Golden Days and Knights

The setting sun gilded everything it touched, warm glow on the horizon bidding goodnight to the good day. Coolness began to creep in its shadow. My horse Skylar whinnied beneath me, both of us weary from a long day’s ride. My armor jostled with every step, old but freshly polished; gothic plate mail, twenty years out of style. The picture of a heroic knight in need of a quest, the only thing I lacked was a proper sword.

I’d left home this morning adventuring in my father’s footsteps. He’d given me his items, a bag of provisions, and his blessing.

As the sun set we entered a small town. I loudly dismounted. A street of connected shops greeted me, wooden homes tucked away beyond them. Sparse cattle lowed in the evening, candlelight glinted from house windows. Though plain, the town sparkled with novelty.

“G’day! May I help ye?” A serf boy approached me. His tunic was tied with a rope around his waist. A bombastic bowl cut matched the dirty color impeccably, haloing his sunken eyes. “I’m from Hearth tavern down the hill. What news do you bring to Lurewyn? We don’t go outside often.”

“I bring no news, I’m afraid. Ah! But I did find this.” I fished a green four-leaf clover from my pocket. “You may have it, if you’d like. It’s lucky.” He took it, studying my polished steel armor and horse who blew snot down my back. Clearing my throat I tapped the sword on my hip, rusted and falling apart. The strap had left a brown rub on my armor. “I am an adventurer seeking lodging and a blade. This is my father’s.”

The boy frowned at it, unimpressed by the thin leather roughed over by many years of use and many years of unuse. “Mm,” he said, as unoffensively as possible. The boy’s eyes trailed off down the street. “Well, there is–” His voice cut off. He looked at the clover. “Don’t buy here.”

I frowned. “Lad, I won’t last long without a proper blade. This is the closest town within miles. I am headed West, towards the Golden Lands to do some good and find some treasure, and I need a blade to do that. Why?”

He opened his mouth, and a shadow overtook him. 

“Geoffrey! Put his horse away.” A large man laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good heavens, was he complaining about leaving again?”

I shook my head, smiling. “No, sir, just helping me find a good blade.”

Geoffrey took Skylar’s reins, not meeting my eyes. He silently tucked the clover into his belt and they disappeared down the hill to the tavern stables.

The man pointed me down the street. The shop was dark gray with a crusty door and cloudy windows. A sign over the door read: APOCRYPHAL ARMORY.

The door swept into a dark shop with a draconic screech. Inside rows of shining armor glinted from the walls, a mix of new and old styles, polished to perfection. Two large tables set with swords glistened in the low light. Daggers glinted beside them on a mat, along with poisoned rings and needles. Jewels of every kind set in the blade hilts.

A squat man jolted at my entry. He was short with a splay of black hair plastered to his head and a dark undertone to his eyes. His cloak was a rich topaz yellow, too deep to be natural, and the rest of his features were swallowed underneath it. Gemstones glittered for buttons. He rustled impatiently. “Ah! A traveler! What brings you to my shop?”

I told him my short tale.

He produced a steel broadsword. As he turned it in the candlelight, light ran down to the sharp tip then back to the sturdy, leather wrapped hilt like a level. “Its name is Decimus. I will sell it for twenty five coins.”

My throat dried. Poor and alive is better than slightly less poor and dead, I supposed. Extracting my coin purse, I counted the majority of its contents on the counter. The merchant’s eyes followed the motion, lingering as I drew out each coin.

“We need more people like you,” he sighed, putting each coin one by one into a large sack on the counter. It bulged yet he set each coin down carefully. “There’s terrible trouble about,” he said gravely. “But you don’t want to hear about that, certainly.”

I straightened. “Please, continue.”

He clucked his tongue. “Ah, a terrible plight! A dragon lives in a cavern nearby. He terrorizes the townspeople, eats their cows and the occasional villager. Like poor Geoffrey’s parents, leaving him all alone. Oh! Nothing we can do. So sad.” He sighed and pulled the drawstrings, snapping the bag shut. “We need a rare adventurer of outstanding bravery and mediocre wit to save us.”

My heart quickened. “Well… I am an adventurer. I could slay this dragon.”

He stared at me. “Lad! You would venture? Brave indeed!”

I nodded gravely, certainty gaining traction. “I am called here. I will slay that dragon.” I picked up the sword. It was lighter than expected, reflecting the light. “Especially now with a fitting weapon.”

He shook his head slowly, clasping my hand with warm fingers. Adoration built in his eyes. “May your adventures bring riches indeed! Nightlock Mountain is a morning walk from here, and your fate will find you. Tiffany from the tavern can guide you. Bless you!”

**

The tavern loomed larger than any place in my hometown, but was made of the same strong timbers. Dirty tables spread throughout the room with a mix of chairs, ranging from wicker to stools. Talking in various levels of rowdiness rose to match the crackle of a fire.

