Hew Melon lay on a mountain slope at the shore of a crystal-clear lake. It was one of those places Derrick had read about but never thought he’d actually see. Idyllic, peaceful. A place where nothing bad happens until it’s discovered by someone whose business it is to do bad things.

  A crisp breeze blew through the giant fir trees stretching into the sky around him, and he pulled his robe tighter to his body. The trees surrounded the town on all sides, creating a natural curtain hiding the place from the outside world and casting perpetual shadows across the streets. Only the lake was visible through a break in the tree line at the shore. Its shimmering waters marred only by fishing boats and a small island some way off in the centre.

  It was pretty. There was no other word for it.

  Artists probably come from across Feydern to paint it. I bet more than one monarch has this vista hanging in their castle.

  Leading their pack horse, a small, dappled pony called Herman, Derrick followed the party down the cobbled incline towards the stables. The street continued on from there, sloping gently to a large town square filled with market stalls and food vendors. Somewhere, a band was playing.

  The aroma of cooking sausages drifted on the breeze, and Derrick’s mouth watered. It had been a few days since he’d eaten anything that wasn’t rations or the odd bit of rabbit.

  Harlow handed the stablemaster a handful of coins, which the man frowned at. The paladin went to hand him more, but the old man waved him off, pocketing the coins with a grumble, and signalled for the stable boy to take the reins from Derrick.

  “This doesn’t seem right,” said Harlow. “I thought this town was under attack?”

  “Attack?” The stablemaster frowned at him. “No attacks here for… hundreds of years.”

  “We were told there was a dragon,” said Harlow.

  “Ah, that.” The stablemaster’s eyes darted from one corner to the other. “Listen, better you rest up and turn around. Go back the way you came and forget about any dragons.”

  “We can’t do that. The baron sent for us,” said Harlow.

  The man rolled his eyes and spat into the straw. “That may be so, but you’ll not find a dragon here. Better you just leave.”

  “You needn’t fear for our safety, friend. We are not afraid,” said Harlow.

  Derrick gulped. Speak for yourself.

  “I don’t care a jot for your safety,” said the stablemaster. “I don’t want you filling the town with tales of dragons that don’t exist. You’ll disrupt the place and put everyone in a panic. Everything’s fine here. We don’t need no adventurers poking around where they’re not wanted and upsetting everything. So just leave.”

  “But the baron–”

  “The baron’s a nutcase. He ain’t been right since his son disappeared, so you’d best just go before things get out of hand.”

  He huffed and turned his back on them, returning to his duties in the stable and muttering to himself.

  Harlow scratched his chin and stared over the lake. The late afternoon sun was turning the sky a fiery orange and reflected in the water as if someone had dropped paint in it. If it weren’t for the trees, you’d think the sky simply continued into the ground.

  Derrick watched the paladin’s brow furrow as thoughts vied for attention in his mind. Something wasn’t right here.

  “Have we come to the right place?” asked Fandle.

  “This is Hew Melon?” asked Mawlo.

  “Yes. This is where the job is supposed to be,” said Harlow.

  “But the stableman said there ain’t no dragon,” said Mawlo.

  “I heard what he said,” said Harlow.

  Derrick sniffed the air. No hint of sulphur or ash on the breeze. The books said those were the smells left behind after a dragon had been through, and he couldn’t smell either. Only sausages.

  Fandle rubbed his nose. “There’s no scorch marks on the buildings, bodies in the street, or claw marks on the roofs. You’re sure this is the right place?”

  “Perhaps the dragon has already been dealt with,” offered Lenna. “It did take us some time to arrive.”

  “I doubt they could’ve rebuilt this quickly. No dragon has been here,” said Derrick.

  “Then we will have to investigate. The baron would not have sent for adventurers if he didn’t need to. The call out charge alone would’ve dissuaded him,” said Harlow.

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  “Quite a killer, being so far away as well. I think you’re right, Harlow. There’s no way he paid that much gold to summon us here for no reason,” said Mawlo.

  “Let’s secure lodgings, and tomorrow we’ll seek out the baron. He will have answers.”

  Harlow marched into the town, his plate boots clinking on the hard cobbles as he made his way down the incline to the market square.

  Derrick followed. If they’d come all this way for nothing, he’d be annoyed, but at least they wouldn’t have to fight a dragon after all. The books he’d read were not filled with stories of victories. By all accounts, dragons were terrifying beasts with hides as tough as steel and claws and teeth like razors.

  And, of course, they could breathe fire.

  Might be better if the baron is mad.

  Harlow led them to the inn. The Lake View Tavern overlooked the lake from the far side of the market square. It didn’t have a view of the lake at the moment, too many stalls in the way, but on a quiet day, it was probably possible to see the waters from one of the window seats.

  Harlow went straight to the bar to secure their rooms while the others spread out to find a suitable table. Derrick loitered by the entrance, struck by the tapestries hanging on the walls. Several depicted fishing scenes and pictures of hunting; a stag leaping over a fallen log while a hunter aimed his arrow from beneath, a boar charging a collection of resolute hunters clutching spears, an old man sitting on a jetty with his rod in the water…

  “What’s this one?”

