In which...
Alfred F Jones, a young man of great ambitions and little common sense, heads off to slay a dragon.
Arthur Kirkland, otherwise known as the Wyvern Warlock, wizard extraordinaire and resident dragon, remains unamused.
Edit: This story is now a one-shot. Related stories are expected to pop up in the future.
- o0o -
Ever since he had first listened to the heroic tales, those told by the hearth in dark and stormy late autumn nights, Alfred F Jones had known what he wanted to do with his life; he wanted to become a hero just like those in the stories. A hero, and a knight too, as all the heroes in the stories that were such and he really wouldn't settle for less.
As such, at the age of fifteen, he had boldly told his foster parents that he was going to head off to the capital and enrol into the prestigious Military Academy of Britannia, only to get scoffed at. But, stubborn as he was, he kept on pestering his elderly foster parents about it until his surrogate father had finally agreed to send him off at sixteen.
It had been an agreement, a promise, but dead people were no longer bound by such obligations…
A couple of villagers had gone hunting for dragon eggs in the mountains, intending to sell them to some rich noble. An actual dragon egg would've fetched quite a price on the black market any day, so it hadn't really been such a bad idea in itself. The problem however came in the shape of a rather pissed dragon which spewed fire over the village, setting it ablaze.
Of course, Alfred didn't quite view the dragon's retribution for what it was, as he had been far too emotionally distraught at his foster parents' death and him and his brother Matthew having been orphaned yet again to see it as anything else but a seemingly unprovoked assault.
He'd been hot-headed then, so full of hate and anger that he had nearly stormed off to take revenge then and there and he certainly would've if his younger brother, his fraternal twin, hadn't brought him back to his senses with a slap on the face and the longest passive-aggressive rant he'd ever heard. After that had been over with things had calmed down again as the villages salvaged whatever could still be put to use and eventually life had gone back to a reasonably normal state, entering similar habits and moving on with things. Life, that is.
Finding themselves in a bit of a bind financially, Alfred had been forced to put his grand plan to chase dragons and rescue fair princesses on ice for the time being and had found job in a smithy, where he worked with this tall silent scary-looking blonde going by the name Berwald, while Matthew had started working as an assistant to some merchant from the lowlands, or 'Netherlands' as they were otherwise called.
Alfred couldn't recall the guy's name to save his own life, but he still knew that the Netherlander was a neurotic closet pervert with addictions and questionable interests and preferences and shouldn't have been let within ten feet of his dear brother, but then again they needed all the money they could get and in such cases even the money of a neurotic dealer of everything from just regular commodities to 'magical' herbs that made people odd in the head was good enough for them. It kept food on their table at least.
Either way, Alfred worked hard as an apprentice blacksmith, and even though his meagre skills were nothing compared to those of Berwald he had still managed to forge himself a small short sword along with a couple of daggers just in case he ever had the opportunity to go become all knightly and heroic and stuff.
Unfortunately for him though, a certain 'situation' arose and as such he was forced to take some desperate measures.
Clutching a partially crumbled leaflet he made his decision.
It was now or never.
He was going to slay that dragon.
- o0o -
The Green Dragon of Britannia was the stuff of legends, even though Alfred himself was not very familiar with them other than the basic concept: aka, that it was a dragon and that it was green. Oh, and that it could fly, and that it made cattle nearby disappear.
Flipping through the pages of the book Matthew had gotten him for his birthday, he glanced at the sketchy illustrations while trying to picture what kind of beast awaited him.
He had to travel for an entire day before he even caught sight of the so called Dragon's Keep – that's what the people in the nearest village had called it anyway – and soon he found himself hiding in the bushes nearby, keeping a keen eye on his surroundings as he tried to catch a glimpse of anything which looked even remotely like the illustrations in the book.
He stayed that way for hours, growing increasingly bored, not to mention hungry, and he was on the verge of giving up and finding himself a place to set camp when he finally saw it.
Carried by a pair of leathery wings with a total wingspan of at least five or six metres was a magnificent emerald-coloured beast, its scales glimmering slightly in the light of the setting sun.
