Maybe it has been too long ago that these people seemed to have forgotten. I used to think the same way too, that as human beings, we were the sole inheritors of the world and that we are the rightful masters over everything else. Yet, it has been a scant two hundred years ago that dragons ruled the world. How short the span of human memory is.
Two hundred years ago, dragons were the masters of everything beneath the heavens. And then began the Great Hunt that eradicated their proud race. The Order of Dragonslayers swept through the land, on the heels of glory and fame, and within decades, the numbers of dragons had dwindled down to a mere handful. And while only the eldest among us remember the terrifying sight of a dragon flying through the sky and breathing dragonfire across the plains, these magnificent creatures have gripped my imagination, and I have sought to study them, and hopefully give them a place in history that they so deserve.
Imagine my surprise when a friend of mine mentioned that he happened to know a woman by the name of Katherine Stoppable. Could she really be a descendant of the last Dragonslayer? Could she really claim such a famous lineage of the Ronald Stoppable, who slew the last dragon, Sherainz?
I could barely contain my excitement as he gave me details of her address. I did as much research as I could, but tomorrow, I will be setting off to her village to look for her. Hopefully she can give me a much better and more truthful account of the hero, Ronald Stoppable.
From the diaries of Scribe Wade Load
The simmering summer sun was shining brightly, lulling all beneath it to a drowsy afternoon. There was no one else who would be out under such a hot weather, except for one lone traveler trudging on the northern dirt path, leading his mottled brown horse by the reins. The blond traveler let out a wide yawn as he rubbed his white tabard with a proud red lion emblazoned on it, the insignia of the Kingsguards, the elite of the King's army. Casting his eyes up to the clear blue sky, he shrugged in defeat and looked over to the tree line on both sides of the dirt path, looking for a nice shaded spot to have a much needed afternoon nap.
Leading his mount to the edge of the trees, he took off the bit in his mount's mouth and let the mottled brown horse graze, before he shucked his canvas satchel under a particularly shady tree and leaned his steel sword against it. With another loud yawn, he laid down besides his belongings. Placing his hands behind his head, he closed his eyes and drifted off into a deep slumber.
Nary a creature stirred in the hot summer weather. The horse slowly grazed on the grassy knoll and occasionally glanced over at his sleeping master before giving a whinny of contempt and returning to the patch of grass before him. Suddenly, its ears twitched. A faint distant clash of steel sounded, and it jerked its head in the direction of the noise. Muffled shouts were heard. Throwing back its mane, the horse trotted over to its master and nudged the blond gently with its muzzle.
"Go away, Rufus" Ron mumbled lazily, as he rolled over on his side, away from the incessant prodding of the horse. "I wanna sleep… Mmm… Goat cheese and bread…"
Unperturbed by his master's seemingly lackadaisical attitude to the danger nearby, Rufus nudged him a little harder. As Ron refused to move, Rufus finally stood back up and threw his head back. And in an unhorse-like manner, he made a hoarse throat-clearing sound at the back of his throat, and spat the biggest wad of sticky and grass-filled horse saliva right into Ron's exposed left ear.
"Eww!" Ron screamed in disgust as he jumped to his feet. Reaching up and wiping away the horse saliva from his hair, he threw a dirty look at Rufus who looked on smugly. "What was that for, you scraggy bag of bones? Didn't I tell you not to do that ever again? I don't want to have to bathe until next month!"
Rufus ignored his tirade and glanced over in the direction of the sounds of fighting that was clearly getting louder. Turning to face Ron again, he gave a slight jerk in the direction of the noise as though to say that they should check it out.
Stopping his rant for a moment, Ron cocked his head to the side and listened to the faint sounds of conflict. With a loud groan, Ron bent over and retrieved his satchel and sword from the ground next to him. "I guess we'd better look…" Ron grudgingly agreed but not before giving out one last tonsil-revealing yawn. "But don't think I have forgiven you for that spitball yet!"
Rufus rolled his eyes, as he waited for Ron to hop back into the saddle before cantering at a decent pace towards the source of the disturbance. As soon as they had headed down the road, past the bend, they saw a group of eight men standing around in a circle shouting threateningly at the sole woman in the center of the circle. They were waving crude weapons at her threateningly, ordering her to drop her belongings and get the hell out of their sight.
"God, she's beautiful…" Ron found his eyes fixed on the woman, mentally blocking out the eight ruffians from his sight.
She was a pale-skinned woman, with the most dazzling green eyes he had ever seen. Her silky hair flowed with the wind, a perfect obsidian black against her fair skin. She stood without fear at about five foot eight, dressed in a tight fitting grey tunic that clung snugly to her lithe body, accentuating her womanly curves and revealing long slender arms. And she held herself with poise and calm, despite the overwhelming odds, with nothing more than a dagger gripped tightly in her right hand, ready to strike the next interloper who dared to come too near.
