As things stood, Bedo was ready to retire, and after one more year, he’d have received his full pension for his service. I wasn’t about to be the one who took his pension from him, and it gave me time for my troops to come to trust me. Because of our deal, Bedo became my mentor. It also gave me time to rattle Elgan because he knew that as soon as Bedo retired, I’d be First Awst, which would mean I'd be able to challenge him. Elgan’s first mistake was assuming that I’d challenge him right away, since it’s what he would have done.
Since he assumed that I wouldn’t wait, Elgan spent that time drilling his troops like the Final Battle at the end of the world was upon us. After watching him for a bit, Bedo advised me to wait another year before challenging Elgan. I’d have had another year of consolidating my new troops and command, while Elgan would have spent two years drilling his troops in the dirt. I was already starting to receive transfer requests because his troops were growing increasingly frustrated with all the drills.
After two years of that, Elgan’s troops would have been too tired to put up much of a fight and would likely be ready for a change of leadership. Elgan knew I could take him in the single combat challenge, too. I’d already defeated two of his sons in the annual trials, so his only hope at hanging on to Geward Awst was to defeat me in the melee and hope that the king sided with him against me, to break the tie. Now, all that’s in the past. I’ve got to figure out where I go from here. My plans are all shattered. I’m not quite sure what to do next. I seem to find myself at loose ends.”
“You’ll figure it out, I’m sure, but no one says you have to have that done by tomorrow. You should try to sleep a bit,” Gethin says, standing up. “I’ll come get you for dinner and sit with you for a while during your vigil. We can talk more then. It’s part of what your vigil is for, you know. It’s supposed to be a time of reflection.”
Gethin smiles at her and pats her shoulder before placing his hand on her head and blessing her. The blue nimbus rolls across her, bringing with it a sense of peace, and she curls up with her pillow to try to rest as Gethin quietly shuts the door behind him.
Without meaning to, Emlyn is quickly asleep. Gethin leans against the wall in the hallway for a moment, contemplating before deciding to talk to Ember. Leaning on his cane, Gethin arrives at Ember’s office to find a blond girl sitting at the desk, sorting through everything and rearranging it.
“You must be Ember’s new assistant,” Gethin says, “What’s your name?”
“I’m Adra,” she says pertly. Glancing at the cane, she adds, “You must be Gethin. He told me that if you came, just let you go in unless someone was already there. Since he’s just doing more paperwork, you can go on in. He’ll probably appreciate the interruption.”
Chuckling, Gethin opens the door and sticks his head in. “Do you have a few moments?”
“I’m just drowning in a sea of paper,” Ember replies ruefully, “Please feel free to distract me.” Gethin shuts the door behind him and flops down in one of the plush chairs that Ember keeps for visitors to his office.
“How is she?” Ember says, “Do you think she’ll take the oath?”
“I don’t think she’s going to renege on her promise,” Gethin shrugs, “but she’s feeling lost. She’s started to find a sense of belonging. She’s started to make friends. She needs a purpose and maybe a bit of a challenge.”
“I might have just the thing,” Ember says, rummaging through all the paperwork cluttering his desk, “If I can just find it… Ah… here it is…” Ember hands the message to Gethin, who begins reading what appears to be a hastily written letter scrawled onto the back of a flyer offering a reward for a lost bull.
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Please, you must help us. We are being plagued by a blue dragon who calls himself Divaros. He’s been demanding tribute from our village in the form of virgins. Our village is depleted of girls, and he’s threatening to burn us all to ash, but we have no more girls to send. We tried to give him one of the older girls, and he sensed her… (several scratch outs) impurity and refused to accept her as tribute.
He threatened to burn us for providing him with (more scratch outs) an impure girl. We told him she’s the only one left in the village who hasn't yet married, since he’d already taken all the others. He demanded that we get him an acceptable girl and flew away. We asked the neighboring villages, but none of their girls are willing to volunteer.
