"Oi, ${character.name}! Are you even listening to me?"

I look up at the sound of my name, shaking my head to focus my thoughts. In front of me is the familiar figure of tiny Helen Varr, the halfling proprietress. Though only slightly above three feet tall, her short stature seems twice as tall given her authoratative voice and, if rumours are true, her surprisingly strong arm with the wooden spoon hanging from her belt.

"Yeah, yeah. Something, something, big dragon near Rivermeet. Big threat, gold reward, heard it all before," I reply in a bored monotone, having truly heard the same words far too many times before. The details may change, but the intent stays the same.

Helen's strict face softens for a moment in sympathy, but knowing better than to console me with empty words, she nods towards a nearby table. "Can I least get some lunch or something for you before leaving?"

I shake my head no, replying "I'd rather just get this all over with. A dragon's not something you just wait out, after all."

Helen waves me farewell and a loud cheer follows me into the night as I head towards the picket lines. "Hail to ${character.title}!" the patrons call out, raising their drinks in a toast.

Their words slip from my shoulders, failing to find a place anywhere in me that resonates with them. Perhaps a few years ago I would have been staying here, letting the generosity of these fine people fill my belly for a few stories, but now the quiet road is the only company I need, the only voice I want to hear the cold wind.

Charcoal, the massive warhorse whose presence is the only stability I've had the last two years, stamps the ground at my approach, tossing his mane in impatience. A small smile finds its way onto my face at Charcoal's antics - if ever I met someone who hated crowds as much as Charcoal, I'm pretty sure he'd bite their head off just to make a point.

I jump onto his broad back, needing no saddle to ride him. Charcoal and I have seen the worst the world can throw at us, from demons to elementals to even the occasional dragon. If I fall off his back due to a lack of saddle, there's no one to blame my broken back on besides myself. For all his bravery and bloodlust in battle, the massive grey-hued horse is the gentlest beast I've ever known, the perfect companion for a long and weary road.

The road to Rivermeet takes 4 days to travel from Myrith, the capital city of Morhaine. Not being a large country, it's thankfully short travels from city to city, but the Northern Road is by far the most boring. Empty stretches of rolling hills and farmlands, without any form of waystop or entertainment to be found. The people here in northern Morhaine are simple folk, covetous of their peaceful isolation from the hubbub of the world, which is why I've been sent so quickly to deal with rumours of a dragon popping up in the Valleys of Mist. It's a large payout, as to be expected from people who want this done fast, which is why I've been sent as the leading adventurer of Morhaine. After all, it takes a certain talent to track a dragon in a place where you can't rely fully on your sight.

It takes another full day, guided by eye-witnesses and rumour, to find the cave where this dragon seem be lairing. Though I can't see it yet through the heavy mist that hangs heavy upon northern Morhaine, an acrid stench drifts through the air, the surefire sign on a black dragon nearby. Its corrosive breath had likely been used to expand the cave deep underground, to better hide from hunters.

I loosely tie Charcoal to a tree next to the cave's entrance, more as a precaution than a necessity. He's smart enough to run away from a lost fight and loyal enough to stay here in case I need help running away. This is just to prevent someone from creeping up to try and steal him, since that effort would be sure to hurt the potential thief far more than Charcoal.

Quick, silent steps bring me within the cave, holding up my shirt to protect myself from the acrid stench. It's far stronger here than outside, and a deep pit towards the cave's back wall proves my theory. The hole is a fairly big size, meaning that this black dragon is going to be a difficult fight. I shrug my shoulder to loosen up, then unholster my longbow in preparation.

I leap into the hole, bow athe ready in case the dragon is waiting for me, but the sight before my eyes makes even me pause in disbelief. Rather than the den of some feral beast, coated in gore and the remains of its victims, I see what looks to be a pale human child with long black hair sitting casually at a dinner table, eating a simple soup and bread. She notices my arrival, cocking an eyebrow above one of her piercing purple eyes, but otherwise continues her meal without interruption. There are, as only to be expected in a dragon's lair, heaps of gold and treasure, but nothing that seems recently stolen, and certainly no sign of violence or carnage.

Seeing as how the girl, most likely the dragon in disguise, is seemingly content to finish her meal before bothering with me, I take a few minutes to scan the room. It looks much the same as other dragon lairs, but far more orderly than most, and there are actual maps littering the cavern walls marked with notes. I can't read them, written in some foreign language, but clearly this dragon has been doing some sight-seeing around the world. Curious.

After a while, the little girl slurps up the last of her soup, demurely pats her face with a silk handkerchief, and turns to me before saying in a high-pitched voice, "Took you long enough to arrive, ${character.name}. I was certain you had greater skills than this, but it seems I've slightly overestimated your prowess. Hm, a potent lesson indeed."

I gaze at the pale child in shock, my mouth slightly agape at her words. It appears she knows exactly who I am, though as the shock passes, that shouldn't come as too much a surprise. My name is spoken throughout most of the world near Morhaine, but it does raise the question of why a dragon, of all beings, should care about it.

Before I can ask, the dragoness pulls herself up into an annoyingly arrogant pose, crossing her arms over her flat chest and plastering a smug grin onto her face. "You must be wondering why a superior creature like myself knows who you are, am I right? I'm right, aren't I? Well, it's very simple, but I'll make it even simpler so you can understand. Since you, the mighty ${character.title}, seem to have fallen into a bit of a rut, I shall grace you with the grandest quest of all - you shall assist me in conquering the world!"

Well, can't say I expected that. But, almost in spite of myself, I find the dragon strangely endearing. She may already be rambling on about the great of "Chloe Darkscales, first Empress of the World" and the Golden Age she intends to bring to the mortals under her wings, but the sheer confidence and childish glee she expresses while talking about it are rather heartwarming.