Grimnir the Bard had heard tales and songs of dragon knights before, great things, tales of almost mythical heroes defeating countless wrathful dragons. Of hordes of beasts brought to a halt by a single knight in shining armor. He’d heard songs of the brave dragonslayers saving kingdoms for nary a pittance, compared to what adventurers would ask. And he’d heard of them destroying all who sought to conquer them, tearing kingdoms apart for the offense of killing a single knight.

  He’d heard there was a song for one in every five dragon knights. He knew all folk on the continent would see a knight at least once in their lives. He knew this, but how many could count themselves lucky, or unlucky, enough to have played a role in the events that spawned one such song?

  He was one such person. Rescued from a demon’s clutches by a knight, who with a raven companion and a giantess squire, laid low a demoness and all of her lackeys in the course of a mere three days. The first in generations to slay a demon.

  It was a tale worthy of song. And Grimnir was going to write that song, and he would spread it to the wider world.

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  In the land of Sagresh, an old warrior wonders.

  She had heard many songs throughout her life, many songs of warriors, heroes, and monsters, and encountering a new one was always a pleasure. The one she had just heard, however, had left her mind reeling.

  Demons, on the border between Sagresh and the Gildar? Such a thing could only mean that the demons would soon invade the world in full once more. The last time such a thing had happened, entire kingdoms had been obliterated. The mightiest empire the world had seen, destroyed.

  The best-case scenario was a failed summoning from a mage accidentally opening a gate to the Pit of the Abyss. And even that could have destroyed kingdoms. She hoped it was merely a failed summoning, and not an expeditionary force. She hoped the dragon knights had sent a magical barrage through and then sealed the gate immediately.

  The possibility of the gate reopening was one that could not be allowed to pass. She’d have personally moved to guard the site if she weren’t otherwise preoccupied, but the god of war called her to the frontlines, and who was she to deny him?

  “Oi, red plate, we got another wave of Fexxakin thralls heading our way, you ready?” A dwarf asked her. She nodded, she was ready. Ready to win.

  ..................

  Elsewhere in the same land, a warrior hears a tale of wonders.

  “-And so, he split the demon head to toe!” The drunkard declared boisterously. He’d been telling a tale of how he was rescued from a cage guarded by a demon by a dragon knight. The warrior had found it an interesting tale, enough to fund the drunkard’s bad habit, even if it was a bit exaggerated. The huntress would like to hear the tale, and would reimburse what was spent on coaxing it from the drunkard.

  More interesting was the part that came next. “He healed the demon slayer, he did, and they introduced themselves. Knight told ‘is name was David Armodson… forgot the slayer’s name… fink it was ‘Healer’ or somthin o’ the sort… then they went out to hunt the boss demon.” said the drunkard. That was a familiar name.

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  Very, very familiar. The warrior handed over a few copper coins and stood making to leave the inn. “If’n you’re lookin’ fer ‘im…” the drunkard said, speaking directly to the warrior. “I don’t expect ‘im to be in the same place.”. The warrior nodded and left the tavern, right into a circle of thugs.

  The warrior sighed. Things always had to get complicated.

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  On Fangbreak Mountain, smiths hurry.

  “Goddess, damn command for their stupidity.” A smith said as he worked the bellows. “Apparently, they couldn’t have thought of having us make the latest ‘hero’ new armor before it was about time for his next mission.”

  “Aye. But at least he won’t just be a big goddamn hero; he’ll also look like one.” Another said, almost drowned out by the clank of a hammer or metal. “More importantly, he’ll be able to make far better use of his magic now. The usual armor restricts magic in all but the direst situations.”

  “Yes, but the doddering old fools don’t seem to grasp that we can’t just rush a full set of armor like this one out in one night!” Went the other. “The poor fucking enchanters look like they’ll pass out from the heat and the strain of enchanting this much equipment while it is being forged.”

  “Quench my fire, what the fuck is this?” Another cursed.

  “What is it?” Asked the first.

  “The glaive we’ve been asked to purify, it’s reshaping itself. The damned thing is changing its appearance into something less demonic.” Said the third. “Buggers must ‘ave given it some damn good enchantments.”

  “Well, that’s a good thing, less for us to do to prepare it for its new wielder.” Said the second.

  “Aye, let’s see if we can purify the bloody thing in one night, someone fetch the priest.”

  They still had much to do.

  .........................

  In the halls of Jarl Adalbrand, Events are set into motion.

  Adalbrand, son of Adalgrim, was a proud man. He had reason to be. He had fought since the age of thirteen, seeking to be ever stronger, ever wiser.

  He had battled in three wars by the age of twenty-two, earned himself a place at the jarl’s side. He had helped guide and protect his people for years. He had fathered some of the greatest warriors the clanslands had seen. And when his predecessor was claimed by age, he took the jarlship and tried to do his best for his people.

  Alas, his people found themselves assailed from all sides. The Fexxakin came from the north, with their Vraskar thralls and battle slaves, their so-called champions, seeking to conquer and subjugate. From within, dungeons, overflowing with power, were constantly spewing ever greater monstrosities out into the wild. From below, though the common folk were not aware of it, swarms of giant creatures, scared by something greater. And now, demons at their borders.

  The situation left him with little choice but to call upon the dragon knights for a representative, and a permanent chapter headed by said representative. He would not waste his people’s lives by not calling those who were best fit to help them. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt their coffers too much to pay for the construction of a fortress for the Dragon knights. The lives it would save would be worth it.

  Of course, he’d have to help them find new recruits... Some of his huscarls had sons and daughters in need of training. He could send them. It would force him to recruit new huscarls, rather than just having them trained, but it would be worth it if it got the dragon knight chapter in the region active faster.

  The question was who the dragon knights would send as their representative. A member of the old guard? Or perhaps the new hero he’d been hearing of? The representative would become a chapter master, so it would have to be someone skilled and experienced. What resources would the chapter be provided? They already had a fortress, old and abandoned, but easy enough to repair.

  Adalbrand would provide additional resources anyways, but it helped to know what the chapter might need. They’d always need rare materials for weapons and armor. He had those in spades. They would likely also need smiths and, while he couldn’t give them a legend like Armod of Eidrahm, he could still find some damn good smiths.

  He’d have to instruct Bifurr, his steward and spymaster, to find the finest smiths in the clanslands for him and gather the materials he’d gift the chapter. He’d also likely end up making the dragon knight chapter master a Thane, so he’d need to have a proper weapon prepared. He’d likely gift them one of Armod’s pieces, those were the highest quality weapons he had.