Dragon's Blood

Chapter 1 - Guests

The first rays of sunlight managed to penetrate the thatched roof and gently caressed Manos's face as he slept on his bed. The boy flinched and began to shield himself with his hands. The scorching sun, however, was merciless and decided to attack from the window. Faced with such overwhelming enemy forces, Manos had to give ground. He rose from the bed and rubbed his beautiful blue eyes. He was a boy of great beauty. Long blond hair framed his shapely, proud face. For an eleven-year-old, he was very tall and slender. He was widely considered the handsomest boy in the entire village. Manos slowly stood up and threw off his pajamas. He quickly donned his home clothes – a white shirt and blue trousers tied with a thin rope. He went to a small, worn cupboard in the corner of the room and began rummaging through it. He didn't find what he was looking for, however, because his father's voice rang out from downstairs:

"Manos! Manos, come quickly, I need help in the fields!" His booming voice echoed off every wall in the house.

Manos stood in the doorway, his face falling. He was hungry, and his father had ordered him to go to the fields right now. The boy sighed deeply and opened the door. He quickly crossed the fur-lined hallway and ran down the not-so-safe stairs. Often, in his haste, he had forgotten about the lack of a railing, which had sometimes ended better, sometimes worse. Fortunately, this time there was no accident. Manos was now in the main room. It was just as simply furnished as the rest of the rooms. Just a single couch, a fireplace, a few torches, and a magnificent bearskin rug draped in the center of the room. It was his father's pride and joy. Manos, too, had often flaunted it in front of his friends. Presently, the boy ran into the kitchen, where he met his mother.

"Hey, Mommy!" he called. His voice was very gentle, a perfect match for his youthful face.

"Hello, son," his mother said, then gently lifted him up and kissed him good morning. "Go quickly, your father is waiting for you outside..."

"And breakfast?" Manos asked sadly.

"We'll eat when you're finished... Father says he has some light work for you." His mother smiled gently at her son. "Go... the sooner you finish, the sooner you'll eat."

Manos cheerfully headed for the door. With a quick bound, he jumped out. He was now standing in front of his house. It was an ordinary, modest home, the kind most farmers had. A thatched roof, slightly rotten wooden walls, and a nearly crumbling door. Manos searched for his father for a moment. He spotted him feeding sheep by one of the outbuildings. His father was a tall man with a very serious face. It was obvious he'd been through a lot. Manos happily ran up to him and asked,

"What should I do, Daddy?"

The father turned and smiled:

"There you are, you rascal... here's your sack, go up the hill and pick some turnips." Manos looked so discouraged that his father burst out laughing.

"Go ahead, go... you'll finish sooner and you can play."

"Mom said the same thing," Manos replied.

"See... Mom is very wise and always tells the truth," his father said, smiling again. Manos's spirits returned. He set off briskly for the hills. After a short climb, he reached the top. There was a small field where Mr. and Mrs. Dowell always planted turnips. Manos got to work briskly. When the sack was full, he decided to head back. But something caught his eye. In the distance, he saw two horsemen heading towards their farm. From a distance, he couldn't make out any details. He waited a moment, then he could see that the figures were dressed in black cloaks. The horses, by the way, had the same complexion. Both riders wore scarves tied around their faces and black hats on their heads. Manos decided to inform his father. He quickly ran down the hill and ran home. He found his father sharpening his scythe. In a voice full of excitement, he stammered,

"Dad, some people...people are coming here!

" "Where?" his father asked.

"On the main road! They're coming from the forest!

" "Come," his father replied, "let's see who these guys are."

His father stood up and motioned for Manos to follow him. Together they walked onto the road. The dark figures were laboriously approaching the farm. They were now about three hundred yards away. Manos was terrified. His mind was swarming with dark thoughts. "What if they're bandits and they kill us all?" he thought. His father was much calmer. He waited, and no emotion could be detected on his face. However, he held a knife tucked into his pants behind him. Manos noticed him, and his anxiety grew even more.

The riders slowly rode onto the Dowell family property. One of them dismounted and approached the family standing in front of the house. Only their eyes could be seen beneath the scarves. One was green, the other sapphire blue. The first spoke:

"Is this the road to the village of Heltgen?" His voice was masculine and resonant.

"Yes," Manos replied quickly.

"Hush..." his father scolded.

The rider pondered for a moment, then looked at his companion. The man nodded slowly. The mysterious figure remounted his jet-black, snorting horse and said:

"Thank you for your help... farewell."