A bar stretched along the far end. A young woman stood behind it, washing out mugs with a rag and pouring drinks. Tiredness clung to her once white skirt, now dirty and brown, its hem flat to the ground with crust. Hair the color of muddy straw wisped around her face.

I ate my plate of chicken and bread slowly, savoring the taste. My first meal in another town. Though it was not particularly rich, its novelty warmed me from the inside. I stood and approached the counter. “Excuse me? Are you Tiffany?”

The girl scowled at me. “What do you want? Going to harass me too? I ain't a wench, so move along.”

“No, of course not, dear lady,” I grimaced. The insinuation made me uncomfortable. “Do you know where Nightlock Mountain is? I have a dragon to slay.”

Her eyes widened, hands stilling on the counter. The bar went silent behind us. One, two seconds of silence. Someone laughed, then sound picked up along the edges of the room and filled in slowly again.

“Ay, yes, I can point you the way.” Her words picked up. “If you head west, there is a trail that will take you through a meadow. Continue on till ye reach the mountain.” She glanced both ways, then leaned forward. “There is a tree at its base. Behind it sets a rock opening. It’s a tunnel. If you continue through it, then you will find the cavern.”

“Thank you dear lady,” I said. I reached into my depleted coin purse, and set one of my last five coins on the counter. “For your help.”

I retired for the night. The morning came too quickly. My fingers hummed with nerves as I put on my armor. Already calluses formed on the places where it rubbed. It felt familiar. Though I had only worn it for one day, it was my father’s. It was mine. I drew my new sword Decimus, staring at it for a moment. A slightly sinister air clung to it, lingering underneath the grip, tucked under the metal. I strapped it across my back. My eyes fell on my bed, where my father’s sword, rusted beyond recognition, lay.

I deliberated then strapped it on my hip for good luck.

Finding the mountain was easy enough. Tiffany’s advice guided me perfectly. A graveyard of bones strewn its base. Chills rippled down my spine, passing backbones that could easily be human; easily mine.

A small entrance to the tunnels, scarcely larger than a barrel, rested above me. I dropped to my knees and crawled. The tunnel stretched before me in endless black. It constricted until my back scraped the top of the cavern, grating. It bent me from my knees to my arms, lungs held in craggy fingers. I pressed on.

Warmth enveloped me. Sweat dampened my undershirt. As the mouth of the tunnel opened wider, more light flooded in. Its illuminance grew brighter and brighter until it far outshone the daylight.

I stood, muscles aching. Limping to the edge of the tunnel, I looked out into a massive cavern the size of my hometown. A blinding glow awaited me. Mounds of golden coins towered throughout, emeralds and rubies and sapphires, jewels of every kind haphazardly intermixed.

Swords glittered from the pile, once belonging to kings of centuries past. A pile of silver armor enough for an army engulfed a mound. Bones padded the ground in between treasure piles, white and drained of color, buried in gold. A hole at the top of the cave allowed daylight to seek this fortune, and each piece of it reflected the splendor on the walls, painting everything in a glorious light.

And curled around the middle mound was a dragon; a dark gray worm with legs and large leather wings tucked around it. It slumbered in the sun.

Smoke curled from its nostrils up into the sky.

Then slowly, ever so quietly, its eye snapped open. The dragon stared straight directly at me. The world shifted in slow motion as we locked eyes. One beast, large as a house. One very small, very new adventurer.

Silence.

Then it rose on its haunches and roared. 

Panicking, I drew Decimus. Anxiety burst through me. My heart beat through my chest, a drum inside of my metal cage. I leaped into the lake of gold.

Swallowed in gold, I pushed it off of me, surprising weight threatening to carry me down to the bottom of the pile. I rolled, half swimming, half running through it, and shoved myself to the crunchy ground.

I ran in between the piles. The coins splashed, rolling in every direction. Every piece of me baked in sweat and fear. Run. Stay alive. If I could get it to run past me, perhaps I could brace my sword and use the beast’s momentum against itself. It was so much larger than I thought it would be.

It roared behind me, showering me with boiling droplets of spit. Each singed as it landed. Reflexively I slapped a hand at my neck, a welt already growing. My armor was heavy and janky slowing me down. Gasping, I turned…

Brown caught my eye across the cavern. In the blinding splendor of riches, a drab blob stooped. It was the girl, Tiffany, from the tavern. She swept hair out of her wide eyes then piled a jeweled sword in her skirt, hiding it in the folds.

Tiffany run! There’s a dragon! I wanted to scream. But… of course she knew. She was the one who told me its location. She locked eyes with me across the cave. A roar behind me sent me sprinting forward, lungs burning, muscles weeping sweat in protest.

Tiffany ducked, hidden from view. I tried to run in the opposite direction, to draw the dragon away from her, but it stepped in front of the escape, blocking every path. Heat shimmered off its scales. I had no choice but to retreat backward towards the girl.

“Your armor, Hero!” Tiffany yelled. Her voice strained. The dragon’s tail snapped back and forth, hunger in its eyes.

“What?!” 

