The Magenta Treaty

Darius knew from experience that being an undersized dragon was slightly embarrassing and usually inconvenient when in the company of other dragons. However, it often helped to put humans at ease. Well, not at ease per se, but it led them to believe they might have a fighting chance. Which in turn meant that they didn’t run, faint, or in extreme cases, fall on their swords, to avoid an unpleasant death when they saw him coming – most of the time. Hence, Darius’ appointment as the dragon queen’s ambassador to the human realm. Needless to say, Darius loved his job! It kept him away from home much of the time.

Darius was happy to be flying past Crabbe Mountain – similarly undersized, for a mountain – en route to a small farm somewhere in the Kroy Foothills. He was seeking a young girl, fourteen or fifteen, maybe – his information was woefully inadequate. Dragon scouts were notorious for completely disregarding anything they considered inconsequential. Unfortunately, a teenager orphaned by a rogue dragon that just escaped from the dungeon was right next to brussels sprouts and oral hygiene on that list. He didn’t even know her name! A low rumble emanated from his throat as he considered the military meathead responsible.

Suddenly aware of how he must sound to those on the ground below, for Darius was now flying just over the treetops, he began humming a merry tune. Humans were great hummers. Humming meant you were happy and content. It was also, most certainly, non-threatening. Little did he realize, a dragon humming sounded much the same as a dragon growling, to the uninitiated.

Ah! There was a patch of scorched earth. He was getting close. What had the report said? Primarily sheep, goats, and chickens – oh, and a couple of cows. Leave it to soldiers to notice only the meat. Where precisely was the farm located? What was her family name? Nothing so helpful as that – oh, no!

Darius spied a woman and some children working in a garden and dropped to the ground a polite distance away. The woman’s face blanched and she raised her hoe defensively. He still found it strange that despite the Magenta Treaty of 3682 DY, humans still found the sudden appearance of a dragon alarming. Recalling the reason for his mission, he reconsidered. Maybe it was somewhat understandable.

“I come in peace, madam,” he called to the woman. She seemed unable to find her tongue. “Madam, I am wearing the ambassadorial collar as described in the Magenta Treaty. See?” He pulled on the amethyst-studded, velvet band around his neck.

The woman shook her head and found her voice. “Get in the house, all of you! Run! And lock the door!”

“I assure you, m’lady,” said Darius, concerned that his efforts at diplomacy had failed miserably thus far. “I’ve no intention of eating you, your children, or your livestock. Please lower your hoe.” Then, forgetting how truly frightening dragon’s teeth can be, he smiled broadly.

“I said run, children!” shouted the mother, although she stayed rooted to the ground. “Go Timothy – they’ll follow you!”

“You’re not running, Mom,” responded Timothy. “Besides, he said he’s not going to eat us, even though he has a right good set of chompers to do it with.”

Darius stopped smiling. “The lad is right, m’lady. Thank you, Timothy. Please, madam, lower your hoe.” He was not surprised when nobody moved. Children were very curious and slow to fear – unless they had experience that taught them otherwise. These children were certainly too young to remember the troubled times before the Magenta Treaty. For that matter, so was their mother. Ah, but dragons had a reputation, didn’t they, and not wholly undeserved.

“Get behind me, at least,” said the mother, as her hoe transitioned from a weapon to a support. Again, nobody moved.

“Thank you,” said Darius. “I have coin and I’m willing to pay for information.”

“Uh …” stammered the mother.

“I can handle this, Mom,” said Timothy, drawing himself up straight and tall before taking a few bold steps toward Darius. “What d’you wanna’ know?”

“He can hear you just fine,” said the mother. “Don’t go any closer!”

“My good woman,” said Darius, “my purpose here is completely benevolent. I have been sent by Her Majesty, Queen Nikkatrix, to pay restitution to the newly orphaned girl who lives around here. Her parents were, ah –”

“EATEN!” screamed Timothy’s mother. “Her parents were eaten!”

