It is the breath of life and the blade of ruination, The seed of birth and fruit of our damnation, So take great heed when you hear the wind whistle, What is lies before you is the Starball Crystal. ********** Dragon Huntress Daniera Daneira inspected the dragon’s footprint with surprised eyes. So it was true. A dragon actually had escaped from the Great Dragon Mountain caves. But it was to be expected. Hillwick was the most northern village in the area. It wasn’t the first time a dragon had attacked the settlement and it most certainly would not be the last. But from the looks of it, this current dragon attack was much more serious than others. Daneira studied the footprint keenly, hoping to figure out some details from what was left. The hideous print was at least ten centimetres deep and twenty centimetres wide. The two claws that protracted from its scythe-like foot had bore into also, leaving two wounds into the ground, of equal size to each other. The print was still fresh, a sign that the dragon was not too far from this place, and even more encouraging was the fact that there was no hind claw print, which meant that the dragon itself was not adult. A fledgling would be far easier to kill. Either way, the determination of Daneira would not be dejected. It would be a matter of hunting down the creature and killing it, adult or not. A chiselled farmer was standing beside Daneira, and he took note of that curious and adventurous look in her eye. Anyone else who looked upon a dragon’s footprint of this size would have begun quaking like a coward. Not this child however. Though she was young, the farmer could sense an inner strength behind the immaturity and beauty The village lord was right to request this girl, the farmer could feel it. “So what are ya thinkin’?” The Farmer questioned in his north Hilburn accent. “Is that dragon gonna be too much for ya?” Daneira held a hand to her chin. “Judging by the size of the footprint and the circular shape of the claw prints, I would imagine that this dragon is at least 35 years of age. Which is not long, taking a dragon’s lifespan into account. It is still young, after all.” The black-haired girl crouched to her knees and eyed over the print, pointing to its innards “Look at those ridges, inside the groove of the footprint. Those ridges come from the scales of its skin, and if it is that unsettled... then it has to be a flame dragon. Which spells doom for Hillwick village if it returns.” “A flame dragon?” The farmer gasped. “Are ya certain, young lass?” Daneira stood upright. “Positive. It is a flame dragon. I do not doubt it. But fear not. I can handle this issue. That is what you requested my help for, correct? All I need is my trusty sword, Claavius, and a dense space outside the village. The result will be the safety of Hillwick.” “You’ve got more gumption in your guts than half of the men who came here, declaring themselves as Dragon Hunters! All the others turned their backs when they saw the print on the ground.” Daneira’s light blue eyes locked onto the dragon’s print once more. “Can you expect less from a Dragon Hunter born in the Danagard Islands? As long as Claavius stays true to me, I shall turn away from nothing.” “So when are ya gonna chase after it?” “In a few hours time.” Daneira said slowly. “Your other villagers attacked it, and from the bloodstains around the print, I believe you caused an injury. From the amount of blood you probably wounded it severely. It is now scared and frightened. It knows that stalking the village for food will no longer be an easy task. It will rest its wings and seek solitude until it can conceive a plan It is then that I will strike.” “I understand. So how abouts we return to the village and wait for ya chance? We got the finest malt beer in all of Wingard! Not to mention some of the greatest Kings and Dragons players! You are more than welcome to stay at my brother’s Inn until ya feel ready to take on the dragon. ” Daneira smiled as she looked back. “I would like that. Although... you seem very festive considering the situation. Do you not realize the danger that the village is in?” “I know that better than anyone, young lass.” The farmer said. “I’ve seen more dragons in these parts than most Dragon Hunters see in their life-spans. It’s been a problem ever since I was a child. But I ain’t gonna waste time fretting about it. Life’s a gift, my dear. The only thing we need to be aware of is how we enjoy it.” That was admirable. Daneira smiled once more, as the farmer broke into a seasoned fit of chortled laughter. Northerners of Wingard always had such bright views on the way people should live their lives, so much more satisfying than the south. People in the south were so vain and morbid. Though the populous was much larger down there, so they had much bigger problems to worry about. Nevertheless, it was refreshing for Daneira to meet someone so calm and joyful in this time. Ever since the Thousand Year Wars ended, the outlook of villagers, vagrants and northerners had been upbeat She just hoped that the south was following the idea. Daneira and the farmer strolled over to their respective horses, both tethered to the trunk of a rather large oak tree. They both mounted swiftly and rode off into the main dirt road, away from the dragon’s footprint branded into the muddy ground The journey toward Hillwick was a short one, maybe only an hour by horse ride, but it was much safer to ride by horseback. The Thousand Year Wars were more ruinous than any other war experienced by the people of Asgarth. When the population had been over a mighty three billion in the year 1770, it had