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Chapter Fifty Eight

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Mirelle paced in the expansive tavern meeting room that served as temporary council meeting hall. The pub's generous owner donated the space for as long as they needed it. It would be a while yet before the new Hall was built. A large rectangular table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by four chairs. Hers was at the head of the table. During meetings, Jekk and Nell sat on one side of the table, with Tavaat and Kurekka on the other. Today, only Mirelle and Kurekka were present.

To Mirelle's immense satisfaction, everyone had accepted her offers. Even better was the fact that she managed to wring order out of getting them all together. There were plenty of arguments, but plenty of agreements, too. Thus far they focused on getting the town repaired, taking care of the families of injured and bereaved, and on negotiating a lasting peace with the va'chaak.

Though Enora and Rekrek were not official council members, they had proved invaluable. Mirelle was happy with their progress so far, despite its difficulty. Not all her council wanted to give up the hill, and Rekrek wanted more of it than even Mirelle wished to give. He also wanted his people to save a say in matters like security and taxation, and to ensure that they would be treated only as equals, their customs and ways respected. It was a very, very long road ahead, but at least they had taken the first step.

Mirelle drummed her fingers on a wooden beam in the wall beyond the head of the table. She traced the woodgrain, ran her finger around a knot. Today she focused not on negotiations and rebuilding, but on something far more personal. She grit her teeth, spun on her heel, and stomped across the room again.

“You know, you aren't supposed to be out of that sling." Kurekka warbled at her from the across the table.

“Shush, Feathers." Mirelle worked her wrist a little, grimacing. She didn't yet have full range of motion back, and if truth be told, the gryphon was right. While the bulky splint was gone, she was meant to wear a softer sling in its place. “You're not supposed to be flying, but that hasn't stopped you."

Kurekka lifted a red-brown wing to gaze at the fat, pink scars along his side. Just like hers, his stitches were out, but the healers forbade him from flying because of the way the wing motions pulled at his wounds. “Haven't opened up, so I must be fine."

Mirelle paced across the room once more, grasping her wrists behind her back. The movement left her aching, but as far as she was concerned, she was healed. The rest of the discomfort would fade in time. That damn sling drove her crazy, anyway. At the end of the table, she leaned over the back of her chair, scrunching her face in thought.

A mug of ale sat on the table in front of her chair. She'd almost forgotten about it. Mirelle reached for it with her right hand. Her mending bones protested, but as usual she ignored their complaints. She grimaced, struggling to close her fingers around the bone-carved handle. With great effort, she managed to grip it tight enough to lift it. Her wrist ached. The mug shook as she lifted it, and spilled golden liquid.

With her other hand, she steadied the vessel and took a few long gulps. For what was coming, she damn sure needed the ale. She paused for breath, then took another long drink. Her hand shook harder as she set the cup down, but with less ale in it at least it didn't spill. She fetched a cloth napkin to dry her hand with, ignoring the way the gryphon watched at her.

“I've got to strengthen it somehow." She stared at her hand, willing it to stop shaking.

Kurekka waved his paw. “Fine work, Mirelle. You'll be back to swinging that maul again in no time."

Mirelle chuckled, glancing at the wall behind her. Someone found her maul, after the battle, and it now hung on a display rack behind her chair. “Let's hope I don't have to." 

“That's what we're all hoping for." Kurekka gave a little sigh, smiling at her. He ducked his head, flattening his feathers back. “Are you sure you're ready for this? You don't have to. Plenty of others are already-"

“I know." Mirelle rubbed her arm. “I want to do this. But I…I couldn't bring myself to hear the others talk about him."

“I know the feeling." The gryphon chuckled, nodding. “Which is why I'm cowering and you're pacing."

Mirelle let out a long breath, walking around the table towards the gryphons. “I'll probably end up in tears, anyway, but…I should like to keep my resolve at least until it's my turn. If I was out there now, listening, I doubt I'd ever find the strength to reach the podium."

Kurekka held his paw out as she approached. “Oh, Mirelle. We both know you can find the strength to do anything, any time you need it."

Heartened by his words, Mirelle took his paw in her hands. She traced a few circles over his paw pads, making his paw twitch. “Thank you, Kurekka."

“You're welcome. You need not be nervous. You'll do fine."

“I should have written more of my speech down."

“You're always better when you speak from the heart, anyway." The gryphon ruffled up his feathers. “It's me, I'm worried about. Why did I agree to follow your speech and Enora's song? I just know I'm going to start babbling, get nervous, and vomit all over poor Chir'raal."

Laughing, Mirelle smoothed down the feathers of his face. “Please don't. For all our sakes."

“I shall do my best. Besides, I'd never hear the end of jokes about birds feeding their young." He squawked and cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. “Which, by the way, is not how gryphons do that."

“Wasn't going to say a thing." Mirelle took a step back, waving her hand at him. “Now stand up, let me have a look at you."

