There was something, Ash-Bringer thought, that was Not Quite Right about this place.

Not that he was one to brag, but usually when people caught sight of his enormous wings darkening the skies, they fled in terror. Like an anthill kicked over, he would watch as the villagers below would scatter and scurry, the women and children to the cellars and the men to the armory. Usually there would be a call to arms and whatever village leader or militia commander had found himself stuck with the job would try to marshal the undisciplined townsfolk into some sort of defense.

Usually Ash-Bringer left those towns alone because it wasn’t worth the trouble. He would have decimated their forces, and then who would be left to raise the cattle and pigs he would have demanded as tribute? And then word would spread of the dragon who laid waste to the countryside and then there would be some sort of response from the local lord or king or what have you. Villagers were no problem, but trained knights could present a challenge for a dragon who was not on his toes. Talons. Ash-Bringer knew of two of his kin who had been slain at the end of a lucky knight’s pike.

But Ash-Bringer was beginning to feel his age. There came a time in every dragon’s life when he or she felt the urge to hoard, to carve out a territory of their own and fill it with gold and jewels, with fatted calves and plumped sheep. And so, when he saw a hamlet tucked away in the hills, in a defensible location close to the river and abutting a mountain, he listened to instinct and veered in the sky until his green scales, glittering like crystals in the dappled sunlight, made an arrow for the town.

He was prepared for the anthill that would follow. That should have followed.

But when he soared low over the cottages with the thatched roofs, the villagers stared up at him, mouths agape and weapons nowhere in sight. The men weren’t yelling; the women hoisted their children and held them up, as if getting them closer to his fearsome claws. It was odd, admittedly, but perhaps they were struck dumb with terror. Ash-bringer landed with a flare of wings and a plume of dust at the edge of town, and waited.

There was no attack, no ringing of the church bell to sound the alarm, even. Instead, a little man, heavyset with watery eyes and a beaming smile, hurried out to stand in front of Ash-Bringer.

“O, mighty dragon!” the little man cried, and he fell to the ground and prostrated himself. An auspicious start, Ash-Bringer decided. He had never heard of humans who were immediately cowed in fear, but perhaps this village was wiser than most.

“I have come to claim these lands,” Ash-Bringer hissed, his voice like the edge of one thousand knives, and heat from the flame in his throat browning the grass around them. “This village and all that is in it belong to me!”

“Oh yes, yes!” the little man cried. “Of course, mighty dragon, he of scales and flame! All that we have we offer you!”

That was – unexpectedly easy. “And you will bring a cow each day, for I hunger greatly,” Ash-Bringer continued. “If you do not – “

“Of course! We have cattle at the ready!” the little man exclaimed. “Do you require sheep or pigs as well?”

“I – yes?” Ash-Bringer said, taken aback. “And by the end of tonight, you will bring forth your gold and your wealth! If you do not – “

“Oh, we have collected it in chests and we can carry them to you whenever you desire!” the little man said, still bowed on the ground. “O mighty dragon, he of wings and death, we are honored you have chosen to demand tribute!”

This was getting weird. Ash-Bringer decided to push it and see how far he could go. “And you will send me a young maiden each morning,” he demanded. “A comely woman who will tend to me – “

“My daughter shall be the first!” the little man trumpeted joyfully as he sat up to beam at Ash-Bringer. “She is among the most beautiful in the village and she will serve you with devotion!”

There was no way. Ash-Bringer stopped and looked, really looked, at the man. He was dressed all in white and his hair was long and braided. On the front of his robes was a strange symbol – a spurt of flame, stitched in black, orange and red. Then, Ash-Bringer looked across the village. The cottages were quaint, but all had the same symbol painted on the front doors. Every person in the village stood at the edge of the gate, staring with unnerving smiles and sporting white robes with the black, orange, and red flame. In the fields beyond the buildings, Ash-Bringer could see rows of crops – pumpkins, corn, beans, and marijuana and psychotropic mushrooms.

“What is this place?” he asked sharply.

“Oh mighty dragon, it is your home, of course!” the man trilled. “The prophets have long foretold your coming! We, the devoted members of the Burning Flame, have waited 130 years for your return, as has been foretold in the stars! We live communally in a society of free love and harmony, where we partake of sacred herbs in our secret rituals. Our temple ceremonies – “

Ash-Bringer sighed in disgust and launched into the sky. Fucking dragon-worshipping cults.

The first precursor to its coming was the shadow among the clouds. A peculiar shape in the gloomy sky that grew larger with each passing second. Next came the distinct crack of a whip reverberating and echoing throughout the entire village like a storm without the cutting winds. Finally, a roar that brought tremors from the sky down into the ground.

From the shadow in the grey sky burst forth a dragon with crimson scales and molten veins shining through the edges. Smoke and ash trailed behind as the very air surrounding it constantly flickered embers. It glided down slowly until it beat its wings thunderously and landed in the middle of the village. The final flames licked the edges of the nearby buildings but sputtered out quickly.

