The pilgrimage had barely begun, and already the kingdom's roads were clogged with goose cultists, chicken cultists, banners, drums, feathers, and the occasional confused tourist swept along by accident.
At the front marched:
* **Crumpet**, unwilling deity and "Mother of the Dragon-Goose,"
* **Reginald**, knight-shaped disaster,
* **Honkulus**, glowing goose uncle,
* And **the dragon-goose hatchling**, who had learned to honk while breathing tiny puffs of fire.
It was, without question, the noisiest, feathery-est, least authorized procession in kingdom history.
**The Shepherd Village Encounter**
They reached a peaceful village nestled against rolling hills, where shepherds minded fluffy white sheep that looked like they were made of clouds.
The villagers heard drums.
They saw banners.
They witnessed Crumpet marching with divine dignity (well, annoyed dignity).
And they saw a glowing baby dragon-goose perched on his back.
One shepherd gasped.
Another dropped his lunch.
A third said, "Well butter my biscuits, it's a parade!"
Within minutes, the entire village joined the "parade," cheering and dancing alongside the cultists.
Some handed Crumpet flowers.
Some gave the baby dragon-goose milk.
Someone tried to knit Honkulus a tiny sweater (he bit it).
Reginald attempted to protest:
"This is not a parade! It's a completely dangerous—AACK!"
A sheep licked his face.
The villagers cheered louder.
Crumpet hung his head.
He knew… he was leading a parade now.
**The Royal Serpent**
Just as the new parade-pilgrimage wound its way into a wooded valley, the ground trembled.
Birds scattered.
Branches swayed.
Cultists gasped.
A massive, shimmering serpent rose from the underbrush — easily thirty feet long — with scales like polished emeralds and eyes glowing gold.
Reginald froze.
Crumpet skidded to a stop.
Honkulus puffed up to look bigger (it did not help).
The shepherds immediately hid behind their sheep.
The serpent lowered its head toward the baby dragon-goose, who stared back without fear and hiccuped a puff of smoke.
A deep, ancient voice echoed through their minds:
**"At last… the Royal Hatchling of the Cloud-Serpent Lineage has been found."**
Reginald blinked. "I'm sorry… the what now?"
The serpent bowed its enormous head.
"Yes," it declared. "The markings. The aura. The poorly controlled fire burps. This child is our long-lost prince!"
The goose cult gasped.
The chicken cult gasped louder.
The shepherds gasped in harmony.
Crumpet stared at the baby on his back, horrified.
The baby honked happily and smacked the serpent on the nose.
The serpent froze.
Then burst into tears.
"He touched me! The prince has chosen me!"
Suddenly the giant serpent wrapped itself protectively around Crumpet and the baby.
"We shall escort the Mother Mount—"
Reginald interrupted, "The what?"
"—**Mother Mount Crumpet**," the serpent continued reverently, "who has carried the royal child."
Crumpet let out a long, defeated neigh that translated to:
*"Please let someone else be the mother for five minutes."*
The serpent ignored him.
The cults cheered.
The shepherds wept.
And the parade grew even bigger, now with one giant magical serpent slithering proudly in front like a regal float.
Reginald stared up at the sky.
"How… how is this my life?"
Honkulus honked smugly, clearly pleased that the baby thought he was "Uncle" instead of someone less important like a legendary serpent guardian.
Crumpet trudged on, leading what was now the world's first **goose-chicken-shepherd-serpent parade-pilgrimage of destiny**.
And at the center of it all, the baby dragon-goose flapped happily, setting a small bush on fire again.
Reginald put it out. Again.
The parade was growing at an alarming rate.
What began as a small cult procession had become:
* one unwilling holy horse
* one knight losing his sanity
* one glowing goose uncle
* fifty goose cultists
* fifty chicken cultists
* an entire shepherd village
* one giant emerald serpent
* and a baby dragon-goose prince
…all chanting "CRUMPET! CRUMPET! CRUMPET!" in rhythm.
Naturally, someone reported this to the King.
The report given to His Majesty was:
> "Your Grace… a feathered army is marching toward the capital, led by a glowing goose, a horse messiah, and something on fire."
The King stared at the messenger.
"Something on fire?"
"Yes, Your Grace. It is unclear whether this is intentional."
The King stood, put on his crown, grabbed his ceremonial sword (the one he couldn't actually fight with), and declared:
**"Send the Royal Guard. And maybe a bucket of water."**
**The Royal Guard Arrives**
The parade rounded a bend in the road, cheering, dancing, and occasionally extinguishing small fires set by the baby.
Ahead stood a perfectly organized line of armored guards, blocking the path.
The captain raised a gauntleted hand.
"Halt! In the name of the King—"
At that exact moment, the baby dragon-goose hiccupped and shot a tiny fireball that bounced off a helmet, ricocheted off a drum, set a banner ablaze, and landed in the captain's boot.
He shrieked and hopped in circles.
The parade cheered.
"THE CHILD BLESSES HIM!" cried a cultist.
The captain, now smoking slightly, tried again.
