Down in the towns, there's always work guarding the trade wagons for a second son and swordsman from Woodbridge. When the merchants hiring men ask where I'm from, I say, "Oh, it's one of the tiny hamlets up in the hills. We've got a wooden bridge we're very proud of."

And they laugh, and ask where I came by the sword I carry. It's not a peasant's weapon and no minor lord's second son in this province has the funds for a gold-bound hilt and a jeweled pommel.

"It's under the Amnesty," I assure them. "But I don't show it off where the dragon might see, if you know what I mean."

They chuckle, and we all bless the wisdom of the current king's great-great-grandmother who brokered an agreement with the dragon who lives under the hills that nobody would bother his hoard and he'd forgive all the thieves who had dragon-cursed bits and baubles. He's slept peacefully ever since.

Their only remaining question is whether or not I can use the fancy sword. By the end of the trade route, I've more than earned every bonus they offer.

I've had variations on that sort of hiring conversation over the last hundred years.

This time, the man passing me an ale in a town tavern is from Woodbridge.

Reggie is twenty years older than when I saw him last. His straw blond hair has gray in it and he's finally grown that patchy beard out into something worthy of a hamlet's headman. He looks like a rube next to the more brightly dyed townsfolk, but he'd seen me and known me for who I was immediately.

He said, "We've been expecting your lordship any season now."

"I'm told it's something of a family tradition," I said.

He favored me with a grim look. "Afraid not, your lordship. I knew your father. You're the spitting image of him, for all that you favor southern clothes and beads in your hair instead of his northern furs. You'll rule fairly and justly for ten years. You'll reap in the good harvests and lighten our burden in the hard ones. All we can ask for."

"There are worse family traditions..."

"And in ten years, just like your father, you'll wander to the towns again to find a bride and never come back. And in twenty years, your son will come back to Woodbridge. The spitting image of you and your father before you."

We both looked at the sword belted to my side. Sure, the Amnesty says that all is forgiven...

"Lad, your family's cursed."

"Maybe," I suggested hesitantly, "I shouldn't go up to Woodbridge at all."

"And disappoint all the folk waiting for you?" He asked. "I knew your father. I liked him. He was the sort of lord who'd throw a proper party in his hall and then turn out on a cold spring night to help with the calving. Come to Woodbridge, your lordship. The challenge is keeping you there."

..............

We had ten years to come up with something clever, but it didn't take nearly that long. The cure for the curse was pretty obvious: take the sword back to the dragon, fall on my knees, and beg forgiveness for my forefathers' thieving ways.

If only it were that easy.

I tossed the fancy sword back in the pile with the rest of them, shed my human form like a snake's skin, and curled up on my hoard to think.

It had been a rather clever plan to stave off boredom as long as it lasted. I'd be Woodbridge's good lord for ten years, then wander off on the trade routes long enough for the next generation to grow up. Far to the south, there was another tiny hamlet who hadn't yet figured out the connection to the dragon's hoard. Far to the north, my isolated tribe of wanderers would probably blame the local enchantress for my curse (but she'd seen through my disguise immediately and would call on me if something went wrong.)

Unfortunately, I was now stuck in a morass of my own making. If I lifted the curse, then Woodbridge was going to ask some very suspicious questions in twenty years when I didn't age at all. If I refused to lift the curse, I was going to create a diplomatic incident, and the last thing I wanted to do was explain myself to the king. And if I told the truth, nobody was going to trust the dragon they'd thought was safely asleep.

I chewed it over. Literally. Gem-encrusted scepters make excellent chew sticks and I picked out the emeralds between my teeth with my fancy sword afterward.

.................

I walked out of the dragon's lair wide-eyed, dazed, and stumbling like I was drunk. Reggie lent me his shoulder all the way over the wooden bridge back into the hamlet and to my small hall. The hall easily held everyone who lived here, and they all waited to find out if we were throwing a party or singing a dirge. "I take it you saw the dragon," he said as his wife plied me with ale.

I drank deeply. "He's gone back to sleep. Thank the gods. I never want to do that again."

"Did he lift the curse on your family?"

"Maybe?"

I looked around the hall. They were good, simple folk. I couldn't stay here decade after decade. But I could be their good lord for ten years of every thirty, and trust their own headmen to look after them for the rest. "The dragon lifted the curse. And for my honesty, he gave me eternal youth."

I looked around at those good, simple folk living in the shadow of a dragon who slept under the hills and said, "You know we can't ever tell anyone, right?"

Slowly the realization spread. If we told anyone the secret to my youth, we'd have amnestied thieves rolling up to beg for forgiveness (and Eternal Youth). Idiots would be dumb enough to steal from the hoard in order to beg forgiveness. The king would be furious we'd poked the sleeping dragon.

And, well, I was a dragon. I really hoped I wouldn't have to prove again why we all blessed the king's great-great-grandmother's wisdom.

