SWISSH~
BANG~
The corpse of the dragon still steamed falls behind him, smoke curling into the ash-gray sky. Charred wings and shattered horns stretched across the field like the ruins of a myth. And at the center stood the knight silent, unmoving.
His armor was jagged silver and obsidian black, shaped like the ribcage of some long-dead beast. A pale cloth hung from his shoulders, fluttering in a breeze that didn't reach the ground. His greatsword rested lazily across his back. No blood stained the blade. No scratches marked his plate.
He turned, wordless, and walked into the dragon's cave.
The walls glowed faintly from the lingering heat. Bones were strewn across the floor, some still smoldering. Gold and relics were scattered in piles, hoarded over centuries. But the knight paid them no mind.
At the center of the lair sat an egg.
Large. Warm. Alive and what the Great Archmage want.
He approached in silence, and as his hand reached for it
Crack.
A hairline fracture split the shell. A hiss of steam escaped. Then, with an awkward lurch, a small dragon spilled out and rolled against his armored boot.
The hatchling looked up at him. Its eyes were molten gold. Its wings twitched weakly.
Then it squeaked.
It climbed.
Small claws gripped the edge of his armor and hoisted the tiny dragon upward. It coiled against his chestplate, trembling slightly, and let out a soft, tired chirp before nuzzling into the crook of his arm.
The knight stood frozen.
"…What," he muttered, deadpan.
But the dragon was already asleep