Those who were privileged to reside in the great city of Crisremon, then and now capital of the Sanid Empire, during the Eighth Year of Enduring Peace – which was the fourteenth year of the reign of his Imperial Majesty Husun the Fifth, called the Stalwart – may recall the news that came to the city in the spring of that year. Certainly those with either the least connections to the realm of commerce or pretensions to the realm of scholarship were aware of this, for it was the talk of the city for many weeks. Though initially little more than rumor, and dismissed as a story told by drunken travelers, cunning con artists, and vivid storytellers willing to submit that anything happening far away was rife with fantasy, it grew rather than faded in strength over time, and soon the debate raged fiercely among the educated as to whether or not the story was true.

Had a dragon truly been seen in Shdustu?

It was not until the Seventh Month of the year that anything concrete appeared to anchor what had become a most fashionable and philosophical debate among the city's elites. A merchant, returning from that distant eastern land, brought back with him a drawing purportedly made by a hermit of the Shdus Desert, illustrating the dragon in flight. Copies were made at once, as inevitably happens when some new and fascinating thing is put upon display in the markets of Crisremon. These too were initially dismissed until an apprentice purchased a copy and brought it with him to class and chanced to show it to a certain learned master of his Imperial Majesty's Apothecary Order. This master had long ago studied much of the lore of dragons as kept by the apothecaries, of which there is a great deal, and he proclaimed that the hermit had captured the proportions, features, and appendages of the dragon with remarkable accuracy, down to the proper shape and placement of horns, claws, and major scales. This was judged impossible to fake on behalf of someone who had never seen even a proper image of a dragon before, for those that appear on market stalls or children's toys are not drawn correctly.

The original sketch was duly located and obtained by members of the Apothecary Order after much scouring of the markets. This was compared to drawings, diagrams, and descriptions of dragons held deep in the libraries of the apothecaries, healers, scholars, and sorcerers. These records, which in many cases dated back to the long ago centuries when dragons were, if not a common sight, at least well known, and even occasionally hunted by brave war parties, all matched precisely with the hermit's sketch. Horns, spurs, scales, wing claws, and more all lined up across the vast gulf of time. The conclusion, repeated by multiple examiners, was clear. Either this hermit had stumbled upon an ancient and very accurate illustration, something accounted exceedingly unlikely given the howling winds and rasping sands of the desert, which grind down even stone and brick to say nothing of paper documents, or he had in fact seen a dragon on the wing. Further tales, filtering to the city and the court with every newly arriving merchant caravan, suggested there had been numerous sightings in Shdustu, and that all those who dwell there were thoroughly convinced of the dragon's existence.

As reports and rumors continued to drift westward, the dragon became a true aspect of fascination for the court, the capital, and to a surprising degree the Sanid Empire as a whole. Those who lived through those years are liable to recall this easily enough. It grew to be such a storm of gossip that not even the Emperor himself proved unmoved by the possibility. Husun the Fifth had no reputation for scholarship or storytelling and it is likely that his interest in the dragon derived from the promises of his apothecaries as to the miraculous potential vested in the flesh, bones, skin, and other parts of a dragon that could be rendered into various elixirs and unguents instead, but whatever the reason, imperial interest does not, as it never does, remain merely fascination. It transforms instead to action.

During his annual Vernal Equinox Missive his Imperial Majesty offered a grand gift from his own hand to any person, by whatsoever means they might manage, who brought proof of the dragon in Shdustu before the throne.

It is essential to emphasize how unusual this was. The most recent prior sighting of a dragon with any confirmation worthy of the name had occurred not less than two hundred and twelve years previous, and that in the blistering sands of Tahirak to the west, the opposite direction of Shdustu and a whole continent away. Gamblers who bet on the reality or unreality of the dragon fell heavily on the side of mere stories. The idea that any such beast persisted into the enlightened present and dared to fly about in the sky was deemed preposterous. Even those who accepted, as was commonly stated among the scholarly professions, that somewhere in the distant reaches or subterranean depths of the world dragons and other great mythic forms might yet still reside, it was taken as a certainty that no possible proof capable of satisfying the Imperial Inspectors could be obtained. For my own part, employed as I was then in his Imperial Majesty's Cartography Bureau, I agreed with this assessment. The several executions that followed, of those who presented obviously fraudulent claims in the hopes of securing the Emperor's favor, chilled further inquiry in the same manner as the descent of winter over the empire. Though Crisremon, as any who has lived there long will know, is blessed to suffer only lightly the embrace of the cold season, the dark months bring with them sufficient calm to drain away the lingering excitement of summer. The dragon faded from the mouths of the court and the street, replaced by rumors of war upon the western borders and a dispute over the permissible concentration of alcohol in ceremonial wine by the religious authorities.