"Goodbye, gentlemen!" Manos's father replied.

The riders slowly moved away from the Dowells. Manos's mind was racing. He desperately wanted to find out who these mysterious figures were. Against his father's orders and out of his own fear, he ran up to one of them and tugged at his cloak. His father watched the scene in horror. The rider being dragged by his cloak immediately turned around, a dagger glinting in his hand. At the sight of the frightened boy, he quickly sheathed it.

"Ahhh...it's just you...you scared me," said the man smiling beneath the scarf.

"I...I...I just wanted to ask what you gentlemen are doing here," Manos stammered.

At that moment, his father ran up to his son and took him in his arms.

"What are you doing!?" he exclaimed, then turned to the riders. "Please go and leave us alone."

Both figures glanced at him, then wordlessly set off down the road. Manos continued to watch the departing guests. One of them glanced at him and winked knowingly. Manos smiled, but, pulled by his father, disappeared behind the door of his house....

Chapter 2 - The Trail

Meanwhile, the mysterious riders continued their journey, slowly moving along the tree-lined track. Their only companion was a bird that chirped happily overhead. A stag with massive antlers also happened to cross their path, but the riders paid it no attention. They were more interested in the conversation they were having:

"That little one really scared the crap out of me..." - the one with the green eyes was saying.

"Yeah, you probably thought it was his old man who came at you with a scythe, didn't you?" the other laughed. Both companions were in high spirits. While chatting, they entered a small green clearing surrounded by willows. Nearby flowed a narrow stream, the sight of which made the black steeds snort louder and louder. The green-eyed figure dismounted and, taking the reins, led it to the water's edge. The animal began to drink greedily. Meanwhile, the rider gently stroked its mane. The second man followed his companion's lead and also allowed his mount to rest a bit. Both travelers pulled out their waterskins and filled them completely. Then they slightly unwrapped their scarves and took a few hearty sips. After quenching their thirst, they sat down for a moment to talk:

"Hmmm...are you sure this is here?" the blue-eyed one began.

"Yeah...do you think that townsman we met in Caldor could have been lying?" the other one replied.

"I don't know." "

Why would he do that?...don't worry about it; think about the task ahead."

"He said it would be red, right?"

"It should be red," the green-eyed man replied, taking a sip from the wineskin.

"I hope so, young one..." the first sighed.

"We'll deal with the old man too," his friend replied, then patted him on the shoulder.

"Okay, let's get going... I want to be in that village before dark.

" "Yeah, I don't want to run into any trouble either..."

The two friends saddled their horses and were aboard in a moment. A moment later, they were on the road again. This time, they rode along a sunlight-drenched path lined with apple trees. The riders couldn't resist the temptation, and soon their coat pockets were filled with fresh, red, plump apples. The cobblestone path meant that Heltgen should be nearby. The friends looked around carefully, as if expecting some danger. They rode for about five hundred yards, before a sign with the inscription...

"Heltgen..." the green-eyed man said.

"Yeah, you can see the buildings there," his companion pointed.

Indeed, the first buildings of this modest town appeared on the horizon. It was a mill, its mighty wings cutting through the air, and a church whose high-rising cross could be seen from afar. The friends sighed deeply and then turned their horses toward the town. They rode in silence for a few minutes, admiring the charms of the idyllic life of Heltgen's inhabitants. People watched them with both curiosity and anxiety. Children ran around and joyfully sang greetings. Then the adults ran up to them and took them with them, looking fearfully at the newly arrived black figures. The friends were about to enter the town through a small wooden gate when suddenly the green-eyed man jumped from his horse and entered the thick forest. His companion watched him curiously. After a moment, his companion disappeared from sight. He waited. Suddenly, a cry came from the forest:

"Merlan, come here quickly!" It was his companion, the green-eyed rider, shouting after him.

Merlan, for that was the blue-eyed man's name, dismounted and quickly ran after his friend. After a moment, he spotted him kneeling before a hole in the ground.

"What's the matter, Verne?" he asked

. "Look." His friend pointed to a depression in the ground. The hole was quite large. It was clearly a paw print. Three imprints of fingers and claw marks indicated it.

"Just as the peasant said... red," Merlan replied.

Verne pondered. He carefully examined the print and then concluded,

"Unfortunately, the animal is an adult."

The friends returned to the road. Several curious residents of Heltgen were rummaging through their packs. Verne drew his dagger and hissed,

"Get out! Or I'll rip your guts out!"

