Eleven.

Alfred limped and skid down the mountainside with nothing more than a walking stick he had picked up to support himself with and a sharp, razor tooth. The knight couldn't stay under Arthur's protection any longer. The village in the valley were Alfred had first heard the news of the dragon would think him dead and send the next knight in shining armor that came riding along to kill Arthur. They needed to see Alfred alive, to hear his story of defeating the mighty beast, and they needed proof of "its" death. Arthur had refused to let Alfred be near him when he pulled a tooth, although the beastly screeches could be heard miles away. The green dragon returned with the tooth, snake tongue licking blood from its gums and lips. The tooth was as long as a dagger and just as sharp, although the curve of the bone made it easy to hook onto his belt and left him hands free as he climbed back down narrow paths. Alfred could still feel those intense green eyes pierce his back, even though he was nearly at the bottom of the mountain. The knight had hated to go, he could see the small flashes of fear. Arthur was afraid of being abandoned despite all of Alfred's promises to return.

Alfred sighed in relief as the path grew level and the underbrush thinned. Now it would only take an easy march to reach the village and spread the news.

The faces were stunned as he walked along the road and entered the town, many clearly remembered the brash knight from only days ago proclaiming to kill the dragon. Alfred's stomach sank but he forced himself to grin and wave the tooth high over his head. The cheer began softly and then he was the center of a happy crowd, men pat him on the back and pretty ladies swooped to steal a kiss from him. Normally, he would've laughed and cheered and kissed back, but he only managed to paste the grin in place, his fingers curled around the dragon tooth.

No one had any reason to doubt him. Before he realized what was happening, the crowd whisked in a giant current pulling toward the tavern, where the owner graciously let the drinks flow like a river and celebrations began. Arthur's death was a reason to rejoice. Alfred answered as many questions as he dared, a tankard of some intoxication was thrust into his hands but he didn't drink. How did you manage to defeat it? Were you seriously injured? Did it have any jewels in its lair? Any remains of the beast's previous victims? Tell us of the battle! For once the knight floundered for an explanation, searching for an answer just as earnestly as the villagers were.

"Ladies, gentlemen, there is plenty of time to know the tale. Can't you see the brave knight's exhaustion? It must have been a ferocious battle indeed, and we needn't make him fight for his words."

The crowd around Alfred pulled apart as a tall man with long long hair and a stubble beard walked through. He stood out from the villagers, mostly because of his rich looking clothes, which were plain in design but expensive in material. His features were handsome and striking, a large pointed nose and sparkling sapphire eyes, his very was naturally beautiful in a precise way. The man stepped beside Alfred and tapped a glass to his tankard.

"To our brave knight and his victory!"

As the villagers cheered again, the man bent slightly and whispered in Alfred's ear, "If you don't drink, people will become suspicious. How is Arthur, by the way?"

Alfred's mouth dropped open in disbelief and he turned to the stranger. The man's lips curled into a knowing smile and he winked at the knight before wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Suggesting to the crowd that a dance would be fine, he pulled Alfred along until they managed to duck outside into the privacy of the fenced yard behind the tavern. With a flourish, the man swept his cape over his shoulder and sat at one of the tables arranged on a stone walk serving as a patio, placing his cup of purple wine on it.

"We'll have a moment of privacy here, although I'm sure it won't last long," he said, still smiling. "You are the man of the hour and soon many a lady will want to dance with you."

"How do you know about Arthur?" Alfred refused to sit, mindlessly clutching the tankard until his knuckles turned white. This man could be dangerous.

"My name is Francis and I suppose I'm one of Arthur's few friends," Francis was perceptive enough to see the knight's growing wrath and quickly spoke to stem it. "I saved his life when he was young. His gesture of gratitude was to bite me. I believe we are once again in a similar situation."

Cautiously, Alfred sat at the table. He put the tankard down and leaned on his elbows. "Arthur never mentioned you."

"I doubt he would. He has a bad temper and a ridiculous habit of moving around to avoid me, on more than one occasion he has attempted to roast me. I usually leave him be as I prefer not to be singed ugly." Francis plucked a hair from his sleeve idly. His blue eyes lifted and met Alfred's, speaking seriously. "I do not wish for harm to come to Arthur. If I had then I would not have distracted the focus from you so that you can compose yourself. It would've only taken one word from me to make the villagers to grab their pitch forks and torches. I'm only trying to help you, as you aren't doing a very good job pretending you killed him."

"How did you meet?" Alfred's curiosity got the better of him.

"Arthur never told me what happened, although the events were clear enough to me. His nest had been discovered and raided. Since he himself was only a small thing he was easy to catch. Sometimes wealthy people will pay high prices for the capture of young dragons so that they can be tamed and stuck behind gilded cages. I rescued Arthur from this fate and gave him his freedom. I run into him occasionally and he has put up with me, however obligatory he feels that task is."

Although they had just met, there was something about Francis that made Alfred trust him. He felt his shoulders relax and Francis's smile grew as he took a sip of his drink.

"What do I do now?" Alfred asked.

"Drink, dance, be happy and celebrate. Tell as many crazy stories as you like, after a few drinks people will believe anything. Your silence will alert everyone that there is something wrong."

