Andreas the Mighty

1

It has been five days and there is still no sign of the Andreas. The only visibility in the blackness of night are the torches lit atop the castle walls. The lookouts in the tower strain their eyes hoping to see any movement in the shadows. 

“Commander,” The archer grunt said softly. “Is this all really necessary? How could any man survive for five days out there?”

“If any man can do it,” The Commander says. “It’s Andreas.” 

The Commander’s near seven foot frame allows his voice to occupy all the space around him. Even spoken softly, you are commanded to hear and listen. But what the archer doesn’t seem to understand is that Andreas isn’t just ‘any man’. He might as well be descended from the gods themselves. Everyone has heard what Andreas has done, but there are those who believe it only to be myth. Do not be fooled. Any chronicler could try to dramatize the destruction of Verdenkai, or the slaying of King George, or the great con of Duke Einar. But they wouldn’t even come close to the glory of the actual event. 

“Wait, I see something!” Another archer exclaims.

“That’s the fifth time you’ve said that. Just shut your trap and stop wasting my time!” The Commander yells out.

“No really, something is out there” The lookout above states, looking through his spyglass. 

The light of the torches on golden armor reflects from the darkness into the eyes of the men on the wall. The faint sound of a trotting horse leading a cart is heard just before the loud blast of a horn from the rider. 

“By the gods. It’s him! Open the bloody gates!” The Commander orders the men below.

The gates begin to pull upwards at the same time the bridge over the moat lowers to the ground. Finally, in all his glory, Andreas steps into the light of the torches, over the bridge. But something is awry. Large gashes in his armor, leaking blood, are lightly covered by his arm. His long blonde hair matted down by a mixture of green and red blood.

“Get the fucking doctor!” Andreas yells out with his dwindling strength. 

Everyone scrambles down the walls to help him. The townsfolk peek out of their houses to witness the commotion. Andreas gets off his horse in the middle of the courtyard with the help of the doctor and a soldier.  

“No one touch what’s in the cart.” Andreas says to the crowd.

“If that’s what I think it is, I hope it is officially dead.” The doctor says.

“You see, that is the issue. It’s still alive!” Andreas exclaims before clutching his stomach in pain. 

The Commander walks over to the large tarp covered cart. Townsfolk and soldiers surround him. He pulls the tarp away to reveal a large bloody dragon’s wing. 

2

Andreas recovers in his quarters, covered in bandages, and surrounded by chroniclers and doctors. It’s been two days and the city is in disarray about the unslain dragon still affoot. 

“From what I’ve gathered, it seems the dragon is not in fighting shape anymore. We should just send all the able bodied men to finish the job right?” One chronicler says to the group.  

“You absolute bumbling idiot! Although it may not fly anymore, it’s wounds are now healed and is now more angry than ever.” A doctor lashes out against the chronicler. 

Another doctor attempts to apply ointment to Andreas’ lacerations but is swatted away. 

“The doctor is right.” Andreas says. “That dragon is more pissed off than ever and I can guarantee it will attack this city soon.”

“So what do we do?” The chronicler cries out.

“Well there won’t be much fight left in me quite some time. But fear not. Taking down dragons may prove more simple than you’d think. I happen to be experienced in this regard.” Andreas states while smiling.

“Ah, like in the northern continent, when you took down two dragons in the same day” The chronicler recalls.

“Exactly. You sure know your history, that is certain. But this time, I feel, requires more theatrics, wouldn’t you agree?” Andreas inquires to the group.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Bring me the commander.”

3

Although the city of Lafinda may be small, its army is quite large and capable. There’s a reason it has remained a free state in this time of turmoil. Though Andreas will need the help of one specific man for this endeavour. 

Andreas stands at the center of the war room, one arm in a sling and the other leaning on a crutch. Everyone is silent as he reads over the list of resources and people at his ready. He chuckles here and there, pondering which act would make the most impact on the history books. 

“Gentlemen, I believe I have settled on a plan.” Andreas explains to the group.

“Well, do tell.” The Commander says

“I see here that you still employ the help of Daden.” 

“Naturally yes, we need sorcerers here. Especially now with the warring states and beasts running amuck.” 

“I would quite like to speak to him. Although I was able to slice off its wing with a well placed cut, that might be the only place a sword is useful. We are going to have to do something different.” 

This causes a stir amongst the high ranking soldiers and strategists. Swords and arrows are all they know. This information makes them practically useless. 

A grunt in the corner of the room steps forward. “Well why don’t we just catapult boulders at him and crush his damn armor?” The grunt asks.

Many cheer at the idea. Some claim there’s no reason for this nonsense. Andreas shakes his head and gives the grunt quite the disappointing look. One that a parent gives a child after still wetting the bed into their teenage years.

“I’m not from this land, but I was unaware they let actual braindead cretins into the war room. Is this just part of the southern realm’s customs?” Andreas asks the crowd.

Everyone stops cheering and the grunt looks down at his feet solemnly. 

“Those who cheered have clearly never fought or seen a dragon. The swiftness of these beasts is remarkable. I myself, Andreas the Bold, Andreas the Mighty, have trouble keeping up with them. Flying a goddamn boulder at a dragon is just a waste of artillery. It’ll reach the catapult before the rock even hits the ground.”

“Okay I get it! I’m a fucking idiot!” The grunt yells. “What’s your plan for god's sake.”

“Glad you asked.” Andreas smirks at the grunt. “I plan to plant a keg of gunpowder into the beast's stomach. This will be, of course, with the help of the sorcerer, if he’s capable.”

