The Dragon – whose name is far too short to repeat – snorted.

“Little manling, what are you but a moth? Fluttering about for a day and then become dust.”

The man stood and watched the Dragon. He calmly met the eyes of the majestic and fearful creature.

“Tiny one, take care. Within me is the power of a star.”

The man spoke without any fear.

“Fenrick Flametongue. You are called to answer the many claims of pillaging, destruction and murder most foul. On the fourth night of this moon, be here in your stedfast. We will come to you.”

The man then turned and began the long walk out of the mountains, leaving Fenrick – see, short – the Dragon to contemplate his words.

Fenrick sighed. He unfurled his wings and flew upwards.

They never imagine I’ll just leave.