The dragon was getting closer. Princess Ayren could see the glowing horizon from her balcony. Her father, the King, had evacuated the towns in the dragon's path, but that hadn't stopped the great beast from burning them to the ground anyways.
The dragon had appeared three days prior, emerging from the mountains to the north and burning Broad Lake, a small fishing village at the foot of the mountains. It had turned south and blazed a path directly towards the King's City. Nothing had been able to stop it. The knights that had gone out to battle had not returned. At the rate that it was moving, the Dragon would be on the King's doorstep by the following night.
Ayren and her sister, Princess Penelope, had urged their father to leave. Evacuate the city, head East to the sea, and get out. Her father had too much pride for that. He said that no King of their land had ever abandoned their City. In a darker, softer tone he had added that the dragon was twice as fast as their best horses. They wouldn't make it to the sea. Their only chance was to fight it from the strength of a walled city.
Princess Ayren watched from her balcony, knowing that some ancient, powerful creature was bearing down on them. Never before had Ayren felt so powerless. Was this the end of their dynasty?
It was then that Ayren saw the rider. He moved quickly across the plains, coming from the direction of the fires in the distance. At first she thought it might be a surviving knight, but he was clad in black and she could see no glint of steel on him. He rode up the walls of the city, passing out of Ayren's vision. Riders weren't unusual, but most traffic to the dragon-destined city had stopped in the past few days. Also, the fact that the rider was coming from the fires indicated he might have news.
Ayren hurried into her room, finding the appropriate gown. She often wore emerald green dresses that covered her well. As a daughter of the King, chastity was a political issue, so modesty was important for the future of her family's dynasty. she was 20 and her younger sister had just turned 18. As virgin daughters of the King, they were prime for strategic marriages to better the realm. She didn't worry as much about modesty inside of the palace, but it was supremely important outside of her home. Once appropriately dressed, she walked down the corridors, intending to find her way to the main gates of the city. She would take the armed guard with her, of course, as she did whenever she left the royal palace.
Voices from her Father's war room caught her attention. It was her father's voice and another she did not know. Ayren stopped in the door.
The rider was here. Ayren didn't know how she knew it was the same man. Obviously, he wore the same dark clothes, but she hadn't gotten a good look before. She just knew it was the same. There was something about the aura around him, the way the air seemed to interact with his skin, that told Ayren it was the same man. He turned his eyes on Ayren and she felt her breath catch in her throat.
He was a man who comfortably stood in the manner of power. His cloak, tunic, boots, and hair were all solid black, with not even the dust of the road clinging to them. On his fingers, he wore two large rings with blazing red crystals. A dagger was at his hip, sheathed. Such a weapon was rarely allowed in the presence of the King, but he wore it nonetheless and Ayren's father seemed undisturbed by it.
Ayren didn't know how he had gotten to the palace so quickly. She didn't know why he wore his weapon in the presence of the King. She didn't even know who the man was. But as he locked eyes with Ayren, those questions seemed to be less important. He was here and that was enough.
"Oh, my dear," the King said, taking notice of Ayren. "This is Sir Abbott. He has come with an offer to help slay the dragon."
"How would you be able to do that?" Ayren asked, skillfully balancing the accusation in her question against the need for politeness. "Many of our best knights have fallen."
"As I was explaining to your father, I do believe that I possess skills that those knights did not," Sir Abbott said simply. He turned back to the King, apparently resuming negotiations that Ayren had interrupted. "And if I were to fail, then any sort of deal we strike would cease to matter. In light of the present threat, you have very little to lose."
The King nodded, accepting Sir Abbott's presence.
"What, if I may ask, are you asking for in exchange for your service?" Ayren asked.
Sir Abbott turned his attention again to the Princess. This time, his eyes dropped to the emerald gown she wore. Despite the modesty it provided her, Ayren shifted uncomfortably under the man's gaze. It was just for a moment, before his eyes snapped back up to her face, but Ayren had seen his leer.
"I ask for the will of the people for one year," Sir Abbott said.
"I still fail to understand your meaning by that," the King said.
"It's simple," Sir Abbott said, breaking eye contact with Ayren and walking around the great table in the center of the war room. As he spoke, his eyes surveyed the many trophies mounted on the walls. "Every Kingdom rules by the authority of their King. There is a sort of divine magic about that, where the King is given the very will of the people, by which he may use to govern effectively. It's a sort of contract with heaven in exchange for a throne. I am familiar with many magics on Earth. I can disappear in this place and appear in another. I can sustain myself without food or water for near infinite stretches of time. I can make people see and hear whatever I want. But the will of the people? That is a higher magic altogether. That sort of power rests exclusively in the throne of their King. So decrees heaven."
"That sounds like a good sales pitch to me," the King observed candidly. "Nice words, meant to flatter, with very little substance behind them."
"If you believe that, then you have very little to lose by bargaining with it," Sir Abbott said with a small smile.
"I have lived a long life, Sir Abbott," the King said. "I have ruled these people since the death of my father. And never once have I seen anything that would convince me that magic is real on Earth. Nor that I possess some power over my people other than that given to me by the authority of man."
Sir Abbott shrugged. "Again, then you have little to lose. If I am making this up, then in all likelihood I will die fighting this dragon and you will be in no different place than you are. If I tell the truth, you will have saved your people and temporarily surrendered a magic that you apparently weren't using anyways. Either way, that dragon is coming for this city."
The King paused a moment. He looked down at the great table in his war room, with the map of his kingdom spread wide. There were markings where his advisors had told him the dragon had already been and a small, movable tile indicating where it was now. He looked up again at Sir Abbott.
"Fine. I agree. Save my people from the dragon and I will give you the will of the people for one year. Shall I have it in writing?"
"No, no," Sir Abbott said. "The word of the King is good enough." He started towards the door. Ayren stepped aside to let him pass. Sir Abbott paused in front of her and extended his hand. Ayren placed her own hand in his and he planted a gentlemanly kiss on her knuckles.
"My dear, your beauty is staggering," Sir Abbott said. "I shall see you soon." With that, he walked down the corridor, out of view, and was gone.
"Fool," the King muttered. "He wastes my time."
"Who admitted him?" Ayren asked.
"Hmmm?" the King said, raising an eyebrow.
"I said who let him in?"
"I... I don't know," the King furrowed his brow. "I just looked up and... and he was there."