We don’t even know why he wants them or what he’s doing with them, so we can’t blame them for not wanting to volunteer for what might be a suicide mission. For all we know, he’s eating them.
Our local Baron, Lord Monkford, sent men to parley with this dragon, but his men tried to attack Divaros while under a flag of parley. Divaros has decided that anyone wearing livery is untrustworthy and is now refusing to speak to anyone but the village elders. Divaros has relented somewhat and told us that we must either provide him with two girls’ weight in gold or another girl.
Our local baron has paid once but says he doesn’t have enough gold to make another payment. We’re pretty certain that even some of his wife’s jewelry was melted down for the last payment. The viscount, Lord Highglade, is refusing to get involved because Lord Monkford’s men broke the rules of parley.
Lord Monkford says that his men did this against his orders, thinking that the dragon was just a simple beast, like the drakes and dragonettes we get here sometimes. Anyone with eyes can see that this is no mere drake or dragonette, but his men aren’t from here and are claiming that they didn’t know how to tell the difference.
Lord Monkford says that since his men went against his orders, this isn’t his fault. Lord Monkford feels that his lord, Lord Highglade, should be doing something to help with this damnable dragon, but Lord Highglade has refused to have anything to do with the matter. Lord Monkford has appealed Lord Highglade’s decision to Earl Whitehall, but Earl Whitehall has ruled in favor of Lord Highglade.
Now Lord Monkford has appealed to Marquis Coventail, but we don’t know if he will do anything or not. The Marquis did send men to talk to Divaros, but Divaros refused to speak to them. While these nobles are squabbling, our village is being terrorized, and our young ones are being taken.
“A dragon,” Gethin says, frowning, “She’s just recovering from…”
"You said a purpose and a bit of a challenge,” Ember shrugs, “That’s got both. She killed a god. How hard could talking to a dragon be compared to that? Besides, maybe this dragon will talk to them since they’re from a temple.”
“More likely to take her as tribute,” Gethin glares, “Have you gone mad?”
“We aren’t sending her out tomorrow,” Ember explains, “It would be after the break and after I’m certain she’s physically capable again. I can write back and tell them that we’ll send a group of paladins to try to parley with the dragon and see if he’s willing to talk to us. Since he’s not willing to talk to the men these nobles keep sending, he might not be willing to talk to us either. I’ll have her fully kitted out by then, too. Lokrag is still working on her kit.”
“I don’t like this,” Gethin says, “I have a bad feeling about this. Something about this isn’t right, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is just yet. It will come to me. I just hope it does before you send her off after this dragon.”
“It will keep her busy and be a distraction from all the other things plaguing her,” Ember sighs, “Maybe sending her out with all her friends is just what she needs.”
“My people have a saying,” Gethin frowns, “A distracted man will walk right into the sword. I don’t think you should be sending her anywhere so soon.”
“This should be relatively simple,” Ember insists, “Go there. See if the dragon will talk to any of us. If he will, try to find out what he wants. See if he’ll give the girls back. Maybe these villagers can pay him off with cows instead of girls. I’ve never heard of a dragon asking for such a thing.”
“Neither have I,” Gethin complains, “That’s part of what I don’t like about it. You do realize that she’d qualify as the tribute, don’t you? I don’t really want to have to fight a dragon to get her back or explain to the Goddess how we lost her.”
“Surely not,” Ember scoffs, “She was running around in that… that… strappy thing.”
“Quite customary, where we come from,” Gethin shrugs, “Not at all out of the ordinary. Clothing, when worn, was intended for protection from the elements. Tattoos were for adornment, but it was adornment that was earned, not simply purchased. It was also painful, done with a hollow-bone needle and a hammer. Not only did you have to earn it, but you also had to withstand it being applied, which was an achievement in itself. Imagine having to lie perfectly still while a priest fusses over the placement of each needle and then taps it in with a hammer to create all those intricate designs. If you had to go through all that, you’d want to show it off too.”