Chapter Text
Finally! After months of tracking, of searching the caves of this wretched, mountainous land, I had found it! The Holy mission given to me by the Company Commander, handed to him directly by the King – I would fulfill my responsibility this day. Oh, Almighty Lord, none could possibly imagine how this felt. After this, what else would I have been given? A company for my own? My coat of arms behind the King’s throne? The King’s daughter, perhaps?
“Out! Out of there this instant, wretched hell-beast! This day your fate greets you! Come, taste this blade and be done with this world!”
With my blood singing in my ears, something stirred from within the cave. It could only be the beast of legend, the very same soulless creature I had been sent to kill. Long had it terrorized these lands, killing indiscriminately, thieving from every farm its awful claws could reach. My excitement grew ever more tiring and I feared the anxiety would rob me of my strength had I been made to wait any longer.
It was not long at all. It came out slowly, plodding, planting its clawed feet into the dirt as it trudged out of its cave. The animal stood on all fours about thrice my height, its white belly nearly dragging across the dirt and rock as it went. The white ran up all the way the beast’s long, serpentine neck, stretching halfway up the sides of its body before transitioning into pebbly-looking red scales. The head craned downward, and I knew then that this would be the moment: the moment for which war-songs were sung, for which tapestries were woven, the day for which I had trained and rehearsed! As the head came within reach, I raised my sword high--
And could not fathom what was happening. There was no fight. No struggle for survival or any such instinct one may expect from an animal, much less a legendary killer such as a dragon. With my blade held aloft, ready at an instant to sever the beast’s head from its neck, it laid itself to rest in front of me, its mammoth skull alone almost my height. There was no fight in this creature; barely a breath escaped its toothy maw as it laid there, waiting for the blow to be struck. And damn everything, I wanted to strike, I did!
But I simply couldn’t. This was no simple creature operating on instinct. In this beast’s black and blue eyes I saw a noticeable lack of will, a broken spirit beyond the repair of anyone or anything except perhaps God himself. An animal will fight tooth and claw to the end for as long as even an ounce of strength remains within it; hunt a bear and the beast is only subdued after a mortal wound. Even a moment before and it is still deadly. It would never saunter up to you, lay down, and accept death. It is not in an animal’s nature to simply give up.
What then was this dragon? Clearly not animal nor hellish beast. Had I been mislead? Had the King or Company Commander been mistaken? How could they be? There were corpses abound to prove this beast’s bloodthirstiness, animal and person alike. What was I to do? I had killed all manner of enemies before but to be told this was merely an animal…
As I pondered my options the dragon snorted impatiently, its eyes transfixed upon the blade held over its neck. That gave me even greater pause; could it be asking for death? The thought chilled me to the bone for reasons I could not explain and my resolve faltered. My arm tired and the blade fell slowly, so slowly by my side. At this point the dragon seemed to softly sigh and languidly picked itself up, spinning around to wander back into its cave. The tail lightly slapped across my breastplate as it disappeared further and further into the darkness.
Even with that gentle strike upon my armor I could feel the strength this dragon possessed. Had it wished, I’d be dead with no effort on its part. What could affect this creature so harshly that it would refuse to fight and seemingly beg for death?
My knightly senses screamed otherwise, but I decided to follow the creature into its cavern. Using the sounds of its lumbering body as a guide, I attempted to navigate my way through the darkness. Occasionally I’d see a tiny orange glow further in, as if it was breathing little wisps of flame. I began to lean on the walls in order to maintain my heading; they were smooth as glass with nary an imperfection, and I found myself wondering if this beast had in fact melted out a home in the rock. If this were true, it could surely cook me in my armor with even the gentlest breath. A little further in and I began to lose all sense of direction in the pitch black, until from around a slight bend ahead I saw the ghostly glow of light.
Still sliding myself along the wall, I came upon the source of said luminance. From above, pouring through perfectly round circles most certainly melted out by the cave’s resident, sunlight cast itself upon a row of stone fixtures which matched the material of the surrounding cave. On closer inspection I saw they they were not mere pieces of furniture, but coffins – sarcophogi! Each one as smooth as glass, done very nearly as professionally as an actual stonemason would have and in some respects, better. There were six of them in a row, a single beam of daylight illuminating each one from a hole above. Decorating each was a brilliantly colored cloth. The first was draped in a deep royal blue with the Marinov coat of arms – the marker of a Knight, though of an order now two hundred years ancient. The other five crests I did not know and surmised they could only be even older than the Marinov Knight.
Such care had been taken to properly honor these fallen men. Care that no mere animal could bestow upon a man. At this point I had so many questions swimming about my head that I would have failed had someone asked me to put them into words.
