The first precursor to its coming was the shadow among the clouds. A peculiar shape in the gloomy sky that grew larger with each passing second. Next came the distinct crack of a whip reverberating and echoing throughout the entire village like a storm without the cutting winds. Finally, a roar that brought tremors from the sky down into the ground.

From the shadow in the grey sky burst forth a dragon with crimson scales and molten veins shining through the edges. Smoke and ash trailed behind as the very air surrounding it constantly flickered embers. It glided down slowly until it beat its wings thunderously and landed in the middle of the village. The final flames licked the edges of the nearby buildings but sputtered out quickly.

It sat up on its haunches and let its barbed tail whip apart an entire roof before settling itself down curled around him. His head towered above even the village leader’s two story home. A home of which its main inhabitant now stood in front facing the dragon with a bowed head. Patiently, he waited for the dragon. After several moments passing in relative silence, the massive beast spoke as softly as it could. Even its whisper echoed like a bear’s roar.

“You have received my message.”

Lifting his head, the village leader looked up. 2 irises of flowing flames framed within opaque darkness stared down at him. He nodded before answering as loudly a voice as he could muster. “We have Lord Kyros! The farmer came back from your mountain trail and heralded your coming.”

Kyros slowly twisted its head around to view the village. Inspecting the villagers outside their homes with their heads bowed. Then at the surrounding forests with scrutiny. Turning back down, he growled out.

“I have come to take over this village in my name. I have given advance warning, yet, there are no soldiers. Where is King Sarlas’ knights?”

“We have sent no message and expect no help from Sarlas.”

With a blink, Kyros growled again with further suspicion.

“I have come to claim your village as my own. I demand tribute of meat and grain, at the edge of my claws. Gold and silver, with a threat of my breath. A village I know King Sarlas claims under his protection, yet you do not seek it to protect yourself? Why?”

The village leader began to grin at the inquiry. He responded with almost unconstrained joy.

“Sarlas demands similar tribute from this far away village. Meat and grain at the point of a spear. Gold and silver, with threats of torch and oil. He claims to provide protection, yet we never see soldiers or knights. If ever we see them to collect your tribute, you would shred armor with claws and burn their soldiers alive, would you not?”

In a single growl, Kyros snarled a simple “I would.”

Nodding at the response, the leader answered back.

“Then already we have more protection for the same price from you Lord Kyros of the nearby mountain than from Sarlas across the vast forests.”