Our story continues at another time, in a thorny forest, made of cedars, firs, and other evergreen trees.
A hard, rocky ground full of dust stretched out to the snow-capped peaks of hills and mountains, where a white mantle was beginning to melt.
It was the end of winter, and a new spring was coming. But despite this, the snow still persisted in places. The surrounding villages, down below in the plain, still emitted a few columns of smoke from the chimneys which had been supplied with wood all night long.
However, some slow and heavy footsteps disturbed the peace of the surroundings where only a few birds were singing. Breathing put to the test by a long walk, accompanied by a neigh.
A young man accompanied by a horse was walking through this sparsely crossed forest. His shoulder-length black wavy hair framed his face with V-shaped bangs and two thick locks partly covering his cheeks and ears. They had tangled up with a few pine thorns that had reached his head under the effect of gravity.
He wore a mid-length tunic in a faded beige with a colorful pattern of triangles over a dark blue garment, and brown pants in fairly good condition, despite the distance he had already had to travel. Heavy black boots reinforced with pieces of metal somewhat hampered his walk, but the rest of his armor had been wrapped in a large cloth, and put on the back of his horse, black as night, whose golden eyes fixed the road ahead. A long sword hung over the horse's side, tucked away in a leather scabbard, and the young man himself carried a sack strapped to his back.
A leather satchel attached to the young man's waist and a small dagger attached to his belt completed his outfit.
A contemplative gaze underlined by his azure blue eyes fixed the surroundings. It was the first time he had ventured into this part of the human realm and was to see such a landscape.
Beyond the forest from which he was about to exit, stretched a plain enclosed between two mountainsides - as if lost in the middle of a case of rock and greenery - all lit by the light of the sun, which was reflected vividly on the snow still present in small quantities on the ridges of the mountains. The sound of beaten metal coming from a blacksmith's shop located on the edge of the forest guided the young man to the village.
Black tiled roofs dripping with dew as well as a small dirt road already well-trodden for an early morning welcomed the stranger. A few children trailed around the steps of the houses, while men yawned, leaning against wooden barriers where cattle were tied. A few looks, still haggard and tired, turned to the newcomer without paying much attention. The young man didn't mind, his gaze turned to a part of the village that had burnt to the ground. All that remained was charred foundations rising painfully skyward.
He turned left, and after tying his horse to a pole, entered what appeared to be the only tavern in the small village, which also served as accommodation for travelers. Only the owner of the place was inside, mopping the wooden floor of his hut with water. He stopped dead when he saw the young foreigner enter his establishment.
"We're not open yet, young man," he said.
"I am not a customer," replied the young man.
"Why are you coming here then?" asked the old man, mop in hand.
"For a private matter. I was told to meet someone here," he explained.
This statement seemed to trigger something with the owner of the tavern, as he suddenly seemed very interested in the newcomer. He dropped his mop into the bucket of water at his feet.
"By chance, wouldn't you be... ? "
The young man gave one of those questioning looks he was an expert at producing, his eyes wide open to the old man who had not finished his question.
"Excuse me, but what do you mean by that?"
The innkeeper scowled a little but clarified his thought.
"You know… You're that 'person' the old man called on, right? "
The young man was scrutinized by a gaze for a long time as if he were a commodity in a market stall whose quality was assessed by some passers-by.
"The old man? Surely you mean the chief of this village, right? "
"Yeah, like you say… But honestly, I didn't think you would come…" Said the old man, pouting.
He looked surprised to see in front of him the man whom the village chief had summoned. As if he'd thought from the start that no one would come.
" Why?" asked the young man, a little curious at this remark.
"Heh, the nasty beast that threatens our little village has already killed two hunters..." he replied, running his hand over the back of his neck. Out of embarrassment, probably. "So I didn't think anyone would still have the courage to come this far..."
"… They're just making a bad excuse not to come…" sighed the young man. "But if I can't slay this creature, I'm afraid no one can…"
The owner of the tavern did not entirely trust this remark, which sounded quite boastful. The hunter in front of him looked rather young, so he had doubts about his experience, despite what he'd heard about him...
At the same time, a middle-aged, red-haired man with a thick beard, and wearing a half-tied brown apron, entered the tavern. He glanced quickly, then walked over to the two individuals already present.
"Hello Tiern." said the newcomer, nodding his head.
The innkeeper nodded back at him and resumed his cleaning. The strong man who had just entered then turned to the young man.
"Are you the hunter Lord Hogain recommended to me?" He asked.
The young man then nodded too; to answer the question.
"Are you the chief of this village?" He asked in turn.
The old man nodded and replied:
"Yes, I'm Angus. Thank you very much for coming... Sir?"
