September 11th, year 948 Age of Peace

South Viemen

Early Afternoon

The caravan wheels creaked one final time as the cart was brought to a standstill. Before Ingrid could even turn around, she heard the rumbling of the wooden steps as Mary and Ellis trampled up them and through the doors to the Lonely Song. Ingrid shook her head at them and turned over her shoulder.

“Herbert, please keep watch over the cart.”

The man named Herbert nodded and remained in the driver’s seat of the caravan.

“I’ll grab you a pint,” Ingrid added as she walked up the steps.

Inside, the tavern was alive with its recurring afternoon rush. The wind-chill and quickly fading sunlight of the encroaching autumn made the citizens of Viemen crave the comfort of a hearth and a flagon of mead. Several new wenches were hired to keep up with the seasonal influx of patrons. These young women darted between tables with worn expressions of confusion and anxiety, struggling openly to keep up with demand. Ingrid searched the dining hall, spying Ellis and Mary seated at the far end of the room in their usual spot.

“Who’re you?”

“Bessie,” the young woman answered in a shy voice.

“I don’t recognize you,” Ellis said bluntly.

“She must be new,” Mary reasoned. “Is Ma in the back?”

Bessie nodded. “Shall I get her for you?”

“Yes, please.”

The girl trotted off to the back. From behind, Mary and Ellis could hear the sound of clanking metal as Ingrid approached.

“Are you sure you wish to dine here?” she asked them. “Sir Perry will expect you for dinner, so don’t spoil your appetite.”

“Ma serves the best goat hash in the whole town,” Ellis said with a crazed look in his eye.

It was no use trying to convince them otherwise. The trio had been running errands for the Starspawn all morning: buying supplies and raw materials, dropping off weapons and armor for repair at the smithy. Ingrid had initially protested these frequent assignments, but Perry remained insistent. It was true that the merchants and townsfolk now knew her face well, and before long she was even given special treatment and was frequently able to fetch a fairer price than even Sir Perry himself on certain wares. However, Ingrid couldn’t help but feel that Perry was being intentionally distant with her.

The two were typically close, and even if they seldom shared their own thoughts openly with one another, they nonetheless shared an understanding of each other’s mind. It was this precise connection that had, for over one month’s time, made Ingrid suspicious of Perry actions; and it was Perry’s understanding of her, she reasoned, which had made him suspicious in turn. Keeping her busy and away from the barracks any chance he could find would allow Sir Perry to do whatever he wanted without her prying. For now, she had no cause to object. But she was not sure how much more of this she could take.

Ingrid heard the sound of uneven footsteps against an aging wooden floor as Ma Mileena turned the corner.

“Hoh? The brats are back, eh?”

“Ma!” the two said in unison.

“Afternoon, Ma,” Ingrid said with a nod of her head.

“Out in the markets this mornin’?” Ma asked as she rested her hands on the bar counter.

Ellis nodded. “Dropped off about three dozen swords to Markus down by the river.”

“Ma, do you know what they’re doin’ down there anyway?” Mary asked. “All those men in the tents?”

Ma shook her head. “Haven’t the foggiest. But them’s the talk of the town.”

“Well, if it was anything good, we likely would’ve been told,” Ingrid added as she sat down next to Ellis.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Goat hash for you, I’m guessing?” Ma said as she pointed a finger at Ellis.

He nodded greedily.

“I’ll try it too, Ma. Please and thank you!” Mary added.

“And for you, dear?”

Ingrid thought about it.

“I’ll try the hash as well, Ma. Thank you.”

“All right. Bessie!”

The girl appeared from the back.

“Yes, Ma?”

“Three goat hash for the—”

Just then the door to the Lonely Song burst open. A man came running clumsily and out of breath into the center of the tavern. The commotion died down at the sudden outburst and all heads turned toward him.

“What is it Roger? You look like you seen a ghost!?” Ma called out from the other end of the room.

