I looked around at the countryside as I rode through it: the peasants and farmers were busying themselves gathering the last of the harvest and storing it, and plowing the fields to prepare for sowing the winter wheat. In a few months all activity would stop, and everything would be quiet until spring; and by the looks of it, we would have a mild winter, too. It was already mid-summer, and the weather was hot and oppressive, which usually brought late frost and little snow later in the year. All for the better; this way, maybe the poor would have some of their crops left over after paying the usual tithe to the Imperial Crown, unlike the previous year.

But it was still deeply unfair. A whole country, a whole Empire, working to feed a small fraction of the population, who took from the poor without giving anything in return.

As I grew older and wiser, it had become more and more difficult to ignore the suffering of the peasants. The Crown’s taxation was to my advantage, of course: the Emperor always made sure to use a good part of the income he obtained by taxing the poor to arm and feed his soldiers, men-at-arms, and Knights, of which I was one. Not out of the good of his heart, certainly, but to make sure that we would be able to put down any rebellion, no matter how widespread or how organised – scythes and pitchforks wielded by starving peasants are obviously no match for swords and spears in the hands of strong professional fighters.

I’d only had to fight against rebels once since I’d succeeded my father as an Imperial Knight: it had been horrible, and it was a weight I still carried deep in my soul. I was not looking forward to when we would have to do it again, which would probably be soon. If anything, the next rebellion was overdue: according to the Old Boar, who’d had put down several rebellions, they tended to happen every fifteen years or so, but twenty years had passed since the last one, when I’d been a fresh-faced, newly-minted Knight.

The difference between what I’d been expecting to have to do – protecting the weak from injustice and upholding the law – and what I’d actually been ordered to do had been stark, and it had quickly swept away any illusions I had about my job as a Knight. “Don’t let it get to you, Adrian,” the Old Boar had told me, putting a hand on my shoulder and squeezing it firmly – but not looking me in the eye. “I don’t like it, either, but it is what it is.”

Thus the rich thrived, while the poor starved, and were kept in their place through force of arms.

But it couldn’t be helped: that was how it always had been, and how it would always be, at least until the Eternal Emperor died of old age, and was replaced on the throne by someone kinder.

That was what everyone kept telling themselves; but I knew that would never happen. Not even in a thousand years.

Sighing deeply, I rode up to the castle gate, climbed off my horse, and handed the reins to a servant. “Please take good care of her,” I said; the servant nodded, and walked off, leading my mare away.

I was about to head through the gate, when I heard a galloping noise behind me, and someone shouting, “Hey, Adrian! Wait up!”

I turned around just in time to see a huge warhorse, barded in leather emblazoned with a crest depicting a griffin, slow to a halt in front of me. “Robert,” I nodded, waving my hand in front of my face to blow away the dust his horse’s hooves had thrown up. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Robert said. He all but leapt off his mount, and enveloped me in a strong hug. “It’s so good to see you again, my friend. It’s been too long.” He looked at me critically. “What’s with the beard? Are you changing your style?”

“Didn’t have time to find a barber for a shave,” I replied. “I only got the Emperor’s summons yesterday evening.”

“Then why don’t you shave yourself?” he said. “All you need is a sharp knife, some water, and a mirror. It’s not that hard.”

Yes, but that would mean looking into the mirror at my face, I thought. I already felt bad enough about my appearance: I was tall, and strong, and apparently – if Robert and my other friends were to be believed – handsome and attractive, and I hated all of it. The thought of actually looking myself in the eye was enough to make my stomach churn.

But there was no point in telling that to Robert; all men dislike their looks, and I was sure he was gritting his teeth each and every day while he shaved, though he would never admit it. There was no use in talking about it and making us both feel terrible.

“Do you know what this is all about?” I asked instead. “Why would the Emperor suddenly call the Knights of the Imperial Guard to the palace? It’s… unusual.”

“Haven’t you heard the news?” Robert answered, as we walked through the gate and into the castle courtyard, making our way towards the throne room. “The Bridge Knight died five days ago; his horse threw him while he was out for a ride through his estate, and he hit his head on a rock as he fell.”

My eyebrows rose in surprise. “Sir Timur? That’s weird, he’s the best rider out of all of us.” I paused. “He was, I guess.”

Robert nodded. “His son Merlyn is due to succeed him; the Emperor probably wants to do an official investiture ceremony today.”

I frowned. “But he doesn’t need all the Knights to be present for that. There’s probably some other reason he’s gathered us all here.”

“Probably,” Robert agreed. “But I don’t have any idea what it could be. His Highness will probably tell us himself.”

“Yes, he certainly will,” I said, putting some mirth into my voice. The Emperor loved talking. He was apparently enamoured with the sound of his voice; once he got going, there was no stopping him.