“That’d be Rosie Cooper,” said Timothy. “What’s resti … resti …”

Unable to dispute Timothy’s mother’s accurate but blunt statement, Darius was grateful to be able to use Timothy’s question as a diversion. “Restitution is when my queen, who is very sorry that this violation of the Magenta Treaty happened, gifts Rosie Cooper some coin in the hope that she will be able to carry on, without her parents, and that peace between humans and dragons is preserved.”

“It’s hush money?” asked Timothy.

“Young man, I’m not going to ask how you know what hush money is,” replied Darius, taken aback. “No, it’s not hush money. I’m sure everyone in this region already knows what happened. It’s more like life insurance.”

“Life insurance?” repeated Timothy.

“Yes,” said Darius. “It’s a death benefit. Some dragons make the arrangement for another dragon of their choosing to get a sum of money after they die. It helps with funeral expenses and other costs, depending on how much money is involved. In this case, it is also an apology.”

“Was it the queen that et her parents?” asked Timothy.

“No,” said Darius, chuckling softly.

“What you be growlin’ for?” asked Timothy.

“Sorry,” said Darius, “that was laughter, believe it or not. The dragon who ate Rosie’s parents is an escaped criminal. He is wanted for several violent crimes, and now this breaking of the Magenta Treaty. His assault on Rosie’s parents makes dragons look bad – like we can’t keep a promise and have no integrity. We take that very seriously. The dragon queen knows that nothing can make up for the loss of Rosie’s parents, but she would like to help Rosie out. My mission is to find Rosie and offer her my queen’s formal apology. To that end, I need directions. I’ve no idea where Rosie lives. I could fly around and find it eventually, but sometimes that generates a certain type of chaos, which I would rather avoid.”

“You mentioned coin,” said Timothy, proud that he’d remembered.

Having left a small purse on the ground in exchange for the directions he requested, Darius was now back in the air. Rosie’s farm was not far – especially as the dragon flies. He circled above the small farm. It was mostly outbuildings and trees, with very little cleared land. Looking farther afield, he saw just that – a field, with sheep. He could land in the field and walk back to the farm. It wasn’t ideal, but it was doable. Sheep, not surprisingly, tended to react even less favourably to dragons than humans did.

Darius wheeled to the left and heard the swish of an arrow as it narrowly missed his face. He looked down to see the object of his mission, Rosie Cooper, drawing another arrow in her bow. Darius whiffled toward the open field, all thoughts of not alarming the sheep gone from his mind. He couldn’t fault Rosie for her reaction, but they were going to have to somehow move past her obvious desire to kill him.

“Where are you, you overgrown newt?” yelled Rosie. “I’m not afraid of you!”

Darius thought that was unlikely. He was hiding, as well as a dragon could – better than most, given his size – in a copse of birch trees, trying to come up with a clever plan and failing. Ignoring the hurtful slur about his diminutive size, he braced himself to press forward anyway. “I come in peace, Rosie Cooper!”

“Is that what you told my parents before you ate them?” shouted Rosie.

“No!” replied Darius.

“What did you say then?” shouted Rosie. “Were they so tasty you came back for more?”

This was a diplomatic disaster! Rosie had completely misunderstood his answer. “I didn’t eat your parents! So, I couldn’t have said that to them!”

“I don’t believe you!” yelled Rosie.

An arrow grazed a tree trunk, bounced off Darius’ shoulder, and fell to the ground. He had always been grateful for his armour of scales. Unless Rosie made an extremely lucky shot or knew where to hit a dragon, he wasn’t in any real danger. His pride, on the other hand, was dangling by a thread. He was botching this job thoroughly.

Suddenly, a shrieking bundle of flailing arms and legs erupted from the trees beside him and careened into his right haunch. Darius felt a thin blade slide under his scales and the tip lodge in his thigh. He sighed as Rosie then struggled to pull her knife free, sending a small plume of smoke into the air. Smoke meant fire, and fire meant he was getting annoyed.

Darius had resolved to use words and diplomacy, not a show of force, but his patience with this young human was beginning to wear thin. Even though he was accustomed to dealing with people who had little or no experience with dragons, he hadn’t been prepared for the depth of fear and hatred that had been focused on him thus far. Geographically, the Kroy Foothills were remotely situated, so a certain amount of ignorance regarding dragons was to be expected. How had Lord Duncan described the area? Ah, yes, the ass end of the ass end of the realm. And, given recent events, these humans had their reasons. It was an unpleasant business all around!

