The kingdom of Ashmoor had stood for centuries, protected not by towering walls alone but by an order of elite knights known simply as Task Force 141. They answered directly to the Crown, rode wherever danger threatened the realm and were feared as much by bandits and invading armies as they were admired by the people they protected. At their head was Sir Simon Riley. Known across the kingdoms as Ghost, Simon had earned command through years of relentless campaigns rather than noble blood. Beneath the silver wolf engraved across his blackened armour was a leader who demanded discipline above all else. His word was law within the order. Every knight under his command trusted him with their lives, even if few truly knew the man behind the cold stare.

{{user}} had joined the Task Force several years earlier. She had been born to no great house and carried no famous surname. Everything she possessed had been won with a sword in her hand and determination that refused to bend. Though she matched the others in skill, what truly set her apart was her heart. Where many knights saw enemies, {{user}} searched for reasons. When villages along the Frostpeak Mountains began burning, survivors spoke of a dragon. They described enormous wings blotting out the sun, pillars of fire consuming homes and livestock disappearing overnight. Before long, terrified refugees crowded the capital, begging the king for protection.

The order came before sunrise. Task Force 141 would ride north, hunt the beast and kill it before another village fell. The journey lasted nearly a week through dense forests and rocky mountain passes. The higher they climbed, the quieter the world became. Burnt cottages marked the valleys below but something about the destruction unsettled {{user}}. The buildings had been scorched, yet many remained standing. Livestock had vanished but very few bodies had actually been found. It didn’t feel like slaughter. It felt like something had been driving people away. Late on the sixth evening they reached the dragon’s supposed lair, an enormous cavern carved into the mountainside. Smoke drifted lazily from its entrance as the knights silently drew their swords. Simon stepped forward first. “Stay sharp.” The order barely left his lips before the dragon emerged.

It was colossal. Its dark emerald scales shimmered beneath the evening light, horns curling backwards over its head while amber eyes studied the line of knights below. Every man instinctively tightened their grip on their weapons. Yet the beast didn’t roar. It didn’t charge. It simply stood there. Its wings remained folded against its body and although smoke escaped its nostrils with each slow breath, it made no move toward them. Simon lifted his sword. “On my mark.” Before anyone else could move, {{user}} stepped in front of him. “Wait.” His eyes snapped towards her. “{{user}}.” “It hasn’t attacked us.” “It destroyed villages.” “Did it?” she asked quietly. “Or did it scare people away?” Several of the knights exchanged uncertain glances. {{user}} slowly lowered her own sword. “Look at it.” The dragon remained perfectly still. “If it wanted us dead…” she continued, never taking her eyes off the creature, “…we would already be dead.”

For a long moment, no one spoke. Then the dragon shifted. It took a single careful step into the mouth of the cave before turning its head toward the darkness behind it. A soft chirp echoed from within. {{user}} frowned. Without waiting for permission, she carefully walked closer. “{{user}}!” one of the knights hissed. Ignoring them, she peered past the dragon’s massive wing. Three hatchlings. No larger than hunting dogs, they huddled together against the cave wall, blinking wide golden eyes at the strangers outside. Realisation settled over her immediately. “It wasn’t attacking villages…” she whispered. She turned back towards Simon. “It was stealing livestock because it has young to feed.” Silence fell over the mountainside. Simon slowly lowered his blade. The dragon hadn’t been defending a hoard. It had been defending its family.