  A newer tapestry hung behind the bar. It was brighter than the others due, in large part, to the amount of red in its design. A dragon; sat comfortably on its hoard of gold. Beneath it, a small human offered it a shining gold coin with one hand and taking a piece of paper with the other.

  Or was it the other way around?

  Are those spectacles?

  “Derrick, over here!” called Mawlo.

  Derrick tore his gaze away from the artwork, too strange for this late in the afternoon, and joined his companions at a table by the fire. With the sun going down outside, the early spring chill would be creeping in soon, and the fire would go some way to keeping it away from them.

  He sat in the closest chair. Lenna pulled one up beside him while Mawlo stretched her bare halfling feet as close to the fire as possible.

  “I have secured lodgings for us tonight,” said Harlow as he joined them. “We will see the baron tomorrow and get to the bottom of it.”

  “You alright? You seem… troubled,” said Lenna.

  “I’m fine, it’s just…” Harlow turned towards the bar. “The innkeeper. He… didn’t seem pleased with the gold I paid him for the rooms.”

  “Paid too little?” asked Mawlo.

  “No. I paid what he asked, but he seemed disappointed.”

  “Perhaps he wanted you to haggle. Some people enjoy that kind of verbal sparring,” said Fandle.

  “Maybe.”

  Derrick watched the innkeeper. The man, probably in his early fifties and with no hair to speak of, was showing the gold to another patron in disgust.

  The stablemaster hadn’t seemed too keen on gold either. What an odd place.

  Fandle grabbed him suddenly by the shoulders. “So, here we are. Derrick’s first quest as a Wizard of the Circle. How are you finding it, lad?” asked Fandle.

  “So far, it’s been a lot of walking and being uncomfortable in the woods,” said Derrick.

  “Ah, we’re about to get to the good stuff now. Just make sure you’ve got them spells handy.”

  “I’ve got my spells ‘handy’, but…”

  “But what?”

  “I’m not sure what use they’ll be against a dragon. It still baffles me that we were sent on this quest in the first place. There are other wizards much more powerful than I am that could deal with this dragon with a fraction of the effort.”

  “Perhaps they sent you as a test, or an education?” said Fandle.

  “Or as punishment,” said Derrick.

  “Either way, they would not have sent you if they didn’t think you could do it,” said Lenna.

  Then they know something I don’t.

  “You need to have more faith in yourself,” said Lenna. She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I have faith in you.”

  “I just always thought a dragon was something you worked your way up to. Like, starting with goblins and giant rats and moving up to dragons later.”

  “Quests don’t work like that. You get what you’re given, and you just have to deal with it. So, deal with it,” snapped Harlow.

  That was unusually surly.

  “Ah, go easy on him, Har. It’s his first quest,” said Mawlo.

  “No point in coddling him. He needs to get used to the realities of adventuring, lest he get us all killed.”

  “Harlow…,” said Lenna.

  Harlow rubbed his face. “You’re right, Lenna. Sorry, Derrick. I didn’t mean to be so brusque.”

  “Stress of the quest? Yeah, makes sense. Dragons aren’t to be taken lightly,” said Fandle.

  Harlow ignored the dwarf; his gaze fixed somewhere in the flames of the fireplace.

  “Alright, are we getting drinks or not?” asked Fandle. “All this talk is making me thirsty.”

  Mawlo and Fandle stood, scraping their chairs across the floor, and headed to the bar while Harlow sat in quiet contemplation. The paladin’s mood had taken a turn during the conversation.

  I hope it wasn’t me.

  Lenna squeezed Derrick’s shoulder again and removed her hand. “Cheer up. Dragons have been beaten in the past, and we have Harlow. We’ve been adventuring together for many years, and he always finds a way to victory.”

  “Kind words, Lenna. But many of those times we got through by the skin of our teeth,” said Harlow.

  “But we did get through.”

  Fandle returned and nudged Derrick with a tankard of ale that smelled as if it had been left out for a few nights. Derrick took it and gingerly sipped at the contents.

  It wasn’t bad. But that was like saying a cut on your hand wouldn’t kill you.

  “Don’t drink too much,” warned Harlow. “We have to be sharp for tomorrow if we’re to solve this mystery.”

  Fandle chuckled and knocked back his ale. “I think best when I’m happy, so let me be happy.”

  “You’re not the one that usually does the thinking anyway,” said Mawlo. “We gen’rly leave that to Lenna and Harlow.”

  “And Derrick now,” laughed Fandle. “He’s smarter than he lets on.”

  Lenna nudged Derrick with her elbow and smiled. “See, even those two think you’re up to it, and they don’t offer compliments easily.”

  “Who said that was a compliment?” said Fandle.

  Derrick smiled but caught the look of contempt on Harlow’s face. The paladin tried to mask it with a smile, but wasn’t fast enough and he knew it. He turned his chair to face the fire and leaned forward with his head in his hands.

  What have I done?

  “Tomorrow, we’ll figure it all out. Until then, let’s drink!” cried Fandle.

  Yes, maybe tomorrow I’ll figure it out, and I can clear the air.

  Lenna shuffled her chair closer to him and poked him in the forehead. “Smile,” she said. “You look too pensive.”

  At least she likes me.