BRAZA

Within the bowels of Mount Whitegore, Braza circled and pawed his bed of treasures, preparing himself for his much-needed rest. His wings flapped about his massive body, stretching his sore muscles and shaking gold dust off his scales. Winter should have come sooner, Braza thought, as precious gems and silver coins rolled down the pile of stolen stash.

With a sigh that filled the cave with dark, hot smoke, the elder dragon closed his eyes and rested his head upon his hoard.

He would sleep now and would keep sleeping for a thousand years to come.
A clunking sound of metal against stone intruded upon his comfortable cave, along with the sharp smell of sweat and human flesh. Braza whipped his tail as if swatting bugs, but the noise and the smell persisted. Tiredly, he opened one eye a slit and groaned.

A silver knight charged inside the cave brandishing his long sword. “Beast! Come and meet your doom!”

“Maybe another time,” Braza said, burying his nose under his tail.

“Beast!” The silver knight called again. “I have come from a kingdom far away to slay thee! Come and meet your doom!”

Braza sighed. The time to fight had come and gone. Winter was upon them, and he desperately needed a rest.

“Beast!”

“What?” Braza groaned.

“I am here to slay thee!”

“Hey, no need to shout, I heard you the first time around,” Braza yawned, “But I’m closed, on holiday, so shoo.”

Shoo?” The knight’s sword dropped loosely to his side. “But… I’ve come all this way to—”

Slay me, yeah. I’m. Not. Interested.”

The knight lifted his visor and scratched his chin. “So…What should I do?”

“Come back when the stars align and—”

“Beast!” A mercenary dressed in red leather charged inside the cave, swinging a
blood-stained axe about his head. “Come and meet your—” He halted at the edge of the
treasure heap, eyeing the confused knight and annoyed dragon. “Doom?”
“He’s closed,” the knight said. “On holiday, apparently.”
“Holiday? What the fuck does a dragon need a holiday for?”
The knight shrugged. “Dunno.”
Braza moaned, his muscles twitching with exhaustion and cramps threatening to rattle
him.
“How long will this holiday last?” The mercenary asked.
“Until the stars align, and the mystical signs foretell my return,” Braza said.
Baffled, the knight and the mercenary stared.
Ottoni / Blue Moon / 3
“A thousand years,” Braza said, rolling his eyes.
“A thousand years?” The mercenary and knight cried in unison.
“Look, guys, I’ve been working for centuries and I just need some sleep. If you could
just—”
“Beast!” A young lady charged inside the cave, a slender silver sword in hand. “Come
and meet your doom!”
“What’s up with that doom thing?” Braza asked.
“I guess it’s just something you say, as opposed to death,” the knight said. “It sounds
more poetic.”
“What’s going on?” The lady asked, stopping in her heels.
“He’s closed,” the mercenary said. “On holiday.”
“But why do you all say the same thing?” Braza asked. “Did you hold a conference
before coming here, discuss it over tea, perhaps?”
The trio shook their heads.
“Pff.” Braza snorted dark smoke at their faces. “Why do you want to doom me,
anyway?”
“I seek honour!” The knight said, clashing his sword against his shield.
“The reward,” the mercenary said. “I have a wife and kids to feed.”
“I just need a break from pianoforte lessons,” the lady said.
All great excuses, Braza thought. “Listen, guys, I’m exhausted from centuries of
pillaging and all I want to do is sleep. Would you please let me sleep? Take a gold coin on
your way out, yes? Let’s call it a compromise.”
The lady curtsied, the knight gave him a thumbs-up, and the mercenary asked for two
gold coins, which Braza obliged. Anything to make them go away. But they lingered, the
conversation drifting to what they would do with the gold.
Ottoni / Blue Moon / 4
“Beast!” A mage burst into the cave swinging a long willow staff, dark robes
fluttering dramatically in the wake.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Braza growled. “That beast thing is also getting old. I’m a
western thinker! Definitely not a beast.”
“You know, I’d never met a dragon who could speak before,” the knight said, and the
lady and the mercenary nodded like-minded.
“Don’t be fooled by the beast, my friends!” The mage said, flashing his staff, and
glaring at Braza. “And don’t be frightened! I am here to deliver his—”
“Doom,” Braza interrupted. “Yeah, we know. Would a sapphire make you leave?
Here, I have plenty.” He nudged a wave of trinkets, sparkling gems scattering about the
mage’s feet.
The mercenary jumped ahead to get his treasure, spitting and polishing his blue stone.
The lady accepted hers with a flourish of her dress and the knight bowed deeply, his visor
slamming shut over his face.
“Fools!” The mage cried. “I’m here for something far more precious!”
“Name it and it’s yours,” Braza said, scratching his ear.
“I shall have your scales to craft armour that will never break! I shall have your teeth
to brew potions that will never sour. I shall have your bones to build castles that will never
fall!”
“You want my scales, teeth and bones? That’s nasty. And rude.”
“That is rude,” the knight agreed.
The mage quivered. “Well, I—”
“How would you feel,” Braza asked, “if I went to your house and demanded that ugly
beard of yours? Say I wanted to make a cloak made of your skin. Nasty, isn’t it?”
“Quite nasty, yes,” the lady said.
Ottoni / Blue Moon / 5
“A terrible cloak, indeed,” the knight added.
“I’ve seen worse,” the mercenary shrugged.
The mage fumbled for words, twirling his long grey beard in his fingers. “Well, that’s
just how things work. We kill dragons, get the spoils, free kingdoms from their cruel grasps
and—”
“Did I burn your kingdom?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Did I do as much as singe a single blade of grass in your forest?”
“No, but—”
“Is any of the treasure I lie upon yours?”
“Well, no—”
“See? I’m just here, minding my own business, trying to rest and take a damn nap but
you just won’t let me be!”
“Erm, excuse me,” said a maid, poking her head into the cave. “Will you guys be
long? There’s a line outside to slay the beast.”