Reddit Stories 2019

Peasants & Dragons

Peace was a surprise to all. United under Arthur, king of kings, the royals laid down their swords, calling for an end to the raids, terrors, and burned farms. It was a moment of weakness among humanity and could have quickly spelled their end were it not for Regülüs, dragon king of dragon kings. In an unprecedented move, he offered Arthur a single jewel from his horde, binding the dragons of Europe to peace with the kings and queens. The ageless war ended.

Many of the older dragons returned to their slumbers, waiting for the end of peace, but Størmagórn was not the to wait. He had served Regülüs in countless battles, fighting with a ferocity unseen by any before and, now, any since. The world trembled when he roared, but it shook no more. His wealth grew stagnant. Størmagórn, Conqueror of the Seven Lands, Devourer of Souls, was left a bored prince.

Until Harry stopped outside his cave.

Harry was, like all humans, meek and mild. He trembled before Størmagórn much like the mountains he shattered with his might. Much like any human should. Yet even with all of the fear in his pitiful shaking form, he stood before the brilliant dragon and made a request. The first request ever made to him that was not begging for mercy.

"Excuse me, mister, could I ask you a favor?"

"Fool!" Størmagórn roared, rearing his magnificent spiked head to the roof of his cave. The man, Harry, paled. "Do you not know who I am?"

"I do, mister. You are Stormagain-"

"Størmagórn!"

"Yes, sir. Conqueror of the Seven Lands."

"I am," Størmagórn said, feeling the pride swell through him. "And who are you, tiny human? A whelp I could crush betwixt my claws. Insignificant. Yet you dare to ask me a favor?"

"I do, mister," he said, swallowing audibly, a feat made impressive by the sheer distance of his neck from Størmagórn's ears. "My name's Harry and I.. I have a farm, mister. It's just down the hill and, you see, I've been having trouble."

Harry pointed to his farm in the shadow of Størmagórn's mountain. Much like its workers, the rectangle of green and yellow was indistinguishable from the others, except for the small bush that surrounded the cottage. Flowers with the deep red of blood and vibrant pink of flesh bloomed in the bush. The beauty rivaled that of even a razed castle.

"Ha! A farmer who cannot even farm," Størmagórn bellowed. The joy of mocking one who failed his chosen profession drowned out the irony, not that dragons understood the concept.

"Oh no, the farm's successful, sir. That's the problem. I've got myself in a bit of a trouble with some unsavory folk. They've been stealing my product, you see, and now it's heading for the end of the season and I don't have enough to last me through the winter." Harry pulled at his collar, clearly uncomfortable. This pleased Størmagórn. "I was wondering if you might scare them off for me, you see."

"This is beneath me. Ask a human prince for his aide."

"I have, mister. But it's his men who are doing it."

Størmagórn felt an unbecoming excitement at the prospect of going into battle once more. There was pride and honor to be found in war, of course, but not in an era of peace and certainly not when the order came from such inferiority. A human peasant.

"Hibernate," he suggested.

"I, uh, can't, mister. Humans don't work that way."

"Shame. I supposed you'll starve, then."

As Størmagórn turned away, Harry raised his voice, perhaps forgetting that, like everything else about them, a dragon's hearing is incredible and a normal voice would have sufficed. "They have gold, mister."

Størmagórn paused. It was an easy appeal to his nature, but one that was hard to resist. There was a time when, Størmagórn, Conqueror of the Seven Lands, Devourer of Souls, was beloved by many for his great valor and wealth. The fiercest dragon princesses vied for his attention. But without armies to fight, he was alone.

This could be a reversal of fortune.

"Very well, human Harry, I will accept your request."

"Oh, thank you, mi-"

"But you must swear allegiance to me and all dragon kind. There will be a tithe and should you fail to bring me what I require, you will understand why they call me Devourer of Souls."

Harry gulped and slowly nodded. "Yes, of course, my liege. But we just have wheat, milk, and eggs. The king has taken our gold."

Størmagórn growled. "You misunderstand me. I do not want your pitiful human foods, though I will take a cow, yes. Perhaps several, but I will decide that when I have finished feasting on your villains. No, human Harry, I seek knowledge."

Størmagórn fixed his gaze on the cottage with its beautiful flowers and stone chimney, no doubt holding a peaceful fire.

"You will teach me to farm."