declined to a pitiful one million (as estimated in the Asgarth mortality study, 2773). The towns, villages and cities had been numerous in the past, but now had diminished by such great lengths it was hard to imagine anything more. All you had to do was walked around the countryside for a while, and you were bound to reach the ruins of some remote village, razed to the ground by over-zealous soldiers and epidemic fearing lords The breadwinners of each family had gone into war, leaving behind the family to fend for themselves. This left each family in dire agony, from the loss of their loved ones and the curse of poverty. The food that should have been given to the hungry and the sickly was distributed to the soldiers to keep them fit and healthy This led to famine, and with the lack of a healthy body, came the shadow of disease Plagues such as black fever and Poiseria were particularly ruthless killers, leaving no one safe, regardless of lineage or income. The increase in pestilence walking along the dirt roads was the reason the spreading of disease was so quick. The chaos caused led to even more problems after the war, as the countryside and shires were not only plagued by disease, but also by ravenous bandits, out to rape and pillage as much of the realm as they could handle. This made journeying out in the open a very unsafe thing to do. Luckily, most of the bandits were centred within the state of Branwen. Northern counties such as Hilburn were much harder to roam because of the frequent dragon attacks. Though the war ended four years ago, it would be centuries before the world could recover to within an inch of what it had previously been. Still, Daneira was not concerned with the regeneration of Asgarth. She would be long dead before that took place What she was concerned with now was protecting the people who needed her help, from the dragons. Not only that, but… other things as well. As the two ridden horses galloped toward the village of Hillwick, the farmer looked over at Daneira, and spoke as best he could. “So, young lass!” The farmer had to yell loudly due to the wind and the roaring of the horse’s hooves. “How are ya at Kings and Dragons? Ya seemed excited when I told ya about our fine players in Hillwick!” Daneira yelled back, keeping her eyes on the road and gripping tightly at the reins. “I was a fairly accomplished player back in my hometown of E’milliss. A great deal of people challenged me to matches in my spare time. It keeps me entertained” “Who taught you how to play?” At that point, Daneira’s eyes seemed to widen in thought, and then lower in a brief sadness. Though it was a quick change of demeanour, the farmer picked up on it and wondered if he had trod on a sore spot. “Did I say something wrong…?” The farmer asked. Daneira noticed the farmer’s concern. “No. It is fine. My brother taught me. Varius Midland.” The two then let the conversation end at that, both unwilling to think any more about it. The ride back to Hillwick was slightly shorter than the ride to the footprints, whether this was Daneira’s imagination or not, it didn’t really matter Daneira and her farming companion slowed the galloping of their horses to a slow trot. The dirt road shortly became the smooth path of a cobblestone road, and they realized that their brief ride was over. The village of Hillwick was very different from most northern villages. Whereas other settlements to the north had a very rural look and feel, the design of this village had clearly been inspired by the great cities of the south. It had a particularly ‘Thanadorian’ style to it, the cobblestone roads separating the strong wooden houses staked into the ground. A stone well was located in the middle of the town square, giving easy access to a plentiful water supply. But unlike the individuality of the Thanadorian people, Hillwick citizens were friendly and charming, if not a little undignified It wasn’t unique to Hillwick, however. Generally speaking, the folks in Hilburn County were friendly. As the two trotted through the middle road, an eager young girl, running out into his direction from a neighbouring wooden house, greeted the farmer. “Daddy! Daddy!” She cried. “I’m so glad you’re back! Mama said you’d be in danger!” The farmer pulled at the reins for his horse to stop, hopped off the saddle, and wrapped his arms around his little daughter, who was now breaking into light sobs. “It’s okay, Nari…” The farmer said soothingly. “Daddy’s fine. Remember what we talked about? No tears. If anything happens to Daddy, ya have to be strong for Mama.” Nari snivelled, rubbing her eyes as her father hugged her. “I promise, Daddy. I’ll be strong.” Daneira smiled at the two of them. It was nice to see such a caring father. Not only one who was caring, but also aware of reality. Teaching children to deal with the pain and inevitability of loss was a must, especially in such uncertain times. Post-war Asgarth was not a pleasant place to live in. The farmer looked around at Daneira, who had just dismounted. “My brother’s inn, the Dancing Gale, is just a few streets away.” He said. “There’s a stable right next to it. Give ya horse a rest and then ya can head in for a drink and some grub.” Daneira blinked “You are not coming with me?” “I had to abandon my farm after the dragon attacked Hillwick. My wife and daughter are living here with me until the thing is destroyed. But that farm is my life. I’ve gotta make sure that it’s not burned to the beams. If it is, then my family and I are finished. Though I’m nervous about it, I have go there. It’s up to me to do this. The only reason I came back to Hillwick now was to