Kurekka eased to all fours, turning to the side to show himself off. Aside from the bald patches where his fur and feathers were just starting to grow back, he looked as beautiful and regal as she'd ever seen him. Now that Kurekka and Chir'raal were citizens, she set up an area for them to bathe with hot water and an assortment of soaps and fragrances to rub into their fur and feathers. Over their protests she also recruited Enora to brush and groom them beyond what their own preening could ever accomplish. As a result, Kurekka's red-brown hues looked more vibrant than ever. The beige and tan fur of his limbs and spotted belly was silken-soft. His scarlet highlights stood out in brilliant crimson shades. Every feather was in perfect alignment. The medal of bravery she'd bestowed upon him hung as a medallion around his neck.

“You look magnificent." Mirelle picked up the long black sash lying on the table in front of him. “May I?"

“Please."

Kurekka bowed his head, and Mirelle gently tied the soft cloth around the gryphon's neck. Since clothing hardly befit a gryphon, he wore a sash of office, instead. It was black, with dark blue at one end and bright red at the other, for the town's colors. Their shield and fist emblem marked it in gold. One day Mirelle would have that emblem replaced, but it would suffice for now. Once the soft band was tied, the emblem was visible near his chest, and the red and blue ends hung down at his sides.

“Perfect." Mirelle patted his shoulder. “And don't you look handsome in it."

The gryphon warbled, lifting his head again. “Do I?"

“Oh, very." Mirelle laughed, looking him over. “Chir'raal won't be able to resist you, I'm sure. Just…" She waved at the sash. “Take that off, first."

“But what if he wants me to keep it on?" Kurekka splayed his ears, giving her an open beaked smirk.

“Then you'll be buying a new one out of your own…" She blinked. “Well, gryphons haven't got pockets, so I suppose out of your own coin purse. Which…we should get you."

“Is that a euphemism?" Kurekka shook his hind end, laughing. “Cause I've already got a coin purse."

Mirelle laughed with him, glad to break the tension and nervousness. “If you want to pay with those, I should hope you'd get more than a sash in return for them."

“So you're admitting they're valuable?"

“I'm sure there's a market for them somewhere." Mirelle shrugged.

Kurekka narrowed his eyes, hissing. “I'm not sure I like the direction this conversation is going."

“Well, you started it." Mirelle glanced at the door, expecting someone to come for her any moment. Her belly fluttered, a thousand gryphon wings beating inside her all at once. “How…do I look? I mean…do I look as nervous as I feel?"

Kurekka cocked his head, gazing at her. For this occasion, she'd dressed in the town's colors. She wore a pleated, dark blue blouse with black edging at the ends of the sleeves, and the town's insignia on each shoulder. She paired it with a deep red skirt, nearly maroon. Gold edged the skirt's hem. Both blouse and skirt had a formal look befitting a somber occasion. She'd gathered up her black hair and tied it behind her head with a few colorful ribbons.     

“You look beautiful, Mirelle." He brushed a paw across the sleeve of her blouse. “I like this color. Certainly better than that gods-awful robe you showed me at your house. No wonder you did away with those things."

Mirelle smiled, lifting her hand to stroke the fur of his foreleg. “Thank you. That wasn't why I got rid of them, though. Just…too much bad blood wrapped up in those things."

“You should all just wear sashes, like mine." Kurekka chirruped, ruffling his wings.

“I think the rest of us need to wear a bit more than a sash." Giggling, Mirelle went back to her ale. She took another long drink.

“Oh, surely you can't all be that hideous without your clothing."

Mirelle finished off the ale, and thumped the mug down. “There's not enough drink in the entire town to get me to come to a council meeting naked."

“I dunno…" Kurekka cocked his head, a mischievous gleam in his hazel-green eyes. “You were awfully close to that drunk at Enora's."

She straightened up, eyes wide. “Please tell me that's not the story you're about to tell everyone."

“It wasn't going to be, but it is now." The gryphon squawked laughter.

“Gods." Mirelle shook her head, trying not to laugh. “I'll be impeached by the end of the day."

“What you need to do," the gryphon said, stretching a wing across Mirelle's back. “Is enact some sweeping laws that make you unassailable. Then you can do whatever you want!"

“Oh yes, that's the way to win the people's hearts." Mirelle stroked a few of his silken wing feathers. “If I was going to do that, I wouldn't have reinstated a new council."

“Well don't blame me when you're kicked out of office for your drunken debauchery." The gryphon pulled his wing back. “I'll just have to take your place at the top."

 Before Mirelle could reply, there was a knock on the door. A moment later it opened, and Elrind stepped inside. Out of his armor for the occasion, he cut a sharp figure in dark clothing. He clapped a fist to his chest, gave a stiff bow, and straightened up.

“Lady Mirelle." He swept his hand at the doorway. “They're ready for you, ma'am."

“Thank you, Knight Commander." She took a deep breath, glancing at Kurekka. “Shall we?"

“Before we lose our nerve."

Together, Kurekka and Mirelle walked to the doorway. Mirelle put an arm against Kurekka's back, as much habit now as anything. The soft warmth of his feathered body brought her comfort and serenity that helped to quell her lingering nervousness.

