Karlston was one of the many hopefuls partaking in this suicide. Ahead and behind him were others who also had no other option. They amounted to a large troop of over three hundred. Since there were not any regulations set by the leading group, everyone brought their own equipment, from horses to armour and weaponry. The result was a mismatched horde, worse than a mercenary band.

Karlston did not bother wearing any armour, agility was more important than feeling secure by being wrapped up in steel. He had a shield strapped to his back, as well as a blunt sword on his hip, no matter how much he tried to sharpen it the weapon stubbornly stayed the same. He was told by his greatfather that it was made of black steel. He hoped that this fact would increase his chances of success when he participated in the hunt. He was gambling his life on this. Every small asset he gained increased his chances of survival.

Ahead of him, a young noble in gold-enameled and jewel-embellished armour trotted onwards on his white stallion. Nearby was an old man, presumably a farmer since his only weapons were the scythe in his hands and two sickles strapped to his back. Everyone has their own reasons for joining. But reasons don’t mean anything here.

All around them was ash and dirt, not a speck of vegetation in sight. There were scorched bones strewn about, belonging to animals which had once inhabited the ruined land. Their destination was nearby, not that they could see it from within the dust storms. There was another way to tell. Karlston wrinkled his nose. It stunk of death, the sure sign that he was close. Ahead there were masses of rocks, black as char, which stuck out of the ground like claws. The wind rumbled past them in a low growl, trying to ward the intruders.

No one would have reached the end of their journey if the lead group hadn’t pointed the way. Karlston had not seen any of them so far, they were at the forefront of the march. They had made it plain beforehand that anyone who followed would be left behind if they did not keep up.

A few moments later, the black blizzard subsided, revealing a bleak mountain. It stood alone in the barren land. Dark clouds swirled around it. Streaks of black lightning struck the ground. The smell became unbearable. Some of the hopefuls fainted. Others wrapped their faces in wine soaked cloth. The rest ran away, to be lost forever within the dust storm.

Karlston felt no sympathy for them. If they couldn’t stand this much… then they never should have come. He noticed the lead group setting up tents. They would be staying here for the night, not that most of the group here would get any sleep. It would help him get used to the smell. It was only going to get worse where they were going.

He set up his own tent from those provided by the group in charge. After many tries, Karlston had finally finished pitching his tent. He stopped to rest, not learning to set up a camp had been a big blunder. He noticed then that everyone was going to the center of the encampment. He grabbed a boy who was running that way by the shoulder.

“Hey there lad. Why is everyone heading over there?”

The boy looked at him irritably and pointed to the center. Karlston squinted, trying to get a better look. He saw someone standing on a wooden platform. It was easy to tell that the man was a Slayer from his scaled armour, which seemed to be customary among the clan. He patted the lad on the back and hurried ahead.

If a Slayer was going to tell you something you would listen. Since the information they gave you affected whether you lived or died. The Slayer, luckily, waited until almost everyone had gathered before he started, which gave Karlston enough time to get close enough to hear him. The man’s voice crackled with authority as he spoke.

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“To those of you who have joined us in this hunt, I thank you beforehand for participating. My name is Galton, the Piercing edge. I am here to represent my clan, the Slayers. As you all know, our lands have been plagued by the most vile and dangerous threat known to the realms of man. This threat comes in the form of fire and wrath incarnate, Dragons.

“These monsters ravage our fields, devour our livestock and kill our families. No one is safe. Whether you be a lowly farmer, or you be the lord of a kingdom. A Dragon will just as quickly, just as easily, destroy everything you’ve ever owned, kill everyone you’ve ever loved and burn you until all that remains are charred bones and ash.”

He paused for a moment. Karlston used the time to get closer. He noticed that there was more than one slayer around the campsite. He counted four. This was extremely unusual. Slayers normally travelled alone or with their own personal followers. The only circumstances that Karlston could think of when Slayers grouped together was when they were venturing through the forbidden lands, where only people of the Slayer clan dared enter, or when protecting a highly populated settlement from a dragon attack. He focused again on Galton when the man continued.

“You all have chosen to participate in this hunt for the chance to become one of our clan, a Dragon Slayer. Now that you have come this far I must warn you, none of the Slayers, myself included, will aid you during your battle.”

There was a muttering of curses and louder protests from a lot of the crowd until one of the other slayers roared for silence, his voice deafened anybody who had been close. Thanking his comrade for the assistance, Galton continued.

“This is one of the founding laws of our clan. No Dragon Slayer may interfere in a hunt. The hunt is what we use to recruit people from outside the clan.

“If we let someone kill a dragon we have weakened beforehand, then we cannot judge whether he has the skill or fortitude needed to become a Slayer.”

Karlston tapped his foot while listening. 'I know all this already. Will the man get on with it!' Galton clapped his hands together.

“Now that I have gone through the formalities required, are there any questions about the hunt before we turn in for the night?”

One man raised his hand. It was the farmer Karlston had seen before.

“T’ kill a beast like t’is hard enough, Slayer. But most of us don’t even have weapons t’ use ‘gainst it. Could you not spare equipment t’ us who can’t afford them?”

A lot of the hopefuls were also poorly equipped and seconded the first mans question. Galton clapped his hands again to quiet the crowd. He pointed over to the Slayers’ tent. There were a dozen carts outside the entrance. Inside were heaps of different weapons, from curved sabers to massive broadswords.

“These weapons are from previous hopefuls before you who have tried, and failed, to slay a dragon. Since corpses don’t have a need for weapons, we hand them out to people who do. Please take whatever you wish once the hunt begins."

Even Karlston became nervous when he looked at the endless piles of weaponry contained there. If that many people had died in a hunt before him, what will make his case any different? All he had was a sword which was rumored to be made of black steel. And even if it was, it didn’t mean he could actually get close enough to the dragon to use it. Galton dropped down from the wooden stand. He walked towards his tent and gestured dismissively.

“There is food and drink for those who need it. Follow my comrade and he’ll take you there. That is all.”