This was enough to send the curious crowd scattering. The friends mounted their horses and rode up to the gate. The frightened townsman immediately opened it. And so Merlan and Verne found themselves in Heltgen, their destination. They slowly moved along a narrow, cobbled street, passing one house after another. They were looking for an inn. Colloquially, a place where they could eat cheaply, sleep well, and, most importantly, gather information. The entire town followed them. People in those days feared not only monsters but also bandits. But these two riders were definitely not bandits, oh no... They intended to rid this town of its troubles. They slowly rode into a small square filled with the stalls of local merchants. This was the town center. Beside it stood the modest town hall – the seat of the town's mayor. However, our heroes weren't looking for the town hall. Their gazes roamed all the streets stretching from the center. Suddenly, Verne pointed with his hand:

"There!"

Merlan turned in the indicated direction:

"'Under the Broken Arrow'..." he recited poetically, then added, "Maybe..."

The friends dismounted and tied their horses to a post protruding from the entrance. Verne confidently opened the inn's door and stepped inside. "A beautiful place," he thought. The entire room was made of wood. To the right of the entrance stood a long counter, and beside it stood a row of mugs and bottles of alcoholic beverages. To the left, on the other hand, were stairs leading to the second floor. Under the stairs were barrels with taps attached. The friends could only guess what was inside. Verne and Merlan sat at one of the tables near the bar and waited for the owner of the establishment. Only now did they remove their scarves and reveal their faces. They were young men with proud and noble features. Verne's auburn hair slowly flowed around his slender face. Merlan, on the other hand, was an albino with his hair tied in a ponytail. He had a scar under his eye, likely from a wound sustained during one of their countless adventures. They waited a moment, whispering to each other, when the bartender suddenly appeared from behind the counter. He was a slightly overweight man with a very pleasant and trustworthy face. He greeted the newcomers with a friendly gesture and asked,

"What would you like, ladies and gentlemen?" His blunt voice was truly amusing.

"So..." Verne replied slowly, "we would like a room with two beds, dinner in about an hour, and care for our horses..."

The bartender thought for a moment, then replied,

"Of course..." He fumbled in his pocket for a moment, then handed the key to Merlan. "Here's the key to room number nine... I'll serve dinner in an hour, and my wife will take the horses to the stables." The bartender smiled broadly, then added, "Would you like anything else?"

"Actually, yeah," Verne mused, then added, "I'd be very happy if you'd call all the residents to this tavern tomorrow morning; we have important news." The young man winked at Merlan.

"Hmm," the bartender thought, "that's how it can be arranged, especially since you seem to have aroused a lot of curiosity...and now, as for payment...you're due five tens of gold coins."

Merlan slowly reached for the pouch strapped to his belt. He counted out the amount and handed it to the bartender, whose eyes lit up with joy.

"Let's go upstairs," Verne said. A moment later, both friends were climbing the stairs. Merlan stood in front of the door and tried to fit the key into the lock.

"What the hell...it won't open," he said, his voice growing increasingly nervous.

"Look, it's a six, not a nine!" "Verne enlightened him. "The number rolled over..."

Both friends burst into laughter and within moments entered the room. The room wasn't very large, but it had everything they needed. Two beds, a table, chairs, a mirror, a few cabinets, and a window leading to the city center. The friends took off their cloaks. Both had bows slung across their backs. Beautiful, gold-encrusted weapons, the arrows of which were often soaked in the poison Merlan held at his belt. In addition to the bow, Verne possessed a so-called moonblade. A slightly curved blade was attached to the shaft of this weapon on either side, hence the specific name. Merlan, on the other hand, wielded two long daggers, which he also often coated with poison. Beneath their black outer garments, the friends wore armor made of very strong hippogriff hide. It was very light and yet incredibly resistant to all blows. Only now could it be clearly seen who the companions were – Dragon Hunters.

Chapter 3 - Meeting

Verne stretched out on his bed once more. He had slept so well that nothing seemed capable of rousing him from his slumber. Who would have thought that beds in such a low-class tavern could be so comfortable? Certainly not Verne, who was pleasantly surprised by them. Currently, his head buried in the pillow, he looked as if in a trance. His face kept contorting into comical grimaces. He had clearly been dreaming of something interesting. Suddenly, a loud knock echoed through the room. Verne didn't react. A moment later, the loud sound of a hand striking wood echoed through the sleeping dragon hunter's head. He opened one eye. A moment later, however, he went numb and closed it again. Once again, this time much harder, someone banged on the door with increasing angriness. Merlan, asleep in the other bed, muttered,

"Look...who's..." before yawning and turning his head away. Accompanied by increasingly powerful blows, Verne slowly rose from his bed and, with sleepy eyes, walked to the door. Yawning every now and then, he asked:

"Ugh...who's there?

