Across an ocean, far to the north

Luetviel pulled his coat tighter around himself, trying futilely to ward off the biting gale. He hated this place and this supposedly honorable assignment. He hated trudging through these frozen wastes every damned day, looking for something he would never find. And even if he did find it, what was he going to do? He was one elf, armed with a bow that was worse than useless in this wind and a sword that, to a dragon, would barely serve as a toothpick. “Observe and report” the captain always said. How the fuck was he supposed to observe anything in half a blizzard?

He trudged on for another good 15 minutes, cursing his luck and his old commander. Why did he have to throw his luck in with would be usurpers and drag all his men into the shit with him? Luetviel tried to comfort himself with the thought that the old fart had been beheaded for that crime, but it didn’t improve his own situation any. The royals had faced a dilemma about what to do with the loyal soldiers who had just followed orders, in a lot of cases not even realizing they were taking part in a coup attempt. The solution? Send them on horrible assignments in the far corners of the world, assignments that supposedly were a great honor. Fuck the old fart, fuck the royal family, and fuck this frozen hellscape. And for good measure, fuck those attention seeking assholes who’d claimed to hear dragon roars. And that fool, Torvanas, who claimed to have seen one. A veteran sergeant like him really should know better. It was their fault everyone was pulling double patrols, and their fault that Luetviel was out here right now freezing his ear tips off.

As he reached a certain jagged rocky outcropping, he consoled himself with the fact that he was halfway through this pointless patrol. He decided to briefly shelter behind it and allow his feet a few minutes of rest, not like anyone would know. He unslung his bow, took off his pack, and tossed them both on the ground before sitting down. The shelter of the rock created a tiny snow-free patch that he could rest his behind on somewhat comfortably.

Luetviel leaned back against the rock and sighed. This anger and bitterness would eat him from the inside if he kept going like this, but he knew not how to stop. He was a poor excuse for an elf and he knew it. Perhaps he should just stay here, let the cold do its work, and perish in peace rather than take another step in this cursed land. He felt he would welcome **** at this point.

Just as he was pushing off the ground to get back up, the ground shook. Really shook, to the point where he lost both his footing and his grip on the ground with his hands. He tumbled into the snow headfirst. Perfect, just what he had needed. What the fuck had shook the ground like that? Earthquakes weren’t unheard of up here, but they didn’t usually behave like that. He got up and brushed the snow out of his eyes, the only part of his face that wasn’t covered by a wrap of cloth. He had trouble seeing still and was blinking furiously to try and restore his vision. Something else felt off too, like something didn’t add up. But what? The wind. He could still hear it, but he didn’t feel it. He’d tumbled out of the meager shelter offered by the rock, so how come he didn’t feel the wind? He kept blinking, but even when his eyes were open, he only saw black. Luetviel raised his hand in front of his face and was shocked to see the brown gloves he was wearing contrasting with the black that otherwise dominated his field of view. What the hells? So, he could see, but a black wall that shielded him from the wind had sprung up out of nowhere?

He stood there for a few seconds, convinced he must have hit his head in the fall. He turned, intending to see if there was a wall behind him too, but stopped mid turn. The wall was a wing. A fucking wing. Attached to a body he was currently looking at. Also attached to that body was a massive fucking head, which in turn was looking at him. The dragon was huge, many times larger than the largest gryphon sire Luetviel had ever beheld. As he opened his mouth to scream, so too did the dragon open its mouth, and Luetviel did not welcome **** after all.