The two young giants were in a spirited debate about the merits of this news. Minos was rejoicing his luck loudly amongst all the patrons of the bar while Torlad sank further into depression. The two of them were both in agreement about one thing. They needed to verify if it was true? The question was where do you go to find this dragon?
They had two choices at this point. Head back home to find the elders and inform them of the news. Or they could go south and seek glory and fame as the killers of the Emperor.
The level of alcohol in their bodies turned this into a spirited debate. One that raged off and on for more than a whole day.
Reluctantly they agreed to sleep the drinks off before they went rushing into something they might regret.
That night, while they slept and dreamt of dragons, a dream landed in a village not far from CunStead. In the cover of night, a dragon and a half-elf landed in a field of wheat. The people of the village would have been startled if they had been able to see the landing field from above. Thankfully humans are stubbornly stuck to the ground. Otherwise, the crushed outline of a dragon would have given concrete proof of the mythic beast.
In the cover of night, Morgan dropped off his passenger who was actively pouting about having to stop. She had taken to flight like a newly born dragon. She clung to his back and talked the entire trip. Which came as a relief to Morgan, the company reminded him of the companionship he missed but saddened him because he missed his own kind. As far as he knew, he was the last dragon alive.
Morgan and Loran walked into town after rubbing dirt across their boots and pants to give the image of walking. They purchased two separate rooms at the first Inn they found and then slept for the night. The better the image they made the less likely they would stand out.
Between the rocks and dirt and buried deep underground the presence of Morgan stirred something in his long-dormant brother. During a meeting of the elders, the dragon lifted its nearly mummified head and looked down the mountains towards the village.
Giants panicked as the nearly deceased dragon moved for the first time in several thousand years. His voice had long since been silent. He quit talking years after he laid down as his body hardened in the final stages before death.
A single dusty breath emanated from the body, confirming that he was still clinging to life and sensed something. To the giants, this was cause for concern and joy. Their protector, the watcher of their people, the being who guaranteed them life, was alive. It also terrified them because what kind of presence had he detected that would cause him to actually look at it? Were they under threat?
The giants quickly assembled a war council. Murmurs of war raged as they debated what implications his return to life meant. They discussed waiting on their scouts to come back, but they couldn't agree if they were going to have useful information or not? How long would it take them to come back? Most automatically assumed it was going to take at least a year to get any good information. If they returned sooner than that either the dragon was too close for comfort, or they were idiots who didn't understand their mission.
Across the world, in the main human city, the church was stirring as well. They had heard the rumors from the south of a dragon seen in the sky. This was concerning, not because they didn't know of the dragon, but because they were all too familiar with him.
The church in the north was separate from local government, but silently they controlled all aspects of life. The Demi-humans in the south communicated with the church using the dragon. It was a fool-proof way to guarantee the safety of otherwise covert communications.
Plus Morgan was supposed to be guarding the Demon race. He was responsible for the fall of their people and keeping them in check. If he had left, then something had drastically changed.
Had a greater threat in the south come up that he had to travel north? And if so why hadn't he come to the capital via the normal route?
Why travel in a seemingly random path? Why the rumors that he had attacked a port village?
Brother Darby rubbed his temples and listened to the bickering of cardinals and bishops around the table. Invariably each region wanted protection from the church in the form of funds or artifacts to repel the dragon. Each thought their small domain was the obvious choice for the dragon to attack first.
"Why are we even talking about an attack?" Darby interrupted those closest to him.
"Isn't it obvious? Dragons heal slowly, so he must be fully recovered and his blood lust must be sated..." The nearest bishop opened his hands like a book. It was as if the idea was so simple that it must be true.
"And you are an expert on Dragon physiology also? I thought your specialty was marital counseling?" Darby used one finger to hold up his head as he looked at the man.
The bishop waved a hand in a dismissive matter, "History is a hobby of mine!"
Cardinals across the table spoke up across the rampaging voices. "As the members who actively meet the emperor, it is ours to say that the abandonment of his duties is HIGHLY irregular. If he has left, then we must assume he has gone rogue."
The men around him all nodded and slapped hands on the tabletop. Darby was starting to notice how many of these men were sweating profusely and their skin was greasy and unkempt. The church required the bathing of its senior members. He was making a mental note to start doling out demotions. If he couldn't preach he could at least administer as fiercely as possible.
A voice from the table spoke over the others, "Do dragons go senile?"
"No, but you sure are!" A counter retort came from the opposite side. The men glared at each other while trying to get their aging bodies further upright.
Further verbile jabs were thrown back and forth between them as Darby lost more of his patience.
He slapped the table several times, "Silence! Can anyone confirm that the dragon is indeed in the north?"
A man in muted colored robe raised his hand. "There were spottings in the northwestern lands. It seems he might be headed to the mountains."
"Are their old burial grounds there?" Another voice broke in from the back.
"No, but the old castle of the demon race is deep in those mountains. A few families of old northern demi-humans live there, surviving meager lives on the flesh of the northern beasts." A scholarly old man with a crooked nose spoke with disgust. He was the church historian. The church had two histories, the public one, and the darker complete one.
This man was responsible for the upkeep of both. He had rumor mills across the whole planet. If something was public, he would know about it.
Darby listened to the young men argue for action, he heard the old men pine over times when the humans held sway over everything and demi-humans knew their place. The only one not chiming in was an unfamiliar face in dark black robes. The man was sitting at the back of a wall rolling something in his fingers. Darby struggled to keep his face on the man. Something about him stirred his memory, but like mud in a clear stream, it was impossible to put his fingers on it. It was like trying to grab one single piece of dirt.
Just as the memory was forming in his mind the man spoke up. "Let me send some faithful out into the field. We will invite him back to the chapel here, and if not possible we will pray that the gods give us the power to stop him from killing the innocent."
The others look at the black robes and turned to face Darby. "That's an unnaturally calm request for an inquisitor," he replied into the darkness.
"Well, not everything needs our special touch. The nice thing is that our robes help us stand out and we will be able to go places that normally the clerical body can't." The name of the face was still dancing around the back of his head. Like it was being blocked.
"Why yes, let's do that!" Cardinals started agreeing left and right. If the inquisitors screwed this up it would give them a reason to disband them formally. If the dragon did need to be dealt with militarily then hopefully he would thin out their ranks enough to make any gain in reputation pointless against their reduced numbers.
The scheming voices started voicing their agreement one after another. They could find no fault with letting them free on the dragon. Let them get killed or at least thinned out.
Darby raised a hand and silenced the group. "Fine, the group seems to agree. You are free to send a MODEST force of men to investigate with a larger force at the ready here if needed. Your mission is only bound to the dragon. Do not branch out from that scope. You are not authorized for any other kind of activity." He couldn't tell why he needed to hamper them like this, but that same thought buzzing around his brain, fighting for attention, told him he needed to reign them in before they left.
"We understand completely. We would never harm the reputation of the church. We are the newly reformed inquisitors. Our blood-thirsty ways are gone! We will head out immediately and bring him back into the fold of our family!" The round face of the man smiled.
"Make sure that you do." Darby sighed. Other members nodded and smiled at each other. In their minds, the situation is dealt with. Darby had a greater sense of dread.