Even though he had convinced himself that he hated dragons, Alfred couldn't help but feel slightly awed at the sight of the airborne creature as it circled over the tops of the trees nearby the place where Alfred was hiding before it finally took off and disappeared amongst the nearby mountains, presumably returning to its nest.
Getting up from his hiding place, Alfred swallowed soundly, taking a few readying breaths before brandishing his weapons, a grin which looked far more like a grimace spreading across his face.
"Well… It's a pretty small dragon, but a dragon nonetheless!" he said to himself. "I'm gonna be a hero, baby!"
And with those words, he started climbing.
- o0o -
The climb itself turned out to be a tedious task and even with his strength and extreme stamina Alfred was breathing quite heavily when he finally, finally, had reached his destination as he none-too-stealthy heaved himself up over the edge of this big ass cave.
He spied into the darkness, half expecting for the dragon to come out and attack him at any moment, before he reached into his satchel, pulling out a small crystal he'd borrowed (without permission) from his master. A few whispered words caused it to light up and start emitting a soft white light, just enough for him to see his way when he trudged into the cave, his sword drawn and ready.
Nothing.
He went in further, deeper.
Still nothing.
Not even some dried human bones or scattered pieces of treasure or even dust as far as he could see; it was insanely clean in there, for being in a cave at least, and that was just a wee bit suspicious, if not a lot.
Alfred went in even further, guided by the light of the crystal. Even so, for some utterly mysterious and extremely illogical reason, with his path illuminated and all, he nearly didn't spot the dragon where it lay curled up next to one of the walls with its big wings only partially folded, snoozing by the looks of it.
Alfred found himself swallowing soundly again as he placed the crystal down on the floor to have both of his hands free to wield the sword, feeling this sudden sting of guilt for what he was about to do; this surely wasn't the dragon which had attacked his village, but then again it wasn't like he had much of a choice. He had to do it.
He brandished the sword and moved forward; ready to strike, but when the dragon suddenly cracked one bright emerald eye open Alfred found that his body had frozen up.
The dragon levelled him with an inscrutable look before once again shutting its eyes as it let out an irritated snort.
Oh, bollocks… not another one.
Alfred blinked, stared.
"What the-…" Alfred startled at the voice that suddenly resounded in his head, sending the dragon an incredulous look, not even paying any attention to the fact that he'd dropped the sword and simply stood there, gaping. "Did you just-…"
The dragon snorted again, lifting its head a bit, staring at him with clear disdain.
Yes, as a matter of fact I am talking to you… telepathically. Now would you be so kind as to get the Hell out of my humble abode…
Alfred sputtered. "Y-You!"
The dragon rolled its eyes at him and got to its feet, shaking its head. Alfred took a step backwards.
Ah-ah… this is getting us nowhere, getting you nowhere… Hang on a sec.
A bright light filled the cave for a couple of seconds, leaving Alfred blinded, and as he blinked frenetically to get his eyes to readjust he found that instead of a dragon there was a hooded figure wearing a dark cloak.
"As is common courtesy… allow me to introduce myself," the figure said, still sounding fairly annoyed as it reached up and pushed down the hood, revealing a frowning but still fairly youthful visage decorated with some extremely thick eyebrows and a pair of green eyes that levelled him with a quite venomous glare beneath a messy blond fringe.
"My name is Arthur, Arthur Kirkland. I am the Wyvern Warlock," the green-eyed dragon-man said, eyeing him with a deep sense of distaste. "This is my humble abode and also private property which you are currently trespassing on. But, considering the fact that you don't seem to be the sharpest knife in the drawer I'll just go ahead and spell things out for you clearly: Get the Hell out of my cavern, human. If you want to live, that is."
Alfred stared. And stared. And stared some more, tilting his head to the side, tilting his head to the other side before then finally snapping out of it somewhat.
"Now hang on a minute here!" he shouted rather indignantly, waving madly. "Where are all the piles of gold and wealth? Where are the maidens in distress who needs rescuing?" he paused briefly before continuing, muttering this time, "Never mind the last one… You probably ate them already…"
The Wyvern Warlock raised an eyebrow, mystified.
