Sir Reginald Puddlewick was a knight of questionable bravery, dubious hygiene, and an alarming fondness for pancakes. His shiny armor had more dents than a blacksmith’s workshop, and his horse, Binky, was allergic to mud which, in the kingdom of Splatterdale, was… problematic.
“Sir Puddlewick,” announced King Fumbleton from his overly ornate throne, “I have a task for you. A dragon has been stealing villagers’ socks. You must retrieve them.”
Sir Puddlewick blinked. “Socks, sire?”