" "It's me...the tavern owner!" a churlish voice replied.

"What?" Verne muttered.

"I gathered the people just like you asked! Everyone's waiting downstairs!

" "Oh, shit..." Verne stammered. "I forgot," he added.

"We're waiting for you gentlemen, please hurry."

Verne quickly snapped out of his previous state. He immediately jumped at Merlan and with a strong pull of his hand, threw him to the ground.

"What are you doing, you crazy man!" Merlan shouted.

"Shut up, you lazy bum! We forgot about the meeting, they're waiting for us!" Verne replied angrily.

Merlan, like an arrow fired from a crossbow, flew to the closet. The two friends quickly put on their everyday clothes. They both liked black. It made them feel safe, but also gave them a mysterious and serious air. Five minutes later, they were ready. Merlan simply adjusted his coat and asked, "

Shall we take our hats? " " Yea

... Only a few whispers and sounds of surprise could be heard. Suddenly, a very obese man emerged from the crowd. His face was adorned with a sly smile, framing his enormous nose. Judging by his robes, he was a high-ranking official. Everything was made of silk, except perhaps his beautifully polished shoes. In a creaking voice, the figure spoke: "Welcome, gentlemen, to our humble settlement." Verne wanted to answer, but the man continued: "I am Gustav, mayor of this retreat, and my first question to you, as well as the people's, is: to what do we owe this visit?" Verne and Merlan slowly approached the podium. All eyes were on them. However, the situation didn't stress them at all. They knew people well. For now, everyone was admiring their magnificent weapons and the robes they wore. Even the wealthy mayor couldn't take his eyes off them. Verne spoke first:

"Greetings to all the inhabitants of Heltgen. My name is Verne, and the man standing next to me is Merlan.

" "Quickly... I'm in a hurry to get to the cows!" a peasant called from behind.

Verne only smiled and muttered something under his breath. Then he sighed deeply and continued his speech:

"Me and my white-haired friend..." Merlan looked at Verne with a slight reproach, then smiled, "...we practice an extremely difficult profession...

" "Interesting...indeed, but we don't have much time..." the mayor interjected.

Verne glared at him angrily, then quickly said,

"We are dragon hunters..."

The entire hall suddenly fell silent. People couldn't believe what they were hearing.

"Dragons...?!" someone shouted from behind.

"Yes, dragons!" Merlan replied, approaching the podium. "And we have some very bad news for you..."

"That's nonsense," the mayor muttered under his breath.

"That's not nonsense!" "Verne shouted, furious, "a red dragon has built a lair near your town!"

Everyone listened intently to their friends. The mayor tried to control the situation:

"Is that why you brought us to this tavern?! To tell us fairy tales?" he spoke contemptuously.

"These aren't fairy tales, you idiots," Merlan growled. "You're in great danger. The dragon will soon be out to feed, and then..." The dragon hunter spoke quickly, almost choking on his own saliva.

The crowd, however, preferred to listen to their mayor, and a moment later everyone was jeering at the two friends.

"You must have lost your minds!" someone shouted again.

"Madmen!" another voice echoed.

"Truly amusing!" the mayor shouted. "A dragon in our little town," he added, then burst out laughing. The rest of the crowd followed suit, and the entire hall burst into laughter.

"And the tracks!" Verne shouted. "There are plenty of dragon tracks around your town!

" "Tracks?" "Gustav snapped back. "You probably made them yourselves to rip us off for 'protection'! Good people, don't let these scammers fool you! There are no dragons here!

" "They were here before we arrived!" Merlan growled, angrily approaching Gustav. "That must mean something, doesn't it?" he added, a little more calmly.

"Yeah, that means you have some supporters in the city," the mayor stammered, laughing.

Merlan couldn't take it anymore. He jumped at the mayor and knocked him to the ground with a powerful punch. Gustav, nose broken, fell like a log to the floor. The crowd, seeing this, went berserk and attacked the gasping Merlan. At that moment, Verne drew his moonblade and shouted,

"Come closer, you're in for a bad time!"

The crowd stopped. People looked at their friends with hatred. Verne added after a moment:

"What difference does it make whether you approach...the dragon will kill you anyway!"