"Jesabell. Ewan Jesabell. But just call me Ewan." he said while extending a hand to Angus.
The redhead took his hand and shook it frankly.
"My dear Ewan, thank you very much for accepting our request. We were desperate to see this beast taken down… Especially after two hunters lost their lives…" He looked around, then returning his attention to the hunter… "Follow me, we'll go and talk in a more suitable place."
With that, he dragged Ewan outside, under the annoyed grunts of the innkeeper who had taken the village chief's passive criticism literally.
Ewan untied his horse and followed Angus to a shack a little bigger than the others. He reattached his horse and followed his guide and host inside. A solid, dark wooden house, full of towering tapestries laid on the floor and hung on the walls, revealed itself with every step. Angus finally led the young man into a room with a very long table, as well as two windows wide open, which let the early morning cold and the soft sun in. He politely told the young man to sit down and served him a hot herbal tea made from local plants.
"Once again, thank you for coming… Although your age leaves me a little puzzled…" Angus began.
"People often tell me this. But don't be fooled by appearances," Ewan said, putting his cup down. "Even though I haven't reached 25 years yet, I'm still relatively experienced. "
The young man was relatively straightforward in his speech. Sometimes even a little too much. But although he looked like a boast, old Angus said nothing.
Ewan was sure of himself saying those words, which tended to put people at ease and let them place their trust in this young man, even though they had just met him. And indeed, appearances were sometimes very deceptive.
Ewan Jesabell was a first-class hunter. Trolls, orcs, giants, renegade bandits… He had a huge kill count for his age, with hardly any failures to count, and could have boasted that he had faced almost anything if he had been the type to do so.
But many times people misunderstood him because of his youthful appearance. This served him well in times of trouble, as he could get away with slipping away without anyone suspecting that a 24-year-old was a well-known hunter.
However, his reputation eventually brought him to this uncrowded part of the kingdom of Nilferren, far from his usual intervention area.
"Okay… I'll explain the situation to you then," Angus resumed. "For more than two months, we have suffered attacks. Just looking at the exterior damage, you must already have guessed that we are dealing with a Salamander... "
"A flame-breather? Do you mean a Dragon?" Ewan asked.
"Absolutely. He started by stealing cattle, which disappearance we took a while to notice, thinking it was the work of wolves. And the Goddess knows that there are many in this region... "
Ewan did not pick up on the religious discourse. He was not a believer, but neither was he criticizing. He presently was rather… Indifferent.
"A few days after we started to think that it might be the work of a root creature, we finally caught a glimpse of it…" Angus resumed. "Its huge wings carried it in the air above the village, and it then began to come and burn houses on the edge of the forest. The men of the village tried to chase it away, but… It's a dragon. These creatures are vile and intelligent. It attacked firsthand the inhabitants who could oppose the most resistance, and since then, all the villagers tremble with fear. So we tried to call in hunters; and to do so, we asked for the good advice of Lord Hogain. "
Lord Hogain was the knight in charge of the whole region, and therefore the village, and any potential bounty Ewan might receive.
But from what he'd heard previously, he already had a clear idea of what had happened.
"And the two hunters failed."
"Indeed," the 40-year-old sighed. "They'd managed to locate the beast's lair; when they were attacked. Their charred bodies and their broken weapons and armor were found on the western side of the mountain… it's possible that they injured the Salamander before they took their last breath… It must be said that there was an impressive amount of blood on site… "
Ewan looked thoughtful but raised his clever gaze to the village chief.
"If the Salamander's lair is this close, it becomes urgent. But going there as soon as I arrived would be suicidal. I am thinking of going in search of this beast tomorrow. Could you allow me to spend the night here? "
" Of course!" Angus hastened, visibly delighted. "I'll have a room prepared for you at the tavern!"
With that, he disappeared from the room, heading back to the isolated village tavern.
In order for him to spend the night there, a room and some hay for his horse were prepared for Ewan. The sun had already set for a long time, and only a few oil lamps produced light at this hour when everyone was asleep.
However, Ewan had a bad feeling. The young man, therefore, did not find sleep and remained leaning on his window, the neigh of the horses and the trickling of the small river skirting the village being the only audible sounds in this cool night.
The wind rose and made the leaves of the surrounding trees rustle between them.
His gaze was then caught by a bright point. A reflection, to be more exact. No more than a few seconds. But it was rather unusual, knowing that there were no homes there.
And he saw it. An unparalleled crashing sound reverberated, followed by an incandescent glow. Two houses had just exploded, and immediately, distraught villagers, some of them holding pitchforks and spears, came out of the surrounding houses.
The dragon had returned.