Reggie sighed his acceptance. I said, "Hey, looks like I'm upholding the family tradition after all," and he chuckled.

................

Ten years later when I left Woodbridge and followed the trade routes north, the enchantress fixed me with a gimlet stare. "How many lies are you going to tangle yourself in before you tell the truth?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," I admitted. "But nobody trusts a bored dragon."

“I already told you—I only work alone.”

“I mean—are you sure? His captor is the dragon…”

The king’s deputy’s concern was a valid one. The dragon was one of the fiercest in the land, and the lair he’d laid claim to was a labyrinth of dark tunnels and traps. But I only ever work alone.

Oh—and it just so happened that the dragon was me.

“I’m sure,” I said, trying to disguise my voice. I’d had previous run-ins with the deputy as part of the king’s cabinet, and even though I wore a mask to hide my face, I didn’t want him to catch onto my plan.

“Well—good luck then, I guess,” he said, tossing me a bag of coins. It was lighter than I expected. “Here’s the ransom—100 coin crowns. 50 for you if you return with the Baron. And remember, if you show up without the coins or the Baron—well—the king will expect repayment.”

“Just 100 crowns?” I asked. Was that all I was worth to him? Cheap bastard.

The deputy shrugged.

“This is just going to get me killed!” I exclaimed. “The dragon won’t make a deal for 100 gold. He’ll just turn me to ash.”

“Look, I don’t set the prices—the king does,” the deputy said. “But—between you and me—I don’t think the king likes this Baron Whitescale very much.”

He doesn’t like me very much? After all I’ve done for him? Just another reason to go through with the plan…

But of course, I didn’t say that aloud. Though I did try and fish some more information from the deputy. “Is that so?” I asked with as much nonchalance as I could conjure. I also conjured a subtle spell to lower the deputy’s guard. Tell me what the King really thinks.

“There are certain whispers going around the court. Something about the Baron having a thing for his daughter. Wouldn’t surprise me if this is just a show for the princess, and that he secretly wants the baron gone for good.” I let the spell dissipate before it became too obvious. “Wait, why did I just tell you that…” the deputy said, mostly to himself.

I pretended not to hear the last part. “So, you’re sending me on a suicide mission?” I asked, feigning annoyance.

“Hey—you were the one who said you were interested.” he replied.

“If this is the mission, I’m going to need a little bit upfront,” I haggled. I knew the king had been annoyed with the deputy as of late. He wouldn’t want to have to be the one to send bad news back to the king.

“Fine,” he said, pulling out his own coinpurse. “Here’s 20. That good enough for ya?”

I didn’t really care about the 20 gold coins. It was a pittance for a dragon. But then again, a dragon can hardly pass up the chance at more gold.

I nodded to the deputy, then headed to my lair.

I tossed the gold into my hoard, reverted to my dragon form, and then took a moment to bathe in my collection of gold and jewels. It had been a whole 24 hours since I’d had the chance to—much too long. But it was just a short frolic, before I set the rest of my plan into action.

I set an old tree alight with my firebreath and plucked off a few of my scales. I also drew some blood with the sword, not much but enough, before reverting to my human form. I didn’t really like my human form, but it let me mess around in the noble’s affairs, so I put up with it.

I took some ashes from the burning tree and adorned my clothes and face. I let the fire singe a few of my hairs, but not too many. Just enough to be believable. I preferred to look both handsome and heroic.

With a handful of scales, a sword doused in dragon blood, and the marks of a firefight, I returned to the city at first light. As I walked through the city, the early risers took notice and began to follow me to the castle. They had no doubt heard I had been captured by the dragon. And my return, alone and with a bloodied sword, meant only one thing. I heard their whispers. My plan was working.

I strolled up to the King’s palace and pushed my way past the guards. They did not attack, for if the obvious was true, they would be no match for my sword.

The first eyes to greet me were the astonished greens of the beautiful Princess Caroline. “Baron Whitescale? What? Are you okay?”

“Just a few scratches, but the dragon was no match for my sword,” I grinned. “I managed to best it, unlike that grubby mercenary your father sent to save me.”

By this time, the King had approached as well, and the townsfolk who had followed me were crowding the entryway. It was all going to plan.

“Here’s your gold back, and a bonus,” I said. Tossing the pouch of 100 gold coins and dragon scales at his feet. “And I’m glad you’re here to be witness.” Confusion twisted the king's face into a wrinkly ball.

I knelt down before Caroline, and pulled out the second gaudiest diamond ring that my hoard had to offer. “Caroline—my love. It was your beauty that inspired me to fight back against the dreaded dragon. And I took this ring from my...his own hoard to ask one thing—your hand in marriage.”

I knew what her answer would be. And now that I was the hero of the entire city, there was no way the king could reject my proposal. Now all I needed to do was kill him in due time, and my plan would come to fruition…

…I WILL BE KING!

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