But no one wanted to try. The townspeople slowly began to leave the tavern. Curses on their lips, they left one by one. A few peasants took the mayor's arms, and as he was being carried to the exit, he threatened both hunters:

"You'll see..."

Merlan looked at him contemplatively and spat at his feet. After a moment, the tavern was completely deserted. The two friends took their seats at the table and sat with gloomy expressions, wondering what they would do next.

"This meeting didn't go very well," Verne said first.

"They don't even know what's in store for them," Merlan replied, "the fools..."

"Still, we can't just sit there with our arms folded...with or without help, we'll still take on the dragon," Verne tried to comfort his friend.

"Those stupid peasants won't let us prepare, did you see their eyes? They hate us...

" "Only because they're afraid...afraid it might be true after all."

Suddenly, from behind the counter, the bartender's voice came from behind the two friends' counter:

"P..p.ppa..nns! I believe you!" He seemed quite concerned.

"Yeah..." Verne smiled. "Maybe not all is lost.

" "So what now?" Merlan asked.

"Nothing...we'll wait and see.

" "How long are you going to wait?"

"As long as it takes...for the dragon to reveal itself and talk some sense into these thugs."

Merlan smiled to himself:

"For now, we have some time...bartender, we'd be glad if you'd be willing to serve dinner!

" "It's almost ready, Mr. Hunter!" the tavern owner shouted and disappeared into the kitchen.

Verne looked out the window. Children from all over the neighborhood had gathered around him, smiling, trying to spot the dragon hunters. Verne fell into a reverie and said, as if to himself:

"There's always someone to save..."

Chapter 4 - The Visit

Verne rose from his bed, drenched in sweat. He had a nightmare. The first in years. The Dragon Hunter sat down on his bed. That cursed vision was still fresh in his mind: A storm... a sinking ship, the screams of men... death. That was all he could remember. But it was still too much. His heart raced. For a moment, he couldn't catch his breath. Finally, he managed to calm down. For a moment, he thought about what he'd seen, but after a moment, he was completely calm. It helped. He looked at his sleeping friend. He envied him such a peaceful sleep. He smiled and got up. Today, he preferred not to go to bed. He slowly walked to the window. He picked up a glass from the windowsill and took a deep sip. It was wine. Red, dry. Verne put down the wine and looked ahead. Many stars were smouldering in the sky. He knew a little astronomy, but at the moment he preferred to let his imagination take over. Each of those stars was a solace to him. The brighter they were, the greater the pleasure he felt gazing at them. They were so pure and free… these thoughts gently occupied his entire attention. For a moment, Verne didn't even hear the knock on the door. Only after a moment did he snap out of his trance. He shook himself, and then the knock sounded again. Not wanting the night visitor to wake his friend, Verne quickly leaped to the door. He quietly unlocked the latch and pushed it open a little. In the darkness, he could only guess that it was a woman. A quiet, gentle, yet uncertain voice broke the silence:

"May I come in?"

Verne thought for a moment. After all, it could have been some kind of trick. Would an offended Gustav be capable of sending assassins after them? These thoughts swirled through his mind for a moment. The woman broke the silence again:

"…please…" she stammered.

Her voice gripped the Dragon Hunter's heart. He was so sad and helpless. Verne finally said,

"Yes, please come in..." However, he decided to remain vigilant and carefully looked around to make sure no one was following the woman as she entered. Fortunately, his fears proved unfounded. Verne closed the door and glanced back at his guest. The woman stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. She had noticed Merlan sleeping and must have thought that by coming at such an unseasonable hour she was only causing trouble. Verne, seeing her confusion, decided to encourage her a little.

"Please sit on that chair over there," he said gently, pointing to one of the stools. "And please excuse the mess. We're normally awake at this hour. Apparently, the events of the previous day had taken a toll on my friend." Verne smiled.

This time, the woman walked a little more confidently to the designated spot. Meanwhile, Verne lit one of the candles and placed it on the table. Only now could he take a closer look at the new woman. She was young. Around the age of the Dragon Hunter. To call her face beautiful would be an insult. Long black hair perfectly draped her exquisite face. Beautiful, green eyes almost hypnotized Verne. This woman seemed simply perfect to him. A beautiful, shapely figure dressed in blue robes would surely replace nightmares in his dreams. Yet, despite all her dazzling beauty, something else could also be noticed – tears slowly streaming down her rosy cheeks. Verne lowered his head, his heart racing, simultaneously bleeding. He didn't know what to say, how to begin a conversation with what he thought was a weeping angel. Her shapely lips suddenly parted:

"...I'm sorry," she stammered, breaking into tears.

