The Last Moon Dragon

PSA to idiots on the internet who think it's ok to plagiarise, this story has already been reposted once by a user on wattpad and I (OP / author) reported them immediately. Don't copy and paste other people's stuff. It's against the law. Think of your own idea before stealing an 11 year old's.

CAUTION: TWO YEAR OLD DRAFT VERSION. FULL OF SPELLING MISTAKES AND OTHER GRAMMATICAL ERRORS. "The kingdom of Heriven isn't exactly the best place to live. Ruled by a twisted King and a power-hungry Baron, the poor exist to serve the rich. Attacks from other kingdoms have finally ceased over hundreds of years, but only because of a bigger problem. Other places have infestations of lice and vermin, Heriven has dragons. Although there has not been a dragon sighted in the kingdom for over a decade, and the people are at ease, it won't be long before it all changes, and a legendary dragon shall make its reappearance...This was voted best Fantasy Movella 2012

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27. Array of Weaponry

Lord Vermydius sat thoughtfully in his chair, tapping a strange, random rhythm on the wooden carved armrest. The chair resembled a throne, and usually Vermydius liked the feeling of sitting in it. Today, he had other things on his mind.

 

At last, King Osslor was dead. It had been sudden and shocking, but was helpful to his plan. He did not feel a bit of remorse over the old man. He had prayed in his head when he had heard of the King's death.

 

"Praise you, whoever you may be, for ending his life, I shall repay you." 

Now, all he had to wait for was the will to be found. Throughout all of Heriven's history, the next chosen heir to the throne was mentioned first and foremost in the will of the previous ruler. It was sure to be him, after all. The king may have a son but he, a distinguished Lord, was much more experienced and would take better control of a kingdom. The throne was the only reason that he had developed a trustworthy 'Friendship' with Osslor, Vermydius decided.

 

The evening sun burned orange in the mauve sky speckled with stars. The Baron twirled his goatee thoughtfully, and looked outside out of the arrow slit window. It was not much of a view, but the windows were a precaution. After all, the Baron knew there were probably many who wanted him dead. He did not consider himself stupid.

 

The feeble rays of evening sunlight passed through the window and dappled the array of weapons displayed in the Baron's bedchamber. Shields, daggers, and of course many swords were strung up by twine on the high wall. Bloodstained and dented from battle, Vermydius loved these instruments of pain and war more than his own wife and daughter. He looked over them greedily.

 

"Such a shame I did not get to use one of these beauties on my old friend," muttered Vermydius to himself. He looked towards his favourite, a thick bladed sword with a finely carved wooden handle. This was the sword he had used to kill the monstrouscity Galere, the last of the Frost Fires, a dangerous race of dragons that had attacked Heriven many years ago. When they splayed the kingdom with fire, instead of burning, it froze, killing off hundreds. The Baron remembered that when he had stabbed the beast through its frozen heart, it's blood had been clear.

 

Instead of being stained, the blade had been cleaned.

 

Vermydius wondered why he was thinking about his past life -  the one where he had rode side by side with Osslor on horseback, slaying dragons and attacking kingdoms. Osslor was dead - the kingdom was his for the taking.

 

 

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