make sure that my family was in good graces.” “I see.” Daneira nodded. “Rest assured that I will eliminate the dragon for you.” The farmer grinned. “You betcha. The sixty gold pieces we spend on you will not be wasted, I’m sure.” The farmer bobbed his head as a parting greeting, then strode away in the other direction, with his little girl in his arms. Farming was a very taxing profession. But then again, it was less of a profession and more of a way of life. You could see evidence of that notion with the farmer. His duty was taking care of his livelihood, which was the anchor of his family’s security. If not for that, then his wife and daughter would suffer an even greater poverty than even Daneira could imagine It gave Daneira a nostalgic tingle to think about that. About people fighting the thin gap between life and death, prosperity and ruin. She herself came from humble backgrounds, so Daneira was fully aware of the struggle of rural folk. The dragon-huntress clasped the reins of her white Branwenish thoroughbred horse, Melody, and manoeuvred in the direction that had been given to her, toward the Dancing Gale As she walked, Daneira was more than aware of the numerous stares she was receiving Men and women, young and old, tall and thing, all stopped what they were doing and secretively observed the young stranger. Daneira was right about Hillwick. The village was a community, very much so. Everyone knew each other, gossiped and gasped amongst themselves, commenting on the mysterious female knight whom had come to their humble homestead. Or maybe it was the fact that they were observing a female knight that was so unsettling. Women had not always been allowed to carry swords in public, let alone lionize themselves as knights. It was in the year 2768, shortly before the end of the war, that the law had allowed women into knighthood Most had learned to accept this change in the law, but there were still a few people that objected to female knights. Some women said it was too unfeminine, some men said women were unfit to wield the blade, but Daneira took no notice of either of those opinions. All she was aware of were her duties as a dragon hunter and as a swordfighter. Regardless of the reason, Daneira ignored the stares she was being cast, and walked onwards through the spacious cobblestone streets, to the Dancing Gale. Just like the farmer said, the Inn had a stable just next to it. Daneira went up to the apprentice horse herder standing by the wooden gate leading inside the stable. “You there.” She said. “Can you please tend to my horse for me?” The young boy nodded. “Yes Ma’am. Lord Applebottom has already paid for ya needs here. She’s in good hands.” Daneira nodded in acceptance, then handed the reins over to the horse herder boy. Then she looked into his eyes and saw that look of majesty in his eyes. At first it confused her, but then Daneira understood that those looks were not given to her, but rather her horse, Melody. The young man gasped and eyeballed the creature with astounded eyes, lightly stroking Melody’s mane of pearl white hair. “She’s a real beauty, Miss Midland!” The boy said eagerly. “She’s so pretty! I bet she even rides like a queen! What’s her name? Where’d ya get her?” Daneira chuckled at the boy’s earnest joy. “Her name is Melody. She is Branwenish My father used to breed this type of horse when he lived in Thyne for a while. It’s a small village but it does raise some spectacular horses. Just be sure to take care of her.” “I can do that!” The boy said happily. “We got the best oats and carrots around here for her! Just leave it to me!” Daneira placed one of her gloved hands in the boy’s mop of blonde hair, and ruffled it playfully. From Daneira’s estimations, the child could not have been more than ten years of age, but his love of horses would make him a great horse herder one day. “I am sure you will do a fine job.” With that said, Daneira walked out from the stable gates, her horse being moved inside it, then she came around and entered the double swinging saloon-like doors of the Dancing Gale. The innards of the inn were less charming than its outward shell, and to Daneira this place looked as hospitable as most Wingard inns do. The smell of the place was the first sign of its roughness. The inn had a gathering hall as most do, a sort of pub and recreation area built into one, and naturally the climate was thick with the stink of smoke, ale, and raw mannish sweat. Repugnant was a suitable word for it, harsh, but suited to the scent. Coarse, bull-like hulking men, their jaws frazzled with stubble and thick beards, their breath stinking of downed ale, all chortled with vulgar glee. Their casual banter filled the room with its loudness, each of them encircling the rounded wooden tables, stained and dirty from years of abuse. Darting between each table were three serving girls, giving glasses of ale and plates of steaming food to each of the humoured townsfolk. The men would break away from their card games every once in a while to whistle at the serving girls and belittle them with cheap comments. Daneira eyed this all with contempt. She loved the countryside and its people, but this was a side to the northern peasantry that she was not insanely happy with. Many a head turned around as Daneira walked into the inn. The first thing they noticed was her beauty, a buxom young girl, around the age of about twenty years. Her cheekbones were high and her cheeks rosy, her silky raven hair tied into a ponytail and her piecing sky blue eyes gave her away for the beautiful young creature that she was Some of those men may have made an attempt to