At the doorway, Mirelle slipped away from the gryphon to walk through first. She glanced at the knight commander standing nearby. “How's the new armor coming?"

“Quite well, ma'am. Should be ready in another month, or so."

“Glad to hear it." Mirelle smiled at him. She'd finally convinced him to get something made that would actually fit him. His mother's old gear would be put into memorial display. “Thinking about changing your title."

“Promotion or demotion, ma'aam?" The knight shuffled, hands behind his back.

“Promotion, I should think." Preferably a well-respected desk job. “But that's not what I meant. Knight, that's a rather…archaic term, isn't it? Seems something we could retire."

Elrind shrugged. “If you wish, Ma'am. Rather fond of it myself. Gets the job done, evokes a certain feeling. Shows a man you won't take any hogsdollop."

Mirelle smirked. “So it does. I'll give it some thought. Perhaps you can keep the title."

Kurekka pushed his way through the door behind her. After the room was donated to the council for as long as they needed it, Mirelle paid to have the tavern's doors enlarged to fit the gryphon. Once their new Hall of Law was constructed, Mirelle planned to ensure it was large enough to fit and all species.

The three of them passed through the tavern's main dining space. All the tables and chairs were stacked along the walls, leaving plenty of room. Through the open windows, she heard Jekk's voice, addressing the crowd she knew was gathered in the town's square, just outside the tavern. A few of her bodyguards stood at the pub's entry. She nodded, and one of them opened the front doors and flashed Jekk a hand signal.

“My fine people!" Jekk's voice echoed back to her, loud and strong. The old man could still belt it out when he needed to. “May I ever so proudly present to you, Councilman Kurekka, and our Head Councilwoman, Lady Mirelle!"

The roar that erupted outside the tavern made it sounded like Revaramek himself was out there, cheering her on. Mirelle walked into the sunlight with Kurekka at her side. She strode through a corridor of soldiers, all with swords raised. Beyond them, people cheered, waving banners, clapping their hands. Others whistled. Some of them called her name. Others called Kurekka's name. She glanced at him, a hot blush tinting her cheeks. Mirelle still wasn't used to people thinking of her as some kind of hero. Kurekka, on the other hand, soaked it all. He looked around at everyone with his crown feathers up, then flared a wing to wave and display himself.

Mirelle patted his shoulder, and gestured to the wooden stairs that led to the platform constructed at one end of the town square. Kurekka ascended them first, and Mirelle followed him up. Atop the platform was a podium facing the majority of the crowd. Jekk occupied the podium, but as Mirelle neared it, he stepped down. His speech was finished, and that meant it was her turn. Jekk gave her a bow, and then swept his arm around, presenting her.

All around, the roar grew. Mirelle shivered, goosebumps broke out across her. She doubted she'd ever get used to being cheered for. In her mind, the soldiers, the fallen, and the bereaved families deserved the cheers far more than she did. But Mirelle understood the value of a public symbol, someone to look up to, to rally behind.

As she waited for the roaring crowd to quiet, she gazed around the rest of the stage. Almost everyone involved in the battle was there. At one side of the stage, Jekk took his seat near the podium, alongside Nell. Both were dressed in their new formal clothes of office. Tavaat sat next to Nell, in dark gray clothing, custom tailored. The medal Mirelle awarded him was pinned to his tunic of office. Kurekka settled near Tavaat, and Chir'raal sat behind them, with a medal around his neck just like his mate's.

On the other side of the stage were important officials and her new dignitaries. Sarel and Kendrick were there, and Elrind took a seat with them. Nearby, Beka wore a beautiful green dress, and Enora a golden one. The men and women who'd earned their own valorous medals during the battle had seats of honor there, as well. She had given Rekrek and a few of his comrades balcony seats overlooking the square, from the second story of another nearby tavern.

The plaza itself was completely packed. People filled the square, and all the streets and alleys connected to it. Others sat on roof tops, or in the boughs of immense trees shading the cobblestone. Vendors with wheeled carts sold food and drink. Some buildings still showed damage, or had tarps covering holes. Others were already repaired. At the far side of the square, a large area was completely sectioned off and obscured by walls of cloth and tarp, where workers had toiled day and night on a special project.

Mirelle took the podium, waving for the crowd to quiet down. As their voices drifted away, she took a final look back at all her friends, and allies. Almost everyone was there. There was only one person missing.

“Revaramek the Resplendent!" Mirelle called out in a booming voice that pushed the rest of the crowd into silence. “That was his name. And we are here today to celebrate his life. The life of our hero."

She promised him that everyone would know his name, that everyone would know who the hero was. Now they would.

“In the last months, we have all known hardship, cruelty, and pain like never before. We faced an impossible threat, of the likes imagined only in fairy tales and stories. We fought, bled, and yes, died, for our homes, and for our families. In the time since our victory, I have held more funerals and memorials than I thought I'd see in all my life. We have all witnessed more death and sorrow than any person should ever bear, and yet only in our hardest times can we see a person's truth!"