Verne couldn't bear it. The sight broke his heart. In a broken voice, he stammered,

"What... what happened?"

The woman looked into his eyes. It was clear she didn't know where to begin. She tried to stop crying, but to no avail. Verne pulled a small napkin from the drawer and gently wiped her eyes. He tried to cheer her up a bit:

"Please stop... please... or I'll burst into tears like a little baby myself..." he joked.

The woman lowered her head. She tried to calm down, and it seemed she finally succeeded. After a moment, she looked back at Verne. Seeing his gentle expression, she stopped crying.

"What's your name?" Verne asked.

"...Anya..." the woman replied slowly.

"Nice to meet you, Anya," the dragon hunter replied, smiling slightly. "I'm Verne, and that lazy guy sleeping over there is, as I said, Merlan."

Anya looked at Merlan, and Verne saw a barely visible smile on her face.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked in her honey-sweet voice.

"Forgive me... I was lost in thought," Verne replied, embarrassed. "You'd better tell me the purpose of your visit..."

A deathly silence fell again for a moment. Anya's face darkened again. After a moment, however, she gathered herself and replied quietly:

"The whole city is talking about you...

" "The whole city is talking about you, but no one believes us," Verne replied in a gloomy voice. His gaze fixed on the "Angel's" face again.

"I believe..." Anya looked into Verne's eyes.

The dragon hunter didn't know what to say. A storm raged in his head, no worse than the one in his nightmare. After a moment, however, he thought logically and saw through the girl:

"What happened?" he asked in a somewhat more confident voice.

"My brother..." Anya stammered quietly.

She felt like crying again. Verne noticed this and gently grabbed her hand:

"What happened to your brother? Tell me, it's very important."

The woman, feeling his gentle touch, calmed down. She looked into his face again and with a little more confidence replied,

"He disappeared... my brother disappeared...

" "Where?" Verne asked.

"In the forest..." Anya replied sadly.

At that moment, she seemed to be absent. She stared blankly at the edge of the table, clutching Verne's hand ever tighter. In a dry voice, she said,

"Help me..."

Her eyes glazed over again. Large tears slowly rolled down her cheek and then fell onto the table.

Verne looked at her with great sympathy. He was still holding her hand.

"We will find your brother..." he replied in a stronger voice, "I promise you that..." he added, then fell silent.

Meanwhile, Anya slowly rose from the chair. Her hand slipped from Verne's grasp. She hid her tearful face in her hands. From beneath them, he could hear quiet words:

"He went...he went hunting two days ago...and he didn't come back...and they don't even want to look for him..."

Verne understood who he was talking about. Gustav and the city guard. Scum, he thought. He rose from his chair and hugged Anya to him. The girl immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and, leaning against his shoulder, begged:

"Please find him...he's the only person I have...I can't manage on the farm without him..."

Verne hugged her even tighter and whispered in her ear:

"You'll see your brother, I promise. And I'll impale that reptile's head on the palisade outside the city..."

At that moment, Verne wasn't sure which reptile he was referring to. The dragon? Or perhaps Gustav, who doesn't care about the fate of his people at all. Anya suddenly jumped to the door and, sobbing, said:

"Thank you..."

Verne didn't even have time to say anything. The girl closed the door and fled. The Dragon Hunter slowly sank into the chair. He had fallen in love. He fell in love at first sight. His heart was racing. Unable to suppress his thoughts, he grabbed his head and sat there for nearly a minute. Suddenly, a loud voice broke the silence:

"You're glad it's her brother, aren't you?"

Verne immediately turned around. He saw Merlan lying there. His blue eyes were open.

"You monkey," Verne growled. For a moment, his face looked menacing, but then he smiled warmly at his friend.

Merlan sat down on the bed and put his arm around Verne:

"You know, bro, I know a little about relationships between, um... people, and I know what's going on here."

Verne didn't reply. The smile on his face only grew wider.

"You really have taste; that woman looks like an angel.

" "I thought the same about her," Verne replied.

"Now you just have to keep your word," Merlan said in a mock-serious voice. "Women don't like it when someone breaks their word."

"Tomorrow we're going to the forest... you better get some rest," Verne said quietly.

"You said we'd wait, didn't you?" Merlan replied, seemingly moved. But deep down, he was glad his friend had decided to act.

