The man knew there had been a mad sorcerer in the area for quite some time, but he never liked taking a learning opportunity from the initiates. That is, until a beacon flapped its way to his tent, pleading for rescue. There were opportunities, and then there were emergencies.

  And no matter how small a town it was, Bervolt was now an emergency.

  Without time to lose, he changed his plans, writing a letter to the one who awaited his arrival. He had found himself writing this letter day after day, and year after year. The words may have changed with each apology, but the broken record still sang loud for all to hear.

  Hello Justin,

  I apologize, but we will need to push back our lunch. There is an emergency that I simply cannot ignore.

  How does next week fit your schedule?

  Duty calls!

  Love, Dad

  The Great White Knight of the Heroguard was a glowing symbol of valor and righteousness to the people. But, despite being the loving father of two children, nowhere in his words of praise did family fit in comfortably. His beloved Eliza was his second wife in more ways than one, the strongest reasons being that duty was his first. And the second reason, was the one he had first proclaimed love to. An elephant in the room.

  Crisis never slept, and no matter the size, he would avert all tragedies he came across so long as there was air in his lungs.

  It made scheduling difficult, which is why the White Knight was the only Archon that regularly travelled without a squadron or a follower. He did not need a party for their might, he carried the strength of an army on his body. Mythica a blade forged by Ra’zerun’s very hands, could conduct the stars, and Svalan, a golden scale from Rethalon’s body, was forged into the sheet of a shield that could devour even the hottest of fires.

  His only constant companion was the gryphon he rode. Two tons of pure muscle and feathered fury, bred for the front lines of war and conquest. His talons could pierce any metal short of Noctra’s tears, and his cry was almost as foul as his attempts at singing to the morning birds in the woods.

  This airborne killing machine was lovingly named Bagel by Caleb’s daughter. Bagel Evangeline Creamcheese.

  Through coddling at home, Bagel had never grown out of his puppy-like demeanour, but certainly, one or two saddles that should have fit the full-grown beast. It was no complaining matter for Caleb, the extra servings gave the mount more energy in his long travels.

  Bervolt was a short journey from his initial destination, within a single sunrise he could see a plume of black smoke on the horizon, and within a few short hours, he was outside the town’s gates. The walls were bare of patrols, and the wooden gate was wide open, with just two individuals huddled to the side of the wall, having long since abandoned their guard duties.

  The guard that was still on her feet beheld him with hope and hesitation, not leaving the unconscious guard's side as Caleb approached. He had assumed the downed guard had suffered wounds before he had gotten close enough to see the cluster of magic crawling around his mind.

  “Ra’zerun’s blessings be upon you both. What plagues this town?”

  The woman eyed him, clearly ready to turn him away until she saw the sigil marking his rank. “Thank you for answering our call for aid Archon. A mad sorcerer was our first problem, but a dragon swooped down not long ago.”

  “Have you finished evacuations?”

  She eyed the gate, looking at her unconscious companion. She held her head low. “They’re all cursed, they can’t leave. Only the guards can come and go.” She grabbed a sheet of paper, offering the object to the knight. “I can grant you entry, but I cannot do anything if you choose to flee.”

  He eyed the enchanted parchment, waving his refusal of the gift. Fairies had come up with many indirect ways to find names and invite people into their games. These written favours were a new trend that didn’t even require a signature line. It was a trade, a simple task for entry or coin. But there was always fine print either in invisible ink, or a long line of text that no one in their right mind would ever find the time to read, that also included a request for the individual’s name.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Although there was no doubt this fairy knew his name, he wasn’t going to act like this was fun and games for them.

  He drew Mythica, the broadsword twinkling like golden fire under the sunlight. He could see the barrier that enveloped Bervolt, its strength waning from the conflict within. He drove the weapon into the air, the magic splitting like threads as he carved a doorway just big enough for Bagel to squeeze through.

  The woman beheld the hole speechlessly. He paid her a polite bow, turning to the gryphon to work at unclipping the thick leather mittens covering its paws and rear talons. “I’ve got the dragon and the sorcerer. Might I trouble you to accompany Bagel to deal with evacuations?”

