He entered the tent, leaving everyone to mull over his words. People slowly started to file out of the pavilion, following a small Slayer who beckoned for them to follow as he led them towards the cooking fires. Karlston stayed where he was. He waited aside until everyone had left the pavilion then snuck around the slayers' tent. Creeping slowly towards the back entrance, he took out his pocket knife to slice open the threads when he heard voices from the inside.
"...it is too dangerous. How could you consider doing a hunt in this situation?"
The person's voice sounded like a woman's. Leaning in a bit further, Karlston tried to peer through the gaps of the tent.
"This is precisely the time to start a hunt. As you know our numbers are starting to decline, so we need to compensate for this by increasing the amount of hunts."
The other voice belonged to Galton. Karlston could see the outline of his armour and that of another slayer, the woman whom he had heard. The scales on her armour were green instead of the normal blood red. He stayed still so as not to alert them. The woman was pointing at Galton with such ferocity, as if she could kill him with a simple touch. Karlston had to take large, slow breaths in order to keep quiet. ‘Seems that there are also conflicts between slayers... Maybe they'll let something slip.’
"I agree with what you are saying, however, why this hunt in particular? You know that it is impossible for them to achieve! We were supposed to slay this monster. Not send a load of amateurs to die trying instead!"
Karlston held his breath, holding back his rage. ‘Those fiendish Backstabbers! They are sending us out there to die... But isn't that what I came here knowing in the first place? The only difference is that even the slayers believe we'll fail.’ He was about to slip away when Galton started to speak again.
"The reason that this hunt is necessary is because it's impossible. If someone manages to slay the un-slayable, do what others believed impossible, then they have the qualities needed to be a Dragon Slayer. The very reason we are losing strength is because we only get hopefuls to hunt mere fledglings.
"In order to increase their strength, they have to kill stronger dragons, like the Hero Slayers of the past. This time with their lives on the line."
The little speech seemed to have the desired effect. The woman laughed hysterically.
"I was wondering what you were up to, now I know… you insane bastard!”
She sighed, her arms falling back to her sides.
“However, what you say is true.”
She turned away from him, viewing a map of some sort.
“Your option is the only one available. We are losing strength and even our political power.
"But instead of being titled the piercing edge, they should have named you the silver tongue! Do as you will. I won't be able to stop you anyhow!"
She stormed out of the tent, leaving Galton alone inside. Karlston was about to sneak away when Galton turned to face him, holding him in place with a piercing stare.
“You can come in now, there’s no-one else here.”
In shock, Karlston stumbled into the room. Inside there were lots of scrolls and maps, enough to make a scholar giddy. Glancing over them, he noticed that most of the maps were even more detailed than ones sold at his hometown. Galton kept staring at Karlston unnervingly as he made his way to a table. On it was a larger map, however this one had areas marked which Karlston never knew existed. Galton pointed at one area on the map, there was an arrowhead indicating a mountain.
"This is where we are headed to. Do you have any idea what the place is actually called?”
Intrigued, Karlston shook his head. Galton sighed.
“It’s called The Fang. The reason being is that the locals believed the mountain shot out of the ground as if a giant beast had bitten through it.”
Karlston looked at the Slayer as if he was mad.
“There are no locals here. There haven’t been any inhabitants here for over a century.”
Galton looked at him, or through him, wearily. He waited for a while before he replied.
“It seems my memory is not like it was… As I was saying, there is some truth in what they had believed. The fang is actually a volcano. That’s the reason that dragons use it as a nesting ground.”
Karlston couldn’t understand why he was being lectured. ‘What is this man trying to get at?’ As if predicting his question, Galton turned and faced where Karlston had been hiding.
“You tried to sneak in here for a purpose did you not? All I am doing is help you prepare. There is no easy way to achieve this. You won’t be able to steal the kill, there is not a single known weapon out there that can fell a dragon with one blow and no-one can assist you with killing it.
“This may sound like I’ve repeated obvious points. However, they are the only things you need to remember. A hunt may be near impossible to achieve but it has very simple rules.”
Karlston nodded while musing silently, all the while rubbing his thumb around the pommel of his sword. This caught Galton’s attention and he gestured at it.
“Your sword, may I see it?”
Reluctantly, Karlston unhooked the sheath off his belt and handed it over. Galton slowly unsheathed the sword, his eyes widened when he saw the black blade.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen one like this… black steel. How did you manage to get a black steel sword?”
Karlston was heartened now that Galton had proved him right and answered cheerfully.
“It was my inheritance given to me by my greatfather, he had told me what it was but I didn’t know for certain until now.”
The Slayer just silently nodded to himself as he stared into the blades iridescent sheen. He sheathed the sword again and handed it back to Karlston.
“Don’t lose it, you will need it… May I know your name?”
“My name is Karlston. Karlston Fireheart.”
Galton’s eyebrows rose. He then scrutinized Karlston’s face for a bit.
“I thought you reminded me of someone, does the name Triston remind you of anyone?"
Karlston was the surprised one now. He hesitated a second before speaking.
“That was my greatfather’s name. Triston Fireheart. How did you know?”
Galton laughed for the first time, a roaring sound.
“He was one of my comrades. He took that sword from a cowardly Slayer while shouting at the man. “This sword should only be in the hands of someone who will use it!” The hypocrite never used the thing himself either... Maybe it will hold a different truth for you?”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
His eyes started to glaze over as he looked solemnly at the entrance.