"Never mind what I said...we're leaving tomorrow!

" "Okay, okay, you're the boss!"

Verne looked into Merlan's face, only now realizing his friend was egging him on. Both hunters burst into a short laugh. They talked for a few more minutes about Anya and her brother, then Merlan went to bed. Verne, lying on the bed, continued to gaze at the stars.

Chapter 5 - Let the hunt begin!

Merlan rose at dawn. He looked at the sleeping Verne with concern. "Poor thing," he thought, "he stayed up late last night, and now you have this." They had both agreed to get up as soon as possible so as not to waste time, but the sight of Verne sleeping like a small child touched Merlan's heart. The dragon hunter opened one of the cabinets and pulled out a small pipe. He quickly filled it with tobacco. Not wanting to disturb his companion's sleep with the stinking smoke, he opened the window. He smoked in peace for a moment, but as time passed, more and more people began to appear on the streets. Some turned towards him, boldly carried away by pride. Merlan ignored them. He looked at them with pity. "Stupid peasants," he thought. Suddenly, he spotted someone in the crowd. A slightly overweight figure, dressed in the finest hand-embroidered robes. Merlan couldn't contain himself and shouted,

"Hey! Hello, mayor! I hope your jaw is alright!" Then he burst into laughter.

Gustav, clearly offended by these words, replied,

"You'll see! You'll be out of this town on that dragon of yours sooner than you think...

" "Who knows..." Merlan said quietly to himself, clearly pleased with the mayor's reaction.

Suddenly, someone tugged at his arm from behind. Merlan turned and saw his sleepy companion.

"Why annoy him..." Verne said, then yawned.

"Hehe... if you could see that lousy face of his... well, since you're up, we'll quickly grab some breakfast and then we'll head out.

" At the signal for "breakfast," Verne's mind buzzed. He was so hungry he could eat a horse with its hooves, or maybe even two.

"The bartender brought it earlier, luckily it's not cold yet," Merlan said, lifting the lid from the pot.

"What is it?" Verne asked.

"That's my brother... there's roast... er... I think it's warg or something," Merlan choked out.

Both friends approached their breakfast rather cautiously. They liked the roast warg meat, though. Since they were really hungry, there wasn't any left.

"A good dragon hunter... that's a well-fed dragon hunter," Merlan grumbled, swallowing the last bite. Verne, on the other hand, immediately burst into laughter:

- Yeeeah..... - he replied happily.

Merlan was a great joker. He often comforted his companion in difficult moments. His unfailing ability to make jokes came in handy in many situations. However, the humor quickly faded for the two friends. The time they had been waiting for had arrived: the long-awaited hunting season. They both donned their magnificent hippogriff armor: breastplates, shoulder pads, greaves, and slightly looser trousers. They also donned their cloaks, hats, and scarves—an essential part of their work attire. As usual, Verne grabbed his moonblade and slung it across his back. Merlan, on the other hand, pulled his two ornate daggers from under his pillow and attached them to his belt. He also found a vial of poison, which he pocketed. Of course, they couldn't forget the bows—arguably the most beautiful of their equipment. Finally, they were ready. They descended the stairs to the inn. The bartender, seeing them, said cheerfully

, "Gentlemen... you look like you're going to war!

" "Indeed..." Verne replied somewhat mysteriously.

Merlan opened the door, and the two companions stepped out into the street. People, seeing them, didn't laugh as much as before, but they still kept their distance.

Apparently, they still harbored an unfounded grudge against them.

"I'll check on the horses," Verne said, disappearing around the first bend.

Merlan sat down on the brick street, cross-legged. He spent his free time gazing at the cloudless, serene sky. He pushed back his white hair and dreamed like a child. He was only roused from his reverie by a tomato flying right past his face. "

I'll kill you," he thought.

The dragon hunter immediately turned around and saw... laughing children.

"So that's how it is!" he shouted cheerfully, wagging his finger at them.

The children, laughing, ran up to him. They were several boys and one slightly younger girl.

"Is it true that you will kill a dragon?" one asked.

"How big is the dragon?" the second immediately asked.

"How many dragons have you killed?" the third child asked.

A barrage of questions overwhelmed him. The dragon hunter couldn't answer them all. Only Verne, returning from the stables, rescued him from the awkward situation.

"Now…get lost… we have an important task and we need some peace and quiet!" he said cheerfully, yet firmly.

That was enough. The amused rabble immediately found another occupation.

