Aldric Wandermere's Arc

Chapter 1 of 9

Aldric Wandermere counted his coins by firelight and found none. He wanted a guildhall, a safe first door for every green adventurer in Mythral. But a guildhall needed planks, and planks needed coin, and his pockets held only lint. Beside his tent, his stone-skinned hound thumped its heavy tail. The beast's cracked hide caught the fire's glow. Aldric scratched its ears. "We can't build a dream on hope, boy," he said. "We need work." He broke camp at dawn and walked to the village inn. The weathered hall served as tavern and town office both. A notice board hung by the door. One paper caught his eye. A farmer offered good pay for anyone who could drive a pest from his orchard. Something had been stripping his prize tree bare each night. Inside, the innkeeper pointed him to the farmer. The old man's hands shook as he described the thief. "Comes at dark. Eats my fruit and scorches my branches. I've lost half my harvest." He named a price. It was enough for a first load of lumber. Aldric shook his hand and left before sundown. The orchard held one great oak, its branches heavy with red and gold fruit. Aldric hid behind a fence with his hound. They waited. The moon rose. Then he heard wings, soft as paper. A small dragon dropped onto a branch. Its wings spread wide, colored like a butterfly's. It clutched a single gold coin in one claw, guarding it like treasure. It plucked a fruit and ate, quick and nervous. The hound growled low. Aldric gripped its collar. He could have killed it. That was the job. But the little dragon was thin. Its ribs showed under bright scales. It ate because it was starving, not cruel. Aldric's chest tightened. He knew that hunger. He had slept hungry a hundred nights on the road. He stepped into the open. The dragon froze, wings snapping up. Aldric raised empty hands. "Easy," he said. "I won't hurt you." He set down a strip of dried meat and stepped back. The dragon watched, then crept close and snatched it. It ate, then looked at him again. Slowly, it dropped its gold coin at his feet and cocked its head. At dawn Aldric returned to the farmer with a plan. The dragon would guard the orchard instead of raiding it. No more scorched branches, no more thefts. The farmer scoffed, then watched the small dragon perch above his tree, alert and proud. He paid Aldric in full. Aldric walked back to camp with coin at last, the dragon gliding overhead and the hound loping beside him. He had earned his first plank money. But the little guardian had chosen him now. It circled his tent and would not leave. He had wanted lumber. Instead he had gained two mouths to feed, and one purse that would empty far too fast.