She held her hand out to the gryphons who had proved themselves worthy of her trust, and friendship. A cheer rang out for them. “Only in our only darkest moments are our hearts truly bared. Only through sorrow, can we recognize joy!" She gestured at Jekk, who had sacrificed so much for the city, and never told a soul. “Only through loss, do we truly understand the gift of life. And sometimes, when we have lost someone, we come to realize we had taken them for granted." 

Mirelle swallowed hard, fighting to keep her voice even. “Well, my beloved people, we have taken for granted. In days past, I've spoken at length, on all the wonderful souls snatched away from us, far too early. I've talked to you of the new friendships, forged in blood." She waved again at the gryphons. “And of the importance of building something better in the wake of so much bloodshed." She turned and gestured to Rekrek, watching from the balcony. “A lasting peace, and a deeper acceptance for all." Mirelle returned her attention to the crowd. “And now it is time to you tell you all who we took for granted. It is time to talk about a dragon who called himself Revaramek the Resplendent. And he was. He was Gods-damned resplendent."

“Hear, hear!" Elrind shot to his feet, thrusting a fist in the air. “Three cheers for Revaramek the Gods-damned Resplendent!" Every soldier in attendance called the dragon's name three times. Mirelle glanced back at Elrind, smiling. She wasn't sure she'd ever heard him curse on purpose before. He shrugged, smiled, and sat back down.

“You all knew of him! You likely knew him as The Dragon of the Marsh. A brutish creature oath-bound to peace, never to be feared. More than a few of you knew him as an arrogant beast, or a clumsy oaf." She glanced back at Jekk, smirking. “An egotistical asshole and a whirlwind of destruction."

Jekk gave her a knowing smile, nodding.

“And a lewd, sexist lizard!" A woman in the crowd called out, drawing some raucous laughter.

Mirelle's laughter joined them. “That as well! Why, the day I met him, he slapped me on the ass!" She shook her head, smiling to herself. “And The Dragon of the Marsh was all these things. And that…that was why we all took him for granted. For most of us, he'd always been there. Out the marsh, waiting to be called upon. We saw him once in a while, usually doing  something infuriating. Burning an outhouse, stealing sheep, stopping a book vendor's wagon to demand they offer him tribute in books. Calling himself our overlord. We all knew he was there, and we all took him for granted. Like the spring downpours that sustain our marsh. We know they'll happen every year, we know they'll cause us problems, and we just wait for them to pass. But we take those rains for granted, because without them, our beloved marsh would run dry. And Revaramek…Revaramek is like the spring rain. It drives you mad when it's there, but when the long, hot summer comes and the marsh grows warm and the air stagnant, you wish to the gods for a raindrop to cool you down." Mirelle took a deep breath. “Well, for the short time I knew Revaramek, he drove me mad. And now that he's gone…I wish to the gods he was still with me."

Mirelle put a hand over her mouth, her throat constricting. Gods, how she suddenly missed that big scaly bastard. She would have given anything to have him sitting next to her right now, making some half-witted insulting remark in an attempt to draw her into another bantering argument. She gestured to the side of the stage, and a serving boy brought her a pitcher of water and a glass. She poured herself some water, and took a long drink to ease the growing lump in her throat.

“I knew Revaramek…" She took a shuddering breath, and set her glass down on the podium. “Only briefly. Too briefly. But I have come to consider it a great honor to have been called his friend. To have his friendship." She wiped an eye, trying to force strength back into her voice. “I would…like to tell you a little bit about him. He deserves to be known and remembered as the hero who saved us all. Yes, we took the dragon of the marsh for granted, but if not for his sacrifice, none of us would be here today."

Mirelle leaned forward, bracing her hands upon the stand. “Like all of our ancestors, Revaramek was not born in this marsh. He was not from this place, this…world." A few murmurs rolled through the crowd. After Asterbury, there was no point in hiding the truth now. She'd tried to introduce the truth gradually, so the townsfolk could let it all soak in and come to terms with it. “Revaramek was born in a very, very different world. A horrible swamp filled with nothing but poison, and death. A dark place that not even dragons could survive. His kind, the dragons like him, they were dying out. He was almost alone, just tiny hatchling Revaramek, and his wonderfully determined mother."

With a sniff, Mirelle glanced back at Enora. The older woman smiled and bowed her head. Much of what Mirelle now know about the dragon's history came from Enora, and she was ever so thankful to her for sharing. “You see, in some ways, dragons are just like us." She lifted a hand and swept it over the crowd. “They have families they love with all their giant hearts. They love their mothers, their fathers…and those parents would do anything…anything for their children."

Sniffling again, Mirelle pointed out a few gathered families. “The dragons who once fought against our ancestors did so not out of malice, but to protect their children. I cannot hold such a thing against them. And the dragon who attacked our city, she did so…not out of evil, but because in years past, our city slew her father. She was but young at the time, when she saw him shot from the sky, with a great bolt pierced through him. That was her lasting memory of this place. Because of us, she had to watch her father die. And then her mother, too. Like so many others, she was left with nothing but a heart filled with ashes, and vengeance."

