Bad News

From the street came the hum of conversation and the clatter of hooves. Six horsemen stopped near the workshop and began to talk in low voices. Five were clad in steel armor, and the sixth wore rich dark robes embroidered with gold thread. It was he who went to the door, holding a canvas bag in his hands, in which lay something flat and oval, similar to a dish.

"Good afternoon, dear sir," the young apprentice addressed the newcomer.

"I want to see the master," he replied, and with a smash he threw the bag onto a long pedestal.

"He'll be right over," the apprentice said, bowing, and left the hall.

A few minutes later, the master appeared in the opening of the arch. He took off his leather apron and tightened the scarlet ribbon tied around his long black hair, then entered.

"Master Morvain."

"Lord Kellar. I did not think that I would see you so soon: did something happen to the sword?"

"No, master, your sword is still sharp. I have come on business that is not directly related to your craft."

"So what brought you?"

"Take a look."

Lord Kellar pointed to the canvas bag. The master opened it and laid out a strange thing on the cabinet. It really looked like a plate or dish, but it was thick and rather heavy. Through its surface passed thin grooves emanating from the middle of the narrow side and resembling the relief of shells. It was rough to the touch, of a beige-green hue, along the edges one could see chips and cracks, caused, apparently, by an axe or a mace. On the reverse side, this "dish" was smooth and shiny, ivory, in some places with a transparent skin stuck to it.

"What do you think it is?" the lord asked impatiently.

"Some kind of shell? Stone? I don't know."

"It's the scale of a dragon."

Morvain looked at the lord in disbelief and narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Do you think I will believe you? Dragons don't exist," he said confidently, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You'll have to trust me, master. This is the scale of the dragon I saw with my own eyes twelve days ago, which is exactly how long it took me to get to Sardast. You don't think that those fairy tales that you tell children appeared from scratch, do you? Dragons exist, and I'm convinced of it."

"Suppose I believe you. Then tell me why you decided to show your curiosity to me? There were always enough curious people in your company."

"I thought you probably knew how to defeat this beast."

"How should I know this?"

"Legends," Lord Kellar said hesitantly, and thought about it.

Wouldn't it seem strange that a grown man, moreover, occupying such a high position, hoped to find a solution to his problem in some fairy tales?

"Are you sure it was a dragon?" the master asked. "And not one of those lizards that come across on islands or swim in rivers?"

"It was definitely a dragon. I beg you, Master Morvain, don't laugh at me! My people were seriously injured after his night attack. He ate a dozen cows, destroyed several houses and killed three people! Miraculously, one of the peasants managed to get an axe between the scales, tear one off and injure him. I arrived there the next day and saw how he, hiding in a grotto, gnawed at someone's bones. We were few, and we did not dare to attack."

"You said that the dragon was still wounded," the master thought aloud, "which means that my help is useless."

"Master! Can you tell me what all this means? If dragons reappear after thousands of years, what lies ahead for us? What other dark creatures might awaken?"

Morvain's feigned coldness vanished, and he answered in a serious tone: "That can only mean one thing: evil has been reborn. What follows will bring much suffering and tears to this world. At least that's what the legends say."

Smirking, he ran his hand over the huge scale. It didn't take long for him to think.

"Lord Kellar, as an expert in folklore, I think it would do me good to look at a living dragon. Will you let me go south with you to your domain?"

"Of course, Master Morvain! I didn't even think about what you would suggest. We're heading back tomorrow at dawn. Find me at the Phoenix Nest Inn when you're ready."

Morvain followed Lord Kellar with his eyes and leaned heavily on the pedestal.

"Dragons. Great," he thought, "I have long wanted to leave the city, at least for a few days. Only now, I'm afraid, this time I won't be back soon."

At dinner, the master sat down at the table last. He looked as always calm and a little tired, and his gaze slowly slid over each person present, as if he was trying to imprint their faces in memory.

"I heard the southern lord himself came to see us today. What did he need? Did he break the sword you gave him?" one of them asked.

"Stop spouting nonsense. It is impossible to break the sword that came out from under the hammer of our master! Surely there was some other matter, about which the master himself will tell, if he considers it necessary," answered the other.

"That's right, eat silently," the third agreed.

The master didn't say anything. For half an hour he did not touch the food - the barley porridge with meat had already cooled down, and the ale lost its taste. Sighing so loudly that everyone turned to him in surprise, he took a bunch of keys from his pocket and placed it on the table with a clang.