Before his mind could wax any more lyrical praises in memory of this beautiful sight before him, Rufus had suddenly burst forward in a gallop, almost unseating the startled blond. Quickly regaining his composure, Ron leaned forward on the saddle and patted Rufus gently on the neck before whispering into his ear, "Great idea, buddy, but remember, I saw her first…"
Rufus seemed to throw his head back and shake his head in contempt as though issuing a challenge. Breaking out in a hearty laugh, Ron drew his steel sword out of his scabbard and bellowed out at the top of his voice a ferocious war-cry, "Booyah!"
The startled men drop their weapons in surprise at the charging horse and rider, and they quickly scattered back into the forests, disappearing into the shadows. With a proud smile on his face, Ron sheathed his sword and swung Rufus around to face the beautiful woman. As he wore a charming smile, he dismounted Rufus and greeted the woman.
"It's a pleasure to meet such a beautiful vision such as yourself," Ron greeted her with a flourished bow.
As he looked up, to his surprise, she had a contemptuous scowl on her face. "Fah," she spat on the ground next to him. "I didn't need your help against bandits. Not especially from a Kingsguard Dragonslayer."
"Hey, hey, watch it," Ron stepped back, alarmed at the outward hostility from this woman. "Maybe you didn't notice, but it was eight against one back there. Even if you are as good as you think, that's still some pretty nasty odds. Plus…" Ron glanced down at his tabard. "I'm not exactly a Dragonslayer per se… I'm just like a Kingsguard trainee or something." He let out a little laugh. "I've never even been on a dragonhunt."
"Shove off! You're all the same to me!" the woman spat nastily.
"Hey, woah, back up a little," Ron was a little taken-aback. "I mean you no harm, and I just rescued you from a group of bandits. Don't you think I deserve at least a bit of thanks?"
"Not from me," the woman sneered, as she tucked her dagger into her belt and turned to walk away.
"Hey!" Ron called after her. He grabbed Rufus' reins and hurried up to her. "Even if you have something against people like us, I don't think you should just wander off on your own like that… Maybe we could travel together or something…"
"And why should I want to travel with you?" the woman demanded haughtily.
"For one, it's dangerous to travel alone," Ron pointed out cautiously. "And two… I think those bandits are going to be back the moment we split up…"
"I can take care of myself," the woman remarked.
"Ah, I wouldn't… Actually, I couldn't in good conscience leave a woman in obvious danger…" Ron explained as calmly as he could. The woman was starting to get on his nerves. "Look, let's just get to the next town together safely. I'm heading in this direction too, so it wouldn't be a bother at all."
The woman narrowed her eyes for a moment, as she regarded him for a moment. Then she looked over at the mottled brown horse that had suddenly trotted up to her and nuzzled against her affectionately. Subconsciously she reached up and patted the brown muzzle. "Fine," she snapped. "Do whatever you want to do."
"Right," Ron breathe a slight sigh of relief. He held out his hand for a handshake. "Anyway, in case you're wondering, the name's Ron. Ron Stoppable, Kingsguard trainee at your service."
"Hmph," the woman's cold eyes looked contemptuously at his outstretched hand. She turned her back on him and started walking down the dirt path, not caring whether he followed her or not.
She didn't much care for the fact that the man dutifully followed her footsteps, or whether he amateurishly looked over his shoulder trying to catch a glimpse of more bandits. She'd already known that they had scurried back to their den, cursing their luck of running into a Kingsguard trainee. Little did they realize that he could have only taken on two, three of them at most, and that she was the one they should have truly feared.
Glancing back, she could see that he was genuinely following her, not saying a word, sort of protecting her. She wondered where that strange notion had come from. If only he knew who she really was…
"Shego," she finally spoke, without looking back at him.
"What?" the man uttered in surprise.
"I said, my name's Shego."
"Oh," the man chuckled nervously. "Hey, nice to meet you, Shego."
She grunted in reply, mostly out of annoyance.
Ron decided that making conversation with the woman was only slightly easier than squeezing blood out of a stone. His best attempts at getting her to talk came for naught, as he simply carried on the conversation on his own.
Reeling her head back in disgust, she finally shouted, "Do you ever get tired of talking? Or do you just want me to cut your tongue out?"
"I… I…" Ron stammered as he stared down the wrong end of Shego's piercing gaze. "I… Want… Awkward… You…"
"Just leave me alone!" Shego spat nastily as she quickened her pace a little. She didn't care where the Kingsguard or his mount was going, as long as they were out of sight, out of mind, she was perfectly fine.
