It was believed for sometime that there was an all out war between dragons and everyone else. Every dragon had a price on its head. Most retreated to their caves to live out their lives peacefully. Because of the knights’ code of honor they were allowed to quietly fade away. But, not all of them did.
Vyamold the dragon curled and uncurled his long scaly body in his sleep. He was outgrowing his cave, and as he moved his tail flicked along the walls. He had lived a very solitary life, without leaving his cave, never going outside. But lately, he had been making plans to leave.
Prince Andrew had grown up hearing tales of his ancestors. Fantastic stories of brave kings, princes, and knights, vanquishing foes and making names for themselves. The foes that earned them the greatest fame were of course, dragons. He heard all about the dragons as well. They were is favorites. He loved all the old stories, and asked for them over and over. And there was part of him that wanted nothing more that a fierce battle with a dragon. But the dragons were extinct. At least, that’s what he had been told. Lately he wasn’t so sure. There had been stories – no more than nonsensical whispers probably – that the dragons weren’t entirely gone. The very fact that these stories seemed to come only from pubs, he thought, was telling. But still… How could he be sure?