Just then the door burst open and people flooded out, some dancing their way out of the overfull tavern and into the open space of the yard. Many cheered when they saw the knight. Alfred glanced back toward Francis before taking his drink and standing, turning to the party with a grin on his face. He decided he could trust this stranger.

Alfred didn't get a chance to talk to Francis again for the rest of the day. The celebration didn't until very late at night and by then Alfred was too tired and too drunk to seek the man out and get more answers. Because of his service to the village, he had been given a free room for the night. It was the first time in weeks since he slept on a bed and he crashed onto it gratefully.

When Alfred woke the next morning, his head was pounded and his mouth was dry, his tongue shriveled painfully into itself. He shifted and something sharp poked him in the side, making him roll off the bed quickly and land on his butt. Groaning, he looked around for the source. He was alone. He pat his side and felt his fingers brush the sharp edge of the dragon tooth, still tucked safely into his belt. It had been passed through many hands that night, a trophy, but no one could deny it belonged to Alfred. Rubbing his head, Alfred stumbled to his feet and made his way out of the room. The tavern was still open, although there weren't many people still there, very likely at home nursing their own hangovers. Alfred managed to ask for water, which was provided and the kind cook brought out a broth to sooth his head. He was hunched over it when several men from the village approached his table.

"I hope you're faring well after your battle," one of them said. "You've done us all a great service and we will be eternally grateful to you."

Alfred only grunted in reply, preferring to finish the warm broth. He had barely managed to keep smiling last night, he didn't think he could stand another day of it.

"Tell me, young knight, how did you lose your armor?"

Alfred froze. Now he looked up, giving the men his full attention. For a moment, he couldn't find words. "Excuse me?"

"We noticed when you first arrived here you had armor on all the time, but now you are without it. I see no bag carrying it for you, so I simply wondered what happened."

"It got damaged during the fight," Alfred replied lamely.

The man didn't look convinced. "Did it now?"

Alfred didn't reply. He eyed the spokesman and his supporters. They were all tall with giant arms, farmers and workers. Their eyes were hard and looked down at him as if he had insulted their mothers.

"What of your sword? I've never seen a knight without his sword." The spokesman was blatantly interrogating him now.

"What do you want?" Alfred lost his patience.

"We want the truth," the man growled. He crossed his arms over his barrel chest. "If you admit to that you didn't kill the dragon right now then we'll let you go quietly. We don't take kindly to liars."

Ears ringing, Alfred glared at the man and stood up. "I wasn't lying! I defeated him-it! It's dead so no one has to worry about the dragon any more."

"You're just looking for credit, for free booze and drink, for the attention of our daughters! Is is the admiration that you crave, the fame, the women? Admit to us right now of your cowardliness."

"No! I don't care about any of that!"

"Then prove it," the man sneered tauntingly. "Prove it to us that you killed the dragon."

"I have-"

"Take us up the mountain to its lair and show us the dead beast!"

Alfred's heartbeat was the only thing he could hear for a moment, which was odd because he felt like he couldn't breathe. He should have known better to come back without his armor, without his sword. He had never found out what Arthur had done to it, no doubt kicked it into the underground lake with the armor. He was so stupid, so foolish to think everyone would simply believe him because of the tooth. Now Arthur was in more danger than ever and he didn't know what to do. Francis was no where in sight.

"I won't."

The man's eyes steeled and he stepped back, as if Alfred had confirmed his suspicions. "We're going up the mountain and we're going to find the dragon's corpse. If it is still alive, you'd better not be here by the time we come back."

As one, all the men turned to leave before flashing one last disgusted look at Alfred. The knight stood shaking, powerless. They thought he was simply a fraud who had camped for several nights in the woods before turning with whatever fossil he had found to trick people into believing he defeated a dragon. But the truth was so much worse than that and now Arthur's life was in danger once again. Maybe this would drive the villagers to kill the dragons themselves.

Before Alfred realized what he was doing, his feet moved and he ran out of the tavern after the group of men. Blood roared in his ears and he jumped on the nearest man, who went down at the unexpected burden. Alfred's fist found his head, the man squirmed, the others turned in shock. Then they are all on top of him, grabbing his thrashing arms and legs, yelling at him and hitting him. Alfred fought back mercilessly, he punched and kicked and screamed back. He couldn't let them go after Arthur. The fight didn't last long, it only took one blow to the head to knock him down into the ground. His vision blurred and darkened, but he wasn't unconscious. They took his arms and dragged him across the dirt street, opening the door to a shed and tossed him inside the makeshift prison. The first man he attacked took the pleasure of kicking him sharply in the ribs, followed by a spit, and the door closed. Alfred struggled to push himself up, threw his body weight against the door to open it, but the men had already barred it shut from the outside.

"No!" The cry was strangled and weak even to his ears, his head pounded and his limbs shook unsteadily.

"We'll be back to take care of you once we find the dragon!" Footsteps receded along the road, headed toward the mountain.

Alfred beat the door with his fists, but it was too late.

Author's Note:

Sorry my updates have been so slow! My original plans for this fic have been completely thrown out of the window XD The story is rapidly reaching its close so hopefully I'll be able to write and upload the final chapter soon! It hasn't been my best story, but I hope everyone who has been reading it this far has enjoyed it. Thank you for reading, following, for your favorites, and for your reviews!