My first time meeting with a dragon had been a predictably hazardous affair. Not knowing a shred of etiquette when it came to dragon customs, I’d blundered my way through my first conversation, never realising until long after that openly ogling a dragon's tail was considered invasive.

In my defence, I’d openly gawked at pretty much every part of the dragon, particularly as the one I'd met was the most famous of them all.

Ralgoz the Impatient, King of the Dragons and Argent of the Skies.

With a body that had become silver with age, and eyes brimming with both wisdom and fire, Ralgoz was a flying monument to his kind.

Proud, dignified and powerful, his shining wings carried him through the heaviest storms as easily as a ship through calm seas, while his scaled hide could slap aside arrows and spells as if blown away by a tornado.

They were the true royalty of the world. The undisputed champions of the food chain. The masters of earth and sky.

“I would like to try the rosemary tea, please.”

And the greatest of all was squishing all four of his clawed legs together, hovering his tail over one of the cafe's outdoor chairs while leaning over a small white table.

I scribbled down on my pad.

“Would you like anything else?”

Ralgoz hummed. The effect sent vibrations up and down my spine like a sonorous massage.

“Do you have any chiffon cake? The one Madame Zaiba bakes on occasion. Ah, meaning no offence towards yours, that is.”

“None taken. But we only have carrot cake today. Oh, but there's some leftover pound cake from yesterday. You can have it for free, if you'd like.”

“For free? … Would that be acceptable?”

“Sure. We might have to throw it away otherwise.”

Ralgoz's golden eyes flashed with interest.

Despite owning a hoard that surpassed the wealth of Witschblume by a factor of thousands, a dragon could never say no to more. And wealth that wasn't spent was wealth earned, so far as they were concerned.

Dragons liked free stuff.

“Then, rosemary tea and any pound cake at risk of discarding. That will do, I think.”

“Okay, I'll only be a moment.”

“Thank you.”

I smiled, turned around, and scooted back into the cafe to ready the tea and choose the least crumbly looking slice of pound cake we still had left.

As I did, I passed by the fidgeting form of Lady Uxna, whose face was furrowed by a thousand conflicting decisions.

The sudden appearance of the King of the Dragons presented a terrible social dilemma. As the duchess's foremost dignitary, it would be impolite to spurn a greeting, and yet it would also be intrusive to interrupt him when he likely wasn't present for matters related to the duchy.

She sat, paralysed with indecision, the tea cup in her hands trembling with more force than when the full weight of the dragon outside had landed onto the poorly accommodating street outside.

Then, putting all of her years of tact and diplomacy at work, Lady Uxna settled on a clear winner.

“Goodness. That was quite a breeze. To think it was enough to shake the furnishings. I will make a note to the castle engineers to ensure that nothing other than musical instruments is to be kept near the windows.”

And so, pretending she hadn't noticed the dragon sitting outside the glass window, the head maid of Witschblume Castle calmly returned to nibbling on her slice of carrot cake. Very slowly.

I stopped on the way to the counter.

“Lady Uxna, would you like more tea and cake?”

She smiled at me.

“Yes, please. I suddenly feel quite famished.”

I nodded, then headed over to the counter to retrieve two of our biggest tea pots.

Both would be here for a while.

“Rosemary tea and pound cake,” I said to Ralgoz, after stopping to refill Lady Uxna's table. “Would there be anything else?”

The king of the dragons swished his tail slightly, then stopped when he realised it was causing the nearby 'No Unauthorised Flying' sign to sway dangerously on the spot. He further squished his clawed limbs together, then flared his great snout before speaking.

“Just the usual, I'm afraid,” he said, a deep note of apology ringing in his majestic voice.

“That's fine.” I smiled as I took a seat. “It's what I'm here for.”

I briefly thought about fetching a cup for myself as well, then decided against it.

Despite the warmth in Ralgoz's eyes, I knew this conversation wouldn't last long enough for the tea to cool. They never did. Our talks were not about Madame Zaiba's secret chiffon cake recipe, even if I could sense that was something he secretly wanted.

No, our talks were about dragons.

“Indeed.” Ralgoz paused. I tidied the cuffs of my sleeves. “And if I could wish it were anything else, I would. You are much too young, to carry a weapon so old.”

I shifted forward slightly, making room for the sword more or less permanently at home on my back.

It could have been worse. Technically, I was always supposed to carry it. But since I was also responsible for enforcing that rule, I decided to let myself off so far as sleeping was concerned.

“There's been younger,” I replied. “Olivia Tucine. She was six years old when she was allocated this sword.”

“Oh? I'm not familiar with that name.”

“You probably wouldn’t be. She also holds the record for the shortest time to be allocated heroine status. Officially, an administrative mistake was made and a new chosen heroine was named.”

“Unofficially?”

“Unofficially, questions started being raised when she attempted to trade the sword for a bag of mixed marshmallows. A minimum age limit was agreed later.”

Ralgoz chuckled. A booming tremor of mirth which shook the teapot like a gale against fallen leaves. Somewhere, an E minor sounded as a piano crashed to the ground.

I reached out and held the pot in place.