"So…" Alfred said in a tentative manner as he rested the flat side of his sword against his shoulder. "You are a dragon, right? So…where's your big treasure?"
- o0o -
The Wyvern Warlock, Arthur Kirkland, stared at him for a few moments before folding his arms over his chest with a snort. "Tch… Idiot."
- o0o -
"All dragons guard treasure; that's common knowledge!" Alfred insisted, all while Arthur eyed him with an exasperated look.
"And you suppose that I'm just going to show you my supposedly vast treasure after you've just waltzed in here and proclaimed that you're going to kill me?" Arthur then proceeded to ask, his voice positively acidic.
"Slay! I said slay!" the young knight wannabe insisted with flailing hand gestures and all. "Because you're the vicious dragon and all who delights in killing young maidens and feasting on the-…"
"Oh, please," Arthur cut in, rolling his eyes. "I haven't eaten a maiden in… well… never. I never really got what was the whole charm with eating human flesh; the noblemen are too fat, the beggars too thin… foolish knight-wannabes too…" he paused briefly, seemingly searching for the right word, "…Unappetizing?"
Alfred looked at him for a moment, frowning. "Unappetizing, how?" he then proceeded to ask. "I have a great body!" he then added.
Arthur eyed him somewhat critically before shaking his head. "Too much muscle…" he responded. "And besides, you reek as if you haven't bathed in a year and have a weekly tradition to go mud wrestling with pigs."
Alfred sputtered.
"Wha-? No way!" he protested. "I have a perfect body and I don't stink! I mean, hello… You're the dragon here; you're the one with a foul-smelling poisonous breath which… Hey…"
The warlock suddenly started approaching him, walking up towards him until there was only about a metre's distance between them. "'Foul-smelling poisonous breath', you say?" the warlock responded, leaning in slightly. "Well… That's a first."
Alfred took a step backwards, finding that his back was now against the wall and that he wouldn't be able to get away as the dragon-person leaned closer and closer, studying him intently with those eerily bright and very intense green eyes. "Hey, what are you-?"
He was cut off by a pair of lips sealing his. The shock left him gaping like a fish and in such a state he barely even registered the invading tongue before it was pulled back as the dragon backed off, using the backside of its hand to wipe its mouth, leaving a wry smirk in its place when it was removed. "If I have a foul-smelling poisonous breath then yours is positively corrosive, young man."
Alfred, being in too much of a shock to formulate anything remotely intelligent, merely sputtered. "What the fu-? You kissed me? Why?"
In response to this the dragon guy blinked, looking almost surprised for a second before tilting his head to the side. "What?" he asked, sounding mildly annoyed all of a sudden. "I just needed to taste you to decide on whether or not to eat you whenever you get this slaying part done… and for your information… you're a really bad kisser."
"What?" Alfred exploded, waving with his hands. "I'm a really good kisser! You just took advantage of my surprise, you foul dragon!"
Saying that last thing, he pointed accusingly towards the surprisingly humanoid dragon, which seemed fairly impressed with this rather childish display. It even rolled its eyes when Alfred went on about it, whining.
"…And that was my first kiss, you overgrown dragon lizard… This sucks…"
The dragon sighed exasperatedly, rubbing his temples. "… A virgin, huh? I should've known."
"Who said I'm a virgin?" Alfred protested. "I'm no-…"
"Virgin or not; I care very little," Arthur the dragon-thingy replied in a flat and uncaring tone, even if there was a certain hint of irritation hiding within it. "First of all, I believe that there have been a slight misunderstanding of some basic concepts here, but I'll just go ahead and blame your upbringing for that and move on with correcting them."
The silence was total for a couple of moments and one half expected to start hearing crickets in the background.
Alfred stared dumbly at the dragon. "…Huh?"
Arthur sighed, turning around and heading deeper into the cave. "First of all," he started, his back still towards the wannabe knight. "I am not a dragon; I'm a wyvern… similar, but not really the same, like a pair of reluctant cousins involved in a blood feud."
