It was getting dark that evening and a gentle rain had begun. Everyone retreated indoors, many into the pubs. In these, news was spreading like wildfire about the dragon – and about Count Tregor's offered bounty. The Sleepy Ox, one of the larger inn-taverns, and also the one the miners had come to earlier, was particularly abuzz.
“Five hundred?”
“And a barony!”
“He must be desperate.”
“You'd be too if you were running this place.”
“Reckon it won't be a very nice barony anyhow. Probably some backwater burg.”
“Nothin' wrong with a little backwater, Bill.”
Out in the courtyard, a black horse came to a stop. The rider sprang off, his long, dark cloak billowing around him in spite of the damp.
“May I take your horse, sir?” asked a young stable groom.
“Thank you,” said the man, in a deep, mellow voice. He stepped into the tavern and lowered his hood. Bill looked up – he was always a bit of a busybody – and studied the newcomer.
The man certainly wasn't from Farenze. He was rather tall and stately. Everything about him was dark: his armor, his hair, his eyes, and the circles under them too. The only thing that wasn't dark was his skin, so pale that Bill wondered if he'd ever seen the sun. He looked about for an empty table, and finding none (it was a big crowd that night), he strode up to Bill.
“I hesitate to bother you, but could you gentlemen spare a seat?”
“Of course,” said Bill's brother Pat. “We don't get travelers often; you can give us the news from the outside world.”
“There isn't much to tell,” the stranger admitted, settling between the brothers. “Chane remains at peace, molested by neither spirit nor soldier.”
“They still haven't figured out why the Shadow King retreated?” asked Bill.
“It doesn't seem so.”
“Hmph. I think it's a trap. He'll get us all comfy, and then swoop in and attack again.”
“Mayhap,” said the stranger, “but hopefully not. Best not to let one's guard down, in any case.”
“Besides, we don't have much chance of getting comfy,” said Pat. “Not with that dragon on the loose.”
“The miners spotted a dragon on Mount Rapuzia this morning,” said Bill when the stranger lifted his eyebrows. “Count Tregor has offered a handsome reward for the man who subdues it, but no one's volunteered yet, and I don't blame 'em. We're simple folk with no training for this kind of thing. Biggest thing Pat and I ever killed was a bear, weren't it, Pat?”
“Yeah, but Tamtar did most of the work. That orc is the most reckless, tough hunter I've ever met. Bit surprised he didn't jump on Tregor's offer, actually.”
“He'd probably have to bring a few cousins to get the job done, and then they'd all be fighting over that barony.”
“Where can I go to speak with the count?” asked the stranger.
“Well, it's after hours to see him at the town hall,” said Bill. “He's likely having supper at his villa.”
“Best not to bother him,” said Pat. “It's never wise to get between Tregor and his dinner.”
“Very well,” said the stranger. “Thank you, gentlemen.” He got up and headed for the bar to get some dinner.
“Who is that fellow?” asked Pat.
“A knight, by the look of him.”