“By the way,” my friend continued, “there was something I’ve been meaning to ask. I would’ve sent a messenger to your house in a couple weeks, but since we’re here, I might as well do it now.”

My eyebrows rose questioningly. “Oh?”

“You remember Edmund, don’t you? My youngest.”

“I do,” I nodded. Robert had four sons and a daughter, all lovely kids, even though I rarely saw them – our estates were on opposite sides of the wide floodplain upon which the Empire’s capital sat, and a full two days’ journey was required to get from one end to the other. It was too long a trip for a casual visit, especially since we were always quite busy with our duties as Knights; as a result, we seldom saw each other.

“Well, he’s come of age last month; he’s thirteen now. It feels like just a few days ago he was toddling his way around the house, play-fighting with his wooden sword, but now he’s already nearly an adult.” He smiled ruefully. “Gods, they grow up so fast.”

“That they do,” I agreed.

“How come you never had any children, by the way?” Robert asked. “You never married, either.”

“Never found the right girl.”

He shrugged. “I’m sure there are lots of women who’d be glad to have you.”

“We’ve had this conversation how many times now?” I rebutted. “I refuse to have a marriage of convenience, just to produce heirs. Love has to be involved.” And I don’t fall in love with women.

The last sentence I didn’t speak out loud.

“But–”

“You were saying something about Edmund?” I said.

Robert looked at me for a moment, then nodded. “Right. Edmund. He’s come of age, as I said. And he’s certainly old enough to start his apprenticeship as a Knight. And that means…”

I sighed. “No, I will not take him as a squire.”

“But why not!?” my friend all but shouted. “Seriously, Adrian, you’re one of the best Knights in the Empire, and you’ve never taken a squire! Not even once!”

“There are lots of Knights who are better than me. More prestigious. My family was ennobled only two generations ago, while yours, for example, has been a line of Knights for centuries.”

“That doesn’t matter at all,” Robert said, shaking his head. “All that matters is that you’re brave, and strong, and courageous, and honourable, and humble, and I cannot think of a better candidate to teach my son all of that than you, my friend.”

He stepped in front of me and put a hand on my shoulder.

“Please,” he continued. “I’m asking this as a friend. As a brother-in-arms.”

I looked him in the eye, saw the pleading expression on his face. Robert was really serious about this. The two of us were very close; we’d squired together for the Boar Knight in our youth, and had quickly become fast friends. Perhaps even more, we were almost like brothers; I’d been the one who’d introduced Marnie, his wife, to him, and I’d been best man at his wedding. We’d fought side-by-side plenty of times, often even saved each other’s lives.

If he was really determined to have his son become my squire, I just couldn’t find it in my heart to refuse him.

I sighed. “Alright.”

He blinked, apparently surprised. “You’ll do it? Really?”

“I’ll do it,” I replied. “But you owe me one.”

“Yes!” he exclaimed, pumping his fist. “I promise you won’t regret it. Edmund is a good kid. He can be a bit stubborn, and a bit full of himself at times, but I know you’ll be able to properly teach him all the qualities that befit a Knight.”

I nodded. “But for now, we better hurry along. The Emperor will be waiting for us, and we’re probably already late.”

Robert nodded back. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go.”

We walked the final stretch to the throne room’s doors in silence; when we arrived, all of the other Knights of the Imperial Guard, nine in total, were gathered in front of them. As expected, Sir Timur was missing, and a young man of about fifteen years – Merlyn, I gathered – was there instead.

“You’re late,” Duncan, the Boar Knight, said, glaring at us. “Twenty years you’ve been Knights, and you’ve yet to learn punctuality, the both of you. You should learn from Edgar, he was the first to arrive.” He motioned to another Knight, who nodded briskly.

“Oh, come on, old man,” Robert replied, slapping Duncan’s back. “It’s your fault for not teaching us, after all.”

Duncan kept glaring for a few moments, but then shook his head. “Come on, the Emperor is waiting.”

He threw open the door and in we went; we walked into a wide, open room, with a high ceiling held up by richly-carved columns, and a throne at the far end, upon which the Eternal Emperor sat.

When we reached the middle of the throne room, we fell to our knees, our heads bowed. “Your highness,” Duncan said loudly. “Your Imperial Guard is at your service.”

“Welcome, my Knights,” the Emperor replied, his voice echoing around the room. “Everyone, leave us.”

At his command, all the guards and servants saluted, and filed out of the room, shutting the doors behind them.

“You may rise,” the Emperor continued.

As we stood up, I looked at him. He was wearing long, flowing robes, and a mask concealed his face. He removed it, and I could see his features clearly, as I had plenty of times before. The twelve Knights of the Imperial Guard were the only ones who were allowed to gaze upon the Emperor without his mask; for anyone else, the penalty was death.

