Who Needs Friends When You Have Loyal Knights and Enough Mead to Drown In?

Alright, so it's not exactly morning, but it's my day off. Tomorrow I will be back to waking up absurdly early and being productive.

On bended knee, right hand fisted lightly over his heart, Roderic waited for His Majesty to finish with his mead. It might take awhile. His Majesty was so fond of the golden drink he had installed a colony of bees in the lesser garden and declared harming a member of the Royal Hive a crime. This caused a minor panic in some of the ladies, who were sure that the only proper ways to respond to a flying insect involved prodigious flailing, shrieking, or perhaps a maidenly swoon. However, the King was determined, and a ready supply of honey soon became a ready supply of mead.

His Majesty sat back at last, and with a contented sigh, considered Roderic where he knelt. "Rise." 

Gratefully, Roderic did so. His Majesty frowned mildly at his knight. "You are rather short. Have you always been so?"

Roderic stiffened. "I have not shrunk, Your Majesty."

"I suppose not," said His Majesty. "You never can tell, though, with those blasted wizards running about. Deucedly hard to keep track of who's done what or built a tower where. Can't ban them, though. Next thing you know we'd be under attack with a legion of offended wizards at the enemy's beck and call."

Not quite sure what to say to all of that, Roderic went with a safe, "Yes, Your Majesty."

"As it is we've got a dragon mucking about the northern province. Farmers are all in a lather."

"A dragon?" There hadn't been a dragon locally in well over a century.

"Yes, and I expect you to deal with it. Scare it off. Kill it. Offer it a place in the Royal Army; wouldn't have to deal with wizards if we had a dragon in the ranks, I expect. Never get one to agree, of course, but that's a thought I could get behind."

Roderic's mind spun. Here, at last, was the chance to make true name for himself. Not just a tournament champion, or intimidating fighter, he would be Sir Roderic, Dragonslayer. The bards would sing of it. He, and the great beast in single combat, no aid or companion save that of his sword and loyal steed. 

"I expect you and Sir Egan to leave with the dawn."