woo her, if not for the second thing they noticed. Claavius. The sword strapped at the side of her belt was an off-putting sight. The scabbard was made up of metal links and brown dragon leather, probably taken from the skin of a thunder dragon of Maakenbrood. Its hilt was made of a very smooth wood; the metal butt was rounded into a sort of steep triangular arrowhead. The sword Claavius was a brilliant design, maybe even elfish. Swords of that calibre were often given to great knights; it was not uncommon to see personal knights of the monarchy wearing such blades. This gave the clear and downright accurate impression that the foreign brunette was a skilled blade-master. Though she still had work to do to improve her skill, they were right in making that assumption. Daneira took no notice of their glares, and turned to the counter over by the entrance. “There is a reservation for me.” Daneira said to the innkeeper behind the wooden counter. “Right.” He replied. “Ya name?” “Daneira. Daneira Midland.” The innkeeper gasped. “Are ya the dragon hunter? Lord Applebottom has paid for everything, room, booze and food. Matter of fact, he’s back at ya room waiting for ya. I wouldn’t keep him waiting, lass. Go on and see him. It’s room twelve.” Daneira nodded “Understood.” The dragoon huntress quickly signed her name into the list of borders on the counter, took the key the innkeeper handed to her, and then made her way over to the stairs leading up into the actual boarding rooms. As she passed by the chuckling men at recreation hall, they all cast her magnificent–sized grins of appreciation. Normally she would have just looked away with irritation, but she suddenly felt a bit playful With a sneaky smile, she ran a hand up through her bangs of black hair, winking at one of the boozers with cheek. The drunkard men all burst out with a chorus of cheer, clinking their mugs of malt beer in appreciation. Daneira walked up the stairs, the laughter and shouting now fading into the background, as she strode up, reaching the second level. With her strong eyes set on each door, Daneira began to count down each one to her door, number twelve, until she finally caught sight of it. The swordswoman from E’milliss slotted the iron key into its lock, and then turned, pushing open the creaking oak wood door. Standing at the far side of the room, next to the bed, with three pike men standing by his side was lord Applebottom, the patron of Hillwick. Like most of the Wingard nobility, he was stout and self-indulgent, his slightly balding head masked by the feathered hat that he wore. The beady eyes observed Daneira with interest, but made sure to sound as professional as possible “Welcome to Hillwick, Daneira Midland.” Applebottom said. “I trust your journey was without problems.” “It was. Despite the zealous nature of the Sea Lords, the boat ride to mainland Hilburn was fine. But then my ease of travel is not the issue. The issue is the dragon which is attacking your village.” Applebottom confirmed that with a slap of his bloated belly. “Correct. I trust you have seen the dragon’s footprints outside of the village?” “I have.” Daneira walked over to the chair at the left side of the room, taking a seat. “They end just as the dirt path leads up to the mountain regions. I am assuming that it has a cave somewhere. If it took flight to get there, then it must be injured. Give me a few hours and I am sure I will have it killed” “I’m sure you will.” Applebottom agreed. “I do not reach into the coffers of Hillwick and withdraw sixty gold pieces everyday.” Daneira picked up on the subtext, but did not address it. “...I will need a favour from you. If there is a chance that I fall in battle, you will have no immediate protection from the dragon. You need to evacuate the people if it comes back. As quickly as it comes.” Applebottom smiled deviously, running his hand through his grey beard. “But of course… my… ultimate mission is to protect the lives of those living in my village. For years the Applebottom family has been protecting this region from dragons. You needn’t ask me to perform a duty I am so thoroughly aware of.” “I just need to be sure of that.” Two of the pike men whispered to each other while Daneira and Applebottom continued to discuss things. “Trust a woman to be so emotional about people.” One said. The other laughed under his breath. “What more do you expect? Such a wench don’t know her place anymore. All these lasses playing at being a knight is a bleeding joke! Stick ‘um in kitchen and make ‘um roast some pig is what I say.” Daneira remained unaware of what the two pike men were saying. “Thank you for the support you have extended to me, Lord Applebottom.” “Not a trouble. You have the townsfolk in quite a stir, I should say. Your natural talents and considerable beauty, Daneira Midland, have bewitched them all. So much so that they left you a chest of goods to aid you and present their thanks.” Daneira looked around Lord Applebottom to the large iron chest that was located behind the two chatting pike men guards. As the realized that there was attention being drawn to them, they dispensed with the idle banter and separated, giving the brunette woman a clear view of the chest. Lord Applebottom nodded his head to the door, still stroking his beard. The three pike men understood and marched towards the door, past Daneira. “Good luck, Miss Midland.” Lord Applebottom said as he left. “May you triumph over the dragon in the name of King Richard XII and the Asmangard Empire” The door slammed shut, and Applebottom and his pike men were gone.
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