Mirelle took another long drink of water before continuing. “But I am not standing here today to excuse her actions, nor ours. Revenge is never the answer. It brings nothing but more pain, more bloodshed, more tragedy. It only continues a cycle of heartbreak. The point is, that dragons love their families just as we do. Revaramek's mother loved her little child more than life itself."

She gazed across the crowd. She'd never seen the plaza so packed. People stood shoulder to shoulder across it, filling streets and alleyways beyond. Others sat atop roofs, or in the boughs of great trees shading the square. She lifted her voice, wanting to reach them all.

“Revaramek's mother wore herself down to the bone to keep her son alive in that terrible, terrible place. She knew it had taken so many of them, it had taken his father from her, it had taken her own parents, but she refused to let it take her son. So she worked herself half to death, hunting food for him in the poisoned waters, and the toxic clouds. She searched out any source of clean water, and though he didn't know it at the time, she was starving to make sure he would eat. A time came when she discovered something…something incredible. A gateway to another world. And though she knew the journey would tear out much of what remained of her strength, she did not hesitate to undertake it. She took Revaramek out of that poisoned place, knowing full well she was likely giving her own life to save his. Revaramek's mother sacrificed her life to save her son, and brought him here, to our marsh."

The crowd didn't seem to know what to make of that. Some of them cheered, others murmured, uncertain and sad. A few families hugged each other. Others just nudged boots against cobblestone. Just as Mirelle was about to continue, Elrind stood back up on his feet, calling out again.

“Three cheers for Revaramek's mother!" The soldiers once again followed his example, cheering for her three times. Afterwards Elrind held his fist up in salute. “Long may she be remembered!"

Mirelle smiled, and lifted both her fist, and her voice. “Long may she be remembered!" She lowered her hand as Elrind sat back down. “The journey itself did not kill her, but it sapped what was left of her strength, enough to ensure she'd never recover. By then, there was already so much poison in her system that it was only a matter of time. She…she lived long to see him start to grow, to show him how to fly, teach him how to hunt…with every lesson, she surely used up a little more of herself. Never once did she hesitate, because she knew here, in this place, he could live the full life she never had. She…she gladly expended herself to teach him how to live, and she smiled all the while knowing he would thrive here."

Taking a moment to collect herself, Mirelle turned away from the crowd. She ran a hand over her face, then gestured to Enora and Jekk on other sides of the stage. “I know this, because a few here among us were alive back then. Ambassador Enora here is…even older than Jekk. Most of you know her history now, and why she yet looks so young compared to our distinguished councilman."

Mirelle turned back to the gathered crowd. “Enora had the rare privilege of knowing Revaramek's mother. You see, when they came here, Revaramek could not speak our language. Could barely speak his own, at that age. His mother spoke a handful of words in an ancient tongue, used by a people who once enslaved her kind. A language that found its way here, when Jekk's predecessors first established this place. She knew her hatchling would have to learn the local tongue to survive. So she set out to teach him the only way she knew. With stories.

“You see, for all his life, there was nothing Revaramek loved more than a good, exciting tale. It was a love that began in his earliest days, in the poisoned swamp. When the world seemed dark, and terrifying, his mother curled around him and told him stories to ease his mind. Some of them she made up herself, others she'd been told by her parents, when she herself was young. A few survived in remnants of tomes looted, no doubt, from the ruins of their fallen slavers. So when she brought him here, she sought out someone to tell her son stories. To teach him their language…to keep him company as her health failed. To ease the loneliness and fear she knew would soon fill him, when she was gone."

Pausing, Mirelle drank some water, wiped her eyes, and found herself pleasantly surprised by the crowd's silence. She wasn't sure they'd be interested in hearing so much about the dragon of the marsh, but they seemed enraptured. It warmed her heart, gave her the strength to go on.

“In the stories she'd heard in her own youth, dragons often sought out maidens." Scattered laughter rolled through the crowd, and Mirelle smiled. “She didn't know that many of those stories were actually tales from other worlds. She didn't know what they meant, or where they came from. But she…she followed the stories. She found maidens and brought them to her home. Not for ransom, not for dinner…" She chuckled a little. “Or worse. But for stories. She carried them back to her son, with armfuls of books, and she had them read their stories to her child. To teach him to speak their language. …To keep him company."

When Mirelle scanned the crowd, everyone gazed up at her. She smiled. After the battles, stories spread of Revaramek's role, but until today, she did not feel as if she'd fulfilled her promise to him. Mirelle gestured with her hand. “So this little dragon grew. Raised on stories of his people's deeds in other worlds, and in our own. Tales of glorious conquest, and loving maidens, tales of…" She chuckled to herself, shaking her head. “Egotistical assholes with big hearts buried under all their scales. Though he would come to meet other dragons in time, he dared not leave his ailing mother's side for long. So these stories became all he knew of his own kind. Became what he believed a dragon should be. He molded himself into the very dragons he'd so often heard about it."