"Halt! You may not bring— *ow ow ow*—this… parade… to the capital without permit!"
Reginald stepped forward, exhausted.
"Trust me, sir, if I could stop this, I would."
Crumpet nodded vigorously.
Honkulus honked dignifiedly.
The serpent raised its head behind them, glaring at the guards like an overprotective aunt.
The guards stepped back nervously.
"We will escort you to the King," said the captain, still glaring at his smoldering boot.
**The Sky Darkens**
Just as the situation seemed under control, a LARGE shadow passed overhead.
The parade looked up.
The Royal Guard looked up.
Reginald looked up and screamed internally.
A massive dragon — scales red as molten ore, wings like thunderclouds — descended from the sky.
He landed with an earth-shaking thud, his massive claws carving furrows in the ground.
He peered at the group, eyes narrowing.
Then he saw the baby dragon-goose perched on Crumpet's back.
A deep, booming voice rattled their bones:
**"WHO. TOOK. MY. CHILD?"**
Every cultist pointed directly at Reginald and Crumpet.
Reginald: "NO—NOT ME—WAIT—WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS—"
Crumpet: *panicked horse noises*
The giant serpent gasped and bowed.
Honkulus puffed up defensively.
The baby dragon-goose waved a tiny wing and chirped:
**"Daaa!!"**
The huge dragon froze.
"…What?"
The baby burped a smoke heart.
The dragon exhaled dramatically.
"I leave him alone for ONE NAP," he muttered. "One. Single. Nap."
He looked at the parade — the villagers, the cultists, the serpent, the goose, the horse, the knight, the Royal Guard.
"WHAT IS ALL THIS?!"
Reginald gestured helplessly.
"We… may have accidentally started a multi-faith pilgrimage?"
The King's guard captain added:
"Also a parade! Technically illegal."
The dragon blinked slowly.
"Oh, by the flames… I knew parenting would be hard, but this is ridiculous."
The baby happily headbutted its father's snout.
The dragon melted instantly.
"Awwww you're so cute— but WHY ARE YOU ON A HORSE?"
The baby proudly honked.
The dragon turned to Crumpet.
"…Are you… my son's mount?"
Crumpet whinnied in sheer terror.
The dragon smiled warmly.
"Wonderful. You're hired."
Crumpet died inside a little.
---
And thus, the royal guard, a confused dragon father, multiple cults, a giant serpent, and Crumpet the unwilling holy horse all marched toward the capital.
Nothing about this was normal.
Everything was getting worse.
And Reginald was certain this would end with paperwork, fire, or both.
The capital city of Highfeather had seen many strange events over the years:
* the Great Turnip Rebellion,
* the Annual Festival of Questionable Cheese,
* the royal swan's violent rampage of '92…
…but **nothing** prepared it for a parade featuring:
one glowing goose uncle,
one holy horse,
one knight having a breakdown,
one gigantic protective serpent,
one dragon dad,
three villages' worth of people,
and a baby dragon-goose prince who lit things on fire whenever he got happy.
Which was often.
**Arrival at the Palace**
The Royal Guard tried to maintain dignity while escorting this whole circus to the palace gates.
They failed.
The gates opened.
Trumpets sounded.
Servants gasped.
Nobles screamed.
The palace swan tried to attack the giant serpent and was gently sat on by a very calm shepherd.
And on the balcony, His Royal Majesty King Barnaby III stepped forward to greet them.
He clutched his crown.
He inhaled deeply.
He attempted stoic composure.
Then he saw the dragon.
Then he saw the goose.
Then he saw **Crumpet**, glowing faintly with divine annoyance.
And then—
He saw the baby dragon-goose waving at him.
The King performed the most royal action possible:
**He fainted immediately.**
Right off the balcony.
Into a rose bush.
The royal roses applauded politely.
---
## **The Chicken Cult "Liberates" the Kitchens**
As the King was collected from the shrubbery and gently shaken awake, the chicken cult decided this was the perfect moment to expand their holy influence.
They slipped away from the parade.
Into the palace.
Into the kitchens.
The head chef, Chef Marmaduke, was already having a bad day.
He turned around, holding a pot of stew, and found twenty robed chicken cultists chanting around a sack of flour.
"Excuse me," he said, "what—"
The cult leader raised a wooden spoon like a sacred staff.
"WE BLESS THIS KITCHEN IN THE NAME OF THE HOLY CLUCK!"
Another cultist threw a handful of herbs dramatically into the air.
Another drew a chicken-shaped symbol on the cupboard.
Another placed a ceremonial rooster mask on a confused dishwasher.
The chef blinked.
"Get out of my kitchen."
A cultist gasped.
"You dare defy the will of the Chickened Orb?!"
The dishwasher, now wearing the rooster mask, said, "I want to go home."
The cult swarmed the pantries, declaring every pot, herb, spoon, and onion *divinely significant*.
One shouted:
"THE BUTTER SPEAKS!"
The butter did not speak.
It was butter.
Meanwhile, Crumpet, Reginald, Honkulus, the giant serpent, and the dragon dad were being escorted inside by frantic guards.