A full year would pass from the arrival of the sketch that set the city aflame with dragon fever to the unexpected answer of the Emperor's challenge. Truthfully, speaking as one who understands measures of distance and rates of travel to a land as removed from Crisremon as Shdustu, this response was very rapid indeed. Ultimately, the evidence in question was secured by its bearer, an enterprising caravan master, prior to the imperial proclamation even being made, much less reaching that region. It was only due to luck, or perhaps the will of the Divines, that he was delayed by a severe snowstorm long enough to hear of the decree at all or he would have sold his evidence – a fragment of scale broken off the dragon's back leg upon scratching against a great boulder – to one of the local region's own alchemists. The blessings of the Divines were surely with the Emperor in that the merchant intended to return to Crisremon at all, a lengthy journey he undertook only out of a desire to see his son, left behind many years before, when he came of age on the winter solstice in the Ninth Year of Enduring Peace.

This scale, being presented at court, was duly confiscated by the Imperial Inspectorate and the merchant imprisoned until its validity was ascertained. Perhaps a cruel treatment, in some eyes, but it also serves to protect those who are subject to imperial largess from the many eyes that target them. Nor, of course, can any potential charlatan be allowed the chance to escape after defrauding the imperial court, whether they are able to claim a reward or no. Such a blow to the prestige of the empire is not to be tolerated.

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Apothecaries, healers, sorcerers, and, if rumor can be believed, even wizards – forbidden though their arts be – all tested the essence of the scale. Their attempts to disprove its draconic origin were many and lasted an entire month. Many rare and expensive reagents were consumed in the process. In the end, however, all were forced to conclude that the scale had not only fallen from a dragon's flesh, but that it had been shed recently in line with the merchant's story and not unearthed from some forgotten tomb or shifting sand dune after centuries of dormancy and lost potency.

The merchant, Urguntal Nessen, was duly released. He was granted an imperial audience and his Imperial Majesty personally placed the first of many golden coins in reward into his hands. Though the exact quantity of this beneficence was not stated save in private treasury records, it sufficed to purchase a fine estate in Asiron Province, to which Master Nessen subsequently retired. He was also duly ennobled, and his son was granted a position in the Inspectorate to replace that of the man who had most vehemently cast aspersions against his honesty. That doubter was quietly strangled by his fellows to remove the error from their ranks.

It is at this point that I, Misod Dunsulm, enter into this account, albeit in a small way. I was ordered by the court to interview Master Nessen in the hopes of reconstructing, from his knowledge and hearsay, where the dragon had passed on its journey and where, if the Divines were kind and it remained active, it might possibly lair within the vastness of Shdustu. This purpose fell to me purely through my proficiency, limited though it was, in the principle tongues of that region, knowledge not common in the Sanid Court and that I only possessed due to a quirk of my tutor's history. Though I made every effort my limited capacity could sustain, knowing the desires of his Imperial Majesty, the scale had passed through too many hands prior to its purchase by Master Nessen for its origin to be traced with any accuracy. Despite this, based on several of the names used in the accounts he recalled, it seemed likely that the scale had been collected either by, or within the lands claimed by, the mountain-dwelling people called the Bahab who live primarily in the northern portions of the region. A most feeble thread to follow, but it sufficed to satisfy the endless questions of the inspectors.

I must note here that, though I shall endeavor to provide accuracy throughout this account and not relay tales save for those for which I either observed evidence in person or could source to a reliable witness I spoke to directly, it was not possible to verify all subjects I felt essential to include. Nor have I been free to reveal all names or positions of individuals attached to this story. As such, I have judged it appropriate to omit the name of the vizier who initially involved me in the matter of the dragon as matters remain pending before the Imperial Inspectorate regarding the origins of the expedition.