The annoying blond let out a loud sigh behind her and immediately her nape bristled with annoyance. Doesn't the buffoon ever just shut the hell up? She started to regret her decision, and idly toyed with the idea of catching him by surprise, gut him and throw his body into the forest before stealing his mount. It would be days, if not weeks, before anyone realized he was missing. By then she would be six towns away, and no one would be the wiser. All she needed was one more reason to…
"Water?" Ron tapped on her shoulder and offered her a small canteen.
She instinctively flinched and bared her talons, as she eyed the invitation suspiciously. It was an innocent looking metallic flask with some liquid sloshing around in it. Gingerly she reached out her hand and almost snatched the container out of his hand. Glancing suspiciously into the dark insides of the container, she wondered if it contained poison. Taking a small sniff at it, her heightened sense of smell couldn't detect anything unnatural with the liquid inside. She slowly raised the opening of the flask to her lips, while at the same time, keeping a cautious eye on the man.
The cool refreshing liquid touched her lips and she hungrily lapped away. Without realizing it, she had downed the entire flask. Her eyes flicked up suddenly, and she saw the man smiling at her. No, grinning… Her eyes opened wide. How could I have let my guard down? It's an odorless, tasteless poison! He…
"Hey, it's okay, don't worry about finishing it. I still got some," Ron quickly interjected, as he reached over to the saddle pack hanging by Rufus' side. He reached into it and pulled out a similar-looking flask, unscrewed the top and took a small sip. Holding out the second flask to her, he asked nonchalantly, "Want some more?"
She was a little taken aback by his attitude. She waited for the tendrils of the poison to eat out her belly from the inside. The phantom pain in her head never materialized, and she realized that she must have looked rather stupid, glowering silently at the flask in her hand.
Sullenly she tossed the empty flask back at him and spun on her heels and walked away, cursing herself for accepting his hospitality.
The sun was almost setting as they arrived at the next town, Lowervale. Like most towns up north, there was a crude wooden wall surrounding the perimeter and simple low guard towers positioned every two hundred paces along the wall. The torches of the guard towers were already lighted and the silhouettes of men could be seen standing watch over the town. While the meager defenses barely afforded any protection in the event of a siege, it has served its purpose of deterring the growing scourge of bandits who prowled the north, a land of lawlessness which could not afford the armies the capital had employed.
Usually army deserters, these men had found themselves wanted as traitors for their cowardice and desertion. King Drakken had decreed that any soldier that runs away from battle as treasonous scum and should be executed like animals, because animals have no sense of loyalty or patriotic pride. Rejected by the very society that they had hoped to return to, they had no choice but to turn to more nefarious activities such as killing and looting travelers for basic survival. And evil begets evil, just like a festering sore spreads its tendrils and even corrupts untainted flesh. The wars that King Drakken had waged against the West had severely depleted his war chest, and he had taxed his people mercilessly, with his own private army of tax collectors; seedy men who would sell out their mothers for a single gold piece and who had no scruples about taking a farmer's last sack of grain saved for the next year's planting season. It was hard to earn an honest living, and even the most honest man has sunk to dishonest means in his darkest hour of desperation.
Subjugating the bandits were the King's last concern on his mind. His efforts were focused on the war, and drawing upon conscription of every man of fighting age, the villages and towns found themselves stripped of able bodied men. Guards were posted to the frontline and home defenses stretched thin. The outlying villages were the ones who suffered most, having to put up with raids every month, robbing the villagers of everything they had to call a livelihood. And so there was a vast migration of people, towards the slums of the cities, where they had hope to afford some modicum of protection. But these people had simply traded the fear of death and destruction of their farmlands for the filth and disease of the slums that surrounded the larger towns and cities like a moat of poverty. And so it was with Lowervale, the northernmost town, its population having swelled to almost twenty thousand people as everyone fled here for the illusion of a better life.
Shego looked around at the thin line of weary travelers that had slowly gathered behind and ahead of her. Their dust-covered faces and tattered clothes belied their watchful eyes as they scan the tree line for any signs of moving shadows. Attacks were more common during the twilight, as the almost dark conditions made it easier for bandits to sneak up on them. They had all looked somber and wary; save one fool of a Kingsguard who was apparently oblivious to the suffering around him. She glanced around and noticed that Ron had hung back a little, chatting to a little girl with tangled brown hair, no older than eight dressed in rough grey drabs, who was riding Rufus.
The little girl giggled as Ron was telling her a funny story and her mom who watched on with a smile on her face as she carried a small basket of potatoes with her. Then the little girl and Ron looked over at Shego suddenly and waved to her. A sense of indignation welled up in her and Shego snorted in contempt and flicked her head away, instead choosing to focus on the town walls in front of her. She could hear the two of them laughing behind her, and her sense of curiosity was angling her neck to glance over at what they were doing.