It sat up on its haunches and let its barbed tail whip apart an entire roof before settling itself down curled around him. His head towered above even the village leader’s two story home. A home of which its main inhabitant now stood in front facing the dragon with a bowed head. Patiently, he waited for the dragon. After several moments passing in relative silence, the massive beast spoke as softly as it could. Even its whisper echoed like a bear’s roar.

“You have received my message.”

Lifting his head, the village leader looked up. 2 irises of flowing flames framed within opaque darkness stared down at him. He nodded before answering as loudly a voice as he could muster. “We have Lord Kyros! The farmer came back from your mountain trail and heralded your coming.”

Kyros slowly twisted its head around to view the village. Inspecting the villagers outside their homes with their heads bowed. Then at the surrounding forests with scrutiny. Turning back down, he growled out.

“I have come to take over this village in my name. I have given advance warning, yet, there are no soldiers. Where is King Sarlas’ knights?”

“We have sent no message and expect no help from Sarlas.”

With a blink, Kyros growled again with further suspicion.

“I have come to claim your village as my own. I demand tribute of meat and grain, at the edge of my claws. Gold and silver, with a threat of my breath. A village I know King Sarlas claims under his protection, yet you do not seek it to protect yourself? Why?”

The village leader began to grin at the inquiry. He responded with almost unconstrained joy.

“Sarlas demands similar tribute from this far away village. Meat and grain at the point of a spear. Gold and silver, with threats of torch and oil. He claims to provide protection, yet we never see soldiers or knights. If ever we see them to collect your tribute, you would shred armor with claws and burn their soldiers alive, would you not?”

In a single growl, Kyros snarled a simple “I would.”

Nodding at the response, the leader answered back.

“Then already we have more protection for the same price from you Lord Kyros of the nearby mountain than from Sarlas across the vast forests.”

"Yes lord dragon sir!" The mayor said. "We agree to your terms effective immediately." He was a short gnome, and by this I mean a gnome who is considered short among other gnomes.

The dragon looked around suspiciously. It was too easy. Since when people surrender to 100 feet long fire breathing flying lizard without few arrows and shouts?

He was deep in his thoughts when he realized he is surrounded by hundreds of town folks. "What is this? An ambush! I see, so you choose to fight at last. Stupid but honorable choice! So be it!"

One of the people, an elder, replied fast: no my lord. We brought you presents!

Dragon's eyes became ten times wider. "What? Presents?"

Yes! Elder answered. "There are cows, sheep, a few barns full of food, and even (a young beautiful elven girl came forward holding a lute) our most talented bard!"

"but...oh...wha..." The dragon was mumbling when the mayor interrupted him: lord dragon sir! Can you sign this treaty? It is just a formality!

"Okay. Tell me what's going on before I set this whole place on fire!!" "Well lord dragon sir..." Mayor started: "around a year ago this young man came to our beautiful little town. A real scum. He kept drinking in a bar for three days straight. Then refused to pay or leave. We sent guards to arrest him but he annihilated every single one of them. We hired mercenaries, assassins, even giants, but he kept beating them up. No one can match him. What a scum. "

"What is has to do with me?" Dragon asked.

Well (mayor was hesitant to say.) We thought maybe you lord dragon sir, surely you can defeat this criminal and restore the rule of law. We are begging you sir. Be the our ruller!!

Sure this tiny mortal could not match his might. dragon thought. And it felt like the mayor was telling the truth. "okay, where is this criminal. I will bring him to justice!"

He is still at the inn drinking. Just south of the town. You can't miss the building. Look for someone called Dovahkiin!

Cyrumahndhr roared in glee, belting out a final gout of flames to billow over the smoking carcass of the village lord's castle.

Stones had been thrown and launched far, tearing the thatched roofs and crushing the walls of the local serf's homes, and the former castle lay as rubble. Cyrumhndhr had finally done it. There would be no human that dared to stop him, they would either bow in defeat or die. Rising from the ruin, he flapped his powerful wings, launching his glittering orange body into the air. With a few lazy beats of his wings he landed right in the village's square.

"Mortals!" He bellowed out to the serfs, who he could smell hiding away in whatever crevice they had chosen to avoid the fighting. "I, Cyrumahndhr have conquered your village! Your pathetic human military was no match for my might!" A few of the braver humans posed their heada out, peeking warily from doors, ditches, wells, wherever. Cyrumahndhr scanned their faces with his burning yellow gaze. "You will bring 15% of your shared wealth to me by sundown. You will bring one cow, one pig, and two sheep to me by sundown. You will give me one chicken, or duck, or goose from every family by sundown. You will do so every month, with the exception of the cows, pigs, and sheep- which you will do every three months. If you do not comply I will raze your village, burn your corpses, and eat your smoking remains. If you do comply, then this village is mine, you will do as I say, and I will not kill you."

By the time Cyrumahndhr finished his speech, some of the serfs had come into open view, looking at him confused. Children with hollow cheeks hung on their mother's blouses, and men with bowed backs and swelled fingers gazed at the dragon with an unexpected twinkle in their eyes.

"You have until sundown. My lair is to the north, a cave in the hills of the forest. You will be there." He growled. "Or else."

