The knight liked to kill errant dragons as surely as he liked to drink ale, and he absolutely loved to drink ale. “Would ya go and fetch me steed for me, son?”
Morlique paused at the edge of the road and cocked his head to listen. The little seaside town was as still and silent and closed down as a dead tortoise shell. Off to the east, the great limestone cliffs overlooked the ocean. Morlique could hear the drumbeat of dragon wings a kilometer or so down-wind, just over the breathy roar of the breakers.
The noise filled him with joy. Another notch for his cutlass. “This should prove to be a pleasant diversion,” he murmured to himself.
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