“Let go of my knife!” shouted Rosie, as she braced her feet against his leg and pulled.

Enough was enough! The situation had become untenable, and he needed to get his mission back on track before somebody – most likely Rosie – got hurt. Neither he nor Rosie were at fault. History and another dragon’s disregard for human life had made this mess. Darius roared his anger and frustration into the sky. Startled, Rosie let go of the knife and landed on the ground with an audible thump.

“Now,” said Darius, still staring skyward with smoke drifting out of his nostrils, “if you would be so kind as to stop trying to kill me, I will explain why I’m here.”

A few choice words came to mind, but having had the wind knocked out of her, Rosie was struggling to breathe, rendering her speechless.

Darius took that as consent to continue. In the close quarters of the copse, he shuffled around to face Rosie and lowered his head to look directly into her eyes. “Before I go on,” he whispered, “I would like to point out that if I were going to eat you, you would no longer be here. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Rosie whimpered and nodded her head slightly.

Darius pulled his head away and sat back on his haunches, the knife shifting between his scales and stinging. He pulled it out and snapped it in two, before throwing it away. Then he gently picked Rosie up and set her on her feet, supporting her until she swatted at his articulated claws.

“I can stand on my own,” said Rosie, defiantly.

“Good,” said Darius. “Now we can do this with the proper dignity and decorum. I am Darius, of House Rytysys. On behalf of Her Majesty, Queen Nikkatrix, I offer her condolences, and my own of course, for the loss of your parents. The dragon responsible is being hunted and will be punished, but that is a dragon affair. Rest assured, there will be justice for your parents. To compensate you for this atrocity and to help you through what must be a difficult time, Queen Nikkatrix would be honoured if you would accept this purse as a token of her personal remorse for this reprehensible act of violence committed against your family by one of dragon kind.”

Darius reached into the hollow between his wing sockets, retrieved the satchel he had secured there, and gave it to Rosie. She opened it tentatively.

“I don’t believe it,” she whispered.

“If you keep not believing things I say and do, I may start taking it personally,” said Darius, lightheartedly.

Rosie looked up at Darius, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Is it real?”

“It’s real treasure from her own hoard,” confirmed Darius. He never knew what to say or do around crying humans. Dragons did cry, but it was very rare. “I should caution you to keep it secret, and to hide it, but not all in one place. I did have to stop for directions, so there is one family that knows about my coming here, and that my queen sent you a gift – though not how much. You see, by dragon standards, that amount would be almost insulting. I assured her that human standards were quite different. May I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” said Rosie absently, while sifting through the gold coins looking for gemstones.

“A letter was dispatched, explaining my visit and how to recognize me,” said Darius. “Did it not arrive?”

“Letter?” asked Rosie. “Oh, that! A dragon ate my parents a fortnight ago. Did you really think I would believe all that about a friendly dragon visiting with a message and a gift from a queen dragon? I thought it was an arse from the village playing a tasteless practical joke. I burned that letter in the cookstove.”

“But the Magenta Treaty,” said Darius. “Have you never heard of it?”

“Sure, I’ve heard of it,” said Rosie, looking up at him. “We learned about it in school, but I never gave it much thought. Dragons have never been a part of my world.”

“Then you knew how to recognize me,” said Darius, feeling a little put out. “That would have saved both of us a lot of trouble. See? The collar.” Darius pointed to his only article of clothing.

“Maybe all dragons wear collars,” said Rosie. “How would I know?”

“Mine was described in detail in the letter,” said Darius, getting a little worked up. “It’s a symbol of my office, according to the Magenta Treaty – amethyst gemstones on a magenta-coloured velvet collar. Only I wear magenta!” He finished with an elaborate flourish that concluded with both sets of articulated claws pointing at his neck.

Rosie set her treasure down at her feet and gazed up at Darius. Suddenly animated, she trumped his flourish by waving her arms in a large circle, bobbing a quick half-curtsy, and flaring her fingers on either side of her face to point at her eyes. “Colour blind – completely colour blind!”