Rumble—!
The Dark Lord Sauron was not one for idle threats. The black mist surged forward like a tidal wave of shadow, cold and suffocating, racing toward the dragon.
Keith, inhabiting the mountain of scales that was Smaug, knew the limits of the Necromancer's current strength. More importantly, his draconic instincts confirmed that mere spectral shadows could not pierce the diamond-hard hide of an adult Fire-drake. He felt no fear.
Opening his maw, Keith unleashed a horizontal torrent of white-hot flame. Simultaneously, he snapped his gargantuan wings, conjuring a gale-force wind that lifted his massive frame into the air. The hall of the Lonely Mountain groaned under the sonic pressure.
The collision was absolute. Sauron's shadow-form was battered back, shredded by the combination of searing heat and the crushing downdraft of the dragon's ascent.
As Keith hovered, he twisted his serpentine body with predatory grace, whipping his powerful tail through the mist. Sauron was forced to retreat further into the gloom.
"Smaug... you will rue this day!" the Necromancer hissed, his voice a freezing wind. He knew that in his current state, he could not subjugate this beast.
"Hmph," Keith let out a smoke-filled sneer. "Sauron, do not presume I am blind to your skulkings in the dark. If you utter one more threat, I shall whisper a certain name to every ear in Middle-earth."
Keith leaned in, his eyes burning like twin suns.
"Dol Guldur."
The black mist shuddered violently.
Dol Guldur was the secret fortress of the Necromancer, the linchpin of Mordor's resurgence in the North. How did this "beast" know such a strategic secret? Sauron's essence roiled with agitation. If the Elves, Dwarves, and Men learned of the shadow in Mirkwood now, centuries of meticulous planning would be cast into the fire.
Sauron stared at Keith for three long, silent seconds, his malice palpable. Finally, realizing the dragon held the high ground, the shadow dissolved into the darkness and vanished.
"Next time, remember to knock," Keith roared after him, his voice echoing through the mountain. "Try to show some civility!"
Sauron likely heard him, but he did not return, fleeing back toward the safety of the East.
With the uninvited guest gone, Keith returned to his purpose. He moved toward the main gates, his massive bulk smashing through the mounds of rubble and stone that had sealed the Dwarven halls for over a century. Daylight finally spilled into the darkened halls of Erebor.
Keith stepped out into the crisp mountain air, took a deep, sulfurous breath, and took to the skies.
Esgaroth, the Lake-town, was in a state of absolute chaos.
The seismic roars and the thunderous echoes from the Lonely Mountain had reached the ears of every citizen. Terror had taken root in the town of wood and water.
"The beast lives!"
"It has awakened! After all these years, it is hungry—it's coming to feast on us all!"
"Run! To the boats!"
Cries of despair rang out across the piers. Some fled to their cellars, hoping the dragon's gaze would pass them over. Others surged toward the docks, desperate to put water between themselves and the mountain. Some fell to their knees, weeping and praying to the higher powers for a mercy they did not expect to receive.
At the Master's mansion, the bloated, greedy Master of Lake-town was frantically overseeing the loading of his embezzled gold onto a private skiff. His sycophant, Alfrid, was even more frantic, his eyes darting toward the horizon.
On the other side of town, Bard the Bowman was racing toward his home, his heart hammering against his ribs in fear for his children.
Then, a piercing shriek cut through the panic.
"It's here! Smaug is upon us!"
Almost as one, the people of Esgaroth looked up. High above, a golden-red shape eclipsed the sun.
Keith, blessed with the heightened senses of a dragon, heard the cacophony below. This is going poorly, he thought. He had come to recruit, but if the first meeting was a bloodbath of panic, building a kingdom would be an uphill battle.
He reached into the system's storage, clenching two massive piles of gold coins in his talons.
"Men of Lake-town!" Keith bellowed, his voice carrying like a crack of thunder. "Cease your flight! I have not come to feast this day!"
The reaction was not what he hoped for.
"The beast has learned to lie!"
"It wants us to stop so it can burn us all in one breath!"
Stereotypes, Keith realized, were hard to break. Instead of stopping, the crowd ran even faster, driven by a desperate, primal adrenaline. Keith sighed, a puff of smoke escaping his nostrils. He wanted to explain further, but he realized that over-explaining would diminish his terrifying majesty.
Let them run. They couldn't get far on a lake.
"Where is your Master?" Keith's voice boomed again as he circled over a small clearing on the eastern shore. "Come to the eastern bank immediately. I have a tithe to offer and a bargain to strike!"
In his mansion, the Master trembled so violently he nearly lost his footing. "Me? Why me?"
Alfrid, ever the observant parasite, noticed something the Master had missed. "My Lord... look! In its claws! It's glittering... it's gold! The dragon carries a mountain of gold!"
The Master's trembling stopped instantly. His eyes narrowed, replaced by a sharp, oily glint of avarice. "Gold? So much gold... for me?"
"The beast mentioned a bargain, Sire," Alfrid whispered.
Greed proved stronger than the fear of death. The Master straightened his robes and swallowed his terror. "Gather the guards. We shall go and meet this creature."
A few minutes later, Bard the Bowman stood atop a nearby roof, his face a mask of grim determination. He watched the dragon descend, his hand twitching toward the quiver that held the last Black Arrow. He wrestled with the choice—to kill the beast now, or to wait. Seeing the dragon land without unleashing fire, and noticing the gold, Bard leapt down and ran toward the eastern clearing. He had to know what the devilry was about.
Lake-town was a cramped labyrinth of wood. The eastern clearing was barely large enough for a dragon of Keith's stature. He adjusted his landing, keeping his massive tail submerged in the lake and resting only his forebody on the solid ground.
Once settled, he opened his talons.
CLATTER—!
Hundreds of pounds of gold coins spilled onto the earth, forming a shimmering mound that caught the afternoon sun in a dazzling display of wealth.
The surrounding residents, peering through cracked shutters and from behind crates, felt their hearts skip a beat. The terror was momentarily eclipsed by the most potent force in the world of Men: pure, unadulterated greed.
Keith ignored the shadows where the humans hid, closing his eyes and waiting with the patience of stone.
Bard arrived shortly after, slipping into the shadows to observe. He stared at the mountain of gold, his brow furrowed in confusion. What game is this dragon playing?