"B-but wyverns are supposed to have like… 'fiery beady red eyes' and-…" Alfred's protest was cut short by a disbelieving snort, just as a number of torches were lit to further illuminate the cave and those that were in it.
"…'Have a tail with a poisonous stinger at the end'?" Arthur questioned, raising an eyebrow.
Alfred scratched his head, a bit bothered over the entire situation. "Well… Yeah."
Arthur's eyebrow climbed even higher. "'Dragon-Slaying for Dummies'?"
"My younger bro gave it to me!" Alfred protested, pulling said book out of his satchel and throwing it onto the stone floor. "So what?"
The Wyvern Warlock eyed the book for a few moments before he once again turned to scrutinise the person who had thrown it, keenly studying his facial expression with an almost disbelieving look on his face. Then, seemingly having determined that Alfred had in fact been sincere, the warlock burst out laughing, doubling over with laughter until he eventually fell over and started rolling on the floor, still laughing.
"Why are you laughing? What's so funny about that?" Alfred shouted, trying to make himself heard over the bouts of laughter. "Come on, spill it!"
Arthur lay on the cave floor for a few moments, breathing in and out and trying to recover from the rather extreme laughing fit which had left him breathless. Only when he had recovered from it somewhat did he rise back onto his feet, still chuckling slightly.
"This is priceless," he stated. "Someone actually took Gil's useless dragon-slaying advice seriously…"
"Wha-? Useless? How?"
Arthur plucked the book from his hands, holding it up at eye level. "This…" he said. "…is nearly one hundred percent of fictional bullshit compiled into a book so that Gilbert 'Sir Awesome' Beilschmidt would be able to stroke his ego. Germania would be rolling in his grave if he learnt how far his grandson has fallen…"
Alfred blinked in clear confusion. "Germania?"
Arthur merely waved dismissingly. "Never mind that, young lad, weren't you going to try and slay me or something?" he inquired quite formally, though he still let a hint of amusement slip through into his voice. "I haven't got all day to waste on you, I'm afraid."
"Wha-? Wait… I don't get it."
In the face of Alfred's continued state of confusion, Arthur sighed and turned around, eyeing him almost predatorily. "Right…" the Wyvern Warlock then said. "You have ten seconds to either make up a reason for you coming here to slay me or to get out of here while I'm still counting; do the latter and I'll even let you get away scot-free."
"I'm not a coward!" Alfred shouted, taking a step forward.
"I never said you were," Arthur responded, clearly uninterested. "One."
"I'm here to fight you!" Alfred shouted, pointing his sword towards him.
Arthur looked decidedly unimpressed. "Two."
"I'm here to save maidens in distress!" Alfred shouted, waving his sword around.
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Got none; they're uninteresting. Three."
"I'm here to slay the dragon so that the villagers reward me!" Alfred shouted.
"What villagers?" Arthur questioned, raising an eyebrow. "We're at least three miles from any human settlement and six from any major ones. Four."
"I need to prove myself so that I can become a knight!" Alfred yelled.
"Prove yourself to whom?" Arthur questioned, sounding annoyed. "You're wasting your time, and mine. Five."
"I wanna be a hero!" Alfred shouted, the tip on his sword nearly pointing at the wyvern's throat.
Arthur closed his eyes before opening them again. "By putting an old man to death simply because you want to look heroic?" he questioned. "Try again. Six."
Alfred did not respond, simply continuing to point his sword at the other's throat.
"Seven," Arthur counted down. "Eight. Nine."
Alfred's form started shaking slightly, due to strain or frustration. Then, a few moments later, he exploded. In a purely figurative way of course.
"Fine! I give up!" he shouted. "I wanted to come and slay you because I wanted to steal your treasure because I seriously need more money to buy Mattie a birthday present! Satisfied?"
Arthur reached up, fingers brushing against the tip of the sword which rested against his throat, gently but firmly directing it to the side. "… That's a really bad reason to just come here unannounced with the intent to slay me," he flatly declared.