Right on que, Daden, with an unkempt grey beard and bags under his eyes, walks into the room. 

“Did someone call for me?” 

4

“You look older than god my friend.” Andreas says, with eyes wide. 

“Oh just a small potion making accident, I’m still technically 35 years of age.” Daden says.

“Great, that’s just what I wanted to hear! An inept potion maker is about to teleport me out of a dragon's stomach.” Andreas yells.

The reaction of the room seems to be mixed. Some cheer at the thought of such a glorious event taking place, knowing in their bones that Andreas could do it. Others scoff at the mere idea of something so ridiculous. The scoffers leave the room. Those with no ideas of their own stay silent and wait for events to unfold. Daden seems unsurprised that a man like Andreas would want to attempt such a feat. 

“Ah, the old, hop into the beats stomach and carve your way out from the inside trick; with a twist.” Daden remarks. “Hasn’t been done in a century, and hasn’t been done by using a portal to get the person out. Goddammit, just when my work is settling down, I get more shit on my plate.” 

“Well, can it be done?” The Commander, sitting up in his chair, asks.

“In order for something like this to occur,” Daden stops to think for a moment. “I need to be well attuned to Andrea’s body” 

Almost at the same time, the group raises an eyebrow, confused as to what that could mean. 

“Um, I’m not really into old men Daden. There must be another way.” Andreas pleads.

“No you idiots! I’m not fucking him. I just need some blood, or hair, or skin, or something that will link your body to the portal.” Daden says, as if the whole group should be well informed on the ways of sorcery. 

A sigh of relief befalls Andreas. “Well if that’s all that must be done, and if that is what will further cement my place in history, then consider all of my beautiful hair, yours. 

“Good. The clock is ticking lads, the dragon will be here soon and a portal of this nature will require time.” Daden alerts everyone. 

“I shall ready the gunpowder, I hope you know what to do with it Andreas.” The Commander states, getting up from his seat.

“Worry not Commander,” Andreas says, with his head held high. “For it is Andreas you are speaking to.”

5

The sun is shining high over the walls of Lafinda. One lowly guard runs back to the city gates after placing an entire cart full of meat and other goods a dragon might find delicious, outside the city walls. 

“Every beast from here to Boonvale will pick up that scent.” The Commander says, in the watch tower looking through a spyglass. 

Daden, just inside the walls of the city, finishes creating symbols on the ground with black powder. He creates a large ball of flame in his hand and puts Andreas’ golden hair into the fire. Immediately, the black powder on the ground glows blue. 

“I assume that means the portal’s creation is a success?” Andreas asks, holding the keg of gunpowder under his slinged arm.

“Any fool with two eyes could assume that Andreas. And they’d be right!” Daden says, smiling ear to ear with the blue glow twinkling in his eye.

The gates open up and Andreas steps out into the open field, about 20 feet away from the cart. The walls behind him, manned to max capacity in full battle attire, watch for the events to unfold. 

“Uh sir?” An archer asks the Commander. “If this plan fails, is there a backup? And if there is, why have we not been informed of it.” 

The Commander sighs. “No. We do not. And frankly, we can’t do anything besides watch. Gods I hate leaving the success of a mission up to chance.”

Just then, the roar of a large beast is felt within the chest of every man, woman, and child within the city. About a mile away, the trees begin to creak and shift from side to side, causing birds to fly away. It gets closer and closer until suddenly, a large dragon with one wing bursts out of the tree line. 

It spots the cart of meat but then immediately locks onto Andreas. It releases another roar, even louder than the first one, and charges straight at Andreas. Just like he described, its speed is a sight to behold. Andreas barely has time to take the smoldering igniter and put it to the wick. The wick catches fire and begins simmering quickly down into the contents of the keg. 

“For death and glory!” Andreas bellows, as he performs a limping run straight towards the dragon. 

The dragon makes things quite easy for Andreas to reach its insides. With its mouth agape, the dragon swallows up Andreas whole, like a pelican scooping fish out of water. It stretches its neck into the sky, where everyone sees the bulge slowly going down into the stomach. 

Daden is frantic in the courtyard, reciting speech in a language unknown to everyone around him. The glowing dust on the ground gets brighter and brighter. Just then, the dragon blows apart from the inside. First its eyes shoot out of its socket like a ballista. Its belly tears open and flys off in a random direction, similar to a balloon popping. 

The symbols of glowing dust on the ground explode into a flash of light so bright, those who saw it have to shield their eyes. Once the dust settles, the onlookers seem to not care about the dragon carcass outside the city walls. They focus on the pile of smoking guts laying on what was the glowing dust. Daden himself is covered in blood and those familiar with human anatomy will notice part of the small intestine strewn across his shoulder. 

“Holy goddamn fuck.” The Commander, under his breath, says. 

Daden stands there, awestruck, shaking. “I was too late.” 

Epilogue 

Months later, the construction of a marble statue in the center of the courtyard is complete. It pictures Andreas, with one leg on a dragon’s head, his right fist clenched down at his side, and his right arm raising a sword straight into the sky. A plaque at the base reads, “Andreas the Mighty, Slayer of Dragons, Son of God. May he be remembered. 

The chroniclers have come together and crafted a glorious ending to Andreas’ life. The print will be sent to all neighboring cities to spread to the tale of Andreas’ life and tragic demise. Just as he hoped, his actions surely cemented his place in the history books and Andreas the Mighty will be known all throughout the land.