“I’m rambling too much now. Leave this old man… Go!”
With that finality, Karlston ran out of the back entrance and fled from the pavilion. He was left much to think over. ‘My greatfather knew the Slayers? Not just that, he fought alongside them! Why didn’t he tell me…?’
He continued to rub his thumb over the sword’s pommel, steadily walking away. Karlston and his younger brother had been raised by their greatfather at a young age, ever since their parents had died. He had taught Karlston everything he needed to know as one of the Firehearts. How to read and write how to use a sword and the politics of the nations within the dragon ravaged lands. Triston Fireheart had been everything to Karlston. But it seemed he didn’t know that much about him. ‘I’d best not dwell on it, I have better things to do with my time.’ He was just going to get some food when one of the other hopefuls hailed him. A man who was just about older than him, Karlston guessed.
“Hey there friend, are you hoping for the chance to join the clan too?”
Karlston held back a sigh. Would I be doing this for anything other than that? But I might as well get some information, if he has any to share. He kept a straight face as he replied.
“Yes, I am. Since you seem to be going around the camp, have you heard any news about what sort of fight we should expect.”
The man shrugged.
“The Slayers will not tell anyone anything other than it is another dragon. But there is definitely something different about this one then the others.”
Karlston did sigh then. ‘Galton is obviously right, this isn’t going to be easy. I had better make sure I am prepared.’
The man started eyeing Karlston’s sword.
“Say friend, is that sword made of black steel?”
Karlston tensed and gave the man a cold stare, clutching his sword hilt possessively. The man raised an eyebrow and snorted in amusement.
“It’s not like I want to take it for myself, just curious.”
Karlston relaxed after that, but he still kept his grip on the hilt. He eyed the man’s gear as well. The man had a leather jacket on and was equipped with a bow and a short sword which were secured to his back. Karlston eyed him cautiously.
“Are you really here to become a Dragon slayer like the rest of us?”
There was something about the way he had geared up that Karlston doubted the man had the same objective as everyone else. No-one brought a bow because it would not be effective. And bringing a short sword was daft. You needed a length of steel long enough to reach a dragon’s heart, short swords are appropriately named, too short.
The man smiled, he had a charm about him, something that made you like him instantly. That also made Karlston wary. Making friends wasn’t his goal. Having someone you liked would only drag you down in the hunt. On closer inspection, the man actually looked rather handsome. His only blemish was the burn scar along his left cheek. Karlston waited for the man to reply. When it seemed that the man wouldn’t talk, he turned around to return to his tent.
“I will tell you… if you manage to slay the dragon.”
Karlston glanced back to look over the man again, he wasn’t smiling. His smile was only a façade. This seemed to be his real face, full of determination. ‘He’s like me. He has different reasons for joining this hunt, besides the common ones. But unlike everyone else, he won’t be an obstacle along my path. I need allies to get ahead, best to make some now.’
“My name’s Karlston, what’s yours… friend?”
The man smiled again, but this time it was genuine.
“The name’s Ward. I’ll see you around Karlston.”
Karlston waved a hand in farewell and continued towards his tent. As he rounded the corner of a nearby campsite, he saw the boy he’d asked for directions earlier. The boy noticed him and then suddenly bolted in the opposite direction.
Although the lad’s behavior was suspicious, Karlston ignored it. ‘Everyone here is on edge. It is obvious that people will seem suspicious.’ Karlston reached the food site, another massive pavilion. Anyone who asked was handed a loaf of bread and a large helping of stew by one of the Slayers, surprisingly.
Karlston sat on the ground and then dug into his share with relish. The hard journey had made everyone famished. No-one complained. Karlston ate all the meat and vegetables in the bowl first and used the bread to soak up the soup left over.
Karlston noticed that he actually hadn’t seen anyone helping the Slayers with the campsite chores, Slayers had groups of followers who helped them with everyday activities, to earn the chance to go on a hunt. But Karlston could see that the only people making sure that the campsite was in order were the Slayers themselves.
‘This could mean several things.’ Karlston deduced. ‘Either these Slayers don’t want their followers to get injured because this hunt is particularly dangerous, or they didn’t want anyone to know of what will take place here. The former seems likely because I overheard Galton and that other Slayer arguing about it.’ Karlston frowned.
‘But what if there is some sensitive information that the Slayers don’t want anyone else to know? And that the only reason they don’t mind hopefuls like me joining is because they think everyone is going to be killed, since a dead person cannot reveal secrets… This is only speculation though, better keep it to myself.’
Keeping a calm expression to avoid drawing attention to himself, Karlston carried his bowl over to a cart and put it among the other used eating utensils. Although there were ales and spirits being offered by another Slayer, a shockingly beautiful woman, Karlston avoided it. It would do him no favors to get drunk and end up sluggish tomorrow.
He passed through the crowd to the outskirts of the campsite where his tent was. He opened up the flaps and sealed it up behind him. ‘Better to be cautious considering the situation.’ He hung his sword belt and shield onto the hooks sewn into the tent and unrolled his sleeping furs from his travelling sack.
After taking off his leather jacket, he laid on top of the furs in the rest of his clothes. As he laid there, thoughts of how surreal this journey has been came to surface. ‘If someone had told me two weeks ago that I would go out on a Dragon hunt I would have laughed and called them mad.’ He then remembered the moment that pushed him to this suicide mission.