“I envy your ability, if not your role. To be able to glimpse into the past is a miracle more potent than all the other gifts you are imparted.”

Ralgoz nodded, but said no more. He knew better than to inquire about the sort of memories my predecessors left me.

Even so, I answered with a shrug, which was accompanied instantly by the sound of someone choking on a carrot cake inside the cafe. I had no doubt that once this was over, Lady Uxna would be informing me about how many etiquette laws shrugging in front of a dragon king broke.

“It's not that impressive. Most of the time, I just see bits and pieces of what people ate for dessert.”

“An invaluable tool. Haute cuisine comes in cycles. You would do well to predict Madame Zaiba's next best product.”

Spoken like the madame herself.

The Bread & Berry Cafe may not be on the cutting edge of gastronomy, but that was no excuse not to draw in the seasonal crowd.

A crowd that should already be here.

I glanced at the emptied street. Around lamp posts and behind postboxes, the anxious faces of the street's regulars could be spotted, all clearly wondering if they should be offering more distance against the updraft when the very big dragon's wings took flight again.

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I held in a sigh. It wasn't Ralgoz's fault. He had more on his plate than the town's schedule. But it was the morning rush, and I was conscious about monopolising the street from the shopkeepers.

“I'll do my best.” I smiled, then sat up a little straighter. “Excuse me, but if I may ask, what is the reason for your visit? You normally send a warning beforehand.”

Ralgoz gave a small dip of his head.

“My apologies. I had written a letter, but opted to not trouble the lady witches. They can do with one less delivery to make.”

“That's a very thoughtful gesture. I'm told they're up to the necks in work, and that's while they're in the sky too.”

“The life of a witch is a toilsome one. That has not changed since before the years I was hatched. But I digress.”

Ralgoz awkwardly coughed, although I was likely the only one who knew it was a cough.

To everyone else, it was the sound of a deep hum of gathering wisdom.

“In keeping with article 2a, subsection 1 of the revised Queensholme Accords, I, Ralgoz, King of the Skies, the Mountain Halls and the Lost Lands of Zinemoor, do beseech upon you a noble quest.”

Now I really straightened my back.

It was rare for Ralgoz to namedrop the charter governing relations between dragons and humans. I didn't need my heroine’s senses to know this wasn’t just serious. It was formally serious.

“Sure thing,” I said, relieved I had my notepad with me this time. “What can I do?”

Ralgoz opened his jaws to answer, then slowly snapped them shut again.

Dragons were not capable of making expressions. The muscles on their cheeks were too taut for that. But scale and sinew never prevented them from conveying feelings.

Not when their eyes burned with so much emotion.

Ralgoz's pupils closely took me in. They were golden slits nestled within a dark maelstrom, and for a moment, I found myself swimming in all the words he had no wish to voice.

“Your duty, Miss Rowe. I require you to slay a dragon.”

I stared at him in shock and horror, torn between which emotions I needed to return first.

But even though I lacked his eyes, I was reasonably certain he knew what I was thinking.

After several moments, I gathered my bearings and put together the most suitable response I could.

“Oh,” I said simply. “How come?”

“Martuk the Mad.” Ralgoz paused, as though speaking the name caused him to physically tire. “The Last Great Evil. You recall, no doubt, the many stories of his crimes.”

I nodded. It was difficult not to.

Dragon fire being what it was, large sections of Widzenport still hadn't been rebuilt, even if the rest of the city had long grown and expanded.

“He broke a lot of records for barns burned in one day. He didn't just set roofs on fire and call it a day. He'd go to the effort of locating and boiling away water sources beforehand too, just to make it harder to douse the flames. He apparently had a particular dislike for duck ponds.”

“He was meticulous in his terror of all creatures. He may have been mad in his goals, but not in his execution. And now we shall see another that will follow in his shadow.”

Ralgoz shook his head.

“Martuk's brother has awoken.”

I instinctively glanced towards the sky.

Periwinkle blue, with neither a cloud nor a mysterious petal to darken it.

As fast as they'd come, the strange pellets had vanished along with any way to measure their meaning. Another mystery of the world with either harmless or world devastating implications. Nothing in between. And one I preferred greatly to news of villainous dragons having siblings.

“I didn't know Martuk had a brother.”

“Neither did I. The weeping winds carried his name across the bleak spine of the Ashlands, its source the same frozen peak from which hatched Martuk and his brooding madness.”

I looked at Ralgoz with fresh alarm.

The mountainous topography of the Ashlands lent itself as a natural barrier to the wind. For Ralgoz to be able to discern anything from it meant a very strong cold weather front was approaching.

I needed to warn Lize it was time to put the shovels on standby in case it started snowing.

We didn't want a repeat of last year's incident. For all its utility, a heroine's sword was most definitely not meant to blast away snow.

“I see. And you believe the disposition of this sibling is similarly disagreeable? I was led to believe that, if anything, dragons from the same clutch were more likely than not to possess radically different personality traits to their siblings.”

“There can be no mistake. His name carried with it the scent of evil so dense that it weighed down the very air.”

At least there was no need to guess what weather phenomenon that entailed.

