The day the dragon arrived, our whole concept of government changed.
The dragon took up residence in the hills just outside of town. We all saw it fly overhead and land, and there was a general air of concern around town as we didn’t yet know the dragon’s intent. Within the hour, we had our answer.
The dragon sent an emissary to us — a hunchbacked troll with a missing arm. The troll hobbled down from the hills and came into town like it belonged here. The townsfolk watched it with apprehension, though the troll appeared to take no interest in anyone. By the time the troll reached the town square, it had gathered a sizeable crowd, following it from a short distance. No one had seen a real troll before, but the stories we’d heard about trolls didn’t seem to match this particular specimen. Where stories described trolls as violent and angry individuals that would beat you to death and eat your flesh and bones, this particular troll was placid and quiet and seemingly completely disinterested in what was going on around it.
The troll shuffled up to a post at the town’s modest tavern and, with its good arm, tacked up a piece of parchment to the post. Then, it turned, snuffled, and walked back out of town, much to the puzzlement of the people.
So it was that the parchment was a declaration of intent from the dragon.
“To Whom It May Concern, the village of Eveside is now under my direct protection and rule. I am the dragon Elsbeth, and I am your new, self-proclaimed king. In exchange for my guardianship, you will serve me and provide me with entertainment. I am particularly fond of one-act plays where the dragon is the hero, but I leave the choice of entertainment up to you. These terms are non-negotiable.”
To say our town council was displeased would be an understatement.
“Where does this dragon get off dictating to us what sort of government we are to have?” one councilman demanded.
“The dragon did say that it would offer us protection,” said another.
“Protection from what,” countered a third. “We haven’t suffered an attack here in over a hundred years!”
The townspeople murmured among themselves at that, discussing this sudden and unexpected turn of events.
“We should send an emissary back to the dragon!” one farmer called out. “Tell this dragon that we don’t accept it terms!”
“But it said the terms are non-negotiable,” said another. “What if it gets angry and destroys our whole town and everyone and everything in it?”
This caused another burst of muttering from the people, and the three council members put their heads together to discuss.
“Very well,” said one of the council members. “We’ll send an envoy to the dragon to see what the creature is all about. It may be a dangerous undertaking, so we’ll leave it up to a volunteer to go.” His eyes drifted over the crowd. “Mace!” he called out, looking at me. “You just volunteered!”
“I don’t think that’s the way it works,” I grumbled.
“Nevertheless, we’re sending you. You’re the closest thing to a diplomat our little town has.”
“Fine,” I growled, “but you owe me.”
You see, I was the town clerk, and writing and keeping records was my stock and trade. It wasn’t very much like being a diplomat, but I suppose it’s the next best thing. It’s all we had, anyway. I just hoped I survived the journey. Some dragons have a reputation for being contentious and cantankerous. I was merely counting on it not being hungry.
And so it was that I found myself standing on the footpath into the hills, alone but for my walking stick and document pouch.