Passing the final resting place of those six Knights, the darkness again encroached upon me, however it would not for much longer. Further ahead came the sounds of breathing. The closer I drew towards it, the louder it became and the more I began to see the glow of fire. For a little while longer I walked, until I reached the origin of the flame.
Illuminated by lamps and torches was what had to have been the largest chamber in the entire mountain. The ceiling stretched up and up, so far above that the furthest point was beyond the reach of the fire light and still shrouded in darkness. The chamber itself would have been fit for a king, though I’m sure the dragon felt otherwise as it was much larger than a human. Still, it seemed to live in modest comfort; as large as the beast was, it could ably move about without bumping into anything. To this room, I was little more than an insect.
To the immediate left and right of the entrance to this chamber were statues of what I first took for men, but upon closer inspection appeared to be a mixture of sorts; dragon heads on human bodies. The one on the right appeared mostly finished and though the craftsmanship was a far cry from the realm’s renowned sculptors, it surely must have been by someone of some talent. The left statue was left unfinished, as if someone had given up halfway. From the waist up the rock was left untouched, only in the vague shapes of a man with a dragon head.
The far end of the cave, the wall behind the beast itself, consisted of nothing but books. Tightly packed shelves and towering piles of tomes so dusty and ancient that I feared simply touching one would destroy whatever knowledge the pages held within. The dragon must have felt the same, as it seemed to regard me with eyes that said no closer.
Elsewhere about the chamber, odds and ends dominated the space: decorative suits of armor large and small, pieces of art familiar and foreign, tapestries, candlesticks, jars of spices and herbs I’ve never seen or heard of, crates stacked on crates full of nothing but incense.
Oddly enough, in spite of all the stories I heard as a child, there was a distinct lack of things one might outright call treasure. No gems, no gold besides the rare piece or two of jewelery, and barely enough silver to mint a few pieces of local currency. When I stood in the midst of all of these things, the word 'riches’ did not spring to mind. Under the glare of the statues, of the armor suits, of the paintings and the library, all I could think of was 'history’. Perhaps even 'culture’.
“What is this place, dragon?” I’m not sure what convinced me that it could speak or that it could even understand me, but my gut insisted somehow that it could. It didn’t reply but its eyes opened a bit wider as if I had its full attention. “What is all of this? Where did you get it? How long have you been here?”
Still it would not stir, though its gaze followed me as I began to pace in front of it. “Please understand, I did not know about any of this. I was told I was hunting an animal, a killer akin to a wolf or bear. Are you intelligent? Do you understand me? Can you speak? Read? Write?"
My attention shifted to the makeshift mausoleum I had passed, and I pressed with more questions as I drew closer to the dragon. "Who were those bodies I passed? I saw a Marinov crest – who were the other five? Did you kill them? Are you going to kill me? Am I free to leave when I wish?”
Upon my last question, the dragon lifted its enormous head and pointed its snout towards the chamber entrance, from where I had come in. So it did understand me.
“But I have so many questions.”
At this point the beast rolled its eyes, an act that startled me for its clearly human nature. Without moving its body, it snaked its tail around my waist and effortlessly lifted me into the air. It gingerly placed me as far as possible from its resting spot, then used its tail once more to fling a heavy blanket at me.
“Tomorrow, then.”
I swear it almost seemed to frown at me, but otherwise it appeared disinterested as it laid its head to rest again. I felt it watching me as I removed my armor suit piece by piece, inspecting each for scuffs or imperfections. The breastplate and abdomen had some smudges, perhaps from where the tail had touched me outside the cave and a moment before.
At that moment the good sense struck me to disarm myself. This dragon, who could easily kill me at a moment’s notice, clearly had no intention to do just that, and as such I had no intention of causing harm either. In plain view, I carefully -- though casually, so as not to look frightened -- unhooked my scabbard from my belt and placed the sword outside of arm’s reach from where I intended to sleep. Hearing nothing from the dragon, I went on with my routine and fished a cloth and solvent from my belt pouch to wipe away the stains from my armor. They disappeared with minimal effort and I placed it all in a neat pile beside me, my greaves and vambraces stuffed into the cuirass in such a fashion as to look as if a little man sat beside me.
Satisfied, I laid down and pulled the blanket atop me. The dragon and I briefly locked eyes before it curled up and tucked its head behind its tail. Despite my situation I felt strangely at ease, as if I was sharing an inn with a fellow Knight; a tender soul capable of violence but only when needed, and only in the amount which may be required and no more. Respectful, just…
I somberly recalled our meeting outside the cave. Respectful, just, and apparently eager for death.
God, so many questions.
Tomorrow, then.