"Where are your chicken people running off to?" a guard asked.
Reginald paled.
"Oh no."
Crumpet tried to gallop toward the kitchens, but the baby dragon-goose clung to his mane screaming joyfully, "HONK-MOM!"
Honkulus honked in alarm.
The dragon dad asked, "What's happening?"
Reginald sighed, "They're about to accidentally overthrow the pantry."
**The King Wakes Up**
The King was placed on his throne, still pale and shaking.
"M-my loyal subjects…" he stammered. "What… what is the meaning of—of—"
He was immediately interrupted by a distant chorus of:
**"CLUCK! CLUCK! CLUCK FOR THE CLUCK GOD!"**
The King buried his face in his hands.
"Oh no. The kitchens…"
The baby dragon-goose waddled forward, hiccupped, and set a tapestry ablaze.
A servant fainted.
The King fainted again.
The tapestry fainted from emotional distress.
Reginald put out the fire with a nearby soup bowl.
Crumpet wondered if kicking down the nearest wall would let him escape fate.
And so, chaos had fully entered the palace.
The parade was now officially an **invasion by accident**.
Down in the palace kitchens, things had escalated.
What began as twenty chicken cultists "blessing the cookware" had quickly transformed into:
* A chanting circle around a mixing bowl
* Three cultists riding a rolling cart like a war chariot
* Someone hitting pans together rhythmically
* And, most concerningly, a glowing chicken-shaped summoning sigil drawn with paprika
Chef Marmaduke tried to intervene.
"STOP SUMMONING THINGS ON MY FLOOR!"
But the cultists only chanted louder.
"CLUCK!
CLUCK!
AWAKEN, GREAT ASTRAL ONE!"
The lights dimmed.
The air buzzed.
The paprika sigil began swirling like a tiny tornado of seasoning.
Chef Marmaduke screamed, "NOT MY SPICES!"
And then—
With a cosmic *SHWOOOOOM*—
**A colossal, shimmering rooster** phased into existence, made of starlight, moonfire, and pure poultry arrogance.
He stood taller than a carriage.
His tail feathers glowed like constellations.
His crow sounded like a thousand trumpets played by confused angels.
**"I…
AM…
THE ASTRAL ROOSTER!"**
A cultist whispered reverently, "He's beautiful."
The rooster stomped, cracking the floor.
"I SEEK A CHAMPION! WHO SUMMONS ME?!"
Twenty cultists pointed at Chef Marmaduke.
Marmaduke: "WHAT—NO—I SUMMONED NOTHING—"
The rooster's eyes glowed like twin miniature suns.
"It is YOU, MORTAL CHEF, WHO HAS AWAKENED MY HUNGER!"
Marmaduke dropped his ladle.
"Help."
---
## Meanwhile, in the throne room…
Dragon Dad was having an emotional crisis.
"Come now," he coaxed the baby dragon-goose. "We go home. No more chaos. No more fires. No more—"
The baby grabbed Crumpet's reins, clung to his mane, and wailed:
**"HONK-MOOOOOM!"**
Crumpet froze.
Reginald whispered, "This can't be happening."
Honkulus honked in disbelief.
The baby flapped stubby wings and repeated louder:
**"HONK-MOOOOOOM!!!"**
Dragon Dad stared at Crumpet with an expression halfway between confusion and deep parental betrayal.
"…You replaced me with a HORSE?!"
Crumpet shook his head violently.
("No no no no no!")
The baby hugged his neck harder.
Dragon Dad gasped dramatically.
"My child prefers—THIS—over me?!"
He gestured at Crumpet's entire body like it was a personal insult.
"I am a mighty wyrm! Destroyer of mountains! Terror of the northern skies! I can breathe fire hot enough to melt stone!"
Crumpet swished his tail.
The baby booped his muzzle.
Dragon Dad's eye twitched.
Reginald backed away slowly.
"Oh no," he murmured. "We're about to have a custody fight with a dragon."
Dragon Dad reared his great head.
"I challenge thee, HORSE, for the rightful bonding of my son!"
Crumpet's soul left his body for a brief moment.
**Then—The crowing happened.**
A crow so powerful it rattled the castle stones.
The dragon whipped around.
Reginald whipped around.
The King fainted again.
A guard shouted, "THE KITCHENS ARE GLOWING, SIR!"
Then a second guard shouted:
"AND SOMETHING IS COMING THIS WAY!"
A cosmic shimmer rippled down the hallway.
The floorboards thumped.
The walls shook.
And bursting into the throne room with a mighty, star-fueled hop came—
**THE GIANT ASTRAL ROOSTER.**
He struck a pose.
"I SEEK A WORTHY CHEF-CHAMPION! AND POSSIBLY SNACKS!"
Chef Marmaduke followed behind him, sobbing quietly.
Dragon Dad stared.
Honkulus honked in offense at being overshadowed.
The baby dragon-goose squealed with joy.
Crumpet simply wished for the sweet release of retirement.
The King, revived briefly, sat up.
"What… what is THAT?!"
The rooster crowed proudly.
And Crumpet's day somehow got worse.