Prologue:

Author's Note: This is my first FICTION story ever, I always used to write non-fiction until the reasons on my profile occurred. If there are any spelling errors, boring bits that you want to complain about or you just want to put in an idea, REVIEW! As it says in the description, YES this is based 500 years in Alageasia's future, yes all the races have been mixed up and are comfortable together, also, after a while the Dragon Riders replaced 'Rider' with 'Knight' as their official name sooo...yeah. Enjoy!

Walking down the loose cobblestone highway, the edges crumbling away from the main road, there were plants sprouting out of patches in the road and there were trees growing on both sides stretching into the distance broken only by random patches of bougainvillea and other weeds forming a dense underbrush.

Thinking about the amount of cover that bandits could hide in the traveler pulled his large steel shield up higher over his left arm and loosed his iron longsword, which rested on his left hip, an inch out of it's sheath. He was 5'9 and had a filled out, athletic body. He was a muscular Caucasian with light brown hair and had blue eyes and a nose that had a small chunk missing from the middle of it that gave him the look of a man in his mid- thirties that had seen rough combat.

He had a long scar running from the top of his left shoulder down to his elbow , half of it covered by the short sleeve of his leather tunic which was barely visible under his chainmail shirt, over which he had a steel chest plate with a large symbol of a crossed sword and mace with the head of a dragon covering where the two weapons met, a large backpack that sagged, the rest of his attire was completed with chainmail covered leather pants, steel bracer's and iron boots.

Over his back he had a large claymore. It had a black leather grip, shiny with use and a plain cross-guard, thoroughly dented from use. The blade itself though was a testament to workmanship, not a single scratch, dent or stain on it.. He was walking with confidence and little fatigue hinting at measurable strength. He was always looking at the sides of the road, constantly on lookout. He kept to the right side of the road keeping in shadow of the trees thanks to the afternoon sun, while the other side was bathed in patches of golden light that had broken through the overhanging canopy.

He walked with a purpose and with a quick pace. Then the deep thrum of a longbow cut though the sound of insects and broke the steady monotone of the man's walking.

He reacted instantly, diving towards the underbrush just as the arrow flew past his head and caught his right ear, drawing blood and taking a piece of his earlobe with it, he hit the ground with a thud, ignoring the cuts he received from the foliage, his backpack clanking as it's contents shifted. He ran to a nearby tree that was wide enough to hide him from the unseen archer and crouched, tearing off his backpack and rummaging through it, from it he took out his iron helm with its arming cap and chainmail coif tied in for quick use.

He slammed it on his head and slid his shield down his arm and into position. He held it up in front of him and slowly walked to the edge of the tree, staying crouched the entire time. He then stood up and, looking around to make sure that no-one was there, held up his shield and thrust it into the open, taking two arrows in his shield moments later. He pulled it back from behind the tree and propped it up, still just in sight of the unseen archer, he then made his way to the other side of the tree and, thinking about the angle of the arrows lodged in his shield, calculated the position of the archer. Gripping his sword tightly, he placed himself into a ready stance and suddenly broke from the cover of the tree and charged toward his opponent.

The bandit was donned in different types of armour, probably taken from previous victims. He looked at the rushing warrior with surprise and fear and dropped his longbow and the arrow that was already nocked into position. He was still turning when the warrior brought his sword down and cleaved his head in two, firmly lodging itself in his skull. He let go of the sword and slid the claymore from it's sheath and ran to the nearest tree while his opponent crumpled behind him. All this happened in mere moments.

Just as he reached the tree the blade of the second bandit who was farther back, hiding in the brush, appeared from behind the tree, the bandit swung it down in an arc, he expected it to connect with flesh and bone and so stumbled when he hit nothing but air. He felt a sudden pain in the back of his midsection then lost all feeling as his upper torso slid off his waist and fell to the ground.

The traveler pulled his sword free of the tree which had been lodged in it from the force of his swing and wiped it free of the blood on the clothes of the halved bandit. He retrieved his shield and pack from their last positions, his longsword was to damaged and a bit bent from the impact so he went back to the halved bandits upper torso and pried the sword from his grip. He looted their corpses, hitching the bow and quiver of arrows to the side of his pack. He was moving the bodies out of sight of the road when he heard the twang of a bow, heard the sound of metal sliding through metal and felt a sharp pain in the side of his head, he saw a flash of red light and everything went dark.

A third bandit walked up to the body of the traveler, then looked at the bodies of his comrades, then back at the man who had slain them both so easily, he looked at the man lying face down in the dirt with an arrow sticking out of his head and laughed in relief, he had escaped the slaughter of his colleagues and gotten everything they had, all thanks to one arrow. He rolled the man over and a look of complete and utter shock appeared on his face as soon as he saw the emblem on the mans chest.

He had killed a dragon knight, one of the legendary warriors who were bonded to great fire-breathing beasts and were hailed as the ultimate warrior. They were never seen walking down a highway, they always travel with those monstrous beasts that they call friendly.

He looked at the mangled corpses of his colleagues and thought that that confirmed the legends, he dragged the body farther into the underbrush along with the remains of his comrades and heaped them into a pile. He stripped them of all their valuables, weapons and armour.

He couldn't take all of the armour and weapons so he wrapped them in a cloth and buried them at the foot of a tree which he marked with a cross. He then pick up his load, took one last look at the cross on the tree and the surrounding area so as to remember to come back here. As he rounded the bend an arm disentangled itself from the mound of bodies, grasped a nearby root and began to pull itself free from the pile.

Acknowledgements: This all would not have been possible with out the help of Hideout Writer to help me find my way through my menu. I'll update this with review acknowledgements as soon as someone reads it. So tired...(sleeps)

Till then, No One-liners