Even as I poured over old maps and linguistic texts in the struggle to determine the scale's origins, the apothecaries were devoting their efforts to determining its utility to the Sanid Empire. After debating for some time, they ultimately placed it beneath their grindstones and crushed it down into powder. Many tools were sacrificed in their fashion, for though the scale was blue as the purest sapphire, it was even sturdier than that thoroughly stout stone. The cracked pestles used in the final stages remain on display in the Apothecary's Hall.

Once powdered, the scale was mixed with the rarest and purest herbs, minerals, and extracts of their craft to form an elixir that was given to his Imperial Majesty in the hope that it would serve as a panacea for his ills and greatly prolong his life. While history informs us that the latter portion of this effort did not succeed, as Husun the Fifth passed peacefully six years hence in the fifteenth year of Enduring Peace, having seen a mere fifty-eight solstices, the compound was not without effect on his stalwart personage. I was informed, in confidence by a retired member of his majesty's former serving staff whose name regrettably it would be imprudent to include, that for many years dating back to well before he ascended to the imperial mantle, his Imperial Majesty complained greatly of heat during the summer and on the hottest days often struggled to even rise from his bed much less carry out lengthy ceremonial duties, but that after consuming this elixir of powdered frost dragon scale he never suffered debilitation from the heat again. I should note that while Husun the Fifth left it to his younger brother to provide over the summer solstice ceremony in eight of the first ten years of Enduring Peace, he conducted the ceremony himself for the remaining five.

Irrespective of whether or not bits and pieces of draconic tissue are capable of fulfilling the grand promises ascribed to them by practitioners of the mystic arts, it would seem that his Imperial Majesty's case offers a measure of affirmation. Certainly Husun the Fifth reacted most strongly following his consumption of the scale. During the winter session of the court, immediately following the new year, he announced that an imperial expedition would be dispatched to Shdustu to track down the dragon. Ideally it was to be hunted down and captured, or if that was impractical, slain and harvested. However, should this prove impossible, and in this his Imperial Majesty extended a rare acknowledgment of the limitations placed upon his duly ordinary servants, it was ordered to simply glean whatever compounds, knowledge, and treasure were to be found in the legendary beast's abode.

While the majority of the court remained devoted to the ordinary administration of the empire and had no involvement in this case, the development of this expedition was a matter of much talk throughout the winter as it was rapidly assembled with the intent of departure in early spring with the intent of launching such that it might reach the passes of the Shdrast Range at the earliest possible date they might be breached. The planning of this grand undertaking was given to the coordination of Vizier Hu Nassah, one of the principle patriarchs of the Nassah clan and his Imperial Majesty's own nephew. A harsh, but just, man well known for his loyalty, his name surely needs little introduction and most readers will know him well for his valiant, and tragically fatal, defense of the palace gates in his successful defeat of the usurpation of Mnanul Lablur, likewise Husun the Fifth's nephew. Though his involvement in the expedition is not much remembered now given such a grand achievement, his choices were felt throughout the planning process and impacted every aspect of what followed.

Among those choices was his decision to assign me to the expedition, and loathe though I was to depart the capital being both without issue and unmarried, one born to a minor estate in the provinces dares not refuse the instruction of a vizier. It is said that young men crave adventure. Perhaps that is true, perhaps not. I do confess that the idea of pursuing the dragon did make the heart beat faster, but at the time I viewed the assignment as a poor reward for my service owing primarily to the considerable length I knew would be required. For unlike many of those who joined the expedition I had studied the old maps and recognized that this would be the work of years. I confess I was also concerned that my father, then aged and in ill-health, would pass away while I was beyond imperial borders and my inheritance would then pass to my younger brother. A selfish and unworthy thing to believe, for all that it proved true.

I can say now, despite that regret, that I do not, in any way, begrudge the assignment. It is my hope that this account, in which I will do my utmost to relay the chronicle of the Dragon Expedition and the character and peoples of those lands it crossed, with especial focus on distant Shdustu and its environs, will provide the reader with not only information, but also serve as a testament to the inestimable value of such an undertaking.