Mirelle took a shuddering breath, rubbing her forehead. She cleared her throat, struggling to get through the next part. “And on his mother's…in her last hours." She turned and gazed at Enora, the only person Revaramek had told about that final day. Enora gave her a nod, as if giving permission to continue. “She asked him to…always remember what…what was most important in those tales. That what made a hero was…in his heart. In his deeds. And Revaramek…" She sniffled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “He told her a story to ease her passing. And he made her a promise. Revaramek…promised his mother that…that he would be a hero. For her." She wiped her eyes, trying to clear her throat again. “He waited…his whole life…just to fulfill that promise to his mother."

She turned away from the crowd when she saw a few people wiping their eyes. Mothers hugged their children tight. Fathers hoisted them up and ruffled their hair. It made her wish her own parents were still with her, here to hold her and hug and tell her she'd done well. To hear that even a dragon's parents could be proud of their children, could want the best for them. She grit her teeth, looking around the plaza. In a space cordoned off nearby, a heavy shroud obscured something large. The sight of it made her smile again.

Turning back to the crowd, Mirelle tried to keep her voice from breaking. “With his mother gone…and his promise heavy in his heart…Revaramek grew, and took ever more comfort in the stories his so-called maidens told him. They were all he had, for a time. He came to make friends with other dragons, and gryphons as well. But one by one, the soldiers who protected our young city back slew or drove away all those like Revaramek. Till he was the only one left, and they came for him. He was…still young, at the time. Old enough to be a threat, but not so young as to know how to fight. So they caught him alive, beat him. Left him as…little more than a terrified whelp pleading for his life."

She waved her hand at Enora. “Enora, one of his best friends, pleaded for that life with him. Came to the village council on his behalf, asked them to spare him. Of course, they thought he was…some monster, capturing girls for his own nefarious desires. Thought Enora some harlot to be scorned because she had grown to care so deeply for such a creature. Worse, they thought her a voice of dangerous dissent. Jekk himself thought such things…" She twisted round to give Jekk a hard look. “But Jekk also knew pain, and sacrifice the likes of which most of us would never know. He had seen enough bloodshed, and so he spared the young dragon's life. He made this whelp sign a truce in blood that bound him to this city's defense for all of his days. A truce that hung in our council hall ever since…" She thrust her finger up to the hill, where the ruins were long since cleared away, and fresh grass grew. “Until a dragon came to avenge her father."

When Jekk bowed his head, Mirelle smiled at him, then turned back to the crowd. “Truth is, Jekk thought when he banished Enora, Revaramek would go with her. They cared very much for each other. Could have lived a happy life together. Jekk didn't want a slave, he just…wanted to spare a life, in a way that wouldn't bring any new conflict to his people, in a time of great uncertainty. But what Jekk didn't know, what none of us knew, is what that truce meant to Revaramek."

Mirelle poured herself the last of the water in the pitcher, then handed it to a servant to refill it. “The day he was bound to the truce was the most terrifying moment in the young dragon's life. He signed it, he agreed to it, because he wanted to live. He lay in a curled ball, beaten, bloodied, sobbing, and afraid. But when they told him what the truce meant, when he realized he would grow to be the protector of these lands…all his fear ebbed away. Do you know why?" Mirelle looked across the crowd, waving her hand. “His promise. In his head…" She tapped her chest. “In his heart. He saw it as his chance to fulfil his promise. In Revaramek's story, we were asking him to be our hero."

The servant returned with the water, and Mirelle thanked him as she took the pitcher back. She set it on the stand. “So Revaramek prepared himself to be just that. Our hero. He grew out there, in the marsh, waiting. While we all took him for granted. Just like the rains. The seasons changed, and the dragon grew. Because of the truce, he was cut off from what few friends he once had. Enora was banished, the surviving dragons fled, the maidens no longer visited to tell him stories. So he waited and waited to be our hero. Waited for a call that never came. A great…loneliness…grew within him. No one to tell him stories. No one to romp through the marsh or fly with him.

“And so he took to telling himself stories, instead." She waved a hand around her head with a bittersweet chuckle. “He spun himself a grand tale where he was everyone's overlord. A great conqueror, like the strongest dragons in the old tales. And just like the dragons in his favorite stories, he was beloved by all his subjects. A great, benevolent overlord." A wistful smile spread over her face as she leaned across the podium. “You see, benevolent means kindly and protective. A hero."

“By the time I met Revaramek the Resplendent, he'd spent so many years telling himself that story, that more often than not he believed it." She pointed out a few people in the crowd she saw nodding or giving a knowing laugh. “Some of you heard him introduce himself as such here in town. Others may have met him on the road, when he stopped travelers to ask for a tribute, or hunters to help himself to their catch. He knew, deep in his heart, that he was no overlord. But if you had a choice between spending your days believing you were a beloved ruler, or a slave, ignored and half-forgotten, which would you choose? I know which I would pick."