"L-let's just get on with it!" Alfred said, frustration leaking into his voice. "You're seriously pissing me off, dragon!"
Arthur rolled his eyes again. "… As if you're the one to talk, Mr. Idiot."
"My name is Alfred F Jones!" Alfred protested. "Now lead me to your treasure!"
Once again, Arthur found himself at sword point, but this time around he merely snorted before taking a step backwards and turning around, paying no heed to the sword which was now pointing at his back.
"Tch… fine," he said, sighing. "I'll show you the treasure; then you will leave and not come back. Okay?"
The Wyvern Warlock led the wannabe knight further into the cave, moving into a smaller passage which soon turned into a spiral staircase, leading downwards. The stairs led to a spacious chamber located somewhere beneath the main cave and at the warlock's clapping numerous orbs of light lit up, floating around the chamber and illuminating it and all that were in it.
"Behold," the warlock said, spreading his arms in a dramatic gesture. "Behold the great treasure of the Wyvern Warlock!"
Alfred stared around, eyes wide and disbelieving. He blinked. "What the fu-? There's only books in here!" he shouted in clear disbelief and utter despair. "Where's the treasure?"
"This is the treasure, dumbass," Arthur responded, folding his arms and not bothering in the slightest to try to hide his amusement all while he watched as a sense of realisation, or perhaps reality, came crashing in on the young knight wannabe.
"These are books, not pieces of treasure!" Alfred protested, picking one up from the floor nearby and throwing it across the room for good measure, all while the warlock watched him with a rather displeased but still fairly amused look on his face.
"It kind of depends on the definition of the word, but then again, this is all I have at the moment," he then stated, his tone sounding strangely diplomatic yet awfully mocking at the same time, however he managed to do that.
"There's no treasure?" Alfred exclaimed, dropping his sword in his utter disappointment.
The clattering sound of the sword impacting with the stone floor echoed in the cave.
The warlock merely tilted his head to the side.
"What is treasure anyway?" Arthur asked. "I have little use for shiny stones and mountains of gold; you can't eat them and they attract greedy idiots such as yourself who come to steal it."
He paused briefly before continuing, sounding thoughtful. "Now, there are certainly several dragons that apparently get a kick out of sitting on a mountain of gold while waiting for the next challenger to appear, but I was always the more scholarly type… hence my vast treasure is the knowledge I have obtained about the world through books I have bought, gotten, stolen or written myself."
"A huge disappointment for you, I suppose," Arthur then continued. "But then again it's really not my problem…"
He picked a book from the shelf. "It really isn't," he said, throwing the book at him. "But you can have that one. Take it and bother me no further, at least not without scheduling an appointment like a proper gentleman…"
That last part was uttered in a gruff, admonishing kind of voice, almost like a teacher lecturing an unruly student. Either way, it made Alfred very very confused.
"What sort of dragon are you anyway?" he shouted, staring back and forth between the book which now lay in his hand and at the warlock who had apparently just given him it.
Arthur rolled his eyes again. "Nowadays I am supposedly a wyvern, being the Wyvern Warlock and all, but a long time ago I was a human…" he said. "A human… who was taught how to shapeshift by a sorcerer from country way up north… I think it's called Norway nowadays."
Alfred immediately face faulted. "Wait," he said, eyes wide in disbelief. "You were human?"
Arthur blinked, seemingly surprised at his sudden interest. Then he scratched the back of his head, looking a bit uncomfortable, and a bit bothered maybe at the attention. "I used to be, at least," he said. "Now I'm a Shape Shifter."
The knight wannabe's next question caught him off guard.
"…Don't you ever get lonely?"
Arthur blinked, several times. Then he started chuckling. "I am alone because I wish to be; if I wanted company I'd seek it, but I really don't."
"You don't have any friends?" Alfred asked, his knightly hero persona temporarily forgotten in favour of a childish instinct that the man - or warlock or dragon or whatever - before him was very lonely.
"I have three brothers…" the warlock responded with a mild shrug. "I used to have at least. But friends? I have no friends that are human and very few that would be visible to your eyes."