Regardless, she plodded on towards the gate. She could see four men standing guard there by the gate, wielding crude makeshift farm tools as weapons. They kept a watchful eye on the slow line of people that milled through the gates. They'd quickly singled out lone travelers, ones with unfamiliar faces and those without children, quickly turning them aside and forcing them to move further on the road, despite their protests that it was almost nightfall and they would be at the mercy of bandits.
Ron saw the look in her eyes and offered a few words, "Strangers are seen as the enemy in these parts; when the next man is liable to stick a knife between your ribs, I guess trust wears pretty thin in these parts."
"Fair enough," Shego snorted contemptuously. "I can take care of myself."
Ron shrugged at her words, and turned his attention back to the little girl and her mother, engaging them in light conversation. As they stepped up to the village gateway, a stocky man with large arms nodded Ron and the little girl riding on Rufus through before stopping to question the mother behind him.
"Purpose!" he barked at her.
"I got some potatoes to sell…" she offered meekly. The man glanced into her basket and reached in and pulled out a potato to examine it. Satisfied, he threw it back into the basket and waved her through.
Just as Shego was about to step through the gate, two large imposing bodies immediately blocked her way. The first man eyed her carefully as he asked, "Purpose!"
"I need a place to stay for the night," Shego replied defiantly.
"Then you can sleep in the woods," the man replied calmly. "Next!"
Shego seethed for a moment, wondering whether she should punch his rude face when Ron calmly interrupted the man with a tap on the shoulder. "Excuse me, she's with me…" Ron interjected as he nodded towards Shego.
The stocky man glanced over at Ron, letting his eyes linger on his Kingsguard tabard for a moment. "Fine," he grudgingly agreed. "But if she causes any trouble, she's your problem."
"I can vouch for her," Ron agreed immediately.
With that the two men blocking her way moved aside, letting Shego enter the town. As she walked by Ron, she glowered at his smiling face, and mumbled beneath her breath, "Shut up…"
"By convention, people usually say thank you, you know that?" Ron quipped.
"You don't deserve it, Kingsguard," Shego growled in annoyance.
"That's Kingsguard trainee to you. One day, you know, all that bitterness is going to eat away inside you," Ron sighed. "But then that would be your problem, wouldn't it?" Not waiting for a reply from her, he walked away back to Rufus and the little girl still riding on him.
Shego looked in surprise at his sudden comeback. She glared angrily at the man's back, willing her eyes to bore holes right through the back of his head. Yet he seemed unperturbed as he lifted the little girl off the saddle and gave her a hug, before bidding farewell to the mother and child pair. Rufus flicked his mane and gave a whiney just as the little girl turned around and gave them a final wave.
"You know what, ol' buddy?" Ron grinned as he patted Rufus' neck. "You got it good with the ladies…" He gently pulled on the reins and Rufus started off on a small trot before suddenly turning his head to look at Shego. Ron stopped in surprise and look at his mount, "What is it, Rufus?"
He turned his head to follow Rufus' gaze and saw Shego still standing there, with a scowl on her face and arms firmly fixed across her chest. "Is something wrong?" Ron asked, with a bored tone in his voice. He'd expected her to snap at him.
"Nothing," Shego snapped bitterly and strode away. She stopped for a moment and looked left and right at the small cottages that were huddled closely together.
"First time here in Lowervale?" Ron asked as he walked up to her.
Grudgingly, she nodded her head, as she craned her neck, trying to look for the local tavern. The way the unmarked houses stood made it really hard for her to decide which direction to walk in.
"I know a place," Ron offered slowly. "You can come with us if you want to. I know someone who runs an inn; she'd put us up for the night."
She grinded her teeth at the prospect of accepting more help from the blond. It was true, he had his uses, but she didn't want to feel indebted to him and his kind. Yet, a part of her reasoned that she wouldn't be indebted at all if she was merely using him. And when she was done using him, maybe she'd just kill him, if not just for the fun of it, then maybe just because of his sheer… buffoonery.
"Where is it?" Shego asked, using the right inflexion in her tone to mark her disdain.
"Right this way," Ron sighed, before starting to walk down the street.
Author's Notes
Oh my god, not another unfinished fic by NoobFish. Can this guy just stop tossing out ideas and not completing them? I'm gonna kill this dude if he doesn't finish this fic too.
Au contraire! This is a finished fic. Finished, as in all seven chapters have been uploaded onto FFNet already. I've pre-empted my laziness by writing it complete before posting. Ah the genius! Right, so before I stroke my ego, and other parts of my body (eww) anymore, the disclaimer still stands, I don't reply to reviews, but thanks for saying hi to all those who persist nonetheless. I'm gonna update this in three days.