"Master Morvain?" the senior blacksmithturned to him.

"Tomorrow at dawn I leave the city."

The apprentices rose noisily from the table and surrounded him like street kids. He was immediately bombarded with questions "for how long?", "where?", "why?", but he was in no hurry to answer. After waiting for everyone to calm down, he spoke: "I am going south with Lord Kellar on important business. It may happen that I will not return in the next year or two, and therefore I appoint Hubert as the main one among you. Obey him as you obeyed me. Here are the keys. Friends!"

He spoke louder, and his voice became warmer.

"In the eleven years I have lived in Sardast, I have not regretted a single minute spent with you. It has been an honor to work side by side with you, share knowledge and watch you improve your skills. I confess that I have not chosen a favorite: each of you will forever remain my best student. Thank you, friends, for your help and support: without them, our forge would never have become so famous and respected. Hope to see you again. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to prepare for the trip."

Morvain lifted his mug of ale and drained it to the cheers of his apprentices. Hubert, instantly assuming the role of a new master, banged his fist on the table and demanded silence, but Morvain had already left the dining room and went up to his room on the second floor. Usually he didn't lock the door, but this time, when he entered, he immediately slid the latch. He set the oil lamp on top of the cabinet, and the small room lit up with a dim orange light. There was a desk by the window, on which lay two open books. These were Notes on Climbing the Crimson Peak and Len Faen's Guide to the Temples and Shrines, both by Count Tyrone. There was a stool next to the closet, on which there were also a dozen books stacked on top of each other in the form of a tower. Against the opposite wall stood a narrow bed covered with a pale gray bedspread. A floral pattern was carved on its headboard and legs.

Morvain took a small box from under the bed. It contained yellowed maps with smeared inscriptions, several letters, a heavily stocked purse and a silver chain. After some thought, he put the box back under the bed and turned to the closet. As soon as the doors were opened, another book, "Embroidery and Heraldry", immediately fell on his head.

"Where else is this from?"

Morvain was surprised and could not help smiling. He remembered that he bought this book in order to find out which animal was depicted on the coat of arms of the Baron. Some said it was a rooster, while others insisted that it was a phoenix. Morvain was never able to determine what kind of magical creature adorned the coat of arms: the crest on the bird's head did resemble a rooster's, but the tail clearly belonged to a peacock.

Finally, he began to pack his things. On previous trips he had managed to get by with two or three sets of clothes, and this time he decided to take the same number with him. In addition to undershirts and woolen trousers, he put in a bag a dark green frock coat, made a year ago, and a colorful wadded dressing gown, but it turned out that he had to choose one thing: the bag was swollen like yeast dough, and he was just starting to prepare things! With a grunt of displeasure, he pulled out the coat.

Soon the bag was ready. On top of everything, he put a note book, a box with a pen and charcoal rods, and a wooden comb. Most likely, he will use a comb more often than a writing pen.

Half an hour before midnight, Morvain descended to the ground floor and entered the reception hall. After examining the swords hanging on the walls, each of which was a real work of art, he chose the most unsightly one. After making several lunges, he ran his hand over the blade.

"I hope I don't have to use you," he thought, and sheathed his sword. "Hubert, close the door behind me."

Stepping out of the workshop, Morvain exhaled. The door creaked as it closed behind him.

The night Sardast was a dismal sight. The narrow streets were not illuminated by anything but the light from the windows of the houses, and in the dead of night the city was completely plunged into darkness. However, the guards who regularly patrolled the streets always carried torches with them. Closer to the Baron's fortress, lanterns flickered along the roads, but there was only enough light to keep them from stumbling as they crossed from the dirt road to the paved path.

To get to the Phoenix Nest, one had to walk to the city center and go around the inner fortress wall on the western side. This inn, referred to by the local nobility as the "hotel", was the best in the city, which was not surprising, since it belonged to the Baron's cousin. Morvain had been there several times, but had noticed nothing special.

Morvain walked with his head slightly lowered and his hands behind his back. Suddenly, in the silence of the night, he heard a girl's voice, clear and sonorous, like spring drops. The further he walked, the louder and more distinct the words of the song became:

"Quietly the leaves rustle, in a light haze forests do hide. Will it shine soon, the circle of the golden light? Will I hear soon your gentle voice so warm? The river winds like a silver thread, a scattering of crystal dew. My darling in arms of cold sleeps peacefully, his face's beauty's pure."