“Not a ghost, Ma!” Roger said between panting breaths. “It’s worse!”

She eyed him nervously.

“Out with it then.”

“It’s a dragon, Ma! A dragon! They seen it flying over the Dags!”

A murmur of concern passed through the room; different voices all speaking hurriedly to one another and rising together in fear.

Ma pulled the rag off her shoulder and slapped it onto the counter.

“Calm down! Calm down!”

Ma left from behind the bar to meet Roger in the middle of the room. Ingrid rose slowly from her seat to observe this man who had spoken with the unmistakable aura of true terror.

“Roger, talk plainly, boy. Slow and plain.”

“Ain’t never been no dragon this side of the mountain!” a man called from one of the tables. “Boy’s got ghosts in his head!”

A hail of laughter and agreement spread around the room.

“You say that and you’ll be the one burning in the flames!” Roger yelled back.

“Enough!”

Ma threw her hands up, putting space between Roger and the growing discontent from the mob of patrons. Regardless of whether or not Roger was telling the truth, fear of those creatures was as real as it was strong; and drunk men do foolish things when spurred on by fear.

“What proof ‘as he got, anyway!?” another man called from behind his flagon.

“Yeah!”

Roger seemed to have been waiting for this moment. He smiled wryly and pointed behind him.

“In the town square! A group of soldiers is there right now talking with Mayor Rothwell!”

There was a hush that came over all in the tavern. Eyes flicked from face to face as each person thought about what Roger had said.

In an instant, dozens of men and women shot up from their tables and ran toward the door of the Lonely Song. Ma grabbed Roger and pulled him back, narrowly avoiding the frenzied throng.

Mary and Ellis looked worriedly at one another; each of them knowing full well that beasts of legend live and stalk in the wilds of the world.

“You are certain of this?” Ingrid asked as she jogged over to Roger. “A battalion has arrived from Eadenfros?”

Roger nodded several times.

“Mayor Rothwell received them on sudden notice less than an hour ago. They spoke only among themselves, but some managed to get close enough to hear what they was sayin’.”

“What did they say!” Ellis blurted out as he and Mary came running over, eager to not be left out of the conversation.

“Four days ago, some guards up in Gate City spied a shadow flying above the mountains.”

“A shadow?” Ma asked.

Roger nodded. “They kept it on the hush, but eventually the Magistrate confirmed it was a dragon.”

“And they only now send someone!?” Ma roared. “A masterful rider can make the trip in two days flat! What are they waiting for!?”

“I don’t know, Ma, honest I don’t!”

“Where was the last place the dragon was spotted?” Ingrid asked him. Her mind was spinning with concern and she dared not linger on any one thought for too long. It would do no good to lose her nerves before she had all the information.

“The captain told Mayor Rothwell they last saw the thing half a day ago on their ride to Viemen. It looked like it was heading towards the south-eastern bend of the Dags.”

Ellis remained silent, his eyes pointed towards the floor. Then a thought suddenly occurred to him.

“Mary, isn’t that…?”

She knew in an instant what he meant and her eyes widened.

“Ellis, Mary,” Ingrid cut in as she stood tall, “Head back to the barracks at once. Tell Sir Perry of everything that has happened. I will go first to the town square and speak with Rothwell.”

Mary and Ellis nodded in silence, then stood up and ran out of the tavern.

“Ma,” Ingrid said as she turned to the old woman, “If it really is true, then this town is no longer safe. It would be best for you to—”

Ma held up her hand, cutting Ingrid off.

“Uh-uh. I haven’t left this town, even when there were scores of southern men marching on her with swords and spears. If you think some bloated lizard is gonna scare me away, you’re crazier than he looks.”

Roger frowned.

Ingrid wanted to protest; but one look into the eyes of that obdurate old woman was enough to know that it would be futile to argue.

With a tentative plan in action, Ingrid moved with the others down the steps of the Lonely Song and ran down the main road toward the town square.