This time it was Alfred's turn to blink in surprise. "You have imaginary friends?"
Arthur snorted. "Fairy people," he corrected. "But then again you are probably too dim-witted to even catch a glimpse."
Alfred tilted his head to the side, looking thoughtful for a second before suddenly tilting it back and gaining a rather determined look in his eye as he strode forward, seizing the surprised warlock's shoulders and smiling brightly down at him. "Wanna be friends with me?"
The Wyvern Warlock stared at him as if he had just proclaimed that they were going to get married and live happily ever after. Then he concluded that the hero wannabe obviously suffered from some kind of insanity; earlier on he had merely put the lad down as a major moron with an severe hero complex.
"No, I seriously don't," Arthur said, trying to keep his voice level but failing miserably. "There is little or no merit in that sort of thing and besides, there's no guarantee that your stupidity isn't contagious. Now get out of my sight!"
Unfortunately for said warlock, the knight wannabe with a severe hero complex did not get his not at all subtle demand for him to remove himself from said warlock's dwelling. Unfortunately for said warlock, said knight wannabe with a severe hero complex did not catch the not at all subtle remarks made at said wannabe's intelligence, and as such the warlock's remark did not have the desired effect. That is, to get said knight wannabe to leave.
Arthur's eyebrow twitched. "Maybe I should eat you after all…"
- o0o -
As things turned out, Alfred the foolish knight with a severe hero complex did somehow manage to make it out alive from the 'Dragon's Keep' – Hell, he even managed to hitch a ride with a dragon to get down from there – and he returned to his hometown feeling both triumphant and a bit put out with his latest adventure and apparent failure to slay the Green Dragon. Later on though, he would insist that he, in all his heroicness and nobleness and such, had spared the dragon and become its friend and all, since he was awesome and all, but few – no one probably – actually believed it as Alfred F Jones was quite notorious for his ability to exaggerate.
Matthew Williams, Alfred's misfortunate brother, stared down at the book he had just unwrapped, the birthday present given to him from said idiotic moron of an older brother. With all due honesty, Matthew hadn't really expected that his brother would be giving him anything at all this year due to having burned all his money on purchasing equipment to enable himself to pursue a career as a knight. So imagine his surprise when Alfred actually dumped a wrapped gift on his lap after rudely having awaken him with an overly energetic "Happy Birthday, Mattie!" at six in the morning when he had been up late studying the night before.
What was even more surprising was the fact that Alfred had gotten him a book, and not just any book but a super rare copy of Useful Spells for Dealing With Annoying Pests by renowned warlock Arthur Kirkland - in certain circles otherwise known by as the Wyvern Warlock – which would be worth quite a pretty penny on the market. Regardless of how he had gotten it, Alfred obviously had not had any idea whatsoever as to the value of the book he had given him.
Then again, Al had been babbling on and on about this dragon he had met, so Matthew really couldn't help but wonder. On the other hand, knowing Alfred, if the dragon he had met had really been the legendary Wyvern Warlock then the wyvern had probably handed him the book merely to get rid of him; he was a major annoyance to a great part of the population after all.
Thinking no more of it, Matthew opened the book and flipped through the pages until he reached the index, his finger sliding down the page as he looked through the entries. A mischievous smile spread across his face.
Al… no offence bro, but I'm so gonna make your life a living Hell with this…
- o0o -
Meanwhile, in a cave up on a mountain somewhere not too far away, Arthur Kirkland, aka the Wyvern Warlock, stood down in his library, or treasury depending on how you saw it, rearranging his books. He looked up suddenly, his eyebrows furrowing briefly. Then he sneezed.
"Someone's spreading rumours," he muttered out loud to no one in particular.
He stared out into seemingly thin air for a moment, wearing a thoughtful expression, before apparently coming to a decision, hitting the bookcase next to him with his fist for measure and knocking a book out which then fell and hit him on the head, sending him into a fit of cursing.
When he finally straightened up again, nursing a worsening headache, he pulled out a book and brought it with him as he went up the staircase.
"I really need to fix those bloody wards…"
- o0o -