The girl laughed, and her amusement was picked up by two other female voices. Morvain felt they were very close. Turning the corner, he saw them. Three girls in snow-white dresses walked hand in hand. Noticing the stranger, they laughed again and took a few steps closer to him. They were pretty, one of them, a little darker, with dark brown hair and coal-black eyes, seemed less frivolous.

"Young master must have lost his way? Would you like us to walk you home?" one asked, giggling.

"Oh, brother, you are so tall! You can probably reach the stars with your hands," said the second. "But even the stars are far from your eyes. Oh, how they shimmer!"

"Don't listen to my sisters, lord. The wine they served us at dinner was too strong, so they're talking nonsense. Forgive them," the black-eyed girl said evenly and bowed.

"I don't hold a grudge against them. Youth is rich in mistakes, there is nothing to be ashamed of," he replied, looking around at the girls.

Noticing his gaze, they smiled slyly and blocked his path. The one who mentioned the stars came close to him and clung to his chest.

"How strange.. the heart beats so quietly and regularly, even when you are surrounded by our captivating beauty! Oh, brother, don't you feel anything at all? Is your heart made of stone?"

"Nilind, get rid of him. Have you not recognized our beloved master Morvain? He was the one who fixed your earring when the pearl fell out. You don't want me to tell you how it happened, do you?"

The girl clung to him with even greater enthusiasm, and he continued to stand motionless and look down at the top of her head.

"Of course I did! And I'm next to him, because I recognized him first! Ah, Master Morvain, they say you'll be leaving us soon.. Is that true?"

"Nilind!" the dark-haired sister shouted displeasedly and pulled the girl by the sleeve of her dress. She recoiled sharply from Morvain and glanced fearfully over her shoulder.

"What's happened?"

"You were told to stay away from him. You abuse his kindness: he, like a well-mannered gentleman, cannot push you, and you only embarrass him more."

"Oh, how can he be embarrassed? Look at his face: it's even paler than yours!"

The dark-haired girl rolled her eyes and pulled both sisters towards her. After whispering something to them and making sure they understood everything, she let them go. The two sisters left without looking back. She also said: "Master Morvain, the journey south has become dangerous these days. Be especially careful at the tavern "Between Three Fires"."

"Good, thanks for the warning," he thanked the girl, looking at her face. It was beautiful, its features were soft, and the plump lips the color of wine peony were slightly stretched in a smile. Black eyes with purple sparkles looked back at him just as intently.

"Do we know each other?" he asked doubtfully.

"Maybe we did... in a past life," the girl grinned and lowered her eyes. "I have to go. Take my advice, master. And remember this: no matter what happens, you can't change anything."

Bowing, the girl left after her sisters.

The Phoenix Nest was quiet. The watchman peered sleepily into the darkness, scratching his bushy eyebrows and trying not to doze off. Master Morvain knocked twice and opened the door himself. The watchman looked at him and clicked his tongue.

"Who the hell it is? Ah, master, I beg your pardon," he muttered.

There was no innkeeper, and there was only one person in the dining room, Lord Kellar. A candle flame gleamed in the glass of wine on the table in front of him. He sat with his head on his hand. He turned around at the sound of footsteps, and his lips curved into a faint smile.

"You haven't wasted your time, I see," said Morvain, and smiled back.

"If only," Lord Kellar sighed. "Two hours ago, a messenger arrived in town with word that Lord Angid's men had expressed a desire to 'help with the dragon's plague', had crossed the border and set up a tent camp. Every minute spent in inaction only brings the inevitable closer."

"What are you talking about?" asked Morvain, sitting opposite the lord.

"My power is waning every year. Who am I? A pawn, a protégé of the king, a nonentity. I am not the kind of person who can unite people and end the constant wars and raids. The south was already devastated after the division of the lands, and then there was the dragon! Of course, Lord Angid is more like a ruler that the people will like!"

"If you defeat the dragon, you won't have to worry about your power."

"Ha! So, do you know how to defeat a dragon?"

"I know," said the master, not without pride, "but it cannot be dealt with alone. We need people, for example, those five warriors who accompany you are quite suitable."

"What warriors? Master Morvain! These are the royal knights guarding the border. They agreed to escort me to Sardast, but they did not take the oath to me," the lord laughed.

"Did you go to Sardast alone?" Morvain was surprised.

"Yes, I mean, no. I left the castle with a dozen knights, only then we came across a dragon, and.."

Lord Kellar wetted his whistle and reluctantly finished: ".. and I ran away."