Mirelle sighed, and took another drink. She set her glass back down. “Had he wished it, he could flown far from here, and never returned. Spent his days among those who cared for him. But he chose to stay, because he had given his word." She thumped a finger against the podium, leaning forward again. “How rare a thing is that? How precious? To give someone your word, and stand by that promise no matter how bitter the words become? He gave his word, and so he stayed, waiting…waiting. Waiting to be our hero."

She lifted her voice, calling out across the plaza, across the town, wanting everyone to hear it. “That is who we took for granted! For over fifty years, this dragon waited, alone, in our marsh! Simply because he gave his word to protect us. Because he believed deep in his heart, in something so simple. He believed in heroes." Mirelle took a deep, shuddering breath, her voice rising still. “And you had better thank the gods each and every day you yet draw breath that he did."

After letting that settle in, Mirelle twisted around to wave at the council seats. “I had been part of this council for scarcely a week when I decided to disobey them. I say this not because I wish to brag about my foresight, or belittle their decisions. They made the choice they felt was right, but no one could know what was coming. Not even Jekk. I simply thought I saw an easy solution to a problem I feared would grow worse if it went unchecked."

She turned back to the crowd, laughing. “I'm a very stubborn woman, I am well aware." Laughter ran through her audience, and those on the stage. “Too stubborn, at times. We had a bandit problem, we believed. Little villages were burned, far flung guard posts destroyed, and it was clear these…bandits were moving in our direction. I thought we should send our dragon after them, and I was voted down. Because unlike me, some of them had actually met this dragon, and believed he was far more trouble than he was worth. Jekk called him a whirlwind."

“Don't forget asshole!" Jekk yelled behind her. Mirelle glanced back at him. The old man had a melancholy smile on his face, and a wet gleam in his eyes.

“No, of course not." Mirelle shook her head, laughing. “They all knew he'd be trouble, and as usual, I didn't listen. So I marched out to the swamp, and I recruited the dragon to our cause. And do you know what my first thought was, upon getting to know Revaramek?" She smirked at Jekk again. “What an asshole!" She ticked off a few fingers, shaking her head. “He proclaimed himself my overlord, he made sexist remarks about me, he called me names, he slapped me on the ass, claimed I was extorting him…and all that before he hauled me into the air, screaming my head off." She set her hands down, sighing. “Little did I know just how happy he was to be needed. To have someone to argue with, to tease and be teased by. To play pranks upon…to talk to." She glanced at Tavaat, and Beka. “To have…to have friends again."

Mirelle swallowed, staring at the podium for a few moments. “The first time I saw something…different, in him. The first time I realized there was more to him than ego was the night I brought him into town." She lifted her gaze, smiling again. “A night in which he racked up a considerable bill in my name. When I returned home from being rightfully berated by the rest of the council, I found him in my back garden, with my friends, Tavaat and Beka. And he was…" She waved her hand, shaking her head, incredulous. “Laughing, and happy, and telling them a story. I wish…" She sniffed, and swallowed hard. “I wish now I'd known him long enough for him to tell me a story."

Black curls fell across her face when she hung her head. She brushed them back as she straightened up. “It seems strange to think now, but far more time has elapsed since our town's battles ended than days I truly knew him for. By the end of the second day I knew Revaramek the Resplendent, we had already saved each other's lives." She tapped the top of her head. “He lost a horn in battle, trying to protect one of our villages from another dragon. That same dragon…"

Her stomach lurched, a cold chill ran through her. For a moment, she could not feel the stage beneath her feet, only air. Mirelle willed away the fear, reminded herself she was safely on the ground. “Hurled me into the sky, and Revaramek almost killed himself to save me. He caught me, but…could not stop his fall in time. He struck the mud, took the impact for me. His heart stopped beating. So I…I jumped on his chest, again, and again, until at last he drew breath once more. That night, beaten and battered, we took shelter in a cave, and on the verge of tears, he asked me if I'd be his friend." She took a breath, her voice shaking. “Only then did I start to understand him. Looking back, I do not think I have ever been so honored by a friendship."

With a trembling hand, Mirelle picked up her cup. She took a drink, fighting against the stubborn lump wedged in her throat. She doubted she'd be rid before the day's end. “Over the days that followed, together we fought dragons and demi-gods, learned impossible truths, and came to realize just what we were truly up against. A fact you all surely saw first-hand, when a dragon wreathed in lightning appeared above the city, and hole in the sky itself erupted. What that was…none of us could stand against it. Without Revaramek, we'd all be…" She waved her cup, grimacing. “Subjugated, at best. We all made sacrifices…many of our friends and loved ones made the ultimate sacrifice. We have already honored those sacrifices, spoke of those heroes we lost, and those still with us. And we will continue to honor them, every year. But I should like to share with you now the other sacrifice, that made it all possible. Revaramek's sacrifice. For you see…"

Mirelle set her cup down, gripping the podium in both hands. She leaned forward, her voice hardened with resolve. “Long before I ever made it back to town, Revaramek developed a plan to stop this mad demi-god. Revaramek tried and failed to slay him several times already, and so he had a new idea. If he could not kill the monster, he would strand that monster where he could never hurt us again. Revaramek pledged his services to Asterbury, in return for our safety. To prove his worth, Revaramek helped to open the same gate that he and his mother once fled through." Mirelle's knuckles stood out against her skin, her hands shook against the wood. “The same gate that led only to the poisoned swamp where he was born. That swamp was…the thing that frightened him most, in all the world. The place his mother gave her life to save him from. And now…now he gave his own life to save us from something worse. The dragon we all took for granted dragged Asterbury out of our world, and stranded him forever in the poison swamp. And in so doing, he stranded himself in a place he would surely die.