It was about an hour and a half, the sun was close to setting, but still shone yellow and bright in the sky. Cyrumhandhr sneezed and roused from his short catnap. Rolling over on his, admittedly, small horde he faced the entrance of his cave. He could smell them, the humans. Lazily he waited until the humans filed in, carrying their chest of valuables, and dragging in their frightened livestock. Eyeing one of the fearful cows, Cyrumhanhr licked his jowls.

"Oh great dragon-" One of the hollow faced men began. "We have accepted your generous offer, and have brought you the requested offerings."

Cyrumhandhr hummed, and darted forward, snatching the shrieking cow and eating it whole. When he had finished swallowing the beast, he stared down at the humans. Then their words registered. Sneering, he growled down at them, "Generous? I am a dragon, I have razed your village, killed your lord. I hold you at ransom. I am not generous, I am to be feared." He said, slamming a claw down upon his horde.

The humans paused, some spooked from Cyrumhanhr's outburst. Their leader, the hollow faced man stood strong though.

"That is why you are generous, oh Great One. You have killed our lord, a swine-fat pustule he was. He worked us into the ground, taxed us when we used the mill to grind his grain that we gave to him. Taxed us to use his fields that we used to plant for him. Taxed us on our homes that he owns. Taxes on taxes on taxes. Since we did not make money, he took the grain. Took all of it, most of our crops, our livestock. We have been starving and dying. Working ourselves to the grave under his tyrannical fist." The man said, voice bitter. Then he smiled. "But then you came, oh Great One, and killed that monster. Gave use new terms, livable terms. And..." he paused, voice growing smug, "To top it all off, you offered us the protection of a dragon."

Cyrumahndhr waited as the man finished his speech. Claws tapping idly on the stone of the cave. When the man finished he snorted. "So it seems I have." Rolling over, he waved the humans away. "Far be it from me to refuse eager servants. Leave the chicken cages where they are, and tie the livestock to those-" he yawned, "rocks over there."

"Of course, oh Great One." The human said, his words instantly followed by the sounds of moving and organization by his fellow brethren. And just as Cyrumahnhr's eyes shut, he thought he heard a "Thank you." from the man. But he did not dwell on it, quickly slipping into slumber to the whimpers of livestock and the shuffling of human feet leaving his lair.

I wake up from my nap. It's been a couple millennia but I feel just so rested right now.

As I project my consciousness outward, expecting layers of rock and stone I sense open air very close. And metal. And sounds of bustling cities. Humans walking about, even now at night. I listen in on the sounds and noises and as my consciousness expands into not just light and sound but also more ethereal modes and then it hits me. A great flash of information enters my brain and almost overwhelms me as I desperately channel the information magically.

This takes a week though and by the end I have learned several new languages, caught up on the last 2000 years of human history and then current state of the world.

I flex my muscles, waking up my body and shift through the earth. As I break the surface I change to a human shape, taking inspiration from the clothes people are wearing.

I walk around to the last place my loyal humans dwelled and expect to find a small hut with thatched roof, but apparently my subjects have done well for themselves. I find a sprawling mansion with a secured estate. No guards posted but everything both old and brand new.

I enter the estate. The door was closed, but nothing to hold back the warmth in my hands.

As I enter I announce myself.

"Sons and daughters of Saedra! I have returned! I, Lofwyr, walk this earth once again and reclaim my hoard!"

Several things happen at once. People enter the hallway from several doors, chattering in every emotion at once.

As the chaos reached a crescendo one of the older humans shouts for everyone to be quiet.

He faces me.

"Welcome home my liege, if you are indeed him." He motions to one of the younger people, who promptly disappears and shortly after reappears with a luminescent slate.

We have done as you instructed, growing your hoard and guarding your interests. Sadly our family dwindled in power as kingdoms rose and fell, and the hoard is no longer collected in gold and silver. But we do have news for you. If you can indeed prove you are who you are. "

My eyes flare up at this insolence. Nu nostrils start smoking.

"Insolent little hairless ape. You will not test my patience. Not Lofwyr!"

As my temper quite literally flares up an old memory surfaces. I had left instructions for this moment.

"But I have left instructions."

I hold out my hand, it regains some of the more draconic characteristics. A mote of light appears above it, growing and accumulating until it grows into a sigil.

As it appears the young one with the slate gestures hurriedly to the slate. The older one nods.

"Thank you, you are indeed who you are". Come, I'll tell you about what next. Tomorrow we will go to Essen and you will once again fill the seat we have saved for you. I can't wait to see how you will take control of the area and wipe every other competitor off the map. To be honest, we've been at the mercy of bigger corporations for far too long and rumours are surfacing that another dragon has awakened and is seeking to end our existence. But now we may have a chance to reverse our fortunes.

That's where it hits me. The estate, while in good condition is clearly not immaculate. The clothes they wear are dated by at least 3 years. The adults have lines in the faces, not of laughter but from worry.

The family starts chattering away among themselves. Some relieved, others excited at the prospects. I hear the letters BMW thrown around and worry that maybe I didn't prepare enough for my return.

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