“I’d give my right butt cheek to get out of work tonight,” My‑re mumbled to herself as she carried a tray of empty mugs. The din of conversation and tinkering plates and glasses filled the halls of the Broken Sword tavern. While not the most popular bar in Willow Beach, it did benefit from the spill-over when the other drinking establishments were full. With the spring tournament in full swing, managers, gladiators, and spectators alike were festive. Some celebrating wins, long sought after trains, or just drowning sorrows.
The tavern neared capacity, which meant she would be swamped the entire night. She would likely get orders wrong and need to toss out unruly patrons if they drank too much, complained too much, or became familiar too much.
Precisely the opposite, General Pol thrived in this environment. He made it a point to visit every table with a smile and enthusiastically called out “Happy Days” from time to time. The patrons seemed to enjoy his cheerful mood. At least the Rirorni helped refill the patron’s drinks.
“Another round of mushroom meads for the Shew’s table,” My‑re said as she placed the empty glasses from her tray on the bar.
“Here, offer them this too,” Pol said, pushing a full bread basket toward her, giving off an aroma of hot spices. “Pass one out to each of the tables. Free.”
When she drew closer, My‑re’s sinuses immediately cleared from the strong seasoning. Pulling her nose away, she choked, “What in the nine hells is this?”
“Rirorni sweet bread.”
“There’s nothing ‘sweet’ about it. More like sweat bread if they take one bite of this stuff.”
“Exactly, it’ll keep ‘em drinking.”
Mentally tallying the occupied tables and the number of sweet bread baskets she’d need. My‑re said, “I’m going to need a break soon. I’ve been on my feet for the past six hours, and it’ll likely be another six before things lighten up.”
Scoffing, Pol said, “I thought you had a better endurance, so here’s the deal. As soon as the last person leaves, you can take a break. Actually, you can have the rest of the night off. However, some of these blokes look like they are settling in for a long night of drinking, so nothing short of the place catching fire will cause that.”
My‑re placed her hands on her hips. “Listen, you piece of-”
A person barreled in through the tavern’s doors and shouted, “Dragon!”
All activity immediately ceased. All eyes turned to the new arrival.
“A dragon is crossing the Lake of Mists!” he shouted, hastily leaving the bar.
For six seconds, time stood perfectly still. Life itself froze. For six seconds, that moment remained perfectly captured.
“Run away!” bellowed out Tim the Enchanter's voice.
The tavern erupted into pandemonium. Managers, gladiators, and patrons exploded from their chairs and flooded the main doors. The last to leave were the Shewish Giants, who took a few extra moments to down their drinks.
My‑re and General Pol stared dumbfounded at the newly emptied tavern. Glasses, plates, and the mess caused by their patrons leaving filled their vision. The tavern hearth’s wood crackled, the only sound, other than the panicked cries out on the streets.
“Well, that’ll work,” My‑re said, wiping her hands on her dish rag and dropping it on the bar. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, Pol.”
“Wait, what? You can’t leave,” Pol stammered.
Willow Beach’s alarm, a deep reverberating gong, rhythmically began.
“I’ve never seen a dragon. I’m going to go see what the fuss is about,” My‑re said and exited the bar with a smile.
Chaos had taken over the streets. The inhabitants of Willow Beach ran in every direction. A dozen armored soldiers in chainmail and bearing halberds approached the beach. Several gladiators were hurriedly donning their armor and grabbing weapons. They all seemed giddy with excitement at the prospect of fighting a dragon.
Warriors and spectators already filled the beach as My‑re made her way there. They all looked to the sky, but the laziness of the afternoon sun only showed a handful of drifting, puffy clouds.
A heavy ‘whooshing’ sound came from behind. The rushing wind caused her and others to stumble. My‑re froze for an instant. The dragon attacked from behind!
Right overhead, four pegasi from the renowned Pegasus Corp flew past them and over the water. They each resembled a black horse with large bird-like wings. However, they had other avian features as well. Their lower legs, mane, and tail were covered in feathers instead of fur. The flying creatures beat their powerful wings, trying to make altitude, while their riders frantically locked long spears to their saddles. They prepared for battle.
My‑re had never seen more than one pegasus at one time and always at a distance. Typically, these sightings were for training, on patrol, or ferrying messages. She deemed seeing four at once a valid cause for concern. She started to have second thoughts about remaining on the exposed beach. If she had doubts before, a second group of four pegasi flying over their heads and out to sea solidified them.
The prospect of eight pegasi, an almost unprecedented sight outside of war, flying out to meet a dragon seemed to unnerve the others on the shore too. My‑re slowly turned and took a step back off the sands.
Just as trepidation on the beach settled in, someone yelled, pointing, “I see the dragon!”
All eyes followed, and in the far distance, a brown object flew in the sky. My‑re could see the eight pegasi flying around it like sparrows harassing a bird of prey.
My‑re and the others stood motionless as it grew closer and began to descend. Realization sunk in as a flying craft, not a dragon, flew toward the shore. A surreal sight. It looked like a sleek swordsman tri-master sailing ship with a triangular and curved bow. It had three masts, each with a three-tiered series of seashell-like sails. The eight pegasi were escorting the vessel inland, but she could distinctly see writing on the ship's side as it passed over their heads. In crisp white letters, it read, Unsinkable III.