"That's why I don't want children…" muttered Merlan.

Verne looked at him and burst out laughing.

"Sooner or later some girl will ensnare you anyway," he said, not losing his composure.

"Okay, let's go! We have to get this over with before dark…"

In this situation, horses were unnecessary, as the hunt involved traveling through wooded areas. Therefore, Verne decided to leave them in the stables. He only checked their water supply and the care the bartender was providing. Conditions were so good that he didn't need to intervene.

A short while later, both friends were outside the walls of Heltgen. They put on their hoods and wordlessly entered the trees. The forest was incredibly dense. Only a few rays of light penetrated the treetops. Furthermore, the companions had to watch their step. In many places, branches and thickets protruded from the forest floor, making it easy to trip over them. However, such experienced hunters had no major problems navigating such an environment. The forests were an integral part of their lives. They often provided shelter, food, and even clothing.

Merlan was the one leading the way. His watchful eyes never missed a clue. Every slightly scorched branch, every oddly broken branch served as a guide. He observed literally everything. A good hunter should have not just one, but all of his senses sharpened. This even extended to Merlan's sense of smell. He could detect even traces of sulfur in the air. Verne was not far behind him in this department. Both were excellent trackers. One might even say they were born in the forest, and honestly, they wouldn't be far off.

Several hours had already passed on this journey. The sun had already covered quite a distance across the sky, and their destination was still nowhere in sight.

Merlan kept crouching on the ground, examining a trail, and then changing direction. Even Verne had lost his bearings. But he knew Merlan knew what he was doing.

The friends were so quiet and attentive that even the deer didn't notice their presence. They barely exchanged a single word during the entire journey, simply to avoid distracting each other. Like ghosts, they flew through clearings and valleys, only to cross another clear stream again. Hunting is long and arduous work, and beyond that, extremely dangerous if the prey is to be anything other than a dragon.

After a while, the forest thinned out, but given the later hour, it didn't get any brighter. Everything seemed to become gloomier; even animals weren't seen as often as before. The ground became rockier, and suddenly the bushes and the green glow that had surrounded them not so long ago disappeared.

At one point, Merlan crouched on the ground and raised his hand to signal a halt. Verne, crouched down beside him, whispered,

"Do you smell it?

" "That's why I stopped..." Merlan replied.

Both friends caught the scent of sulfur, which grew stronger with each step.

After walking another few hundred meters, the two friends stopped again for a moment. This time, it was something other than the stench hanging in the air.

Merlan extended his hand toward the enormous oak tree before them. Just beneath it lay a massive, imprinted footprint. A large paw with three claws. At the sight of it, both hunters felt their hearts race.

With even greater caution than before, they slowly pushed forward. Meanwhile, the sky was beginning to grow darker and darker. The first stars that appeared in the sky reminded the friends of how late it was.

Another long moment passed. The smell of sulfur became so strong that even a normal person might complain about its smell, let alone experienced dragon hunters.

The deafening silence of the darkening forest did nothing to improve the mood of both hunters. Quite the opposite. The silence signaled an approaching storm. The friends began to wonder if it wouldn't be better to return the next morning. Hunting in such conditions, especially for a dragon, wasn't the wisest course of action. Merlan, however, decided to continue a few dozen meters. The path the hunter had marked led to a rather large hill. The two friends slowly climbed its rocky summit, then lay down and began to observe the surroundings.

Within a few hundred meters, there was nothing but a dozen or so dead trees and scorched earth. Everything pointed to the prospect of nothing coming out of today's hunt.

"So, brother, are we going back?" Merlan whispered sadly.

"It's too dark for us to go any further..." Verne replied, his mood not much better. He wanted to fulfill his promise to Anya today. He knew she was eagerly awaiting their return.

Would he be able to tell her that, unfortunately, they hadn't found her brother?

Would he be able to tell her that, unfortunately, they hadn't found the dragon, even though it undoubtedly existed?

He knew such news would surely shatter her hopes.

The hunter was fighting a battle;

Should he act with common sense and return?

Or, like a madman, pursue his promise at all costs?

If it weren't for concern for his companion, he would probably choose the latter.

"We're going back..." he replied after a moment, leaning slightly over the escarpment to see if it was possible to descend it. However, he immediately jerked his head back.

"What's wrong, bro?...you shot out like a slingshot," Merlan asked in surprise.

"There...there's a cave," the hunter replied, concerned, then looked into his friend's face. (Next chapters coming soon