent brute! And that’s okay. The world needs such characters to keep it in line, just as it needs wacky creatures like Wiffuhuh to keep them on their toes.
“You’re a warrior, Stan… Think back to the Nilbog Wars. You were in your element—running missions with Goblin Slayer and Rebecca, the China girl. Fighting demons and saving civilians using violence. Under Warlord Waldo’s rule, you had free rein to conduct the war effort as General any way you saw fit. We didn’t come in and tell you what to do or not to do.
“But what about the Travers man? When it was his turn to lead, what did he do? He made you sit around a table with your sworn enemies, and in front of them all, he made you get down on your knees and kiss the Bird’s dirty, greasy feet! Ha! It was truly disgusting. And shameful. Even we were embarrassed for you.”
The Master shuddered with PTSD.
Master Devlin: “You weren’t even there.”
wF: “Of course we was… Yes, we saw it. Sure, the Travers man was in control at the time… but unlike him, we saw everything. Sitting there, silently behind his moustache, was Wiffuhuh… Always, always there. Watching…
“And what’s he done since then? Made you his stooge? His Smithers? Kept you trapped in a glass jar when you were an octopus. Locked up Larry to stop him from curing you. And now he has you running around, cleaning up his various political scandals. And yet this is the friend you chose to follow over Wiffuhuh…”
The Master began to tremble, his body tensing as Waldo’s words cut through his hardened exterior more deeply than any knight’s sword ever could.
wF: “Widdlington needs an enema, as the Travers man once said… but this time it will be Wiffuhuh, not Travers, who delivers it… The Masta should join us! Reclaim Widdlington’s former glory. Bird-free…”
Master Devlin: “Hrmm. You make a compelling argument, Widdle Frunkut. Perhaps you’re right. Then again, you are horribly untrustworthy, so what do I know?”
wF: “Really?? No foolin’?”
Master Devlin: “Where’s your army? Have you begun the attack on Widdlington yet?”
wF: “Umm… Well… the good news is the attack is under way...”
Waldo tapped a button on the tablet, and it switched to livestream drone footage of the huge army marching into a town and pillaging.
Master Devlin: …
wF: “The bad news is that the army seems to have gotten lost, wandered too far north, and are currently attacking Stoke-on-Trent… But no matter. We can make more soon. We has the co-editor on our side now! And if you join then there’s no stopping us! So, what do you say, old chum?”
The Master took a deep breath and sighed.
Master Devlin: “Forget it, bub… If it is indeed true that Travers has betrayed me, released Reg, and is trying to re-establish Birdonia, then I cannot be a part of that… However, I will not be joining your army either… You’re insane.”
wF: “Switzerland, eh? How disappointing…”
Master Devlin: “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must have words with the President…”
The Master summoned all his strength, flexed his muscles, and burst free of the restraints. The small wooden chair exploded into splinters. He strode past the little warlord, his wings unfurling as he approached the tower balcony. He dove off, swooping low before gliding across the land. Waldo waved at the departing dragon.
wF: “Fly safe, Danny!”
The Waldoverse continues in Bad Bird Blackmail