His face was long and thin, his skin pale; his features were almost lizard-like. Even though I couldn’t see them at this distance, I knew his eyes were yellow, and slitted vertically, and his teeth were sharp and pointed.

All of this was the result of dark magic, the details of which the Emperor purposely kept hidden from everyone, even from his Imperial Guard, his most loyal servants; and I knew that, besides altering his body, his spells gave him an unnaturally long life. I’d been in his service for twenty years, but he hadn’t changed at all; and, from speaking with other Knights, I knew that it had been so for many decades, centuries even.

Since the founding of the Empire, two dozen people had supposedly succeeded to the throne, in elaborate coronation ceremonies which had emptied the country’s coffers (and necessitated heavy taxes to be levied on the peasants, of course). But all of that had been a sham, a pretence, to keep the populace under control. “Sooner or later, someone better will take the throne. Someone who actually cares about his people. We must hold on until then,” they kept telling themselves.

That would never happen. No one would ever succeed the throne. Only one person had sat upon it: the Eternal Emperor himself, who was well over half a millennium old by that point.

“My lord,” the Boar Knight said. “We have answered your summons; why have you gathered us here?”

“As you know, Sir Timur died in an unfortunate accident,” the Emperor replied. “One of the reasons you are all here is to witness the investiture of his son as the new Bridge Knight.” He stood up and walked forward, stepping down from the elevated dais the throne sat on, and motioned with his hand. “Young Merlyn. Step forward, child.”

At his command, the young lad stepped forward, moving stiffly, until he stood before the Emperor; I could tell he was extremely nervous, and I could only smile as I recalled how nervous I had been during my own investiture ceremony. Hopefully the lad would–

“Death to the tyrant,” Merlyn said, quickly unsheathing his dagger and plunging it into the Emperor’s belly, twisting it for good measure.

The Emperor’s hand moved with blinding speed, and smashed into Merlyn’s face, knocking him off his feet and to the ground. “What a fool you are,” the Emperor said, extricating the dagger from his flesh and tossing it aside, the blade glistening with dark red blood.

“What…?” Merlyn said, staring in horror at the Emperor. “How?”

I grimaced as the other Knights stepped forward, some moving to restrain the would-be assassin, while Duncan stepped up beside the Emperor.

That was the principal reason why the Emperor would never be replaced. There had been many attempts to dethrone him over the centuries, of course. Besides the numerous rebellions which had sprung up and been put down, there had also been a significant number of assassins who had reached the throne room and the Emperor, injuring him, sometimes gravely, to no avail: all of his wounds healed almost instantly. I had witnessed it myself twice before; Merlyn’s attempt was the third.

There was no way out. Not for the foreseeable future.

“Sire…?” Duncan asked, motioning at the young man, who was being held in place by two other Knights, one for each arm.

“Kill him,” the Emperor said.

Duncan seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Sire…”

“You have your orders, Sir Duncan.”

Duncan gulped. “Yes, my lord.” He unsheathed his sword and walked over to Merlyn, who was looking from him to the Emperor and back again, his eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“No…” Merly whispered.

“I’m sorry, lad,” Duncan said, raising his sword, and I looked away as it descended.

“Shame about that. I’ll have to find another Bridge Knight. But now we can turn to the second reason I have brought you here today,” the Emperor said, almost casually; he walked over to his throne and sat back down, and all the Knights, myself included, resumed their position in the middle of the throne room – while carefully avoiding looking at Merlyn’s corpse, which had been dragged off to the side.

“I have called for you because I have received… grave news. Ill tidings, from our western frontier,” the Emperor said. “There have been multiple reports, and I have personally cross-referenced every single one of them to confirm them.”

He paused dramatically, and then continued: “A dragon has made its nest somewhere in the mountains in the Western Reach.”

I could feel a burst of disbelief and excitement run through the assembled Knights. A dragon! The last time a dragon had been spotted in the country, my grandfather hadn’t even been born yet.

“A dragon, of course, is a serious menace to the well-being of our people,” the Emperor went on. “It will eat their sheep, burn their homes, devastate their fields; as Lord and Emperor of this land, I cannot abide by that. My people must be safe.”

I bristled at his words, and grit my teeth. I had a half thought to unsheathe my own sword and rush at the Emperor, but I dismissed it right away – I knew it would be useless; and I didn’t want to end up like Merlyn had.

Duncan stood at attention. “My lord,” he said. “Just give the word, and we can move out, find its nest, and get rid of it.”

“That won’t do,” the Emperor replied. “If too many people, and armed at that, start searching the mountains for the dragon, they are sure to scare it off. The beast would just leave, and make its nest somewhere else, and would still be a danger to our people.”

“What would you have us do, then?”