“That is Revaramek the Resplendent!" Mirelle cast her arms out wide. “That is the dragon to whom we all owe our lives! Who willingly cast himself into a dead world so that the rest the rest of us may live! Who made…" Her voice trembled. She took a few breaths to steady it. “Who made his mother a promise, that he would be a hero! Who made his mother proud. So at last, I give you your hero!" She thrust her hand towards the tarps in the distance. “Revaramek the Resplendent!"

Workers all around yanked on ropes, pulling the coverings down to reveal a grand statue of a dragon. The dragon sat on his haunches, with his wings flared and his neck arched. An immense, joyful smile spread across the dragon's muzzle. In one forepaw, he held an open book. More books were piled all around him, an entire hoard of stories collected for all time. The hero of the city, carved in stone, with all his tales, where everyone would know him.

As the crowd erupted in a roar befitting a great dragon, Mirelle stepped away from the podium. She'd said all she had to say. She wiped her eyes, no longer trying to hold back tears. Beka reached her first. She hugged her tight, rubbing Mirelle's back. Mirelle leaned into her friend's warmth, resting her head upon her shoulder.

“You were wonderful, Mirelle. He'd be so proud!"

“Thank you!"

Other friends approached her next. From Tavaat, to Jekk and Kurekka, to Nell and Enora, everyone hugged her. She thanked them all for their support, and when the crowd's roar began to ease, Mirelle waved for Enora to take her place. It was her turn to address the people. She beckoned for Kurekka to join her. He would talk later, but for now, she needed him. When the gryphon moved up alongside her, Mirelle leaned against him, rubbing her wrist. After standing for so long, and gesturing about, she ached everywhere.

Kurekka gave her a long look, brushing her with a wing. “Told you that you weren't supposed to be out of your sling yet."

“Shut your beak, bird." Mirelle sniffed, managed a smile, and ruffled his feathers.

Kurekka warbled. “Where to, then?"

Mirelle pointed at the statue, and Kurekka guided her down the stairs. The crowd parted for her, offering her words of encouragement, or cheers for Revaramek. She thanked everyone.

Behind her, Enora fetched her lute, and made her way to the podium. She strummed a few soft, sorrowful chords as the crowd grew silent. “I should…I should like to play a song for you now, if you'll have it."

People cheered.

“Thank you, then." Enora strummed a few more chords, somber yet beautiful. “This is a song I wrote…a very long time ago. Lyrics were never my strong suit, but at the time, the words meant a lot to me. They meant even more to our benevolent overlord." Enora's voice trembled. “I wrote this song for him, and I…first sang it to him the night after his mother's passing, when I wanted nothing more than to ease his pain. I shall do my best to hold it together until the end."

Enora plucked notes on her lute. At first each note was singular, one sorrowful sound drifting into the next as if even the music was lonely. But when the melody repeated, she soon strummed it in rich chords rather than solitary notes. The song held a haunted beauty, as if it were unhappy about being joyful. At the end of each phrase, the last few chords and notes brought a lingering hope.

Soon, Enora gave voice to the song.

“Don't be afraid…

The Moon will rise…

The Dark will fade…

A light will shine…

The day will dawn…"

Long before Mirelle reached Revaramek's statue, she was in tears. An image flickered in her mind, of a half-grown dragon, curled and crying for his lost mother, facing the night alone for the very first time in all his life. And there was Enora, sitting against him, strumming her lute. Singing to him that one day, the darkness would fade. By the time she reached the statue, it was all she could do not to crumple to the ground and sob in front of everyone.

Mirelle dropped to her knees in front of the statue, and Kurekka opened his wings, using them to shield her from the world, and the eyes of the crowd. She took a few shuddering breaths, wiped as much of the bleariness from her eyes as she could, and put her hand upon the plaque with the statue's inscription.

The statue was her idea. She'd commissioned it only days after the battle, and poured in as much of her savings as it took to get it done in time. She hired the best artisans and stoneworkers, and seeing it now, she could not be more proud. Revaramek looked so joyful to be surrounded by so many stories. To be remembered as a hero. At the foot of the statue rested an open book, with an inscription carved across it. With trembling fingers, Mirelle traced the words, just as she'd asked for.

“Life is an exciting tale. Live it."

Revaramek the Resplendent.

Hero.

Who made his mother proud.