Evil liked their foggy backdrops as much as they liked leaving their most secret plans on a breadcrumb trail of strewn documents.

“Is it set in stone?”

“No. It is set in fate. I sense the poison in the name. The same which ran within Martuk's. From brother to brother, I fear that the will of the Last Great Evil will soon be carried by the Next.”

I nodded.

Siblings passing the torch of calamity. It wasn't something I was overly keen on acknowledging, but dragon wisdom was certified by more organisations than the rainbow coloured coffee beans tucked away in the special cabinet.

It was the gold standard for insight and boasted a 98.7% accuracy reading.

Ralgoz dipped his head. The vibrant luminosity in his eyes dimmed as he hovered his snout over the teapot, and yet I knew he was not devoting a single moment to enjoying the fragrant scent.

“It has not been two centuries since Martuk the Mad was felled by my will. The burden still weighs on my voice, just as it does to my heart. I do not have the strength in me to conduct such a feat again. And so I invoke the Articles which bind us. It is time to perform your duty, as have all others before you, Dragonslayer.”

I quietly nodded.

“I understand. And what's the dragon's name?”

“Oirdan.”

As soon as that name was uttered, Ralgoz rose on his hind legs.

Content that this was all he needed to say, the ancient dragon unfurled his majestic wings. Time had not worn away an inch of his colourful frame, nor the edges of the rooftops that he accidentally brushed against.

Hiding the grief manifesting as crystallised tears in his eyes, Ralgoz turned his head to the heavens and prepared to take flight.

I raised my hand.

“Um, sorry, could you say that again?”

Ralgoz abruptly paused and glanced down. His legs quivered to keep himself from awkwardly falling over.

“Excuse me?”

“The name of the dragon. I don't think I heard it properly.”

“Oirdan.”

“Oidan?”

“No. Oirdan. There is an 'R' there. Oirdan.”

“Oiiidan?”

“Yes. Wait, no. You must elongate the initial syllable. But not to that extent.”

“Oiidan.”

“Listen to the inflection. Oirdan.”

“Oirdan.”

“. . . Acceptable.”

Ralgoz cleared his throat, before turning his proud gaze towards the sky.

Then, with a swipe of his wings, he sent everything not bolted to the ground hurtling away.

A gust swept across the street, audibly shaking the glass windows against their panes. As expected, only dust, soil and leaves were upended. No hint of strewn rubbish. The duchess's littering legislation proving once again that sentencing first time offenders to peeling 1,000,000 pistachio shells with no legal defence permitted was a strong deterrent.

As the updraft passed and the powerful figure of Ralgoz's beating wings became a dark silhouette against the sun, I leaned forwards and popped open the lid of the teapot.

Then, I smiled.

It was completely emptied. The pound cake was nowhere to be seen.

There were many things I knew about dragons. As an officially anointed heroine, it was my job. But for all their strength, their knowledge and their magic, I had to rank their mysterious ability to consume tea and cake without actually touching it as one of their greatest tricks.

The harder I watched, the more I seemed to miss.

“Elise?”

I turned to see Lize poking her head past the door–as well as Lady Uxna, whose stature allowed her to easily tower over Lize. They wore markedly different expressions.

“All done,” I said, picking up the empty teapot and plate. “We can finish getting the cafe ready now.”

Lize smiled, then enthusiastically reversed the closed sign to open.

“Got it! Did Mr. Ralgoz like the tea and cake?”

“I think so. He had it all.”

“He would have had it all even if he didn't like it.”

“True.”

“So, how are we looking on the calamity scale this time? Been a while since Mr. Ralgoz had to come down himself.”

“Hmm.” I tapped a fingertip against my cheek and thought. “A seven.”

“That's not too bad.”

“Maybe an eight.”

“That's still not too bad. Madame Zaiba said we only needed to put the nice plates away when it was a nine.”

“I'll still need to scoot off, though. Sorry.”

“That's okay. It's always quiet after a dragon landing. I've got the fort. Think you'll be back for the evening rush?”

“Probably not. I need to pop over to the Ashlands.”

“Ah, one of those things, huh?”

“One of those things.”

I turned to Lady Uxna, whose mouth was uncharacteristically partially open as she eyed the diminishing figure of King Ralgoz.

I had the distinct feeling she was figuring out whether she needed to offer a formal note of appreciation for the awakening villain tip-off, especially since the dragon's ears could still very likely pick it up.

She was only startled into closing her mouth when Tutu crept between her legs. The black tabby took one peek outside, then retreated back into the familiar comfort of the shade.

I gently waved towards the shocked ogre maid.

“Great news,” I said. “It seems we found the source of the Next Great Evil. It's a dragon.”

Lady Uxna's mouth opened wordlessly again.

She then glanced behind her, looking hopefully at the small figure of Tutu as he hopped onto the counter, yawned, curled up, and then proceeded to do nothing in particular.

I offered an apologetic smile.

“May I request access to the Ashlands? Overnight pass, just in case. I'll have to fly over a few restricted zones as well.”

Lady Uxna stood stock still.

Then, she slowly resigned herself with a sigh.

I could only feel sympathy for her. All I had to do was deal with dragons.

She had to do all the paperwork.