The Emperor ran his gaze over the Knights, before looking at me with a piercing stare.

“Sir Adrian. Egg Knight,” he said.

I stood up straight. “Sire,” I answered.

“Step forward.”

I complied, making my way through the Knights’ ranks, until I stood between them and the Emperor.

“You are among the bravest and strongest of all my Knights,” he said. “You will handle this situation.”

“Of course, my lord,” I replied. “I will assemble a troop of soldiers immediately, and–”

“That won’t be necessary,” he cut me off. “I have confidence in your abilities; I know you can do this. And, as I said, too many people would just spook the dragon off, making it run away.”

He stood up from his throne, and waved his hand in my direction.

“Therefore, I am giving you this quest: find the dragon and slay it, and bring me back its head and heart as proof of your deed.”

“On his own?” a voice behind me said; I couldn’t tell which of the Knights had spoken up.

“Yes, alone,” the Emperor replied. “That is the best choice, given the circumstances.” He paused. “He can bring his squire, of course, to assist him in his quest.”

Again, I was almost of the mind to refuse his command, but I knew what the consequences would have been. I saluted, and unsheathed my sword, holding it up straight in front of myself.

“By your command, my lord. I swear upon my sword and my honour, I will find the dragon and kill it, and bring back its head and heart as proof.”

The Emperor nodded approvingly. “You may avail yourself of any and all resources in my castle. Weapons from the armoury, horses from the stable, and supplies from the storerooms.”

“Yes, your highness,” I replied.

“You will depart at dawn, in two days,” he said. “Now leave me, all of you.”

I saluted again, as I’m sure all the other Knights did behind me (though I couldn’t see them), and slowly we filed out of the throne room.

As the doors closed, I glanced behind me, and I saw the Emperor replacing his mask and sitting back down on his throne.

There was a moment of silence. “Seven hells,” the Boar Knight hissed, “that was unpleasant.”

I nodded in agreement. “The poor lad,” I said.

“Yeah,” Duncan breathed out. “I wonder if we could’ve saved him.”

Robert, standing beside me, shook his head. “How could we?” he asked nobody in particular. “Maybe if he’d known about…”

He gestured with his hand, and we all understood.

“In any case,” Duncan said, turning to me. “I wonder what’s gotten into the Emperor. He wants you to slay a dragon? On your own?”

I smiled nervously. “It’s no big deal, right?” I joked. “After all, what is a dragon if not an overgrown, flying lizard?”

“An overgrown, flying, fire-breathing lizard,” Duncan said. “Adrian, never mind what the Emperor said. Just say the word, and we will accompany you on your quest.”

“You can’t. The Emperor’s orders are likely because of the prophecy,” Edgar said.

Duncan turned to look at him. “Prophecy?”

“Yes, prophecy. I’ve encountered it in my studies,” Edgar nodded. “It’s centuries old, dating back to before the Empire was even founded. I forget the exact words, but it had something to do with the fact that a dragon will eventually bring the Eternal Empire to an end; and it goes on to say that dragons must be slain in single combat, to avoid this.”

“Huh. I had no idea such a prophecy even existed,” Robert said. “It wasn’t in any of the chronicles I’ve read. I wonder if the Emperor believes it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I replied. “I don’t like it either, but the Emperor’s word is law, so I’m going to do it.”

Duncan placed his hand on my shoulder. “Best of luck, Adrian,” he said. “I will hold you in my prayers until your return.”

All the other knights nodded in agreement. “Thank you,” I said. Then I turned to Robert. “I’m afraid Edmund becoming my squire will have to wait until I get back.”

“…Are you kidding?” he said. “This is the best chance he’ll ever get.”

I frowned. “What?”

“Assisting you in slaying a dragon? It’s amazing,” my friend continued. “His name will be on everyone’s lips, throughout the country and even beyond, as the squire of Adrian, the Egg Knight and Dragon-slayer.”

My frown deepened. “Have you gone mad, Robert? It will be dangerous. We may not make it back.”

“I have full confidence in your abilities. And I know you’ll keep my son safe.” He stepped towards me, and put a hand on his chest. “Besides, you said you would take him as your squire.”

“That was before I knew I would have to slay a dragon,” I replied.

“Still. You promised, on our friendship.”

Had I? I honestly couldn’t remember. I said I would take Edmund as a squire, but had I promised? I hadn’t been paying attention.

I looked at Robert, and saw the look in his eyes. He was not going to let this go; and if I refused, it could ruin our friendship.

“Alright,” I sighed. “But if something happens to him, it’s on you, my friend. You insisted.”

“I know,” he nodded.

“Send a messenger, have him come to the castle as soon as possible. I leave in two days; if he’s not here, I’ll leave him behind.”

Secretly, deep in my heart, I hoped Edmund wouldn’t come.