"Wasn’t your quest to end the dragon’s rampage," inquired the Duke.

"It was, and I did; there has not been a single trampled hut nor stolen cattle in years," responded the Paladin.

"But the dragon is still alive."


"Why is this?"

"Because,” the paladin ran a scarred hand over her wrinkled brow, and through her gray hair, ”After a long talk, she agreed to be more mindful of her surroundings and other people's property."


"This does not explain why the beast's head is not adorning my mantelpiece."

"Because after longer talks, we became friends,“ the paladin explained, exerting much practiced patience.

"Traditionally, one slays a dragon to end its rampage."

"Traditionally, yes. But that approach proved unnecessary."

"Aren't you supposed to uphold traditions?"

"After even more talks and many walks by the shores, we proposed to each other. Traditionally, Paladins do not slay their future spouses, m'lord."

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