Warlords Continued

– “Well, ain’t that something,” he said, a ghost of a smile on his tanned face. “Seth, come here, I want to show you something.” Dade was standing to the side of the small marketplace in the village. In front of him was a peddler with his wagon which was, according to him, full of magical artifacts. The peddler himself was human, as are most peddlers but had only recently taken up this profession. He was dressed in strange, brightly colored clothes and on his head was a pyramid-shaped hat. He had a long mustache and a beard, which both extended down to his chest. His small, squinty eyes showed two things; greed and ambition. He was trying to make the first sale of the day, hoping that this elf standing in front of him would be foolish enough to buy a “magical” sword. He looked like he could afford it, wearing rich, neatly designed clothes made of soft leather and made no effort to hide his jewelry. And here came the other elf, the first one’s friend, clad in dark purple and black robes and, as opposed to his friend’s silver collection, was wearing golden rings and earrings and sporting two thin golden chains around his neck. The peddler had noticed them both as soon as he had come to town, logically thinking that he could perhaps make some money after all, in this god-forsaken place. Hopefully these were spoiled royalty brats who either couldn’t think for themselves or had the money not to care about thinking.
– “What is it?” asked the dark-clad one.
– “Well, apparently this is the sword that Sir Michael Thorn used to slay the Black Dragons of Kal.” Dade responded pointing at a sword in the peddlers hands. “I mean it has to be, just look how nicely it cut through that block of wood here.” Dade made an unsuccessful attempt to choke a smile. The peddler tried desperately to be polite and seem offended at the same time. “Are you mocking me, sir?” he asked, his face reddening. “You accuse me of lying?” – “No, no, not at all, my good man,” the elf responded, “not yet,” he added under his breath, “but it would be nice if I could try wood-chopping, myself, say, on that block of wood over there.” he said pointing at woodblock about ten meters away. “What do you think?” he asked the other elf.
– “A marvellous idea, as always.” he responded in a smooth, silky voice.
– “Then I’ll do just that, if that’s alright with you of course.” he asked the peddler, who had been getting redder throughout the conversation.
– “I’m terribly sorry but I have it as a rule that no item leaves the wagon until that item has been sold.” the peddler said, his voice smooth as snakeskin. “It’s getting harder to trust people these days.” Realizing that this might offend the would-be customer he quickly added, “We had agreed on a price, right?” in one last attempt to sell this piece of scrap-metal.
The elf ignored that last sentence. “Hmm... pity. Well, I will just bring the block over here, then.” he said, smiling. When he saw the confused expression on the peddlers face he continued. “Of course, before I do that, there is one thing that troubles me. Tell me, were the Black Dragons by any chance made of wood?
– “Well... uhm, no.” the now limp-shouldered human moaned.
– “Then I must question why cutting through this rotten wood should prove this weapon to be magical. A wood-cutting axe chops through wood but you’d need a lot more to get through the hide of a dragon.”
The elf smiled, satisfied with his logic. Then, as he turned to say something to the his friend, a shadow passed over them, momentarily blocking out the early morning sun. “Dragon!” someone screamed and within a blink of an eye both the elves had weapons in their hands, despite the earlier speech about the thickness of dragonhide.
– “Wait a minute–“ the dark-clad one said.
– “Yeah, that’s no dragon.” The other one finished. “It... it couldn’t be... It is! It is her!” The elf seathed his sword and cupped his hands over his mouth. “Kyrian!” He then nudged his companion and said
“Seth, it’s Kyrian.” But Seth, having figured that out as well, had his attention elsewhere. He walked up to a local who was aiming an arrow at the “dragon” above.
– “Put that down, you ninny! Dragons have long necks and longer tails. Do you see either?!” Without waiting for an answer he snatched the bow from the villager and threw it away. “Barbarians.” he muttered as he rejoined Dade.
Kyrian circled once around the area and then landed in the village center where she was soon joined by the two elves and some bewildered townsfolk. She pulled up her shades and smiled. “Seth, Dade! It’s so good to see you.” she said as she gave each a bearhug.
Dade looked at the wing-contraption and exchanged looks with Seth. “So you finally did it. You figured out a design that worked. What do you have against walking, anyway? Or the use of a horse? Show-off.” he said with a big smile on his face. “Anyway, I knew you would eventually.”
Then he nudged Seth. “You owe me a meal, you know.”
– “You made a bet about this?” Kyrian asked, her hands on her hips.
– “No we didn’t.” Dade responded quickly. “Why did you start talking about this?” Dade glared at his friend. “You’re always getting me into trouble, you know.”
– “Oh shut it, you little–“
– “Now, now. No need for name-calling.” Dade said. “Anyway, I’m hungry and I bet she is too. Let’s go get something to eat.” They all agreed, and after folding Kyrian’s wings they started walking towards an inn. On the way, Dade turned to Seth and said “You are buying, you know.”

...to be continued.

tack tack

--Drekafluga, Struggling Imagination Inc.--