  “Bagel?” She hesitated, eyes wide with fear as the gryphon cocked its head at her.

  Caleb whistled to grab the bird’s attention, handing the guard a fat sack of jerky in view of the hungry bird. This did very little to ease her fears as she accepted the gift.

  “Smart bird, he knows when he’s working. One per survivor and he won’t throw a fit.” He gave her shoulder a reassuring smack, departing through the hole he’d carved without another word.

  His destination was a clear path this time. There were few places a dragon would be hiding aside from the towering clouds of black smoke. He used the short walk to ready himself, tightening any straps on his armour that had a wobble, and pulling Svalan from his back to make sure the shield was ready to eat some dragon fire. He found his target quickly, the dragon wrapped around a mansion as it poked and prodded at the windows, speaking in a hissing voice that Caleb was well acquainted with.

  It was far from the biggest dragon he had seen, but still a handful for a small town like Bervolt. He could see the fine stitches of magic all over its body, confirming that it was being puppeteered in a manner akin to undeath. It seemed to be on its last threads however, given that one of its wings had been left discarded under the debris of a toppled white tower.

  Still, it was ill-mannered to strike an enemy when their back was turned.

  He unclipped an ornate horn from his belt, and blew it.

  The dragon immediately turned, its scarred face twisting with disgust at the sight of him. After one too many swears, it bent low, fixing an eyeless socket on him with a rolling chuckle. “Oh-hoh. This is rich. The White Knight himself is here. Tell me, did you really think I’d come here myself? To this dump?”

  Caleb adjusted his shield with a sigh, drawing his sword in preparation for the inevitable. “Just cut the spell, you know you can’t kill me with that.”

  The zombified dragon snarled, its tongue lashing about unnaturally as it spoke. “I’ll settle for something achievable in this skin, like whatever finger you use on your whore wife.”

  Caleb checked the scorched clearing for guests, hoping to save himself some embarrassment in this conversation as he lowered his voice. “Katryna, can we please be civil and just talk? ”

  The dragon lurched back, spewing a stream of flames out at the hero. He readied his shield, the flames withering on its surface without so much as an ember to touch the ground. He ducked a swiping claw, raising his blade to slice one of the dragon’s digits clean off as it passed.

  He got some breathing room when he side-stepped the dragon’s second strike, pulling up his visor to check around for something on the dragon’s body. “Where are you? Give me a hint.”

  “Check the chute.” The dragon spat back.

  He clicked his tongue, raising his shield to bounce back a swiping strike from the dragon. “Too vain. What did these people do to deserve this?”

  “They were terrible singers. No one will miss that noise.” Katryna laughed, pouncing at Caleb to try and squish him with a paw. Her claws slid right off the forcefield he threw up, golden flecks of magic spraying into the air as she tried another swipe at the defense. Her voice dipped to amusement as the words sang off her tongue. “Are you mad?”

  He waved his hand in defeat, pushing his visor down. “Forget this. No sense fighting until sundown.” He tipped his blade towards the sky, freezing the dragon in its tracks. “Ra’zerun, lend me one of your stars.”

  She snarled with fury, her back arching for a strike as she saw the blade glow. “You cheating-“

  The dragon’s words were cut short as a beam of light shot from the sky, cutting directly through its skull. The hot and condensed column of starlight whined with power, scorching the flesh of the dragon into fine dust, and leaving a half-skeletal, half-burnt corpse as it faded.

  The beast stood rigid for a moment, collapsing to the ground to shoot a wave of salty dust in all directions. Caleb took a moment to brush the debris away, pulling off his helmet to rub at some of the dust that had slipped between his visor and into his eyes. When his vision was cleared, he caught a flutter of movement in the air, a tiny webbed parachute passing his gaze and drifting to the ground to deliver a small blue spider to safety.

  He picked it off the ground, holding the spider up to his face. Eight twinkling red eyes met his as the spider poked at his leather glove.

  A pitying smile touched his face as he watched the little creature, knowing his words would reach the sorceress that controlled it. “I’m never mad, just disappointed.”

  He closed his fist, its hard shell crunching with a small cry.

  didn't help.