“Take it off! The glimmer is what it wants, not ye!”

I lifted Decimus. The metal reflected the rich glow. Immediately, the beast’s eyes snapped to follow it. As I drew it to the left, the dragon’s head tracked it, as to the right. They set on me in the middle.

My heart stuck in my throat. Brilliantly, foolishly, I threw my sword. It bounced off the dragon’s leg, falling with a clatter. Instantly the dragon wrapped around it, covering it with its wings and sending a billow of fire up into the sky.

I ducked around the nearest mound, gasping.

“Hero!” Tiffany scowled, “get away from me!” She clutched four different blades in the folds of her skirt, flashing as she adjusted to try to hide them. She glanced behind me, fear striking her eyes.

“What are you…” The glimmer. That’s what she had called it. Her tip had spared me by getting me to throw my sword, buying my time. My armor. That's what it wanted, not me. “Truthfully?”

She swallowed. “I swear it!”

My fingers fell to the straps at my side, then quickly started to undo them. My fingers worked furiously in slow motion. I dropped my father’s sword to the ground.

A low growl echoed around us. I dropped the breastplate, then falling onto my hind end, unclasped the plate bottoms. I kicked them off, standing in gray leggings and a tunic. My muscles exhaled in relief, fifty pounds lifted off of me. I snatched my father’s rusty sword from the ground and ducked around the nearest mound, pressing into it.

The dragon dragged its belly across the ground, a cascade of gold coins following it. It paused, sniffing each one, then continued. Step. Step. Slither. Adrenaline burst through me in physical pain as I leaned back against the uncomfortable coins, heartbeat erratic.

Tiffany. Where is she? Did I trust her? Certainly not. I had thrown my best defense away, solely because she had said so.

Yet her tips had kept me alive this far.

I looked at the sword in my grasp, rusted beyond recognition. Chalky brown dust colored my hands. Over my shoulder, the dragon wrapped its tail around my armor. Then it moved right in front of me. I froze… face to face with its sickening green eyes. It exhaled, wrapping me in a warm smoky cloud, then continued down the path.

I had nothing else that it wanted. Disbelief colored me. 

I glanced at the rusted blade in my fingers. The bones littering this place told of sacrifice. Of other well meaning adventurers like me, who had gone before me. Cow carcasses filled the place with a brassy rotting scent, once owned by some poor villager who lived in fear that his child would be next.

The dragon was satisfied. I was not.

Hand grasping the hilt, I turned, resolve steeling within me.

A frantic whisper followed me. “Hero! It doesn’t want you– give up. Let’s go!”

I ignored her. Ever so softly, I padded to the tallest mound. The dragon sat, eyes fixed on my father’s armor as it nudged it with its hot black nose. The metal fogged in its breath. Step by step, I crept silently, in the same foot I used to sneak up behind hunting game. Heat radiated from the dragon’s scales. A breath away, cheeks flushed, I waited.

I raised my father’s sword and spiked it down behind the dragon’s head. Hot green blood burst over me. I yelled, wrenching my blade out as it surged back. It rose on its haunches, turning. Its wing knocked into me and flung me back into a pile of coins. I slid as it poured down over me, burying me alive.

Above me the dragon reared, screaming. A stream of fire burst up through the ceiling, painting everything with a scorching heat, then receded.

The dragon swayed. It fell in a spiral, crashing into the gold. Dead.

Head spinning, I pushed myself to my feet. My father’s sword set in my hand, rusted and depleted, but life surged through my veins.

“You… you did it.” Tiffany gaped at me from across the cavern. The swords clattered out of her skirt. She took a step back, hand over her mouth, then fell to her knees. “I’m sorry! I never meant any harm! It is a trick… the merchant makes us! I only wanted to raise enough coin to leave… forgive me!”

The pieces clicked into place. Geoffrey’s warning. The merchant at the shop. Tiffany guiding me. “Ah. Is that it? He sells shiny weaponry to adventurers and fills their heads with heroism. The dragon disposes of them, you scavenge the wares, and wait till the next noble fool comes into town?” I shook my head, stomach souring. Tiffany hid her face in her hands. Pity set over me.

“You are safe, my lady,” I said. “Truly. Though I will be seeing the merchant, and ensuring he runs his scam no longer. Who does this treasure belong to?”

She clasped her hands. “Well… you, I suppose.”

I surveyed the mound of weaponry and armor, painfully blinding in its brightness. “It seems Lurewyn will be needing a new weapons merchant. Would you like to help me?”

She gaped. “What? You would… let me?”

I nodded. “You need a better occupation, if you wish. You know these people, and this town. They trust you, whether they should or not–” she winced at that– “and I could use a friend. This dragon slaying is exciting, but... it seems riches have found me. I may as well try my hand as a merchant.”

And that is the story of how a hopeful adventurer made it only one town over, yet became the richest merchant in all the land. If you travel there even now, you will find a small shop and a colorful town booming with business. In it you will find a good deal on a great sword, and a story to go with it.